SCENE I.
Enter Locrine, Guendolen, Corineus, Assaracus, Thrasimachus, and Camber.
Loc.
And is this true? Is Albanactus slain?
Hath cursed Humber with his straggling host,
With that his army made of mungrel curs,
Brought our redoubted brother to his end?
O that I had the Thracian Orpheus' harp,
For to awake out of the infernal shade
Those ugly devils of black Erebus,
That might torment the damned traitor's soul!
O that I had Amphion's instrument,
To quicken with his vital notes and tunes
The flinty joints of every stony rock,
By which the Scythians might be punished!
For, by the lightning of almighty Jove,
The Hun shall die, had he ten thousand lives:
And would to God he had ten thousand lives,
That I might with the arm-strong Hercules
Crop off so vile an hydra's hissing heads!
But say, my cousin, (for I long to hear)
How Albanact came by untimely death.
Thra.
After the traiterous host of Scythians
Enter'd the field with martial equipage,
Young Albanact, impatient of delay,
Led forth his army 'gainst the straggling mates;
Whose multitude did daunt our soldiers minds.
Yet nothing could dismay the forward prince;
But with a courage most heroical,
Like to a lion 'mong'st a flock of lambs,
Made havock of the faint-heart fugitives,
Hewing a passage through them with his sword.
Yea, we had almost given them the repulse,
When, suddenly from out the silent wood,
Hubba, with twenty thousand soldiers,
Cowardly came upon our weaken'd backs,
And murther'd all with fatal massacre:
-- 224 --
Amongst the which old Debon, martial knight,
With many wounds was brought unto the death;
And Albanact, oppress'd with multitude,
Whilst valiantly he fell'd his enemies,
Yielded his life and honour to the dust.
He being dead, the soldiers fled amain;
And I alone escaped them by flight,
To bring you tidings of these accidents.
Loc.
Not aged Priam, king of stately Troy,
Grand emperor of barbarous Asia,
When he beheld his noble-minded son
Slain traiterously by all the Mirmidons,
Lamented more than I for Albanact.
Guen.
Not Hecuba the queen of Ilion,
When she beheld the town of Pergamus,
Her palace, burnt with all-devouring flames,
Her fifty sons and daughters, fresh of hue,
Murther'd by wicked Pyrrhus' bloody sword,
Shed such sad tears as I for Albanact.
Cam.
The grief of Niobe, fair Athens' queen* note
,
For her seven sons magnanimous in field,
For her seven daughters, fairer than the fairest,
Is not to be compar'd with my laments.
Cor.
In vain you sorrow for the slaughter'd prince,
In vain you sorrow for this overthrow.
He loves not most that doth lament the most,
But he that seeks to venge the injury.
Think you to quell the enemies' warlike train
With childish sobs and womanish laments?
Unsheath your swords, unsheath your conquering swords,
And seek revenge, the comfort for this sore.
In Cornwall, where I hold my regiment2 note,
-- 225 --
Even just ten thousand valiant men at arms
Hath Corineus ready at command.
All these and more, if need shall more require,
Hath Corineus ready at command.
Cam.
And in the fields of martial Cambria,
Close by the boisterous Iscan's silver streams,
Where light-foot fairies skip from bank to bank,
Full twenty thousand brave courageous knights
Well exercis'd in feats of chivalry,
In manly manner most invincible,
Young Camber hath, with gold and victual.
All these and more, if need shall more require,
I offer up to venge my brother's death,
Loc.
Thanks, loving uncle, and good brother too;
For this revenge, for this sweet word, revenge,
Must ease and cease my wrongful injuries:
And by the sword of bloody Mars I swear,
Ne'er shall sweet quiet enter this my front,
Till I be venged on his traiterous head,
That slew my noble brother Albanact.
Sound drums and trumpets; muster up the camp;
For we will straight march to Albania.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Humber, Estrild, Hubba, Thrassier, and Soldiers.
Hum.
