821Thus in the prime of my felicity

822To cut me off by such hard overthrow.

823Hadst thou no time thy rancour to declare,

824But in the spring of all my dignities?

825Hadst thou no place to spit thy venome out

826But on the person of young Albanact?

827I that ere while did scare mine enemies,

828And drove them almost to a shamefull flight:

829I that ere while full Lyon-like did fare

830Amongst the dangers of the thick throng'd pikes,

831Must now depart most lamentably slain

832By Humber's treacheries and fortunes spights:

833Curst be their charmes, damn'd be her cursed charmes

834That doth delude the wayward hearts of men,

835Of men that trust unto her fickle wheele,

836Which never leaveth turning upside down.

837O gods, O heavens, allot me but the place

838Where I may finde her hatefull mansion,

839I'le passe the Alpes to watry Meroe,

840Where fiery Phoebus in his charriot,

841 The wheeles whereof are dect with Emeralds,

842Cast such a heat, yea such a scorching heat,

843And spoileth Flora of her chequered grasse,

844I'le overturn the mountain Caucasus,

845Where fell Chimaera in her triple shape,

846Rolleth hot flames from out her monstrous panch,

847Scaring the beasts with issue of her gorge,

848I'le passe the frozen Zone where Icy flakes

849Stopping the passage of the fleeting ships

850Do lie, like mountains in the congeal'd Sea,

851Where if I find that hatefull house of Hers,

852I'le pull the fickle wheele from out her hands,

853And tie her self in everlasting bands:

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,

857The currents swift swimme violently with blood,

858And last, O that this last night so long last,

859My self with wounds past all recovery,

860Must leave my Crown for Humber to possesse.

861Strum. Lord have mercy upon us, Masters, I think

862this is a holy-day, every man lies sleeping in the fields,

863but God knowes full sore against their wills.

864Thra. Fly, noble Albanact, and save thy self,

865The Scythians follow with great celerity,

866 And there's no way but fight, or speedy death,

867Flie, noble Albanact, and save thy self.

869Alba. Nay let them flie that fear to die the death,

870That tremble at the name of fatall Mors,

871Ne're shall proud Humber boast or brag himself,

872That he hath put young Albanact to flight:

873And least he should triumph a

t my decay,

874This sword shall reave his Master of his life,

875That oft hath sav'd his Masters doubtfull life:

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.

886O what hath he done? his Nose bleeds: but I smell a Fox,

887Look where my Master lies, Master, Master.

888Strum. Let me alone, I tell thee, for I am dead.

889Trum. Yet one, good, good, Master.

890Strum. I will not speak, for I am dead I tell thee.

891Trum. And is my Master dead?

892O sticks and stones, brickbats and bones,

893 and is my Master dead?

894O you cockatrices, and you bablatrices,

895 that in the woods dwell:

896You briers and brambles, you Cook shops and shambles,

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:

904At this same stoure, at this very hour

905 lies dead on the ground.

906O Master, thieves, thieves, thieves.

907Strum. Where be they? cox me tunny, bobekin,

908let me be rising, be gone, we shall be robb'd by and by.

912Hum. Thus from the dreadful shocks of furious Mars's

913Thundring alarmes, and Rhamnusia's Drum

914We are retired with joyfull victory,

915The slaughter'd Trojans squeltring in their blood,

916Infect the aire with their carcasses,

917And are a prey for every ravenous bird.

918Estrild. So perish they that are our enemies.

919So perish they that love not Humber's weale.

920And mighty Jove, Commander of the world,

921Protect my love from all false treacheries.

922Hum. Thanks lovely Estrild, solace to my soule.

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.

928Hub. This unexpected honour, noble Sire,

929Will prick my courage unto braver deeds,

930And cause me to attempt such hard exploits,

931That all the world shall sound of Hubba's name.

932Hum. And now, brave Soldiers, for this good success,

933Carouse whole cups of Amazonian Wine,

934Sweeter then Nectar or Ambrosia,

935And cast away the Clods of cursed care,

936With goblets crown'd with Semeleius gifts,

937 Now let us march to Abis silver streames,

938That clearly glide along the Champane fields,

939And moist the grassy meads with humid drops.

940Sound Drums and Trumpets, sound up cheerfully,

941Sith we return with joy and victory.