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

Fear was my sleep, and horror was my dream,

For still me thought, at every boisterous blast,

Now Locrine comes, now, Humber, thou must die:

So that for fear and hunger, Humber’s mind

Can never rest, but always trembling stands,

O, what Danubius now may quench my thirst?

What Euphrates, what lightfoot Euripus,

May now allay the fury of that heat,

Which, raging in my entrails, eats me up?

You ghastly devils of the ninefold Styx,

You damned ghosts of joyless Acheron,

You mournful souls, vexed in Abyss’ vaults,

You coalblack devils of Avernus’ pond,

Come, with your fleshhooks rent my famished arms,

These arms that have sustained their master’s life.

Come, with your razors rip my bowels up,

With your sharp fireforks crack my sterved bones:

Use me as you will, so Humber may not live.

Accursed gods, that rule the starry poles,

Accursed Jove, king of the cursed gods,

Cast down your lightning on poor Humber’s head,

That I may leave this deathlike life of mine!

What, hear you not? and shall not Humber die?

Nay, I will die, though all the gods say nay!

And, gentle Aby, take my troubled corps,

Take it and keep it from all mortal eyes,

That none may say, when I have lost my breath,

The very floods conspired gainst Humber’s death.

[Fling himself into the river.]

[Enter the ghost of Albanact.]

ALBANACT’S GHOST.

En coedem sequitur coedes, in coede quiesco.

Humber is dead! joy heavens! leap earth! dance trees!

Now mayest thou reach thy apples, Tantalus,

And with them feed thy hunger-bitten limbs!

Now, Sisiphus, leave tumbling of thy rock,

And rest thy restless bones upon the same!

Unbind Ixion, cruel Rhadamanth,

And lay proud Humber on the whirling wheel.

Back will I post to hell mouth Taenarus,

And pass Cocitus, to the Elysian fields,

And tell my father Brutus of these news.

[Exit.]

ACT V.

PROLOGUE.

[Enter Ate as before. Jason, leading Creon’s daughter. Medea, following, hath a garland in her hand, and putting it on Creon’s daughter’s head, setteth it on fire, and then, killing Jason and her, departeth.]

ATE.

Non tam Tinacriis exaestuat Aetna cavernis,

Laesae furtivo quam cor mulieris amore.

Medea, seeing Jason leave her love,

And choose the daughter of the Theban king,

Went to her devilish charms to work revenge;

And raising up the triple Hecate,

With all the rout of the condemned fiends,

Framed a garland by her magic skill,

With which she wrought Jason and Creons.

So Gwendoline, seeing her self misused,

And Humber’s paramour possess her place,

Flies to the dukedom of Cornubia,

And with her brother, stout Thrasimachus,

Gathering a power of Cornish soldiers,

Gives battle to her husband and his host,

Nigh to the river of great Mertia.

The chances of this dismal massacre

That which insueth shortly will unfold.

[Exit.]

SCENE I. A chamber in the Royal Palace.

[Enter Locrine, Camber, Assarachus, Thrasimachus.]

ASSARACHUS.

But tell me, cousin, died my brother so?

Now who is left to helpless Albion?

That as a pillar might uphold our state,

That might strike terror to our daring foes?

Now who is left to hapless Brittain,

That might defend her from the barbarous hands

Of those that still desire her ruinous fall,

And seek to work her downfall and decay?

CAMBER.

Aye, uncle, death is our common enemy,

And none but death can match our matchless power:

Witness the fall of Albioneus’ crew,

Witness the fall of Humber and his Huns.

And this foul death hath now increased our woe,

By taking Corineius from this life,

And in his room leaving us worlds of care.

THRASIMACHUS.

But none may more bewail his mournful hearse,

Than I that am the issue of his loins.

Now foul befall that cursed Humber’s throat,

That was the causer of his lingering wound.

LOCRINE.

Tears cannot raise him from the dead again.

But where’s my Lady, mistress Gwendoline?

THRASIMACHUS.

In Cornwall, Locrine, is my sister now,

Providing for my father’s funeral.

LOCRINE.

And let her there provide her mourning weeds

And mourn for ever her own widowhood.

Ne’er shall she come within our palace gate,

To countercheck brave Locrine in his love.

Go, boy, to Devrolitum, down the Lee,

Unto the arch where lovely Estrild lies.

Bring her and Sabren straight unto the court;

She shall be queen in Gwendoline’s room.

Let others wail for Corineius’ death;

I mean not so to macerate my mind

For him that barred me from my heart’s desire.

THRASIMACHUS.

Hath Locrine, then, forsook his Gwendoline?

Is Corineius’ death so soon forgot?

If there be gods in heaven, as sure there be,

If there be fiends in hell, as needs there must,

They will revenge this thy notorious wrong,

And power their plagues upon thy cursed head.

LOCRINE.

What! prat’st thou, peasant, to thy sovereign?

Or art thou strooken in some extasy?

Doest thou not tremble at our royal looks?

Dost thou not quake, when mighty Locrine frowns?

Thou beardless boy, wer’t not that Locrine scorns

To vex his mind with such a heartless child,

With the sharp point of this my battle-axe,

I would send thy soul to Puriflegiton.

THRASIMACHUS.

Though I be young and of a tender age,

Yet will I cope with Locrine when he dares.

My noble father with his conquering sword,

Slew the two giants, kings of Aquitaine.

Thrasimachus is not so degenerate

That he should fear and tremble at the looks

Or taunting words of a venerian squire.

LOCRINE.

Menacest thou thy royal sovereign,

Uncivil, not beseeming such as you?

Injurious traitor (for he is no less

That at defiance standeth with his king)

Leave these thy taunts, leave these thy bragging words,

Unless thou mean to leave thy wretched life.

THRASIMACHUS.

If princes stain their glorious dignity

With ugly spots of monstrous infamy,

They leese their former estimation,

And throw themselves into a hell of hate.

LOCRINE.

Wilt thou abuse my gentle patience,

As though thou didst our high displeasure scorn?

Proud boy, that thou mayest know thy prince is moved,

Yea, greatly moved at this thy swelling pride,

We banish thee for ever from our court.

THRASIMACHUS.

Then, losell Locrine, look unto thy self,

Thrasimachus will venge this injury.

[Exit.]

LOCRINE.

Farewell, proud boy, and learn to use thy tongue.

ASSARACHUS.

Alas, my Lord, you should have called to mind

The latest words that Brutus spake to you:

How he desired you, by the obedience

That children ought to bear unto the sire,

To love and favour Lady Gwendoline.

Consider this, that if the injury

Do move her mind, as certainly it will,

War and dissention follows speedily.

What though her power be not so great as yours?

Have you not seen a mighty elephant

Slain by the biting of a silly mouse?

Even so the chance of war inconstant is.

LOCRINE.

Peace, uncle, peace, and cease to talk hereof;

For he that seeks, by whispering this or that,

To trouble Locrine in his sweetest life,

Let him persuade himself to die the death.

[Enter the Page, with Estrild and Sabren.]

ESTRILD.

O, say me, Page, tell me, where is the king?

Wherefore doth he send for me to the court?