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.
ACT III. 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 arm-strong 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.