Thus are we come victorious conquerors
Unto the flowing current's silver streams,
Which, in memorial of our victory,
Shall be agnominated by our name3 note,
And talked of by our posterity:
For sure I hope before the golden sun
Posteth his horses to fair Thetis' plains* note,
-- 226 --
To see the water turned into blood,
And change his blueish hue to rueful red,
By reason of the fatal massacre
Which shall be made upon the virent plains4 note.
Enter the Ghost of Albanact* note.
Ghost.
See how the traitor doth presage his harm;
See how he glories at his own decay;
See how he triumphs at his proper loss;
O Fortune vile, unstable, fickle, frail!
Hum.
Methinks I see both armies in the field.
The broken lances climb the crystal skies5 note
;
Some headless lie, some breathless, on the ground,
And every place is strew'd with carcasses:
Behold the grass hath lost his pleasant green,
The sweetest sight that ever might be seen.
Ghost.
Ay, traiterous Humber, thou shalt find it so,
Yea to thy cost thou shalt the same behold,
With anguish, sorrow, and with sad laments.
The grassy plains, that now do please thine eyes,
Shall ere the night be colour'd all with blood.
The shady groves which now inclose thy camp,
And yield sweet savour to thy damned corps,
Shall ere the night be figur'd all with blood.
The profound stream that passeth by thy tents,
And with his moisture serveth all thy camp,
Shall ere the night converted be to blood,
Yea with the blood of those thy straggling boys:
For now revenge shall ease my lingering grief,
And now revenge shall glut my longing soul.
[Exit.
-- 227 --
Hub.
Let come what will, I mean to bear it out;
And either live with glorious victory,
Or die with fame renown'd for chivalry.
He is not worthy of the honey-comb,
That shuns the hives because the bees have stings.
That likes me best that is not got with ease,
Which thousand dangers do accompany;
For nothing can dismay our regal mind,
Which aims at nothing but a golden crown,
The only upshot of mine enterprises.
Were they enchanted in grim Pluto's court* note,
And kept for treasure 'mongst his hellish crew,
I would either quell the triple Cerberus,
And all the army of his hateful hags,
Or roll the stone with wretched Sysiphus.
Hum.
Right martial be thy thoughts, my noble son,
And all thy words savour of chivalry.
[Enter Segar.
But, warlike Segar, what strange accidents
Make you to leave the warding of the camp6 note
?
Segar.
To arms, my lord, to honourable arms;
Take helm and targe in hand: The Britons come
With greater multitude than erst the Greeks
Brought to the ports of Phrygian Tenedos.
Hum.
But what saith Segar to these accidents?
What counsel gives he in extremities?
Segar.
Why this, my lord, experience teacheth us;
That resolution's a sole help at need.
And this, my lord, our honour teacheth us,
That we be bold in every enterprise.
Then, since there is no way but fight or die,
Be resolute, my lord, for victory.
Hum.
And resolute, Segar, I mean to be.
-- 228 --
Perhaps some blissful star will favour us,
And comfort bring to our perplexed state.
Come, let us in, and fortify our camp,
So to withstand their strong invasion.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Strumbo, Trompart, Oliver, and William.
Strum.
Nay, neighbour Oliver, if you be so hot,
come, prepare yourself, you shall find two as stout
fellows of us, as any in all the North.
Oliv.
No, by my dorth7 note
, neighbour Strumbo; Ich
zee dat you are a man of small zideration, dat will
zeek to injure your old vreends, one of your vamiliar
guests; and derefore zeeing your pinion is to
deal withouten reazon, Ich and my zon William
will take dat course dat shall be fardest vrom reason.
How zay you? will you have my daughter or no?
Strum.
A very hard question, neighbour, but I
will solve it as I may. What reason have you to demand
it of me?
Will.
Marry sir, what reason had you, when my
sister was in the barn, to tumble her upon the hay, and
to fish her belly8 note
?
Strum.
Mass, thou say'st true. Well, but would
-- 229 --
you have me marry her therefore? No, I scorn her,
and you, and you: ay, I scorn you all.
