Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)

  • Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Authors: Anonymous, William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)

    The Tragedy of Locrine.
    That might defend her from the barbarous hands
    Of those that still desire her ruinous fall,
    1765And seek to work her downfall and decay.
    Cam. I Uncle, death is our common enemy,
    And none but death can match our matchlesse power,
    Witnesse the fall of Albioneus crew,
    Witnesse the fall of Humber and his Hunnes,
    1770And this foul death hath now increas'd our woe,
    By taking Corineus from this life,
    And in his room leaving us worlds of care.
    Thra. But none may more bewaile his mournfull hearse,
    Then I that am the issue of his loins,
    1775Now foul befall that cursed Humber's throat,
    That was the causer of his lingring wound.
    Loc. Tears cannot raise him from the dead again,
    But where's my Lady Mistris Guendoline?
    Thra. In Cornwall, Locrine, is my sister now,
    1780Providing for my Father's funeral.
    Loc. And let her there provide her mourning weeds,
    And mourn for ever her own widdow-hood:
    Ne're shall she come within our Palace gate,
    To countercheck brave Locrine in his love.
    1785Go, boy, to Deucolitum, down the Lee,
    Unto the arch where lovely Estrild lies,
    Bring her and Sabren straight unto the Court,
    She shall be Queen in Guendolinaes room.
    Let others waile for Corineus death,
    1790I mean not so to macerate my mind,
    For him that barr'd me from my hearts desire.
    Thra. Hath Locrine then forsook his Guendoline?
    Is Corineus death so soon forgot?
    If there be gods in heaven, as sure there be,
    1795If there be fiends in hell, as needs there must,
    They will revenge this thy notorious wrong,
    Ande pour their plagues upon thy cursed head.
    Loc. What, prat'st thou, pesant, to thy Soveraigne?
    Or art thou strucken in some extasie?
    1800Do'st thou not tremble at our royal looks?
    Do'st thou not quake when mighty Locrine frowns?
    Thou beardlesse boy, were't not that Locrine scorns
    To vex his mind with such a heartlesse child,
    With the sharp point of this my battel-axe,
    1805I'de send thy soul to Puryflegiton.
    Thra. Though I be young and of a tender age,
    Yet will I cope with Locrine when he dares.
    My noble father with his conquering sword,
    Slew the two gyants Kings of Aquitain.
    1810Thrasimachus is not so degenerate,
    That he should fear and tremble at the looks
    Or taunting words of a venerian squire.
    Loc. Menacest thou thy royal Soveraign?
    Ucivil, not beseeming such as you.
    1815Injurious traitor (for he is no lesse
    That at defiance standeth with his King)
    Leave these thy taunts, leave these thy bragging words,
    Unlesse thou mean'st to leave thy wretched life.
    Thra. If Princes stain their glorious dignitie
    1820With ugly spots of monstrous infamie,
    They leese their former estimation,
    And throw themselves into a hell of hate.
    Loc. Wilt thou abuse my gentle patience,
    As though thou did'st our high displeasure scorne?
    1825Proud boy, that thou mast know thy Prince is mov'd,
    Yea, greatly mov'd at this thy swelling pride,
    We banish thee for ever from our Court.
    Thra. Then, losell Locrine, look unto thy self,
    Thrasimachus will venge this injurie.Exit.
    1830Loc. Farewell, proud boy, and learn to use thy tongue.
    Assa. Alas, my Lord, you should have call'd to mind
    The latest words that Brutus spake to you,
    How he desir'd you, by the obedience
    That children ought to bear their sire,
    1835To love and favour Lady Guendoline:
    Consider this, that if the injurie
    Do move her mind, as certainly it will,
    War and dissention follows speedily.
    What though her power be not so great as yours,
    1840Have you not seen a mighty Elephant
    Slain by the biting of a silly Mouse?
    Even so the chance of war inconstant is.
    Loc. Peace Uncle, peace, and cease to talk hereof,
    For he that seeks by whispering this or that,
    1845To trouble Locrine in his sweetest life,
    Let him perswade himself to die the death.

    Enter the Page, with Estrild and Sabren.

    Estr. O say me, Page? tell me, where is the King?
    Wherefore doth he send for me to the Court?
    1850Is it to die? is it to end my life?
    Say me, sweet boy? tell me and do not fain.
    Page. No, trust me, Madam, if you will credit the
    little honestie that is yet left me, there is no such dan-
    ger as you fear, but prepare your self, yonder's the
    Estr. Then, Estrild, lift thy dazled spirits up,
    And blesse that blessed time, that day, that hour,
    That warlike Locrine first did favour thee.
    Peace to the King of Britany, my Love,
    1860Peace to all those that love and favour him.
    Locrine taking her up.
    Doth Estrild fall with such submission
    Before her servant King of Albion?
    Arise, fair Lady, leave this lowly chear,
    1865Lift up those looks that cherish Locrine's heart,
    That I may freely view that roseal face,
    Which so intangled hath my love-sick brest.
    Now to the Court, where we will court it out,
    And passe the night and day in Venus sports.
    1870Frollick, brave Peers, be joyfull with your King.Exeunt.

    Scena Tertia.

    Enter Guendoline, Thrasimachus, Madan, and souldiers.

    Guen. You gentle winds that with your modest blasts,
    Passe through the circuit of the heavenly vault,
    1875Enter the clouds unto the throne of Jove,
    And bear my prayers to his all-hearing ears,
    For Locrine hath forsaken Guendoline,
    And learnt to love proud Humbers concubine.
    You happy sprites that in the concave skie
    1880With pleasant joy, enjoy your sweetest love,
    Shed forth those tears with me, which then you shed,
    When first you woo'd your Ladies to your wills:
    Those tears are fittest for my wofull case,
    Since Locrine shuns my nothing pleasant face.
    1885Blush Heavens, blush Sun, and hide thy shining beams,
    Shadow thy radiant locks in gloomy clouds,