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The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)
89
The Tragedy of Locrine.
821Thus in the prime of my felicity
823Hadst thou no time thy rancour to declare,
824But in the spring of all my dignities?
827I that ere while did scare mine enemies,
829I that ere while full Lyon-like did fare
830Amongst the dangers of the thick throng'd pikes,
832By Humber's treacheries and fortunes spights:
834That doth delude the wayward hearts of men,
836Which never leaveth turning upside down.
837O gods, O heavens, allot me but the place
839I'le passe the Alpes to watry Meroe,
840Where fiery Phoebus in his charriot,
841 The wheeles whereof are dect with Emeralds,
844I'le overturn the mountain Caucasus,
850Do lie, like mountains in the congeal'd Sea,
852I'le pull the fickle wheele from out her hands,
854But all in vain I breathe these threatnings,
855The day is lost, the Hunnes are conquerors,
856Debon is slain, my men are done to death,
865The Scythians follow with great celerity,
868Sound the Alarm.
870That tremble at the name of fatall Mors,
t my decay,
876But oh my brethren if you care for me,
877Revenge my death upon his traiterous head.
878Et vos queis domus est nigrantis regia ditis,
879Qui regitis rigido stigios moderamine lucos:
880Nox cæci regina poli furialis Erinnis,
881Diique deæque omnes Albanum tollite regem,
882Tollite flumineis undis rigidaque palude
883Nunc me fata vocant, hoc condam pectore ferrum.
884Thrust himself through
885Enter Trumpart.
888Strum. Let me alone, I tell thee, for I am dead.
893 and is my Master dead?
894O you cockatrices, and you bablatrices,
895 that in the woods dwell:
897 come howle and yell.
898With howling and screeking, with wailing and weeping,
899 come you to lament.
900O Colliers of Croyden, and Rusticks of Royden,
901 and Fishers of Kent.
902For Strumbo the Cobler, the fine merry Cobler
903 of Cathnes town:
905 lies dead on the ground.
906O Master, thieves, thieves, thieves.
907Strum. Where be they? cox me tunny, bobekin,
909Scena Octava.
910Enter Humber, Hubba, Segar, Thrassier, Estrild,
911and the Souldiers.
913Thundring alarmes, and Rhamnusia's Drum
914We are retired with joyfull victory,
917And are a prey for every ravenous bird.
919So perish they that love not Humber's weale.
920And mighty Jove, Commander of the world,
923But, valiant Hubba, for thy Chivalry
924Declar'd against the men of Albany,
925Loe here a flowring garland wreath'd of bay,
926As a reward for this thy forward minde.
927 Set it on his head.
929Will prick my courage unto braver deeds,
933Carouse whole cups of Amazonian Wine,
936With goblets crown'd with Semeleius gifts,
938That clearly glide along the Champane fields,
940Sound Drums and Trumpets, sound up cheerfully,
941Sith we return with joy and victory.
Actus
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