But, cursed Locrine, look unto thy self, 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, my self 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.]
ACT V. 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.
ESTRILD.
Alas, my Lord, the horse will run amain, When as the spur doth gall him to the bone.
Jealousy, Locrine, hath a wicked sting.
LOCRINE.