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near which runs the river, afterward the Humber.

       [Enter Humber alone, saying:]

       HUMBER.

       O vita misero longa, foelici brevis,

       Eheu! malorum fames extremum malum.

       Long have I lived in this desert cave,

       With eating haws and miserable roots,

       Devouring leaves and beastly excrements.

       Caves were my beds, and stones my pillow-bears,

       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?

      

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