THRASIMACHUS.
Madame, if not your proper injuries,
Nor my exile, can move you to revenge,
Think on our father Corineus’ words;
His words to us stands always for a law.
Should Locrine live that caused my father’s death?
Should Locrine live that now divorceth you?
The heavens, the earth, the air, the fire reclaims,
And then why should all we deny the same?
GWENDOLINE.
Then henceforth, farewell womanish complaints!
All childish pity henceforth, then, farewell!
But, cursed Locrine, look unto thyself,
For Nemesis, the mistress of revenge,
Sits armed at all points on our dismal blades;
And cursed Estrild, that inflamed his heart,
Shall, if I live, die a reproachful death.
MADAN.
Mother, though nature makes me to lament
My luckless father’s froward lechery,
Yet, for he wrongs my Lady mother thus,
I, if I could, myself would work his death.
THRASIMACHUS.
See, madame, see, the desire of revenge
Is in the children of a tender age!
Forward, brave soldiers, into Mertia,
Where we shall brave the coward to his face.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The camp of Locrine
Enter Locrine, Estrild, Sabren, Assarachus and the soldiers.
LOCRINE.
Tell me, Assarachus, are the Cornish chuffes
In such great number come to Mertia?
And have they pitched there their petty host,
So close unto our royal mansion?
ASSARACHUS.
They are, my Lord, and mean incontinent
To bid defiance to your majesty.
LOCRINE.
It makes me laugh, to think that Gwendoline
Should have the heart to come in arms gainst me.