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.
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].
