Locrine / Mucedorus | Page 9

Policrates;
Yet should
they not escape our conquering swords,
Or boast of ought but of our
clemency.
[Enter Strumbo and Trompart, crying often;
Wild fire and pitch, wild
fire and pitch, &c.]
THRASIMACHUS.
What, sirs! what mean you by these clamors
made,
These outcries raised in our stately court?
STRUMBO.
Wild fire and pitch, wild fire and pitch.
THRASIMACHUS.
Villains, I say, tell us the cause hereof?
STRUMBO.
Wild fire and pitch, &c.
THRASIMACHUS.
Tell me, you villains, why you make this noise,

Or with my lance I will prick your bowels out.
ALBA.
Where are your houses, where's your dwelling place?

STRUMBO.
Place? Ha, ha, ha! laugh a month and a day at him.

Place! I cry God mercy: why, do you think that such
poor honest men
as we be, hold our habitacles in kings'
palaces? Ha, ha, ha! But
because you seem to be an
abominable chieftain, I will tell you our
state.
From the top to the toe,
From the head to the shoe;
From the
beginning to the ending,
From the building to the burning.
This honest fellow and I had our mansion cottage in the
suburbs of
this city, hard by the temple of Mercury. And
by the common soldiers
of the Shitens, the Scithians--
what do you call them?--with all the
suburbs were burnt
to the ground, and the ashes are left there, for the
country wives to wash bucks withall.
And that which grieves me most,
My loving wife,
(O cruel strife!)
The wicked flames did roast.

And therefore, captain crust,
We will continually cry,
Except you
seek a remedy
Our houses to reedify
Which now are burnt to dust.
BOTH CRY.
Wild fire and pitch, wild fire and pitch.
ALBA.
Well, we must remedy these outrages,
And throw revenge
upon their hateful heads.
And you, good fellows, for your houses
burnst,
We will remunerate you store of gold,
And build your
houses by our palace gate.
STRUMBO.
Gate! O petty treason to my person! nowhere
else but
by your backside? Gate! Oh how I am
vexed in my collar! Gate! I cry
God mercy! Do
you hear, master king? If you mean to gratify such

poor men as we be, you must build our houses by
the Tavern.
ALBA.
It shall be done, sir.

STRUMBO.
Near the Tavern, aye! by lady, sir, it was spoken like

a good fellow. Do you hear, sir? when our house is
builded, if you do
chance to pass or repass that way,
we will bestow a quart of the best
wine upon you.
[Exit.]
ALBA.
It grieves me, lordings, that my subjects' goods
Should thus
be spoiled by the Scithians,
Who, as you see, with lightfoot foragers

Depopulate the places where they come.
But cursed Humber thou
shalt rue the day
That ere thou camest unto Cathnesia.
[Exeunt.]
ACT II. SCENE IV. The camp of Humber.
[Enter Humber, Hubba, Trussier, and their soldiers.]
HUMBER.
Hubba, go take a coronet of our horse,
As many lancers,
and light armed knights
As may suffice for such an enterprise,
And
place them in the grove of Caledon.
With these, when as the skirmish
doth increase,
Retire thou from the shelters of the wood,
And set
upon the weakened Troyans' backs,
For policy joined with chivalry

Can never be put back from victory.
[Exit. Albanact enter and say (clowns with him).]
ALBA.
Thou base born Hun, how durst thou be so bold
As once to
menace warlike Albanact,
The great commander of these regions?

But thou shalt buy thy rashness with thy death,
And rue too late thy
over bold attempts;
For with this sword, this instrument of death,

That hath been drenched in my foe-men's blood,
I'll separate thy body
from they head,
And set that coward blood of thine abroach.
STRUMBO.
Nay, with this staff, great Strumbo's instrument,
I'll
crack thy cockscomb, paltry Scithian.

HUMBER.
Nor wreak I of thy threat, thou princox boy,
Nor do I
fear thy foolish insolency;
And but thou better use thy bragging blade,

Then thou doest rule thy overflowing tongue,
Superbious Brittain,
thou shalt know too soon
The force of Humber and his Scithians.
[Let them fight. Humber and his soldiers run in.]
STRUMBO.
O horrible, terrible.
[Exit.]
ACT II. SCENE V. Another part of the field of
battle.
[Sound the alarm. Enter Humber and his soldiers.]
HUMBER.
How bravely this young Brittain, Albanact,
Darteth
abroad the thunderbolts of war,
Beating down millions with his
furious mood,
And in his glory triumphs over all,
Moving the mass
squadrants of the ground;
Heaps hills on hills, to scale the starry sky,

As when Briareus, armed with an hundreth hands,
Flung forth an
hundreth mountains at great Jove,
And when the monstrous giant
Monichus
Hurled mount Olympus at great Mars his target,
And
shot huge caedars at Minerva's shield.
How doth he overlook with
haughty front
My fleeting hosts, and lifts his lofty face
Against us
all that now do fear his force,
Like as we see the wrathful sea from far,

In a great mountain heaped, with hideous noise,
With thousand
billows beat against the ships,
And toss them in the waves like tennis
balls.
[Sound the alarm.]
Aye me, I fear my Hubba is surprised.
[Sound again. Enter Albanact.]
ALBA.
Follow me, soldiers, follow Albanact;
Pursue the Scithians

flying through the field:
Let none of them escape with victory;
That
they may know the Brittains' force is more
Than