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When first you would your ladies to your wills.

Those tears are fittest for my woeful case,

Since Locrine shuns my nothing pleasant face.

Blush heavens, blush sun, and hide thy shining beams;

Shadow thy radiant locks in gloomy clouds;

Deny thy cheerful light unto the world,

Where nothing reigns but falsehood and deceit.

What said I? falsehood? Aye, that filthy crime,

For Locrine hath forsaken Gwendoline.

Behold the heavens do wail for Gwendoline.

The shining sun doth blush for Gwendoline.

The liquid air doth weep for Gwendoline.

The very ground doth groan for Gwendoline.

Aye, they are milder than the Brittain king,

For he rejecteth luckless Gwendoline.

THRASIMACHUS.

Sister, complaints are bootless in this cause;

This open wrong must have an open plague,

This plague must be repaid with grievous war,

This war must finish with Locrine's death;

His death will soon extinguish our complaints.

GWENDOLINE.

O no, his death will more augment my woes.

He was my husband, brave Thrasimachus,

More dear to me than the apple of mine eye,

Nor can I find in heart to work his scathe.

THRASIMACHUS.

Madame, if not your proper injuries,

Nor my exile, can move you to revenge,

Think on our father Corineius' words;

His words to us stands always for a law.

Should Locrine live that caused my father's death?

Should Locrine live that now divorceth you?

The heavens, the earth, the air, the fire reclaims,

And then why should all we deny the same?

GWENDOLINE.

Then henceforth, farewell womanish complaints!

All childish pity henceforth, then, farewell!

But, cursed Locrine, look unto thy self,

For Nemesis, the mistress of revenge,

Sits armed at all points on our dismal blades;

And cursed Estrild, that inflamed his heart,

Shall, if I live, die a reproachful death.

MADAN.

Mother, though nature makes me to lament

My luckless father's froward lechery,

Yet, for he wrongs my Lady mother thus,

I, if I could, my self would work his death.

THRASIMACHUS.

See, madame, see, the desire of revenge

Is in the children of a tender age!

Forward, brave soldiers, into Mertia,

Where we shall brave the coward to his face.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V. SCENE III. The camp of Locrine.

[Enter Locrine, Estrild, Sabren, Assarachus, and the soldiers.]

LOCRINE.

Tell me, Assarachus, are the Cornish chuffes

In such great number come to Mertia?

And have they pitched there their petty host,

So close unto our royal mansion?

ASSARACHUS.

They are, my Lord, and mean incontinent

To bid defiance to your majesty.

LOCRINE.

It makes me laugh, to think that Gwendoline

Should have the heart to come in arms gainst me.

ESTRILD.

Alas, my Lord, the horse will run amain,

When as the spur doth gall him to the bone.

Jealousy, Locrine, hath a wicked sting.

LOCRINE.

Sayest thou so, Estrild, beauty's paragon?

Well, we will try her choler to the proof,

And make her know, Locrine can brook no braves.

March on, Assarachus; thou must lead the way,

And bring us to their proud pavilion.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V. SCENE IV. The field of battle.

[Enter the ghost of Corineius, with thunder and lightening.]

CORINEIUS' GHOST.

Behold, the circuit of the azure sky

Throws forth sad throbs and grievous suspires,

Prejudicating Locrine's overthrow.

The fire casteth forth sharp darts of flames,

The great foundation of the triple world

Trembleth and quaketh with a mighty noise,

Presaging bloody massacres at hand.

The wandering birds that flutter in the dark,

When hellish night, in cloudy chariot seated,

Casteth her mists on shady Tellus' face,

With sable mantles covering all the earth,

Now flies abroad amid the cheerful day,

Foretelling some unwonted misery.

The snarling curs of darkened Tartarus,

Sent from Avernus' ponds by Radamanth,

With howling ditties pester every wood.

The watery ladies and the lightfoot fawns,

And all the rabble of the woody Nymphs,

All trembling hide themselves in shady groves,

And shroud themselves in hideous hollow pits.

The boisterous Boreas thundreth forth revenge;

The stony rocks cry