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The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)
1194Scena Quinta.
1195Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineius, Thrasimachus,
1196Assarachus.
1198Whose haughty courage is invincible;
1199Now am I hemm'd with troups of Souldiers,
1200Such as might force Bellona to retire,
1201And make her tremble at their puissance;
1202Now sit I like the mighty god of warre,
1203When armed with his Coat of Adamant,
1204Mounted his Chariot drawn with mighty Bulls,
1205He drove the Argives over Xanthus streames.
1206Now, cursed Humber, doth thy end draw nigh,
1207Down goes the glory of his victories,
1208And all his fame, and all his high renown,
1209Shall in a moment yield to Locrine's sword:
1211The ornaments of thy pavillions,
1212Shall all be captivated with this hand,
1215Of all the wrongs thou didst him when he liv'd.
1217How far we are distant from Humbers camp?
1219That beares the tokens of our overthrow,
1220This Humber hath intrencht his damned camp.
1222The treacherous Scythians squeltring in their gore.
1224That I may venge my noble Brothers death,
1226I'le build a Temple to thy deitie
1231Stout Hercules Alcmenas, mighty Son,
1232That tam'd the monsters of the three-fold world,
1233And rid the oppressed from the tyrants yokes,
1235As I will now for noble Albanact.
1237Sometime in warre, sometime in quiet peace,
1240Able to tosse this great unweildy Club,
1241Which hath been painted with my foe-mens brains:
1242And with this Club I'le break the strong array
1243Of Humber and his stragling Souldiers,
1245And die with honour in my latest dayes:
1247What force lies in stout Corineius hand.
1250Let him not boast that Brutus was his Eame,
1251Or that brave Corineius was his Sire.