Oliv.
You will not have her then?
Strum.
No, as I am a true gentleman.
Will.
Then will we school you, ere you and we
part hence.
[They fight.
Enter Margery. She snatches the staff out of her brother's hand, as he is fighting.
Strum.
Ay, you come in pudding-time, or else I
had dress'd them.
Mar.
You, master sawcebox, lobcock, cockscomb;
you, slopsawce, lickfingers, will you not hear?
Strum.
Who speak you to? me?
Mar.
Ay, sir, to you, John Lack-honesty, Little-wit.
Is it you that will have none of me?
Strum.
No, by my troth, mistress Nicebice* note. How
fine you can nick-name me! I think you were
brought up in the University of Bridewell, you have
your rhetorick so ready at your tongue's end, as if
you were never well warn'd when you were young.
Mar.
Why then, goodman Cods-head, if you will
have none of me, farewel.
Strum.
If you be so plain, mistress Driggle-draggle,
fare you well.
Mar.
Nay, master Strumbo, ere you go from
hence, we must have more words. You will have none
of me?
[They fight.
Strum.
Oh my head, my head! Leave, leave, leave;
I will, I will, I will.
Mar.
Upon that condition I let thee alone.
Oliv.
How now, master Strumbo? Hath my daughter
taught you a new lesson?
Strum.
Ay, but hear you, goodman Oliver; it will
not be for my ease to have my head broken every
-- 230 --
day: therefore remedy this, and we shall agree.
Oliv.
Well, zon, well, (for you are my zon now)
all shall be remedied. Daughter be friends with him.
[They shake hands. Exeunt Oliver, William, and Margery.
Strum.
You are a sweet nut; the devil crack you!
Masters, I think it be my luck. My first wife was a
loving quiet wench; but this, I think, would weary
the devil. I would she might be burnt as my other
wife was; if not, I must run to the halter for help.
O codpiece, thou hast done thy master* note
! this it
is to be meddling with warm plackets.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineus, Thrasimachus, and Assaracus.
Loc.
Now am I guarded with an host of men,
Whose haughty courage is invincible.
Now am I hemm'd with troops of soldiers,
Such as might force Bellona to retire,
And make her tremble at their puissance.
Now sit I like the mighty god of war,
When, armed with his coat of adamant,
Mounted his chariot drawn with mighty bulls,
He drove the Argives over Xanthus' streams.
Now, cursed Humber, doth thy end draw nigh.
Down goes the glory of his victories,
And all his fame, and all his high renown,
Shall in a moment yield to Locrine's sword.
Thy bragging banners cross'd with argent streams,
The ornaments of thy pavillions,
Shall all be captivated with this hand;
And thou thyself at Albanactus' tomb
Shalt offer'd be, in satisfaction
Of all the wrongs thou didst him when he liv'd.
-- 231 --
But canst thou tell me, brave Thrasimachus,
How far we distant are from Humber's camp?
Thra.
My lord, within yon foul accursed grove9 note,
That bears the tokens of our overthrow,
This Humber hath entrench'd his damned camp.
March on, my lord, because I long to see
The treacherous Scythians squeltring in their gore.
Loc.
Sweet Fortune, favour Locrine with a smile,
That I may venge my noble brother's death!
And in the midst of stately Troynovant,
I'll build a temple to thy deity,
Of perfect marble, and of jacinth stones,
That it shall pass the high pyramides,
Which with their top surmount the firmament.
Cam.
The arm-strong offspring of the doubled night1 note
,
Stout Hercules, Alcmena's mighty son,
That tam'd the monsters of the three-fold world,
And rid the oppressed from the tyrants' yokes,
Did never shew such valiantness in fight,
As I will now for noble Albanact.
Cor.
