LOCRINE. Camber, this same should be the Scithian queen.
CAMBER. So may we judge by her lamenting words.
LOCRINE. So fair a dame mine eyes did never see; With floods of woe she seems overwhelmed to be.
CAMBER. O Locrine, hath she not a cause for to be sad?
LOCRINE.
[At one side of the stage.]
If she have cause to weep for Humber's death, And shed salt tears for her overthrow, Locrine may well bewail his proper grief, Locrine may move his own peculiar woe. He, being conquered, died a speedy death, And felt not long his lamentable smart: I, being conqueror, live a lingering life, And feel the force of Cupid's sudden stroke. I gave him cause to die a speedy death, He left me cause to wish a speedy death. Oh that sweet face painted with nature's dye, Those roseall cheeks mixed with a snowy white, That decent neck surpassing ivory, Those comely breasts which Venus well might spite, Are like to snares which wily fowlers wrought, Wherein my yielding heart is prisoner caught. The golden tresses of her dainty hair, Which shine like rubies glittering with the sun, Have so entrapt poor Locrine's lovesick heart, That from the same no way it can be won. How true is that which oft I heard declared, One dram of joy, must have a pound of care.
ESTRILD. Hard is their fall who, from a golden crown, Are cast into a sea of wretchedness.
LOCRINE. Hard is their thrall who by Cupid's frown Are wrapt in waves of endless carefulness.
ESTRILD. Oh kingdom, object to all miseries.
LOCRINE. Oh love, the extremest of all extremities.
[Let him go into his chair.]
FIRST SOLDIER. My lord, in ransacking the Scithian tents, I found this Lady, and to manifest That earnest zeal I bear unto your grace, I here present her to your majesty.
SECOND SOLDIER. He lies, my Lord; I found the Lady first, And here present her to your majesty.
FIRST SOLDIER. Presumptuous villain, wilt thou take my prize?
SECOND SOLDIER. Nay, rather thou deprivest me of my right.
FIRST SOLDIER. Resign thy title, cative, unto me, Or with my sword I'll pierce thy coward's loins.
SECOND SOLDIER. Soft words, good sir, tis not enough to speak; A barking dog doth seldom strangers bite.
LOCRINE. Unreverent villains, strive you in our sight? Take them hence, Jailor, to the dungeon; There let them lie and try their quarrel out. But thou, fair princess, be no whit dismayed, But rather joy that Locrine favours thee.
ESTRILD. How can he favor me that slew my spouse?
LOCRINE. The chance of war, my love, took him from thee.
ESTRILD. But Locrine was the causer of his death.
LOCRINE. He was an enemy to Locrine's state, And slew my noble brother Albanact.
ESTRILD. But he was linked to me in marriage bond, And would you have me love his slaughterer?
LOCRINE. Better to live, than not to live at all.
ESTRILD. Better to die renowned for chastity, Than live with shame and endless infamy. What would the common sort report of me, If I forget my love, and cleave to thee?
LOCRINE. Kings need not fear the vulgar sentences.
ESTRILD. But Ladies must regard their honest name.
LOCRINE. Is it a shame to live in marriage bonds?
ESTRILD. No, but to be a strumpet to a king.
LOCRINE. If thou wilt yield to Locrine's burning love, Thou shalt be queen of fair Albania.
ESTRILD. But Gwendoline will undermine my state.
LOCRINE. Upon mine honor, thou shalt have no harm.
ESTRILD. Then lo, brave Locrine, Estrild yields to thee; And by the gods, whom thou doest invocate, By the dead ghost of thy deceased sire, By thy right hand and by thy burning love, Take pity on poor Estrild's wretched thrall.
CORINEIUS. Hath Locrine then forgot his Gwendoline, That thus he courts the Scithian's paramour? What, are the words of Brute so soon forgot? Are my deserts so quickly out of mind? Have I been faithful to thy sire now dead, Have I protected thee from Humber's hands, And doest thou quite me with ungratitude? Is this the guerdon for my grievous wounds, Is this the honour for my labor's past? Now, by my sword, Locrine, I swear to thee, This injury of thine shall be repaid.