William Shakespeare - The Complete Apocryphal Works of William Shakespeare - All 17 Rare Plays in One Edition

Qui regitis rigido stigios moderamine lucos:

Nox coeci regina poli, furialis Erinnis,

Diique deaeque omnes, Albanum tollite regem,

Tollite flumineis undis rigidaque palude.

Nune me fata vocant, loc condam pectore ferrum.

[Thrusts himself through. Enter Trompart.]

TROMPART.

O, what hath he done? his nose bleeds.

But, oh, I smell a fox:

Look where my master lies. Master, master.

STRUMBO.

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

TROMPART.

Yet one word, good master.

STRUMBO.

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

TROMPART. And is my master dead? O sticks and stones, brickbats and bones, and is my master dead? O you cockatrices and you bablatrices, that in the woods dwell: You briers and brambles, you cook’s shops and shambles, come howl and yell. With howling & screeking, with wailing and weeping, come you to lament, O Colliers of Croyden, and rustics of Royden, and fishers of Kent; For Strumbo the cobbler, the fine merry cobbler of Cathnes town: At this same stour, at this very hour, lies dead on the ground. O master, thieves, thieves, thieves.

STRUMBO. Where be they? cox me tunny, bobekin! let me be rising. Be gone; we shall be robbed by and by.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VI. The camp of the Huns.

[Enter Humber, Hubba, Segar, Thrassier, Estrild, and the soldiers.]

HUMBER.

Thus from the dreadful shocks of furious Mars,

Thundering alarms, and Rhamnusias’ drum,

We are retired with joyful victory.

The slaughtered Troyans, squeltring in their blood,

Infect the air with their carcasses,

And are a prey for every ravenous bird.

ESTRILD.

So perish they that are our enemies!

So perish they that love not Humber’s weal,

And mighty Jove, commander of the world,

Protect my love from all false treacheries.

HUMBER.

Thanks, lovely Estrild, solace to my soul.

But, valiant Hubba, for thy chivalry,

Declared against the men of Albany,

Lo, here a flowering garland wreathed of bay,

As a reward for thy forward mind.

[Set it on his head.]

HUBBA.

This unexpected honor, noble sire,

Will prick my courage unto braver deeds,

And cause me to attempt such hard exploits,

That all the world shall sound of Hubba’s name.

HUMBER.

And now, brave soldiers, for this good success,

Carouse whole cups of Amazonian wine,

Sweeter than nectar or Ambrosia,

And cast away the clods of cursed care,

With goblets crowned with Semeleius’ gifts.

Now let us march to Abis’ silver streams,

That clearly glide along the Champaign fields,

And moist the grassy meads with humid drops.

Sound drums & trumpets, sound up cheerfully,

Sith we return with joy and victory.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III.

PROLOGUE.

[Enter Ate as before. The dumb show. A Crocodile sitting on a river’s rank, and a little Snake stinging it. Then let both of them fall into the water.]

ATE.

Scelera in authorem cadunt.

High on a bank by Nilus’ boistrous streams,

Fearfully sat the Aegiptian Crocodile,

Dreadfully grinding in her sharp long teeth

The broken bowels of a silly fish.

His back was armed against the dint of spear,

With shields of brass that shined like burnished gold;

And as he stretched forth his cruel paws,

A subtle Adder, creeping closely near,

Thrusting his forked sting into his claws,

Privily shed his poison through his bones;

Which made him swell, that there his bowels burst,

That did so much in his own greatness trust.

So Humber, having conquered Albanact,

Doth yield his glory unto Locrine’s sword.

Mark what ensues and you may easily see,

That all our life is but a Tragedy.

SCENE I. Troynouant. An apartment in the Royal Palace.

[Enter Locrine, Gwendoline, Corineius, Assaracus,

Thrasimachus, Camber.]

LOCRINE.

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 Scithians might be punished!

For, by the lightening 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 armstrong Hercules

Crop off so vile an Hydra’s hissing heads!

But say me, cousin, for I long to hear,

How Albanact came by untimely death.

THRASIMACHUS.

After the traitrous host of Scithians

Entered 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 mongst a flock of lambs,

Made havoc of the faintheart 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 weakened backs,

And murthered all with fatal massacre.

Amongst the which old Debon, martial knight,

With many wounds was brought unto the death,

And Albanact, oppressed with multitude,

Whilst valiantly he felled his enemies,

Yielded his life and honour to the dust.