Full fourscore years hath Corineus liv'd,
Sometimes in war, sometimes in quiet peace,
And yet I feel myself to be as strong
As erst I was in summer of mine age;
Able to toss this great unwieldy club,
Which hath been painted with my foe-mens' brains:
And with this club I'll break the strong array
-- 232 --
Of Humber and his straggling soldiers,
Or lose my life amongst the thickest press,
And die with honour in my latest days:
Yet, ere I die, they all shall understand,
What force lies in stout Corineus' hand.
Thra.
And if Thrasimachus detract the fight2 note,
Either for weakness, or for cowardice,
Let him not boast that Brutus was his eame,
Or that brave Corineus was his sire.
Loc.
Then courage, soldiers, first for your safety,
Next for your peace, last for your victory.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Alarum. Enter Hubba and Segar at one side of the stage, and Corineus at the other.
Cor.
Art thou that Humber, prince of fugitives,
That by thy treason slew'st young Albanact?
Hub.
I am his son that slew young Albanact;
And if thou take not heed, proud Phrygian,
I'll send thy soul unto the Stygian lake,
There to complain of Humber's injuries.
Cor.
You triumph, sir, before the victory,
For Corineus is not so soon slain.
But, cursed Scythians, you shall rue the day,
That e'er you came into Albania.
So perish they that envy Britain's wealth,
So let them die with endless infamy:
And he that seeks his sovereign's overthrow,
Would this my club might aggravate his woe.
[Strikes them with his club. Exeunt fighting.
SCENE VI.
Enter Humber.
Hum.
Where may I find some desert wilderness,
Where I may breathe out curses as I would,
-- 233 --
And scare the earth with my condemning voice;
Where every echo's repercussion
May help me to bewail mine overthrow,
And aid me in my sorrowful laments?
Where may I find some hollow uncouth rock,
Where I may damn, condemn, and ban my fill,
The heavens, the hell, the earth, the air, the fire;
And utter curses to the concave sky,
Which may infect the airy regions,
And light upon the Briton Locrine's head?
You ugly spirits that in Cocytus mourn,
And gnash your teeth with dolorous laments;
You fearful dogs, that in black Lethe howl,
And scare the ghosts with your wide open throats;
You ugly ghosts, that flying from these dogs
Do plunge yourselves in Puryflegethon3 note;
Come all of you, and with your shrieking notes
Accompany the Britons' conquering host.
Come, fierce Erinnys, horrible with snakes;
Come, ugly furies, armed with your whips;
You threefold judges of black Tartarus,
And all the army of your hellish fiends,
With new-found torments rack proud Locrine's bones!
O gods and stars! damn'd be the gods and stars,
That did not drown me in fair Thetis' plains!
Curst be the sea, that with outrageous waves,
With surging billows, did not rive my ships
Against the rocks of high Ceraunia,
Or swallow me into her watry gulf!
Would God we had arriv'd upon the shore
Where Polyphemus and the Cyclops dwell;
Or where the bloody Anthropophagi
With greedy jaws devour the wandering wights!
-- 234 --
Enter the Ghost of Albanact.
But why comes Albanactus' bloody ghost,
To bring a corsive to our miseries4 note
?
Is't not enough to suffer shameful flight,
But we must be tormented now with ghosts,
With apparitions fearful to behold?
Ghost.
Revenge, revenge for blood.
Hum.
So, nought will satisfy your wandering ghost
But dire revenge; nothing but Humber's fall;
Because he conquer'd you in Albany.
Now, by my soul, Humber would be condemn'd
To Tantal's hunger, or Ixion's wheel,
Or to the vultur of Prometheus,
Rather than that this murther were undone.
When as I die, I'll drag thy cursed ghost
Through all the rivers of foul Erebus,
Through burning sulphur of the limbo-lake,
To allay the burning fury of that heat,
That rageth in mine everlasting soul.
Ghost.
Vindicta! vindicta!
[Exeunt.
Edmond Malone [1780], Supplement to the edition of Shakspeare's plays published in 1778 By Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. In two volumes. Containing additional observations by several of the former commentators: to which are subjoined the genuine poems of the same author, and seven plays that have been ascribed to him; with notes By the editor and others (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10911].
