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?
