But O! you judges of the ninefold Styx, Which with incessant torments rack the ghosts Within the bottomless Abissus' pits, You gods, commanders of the heavenly spheres, Whose will and laws irrevocable stands, Forgive, forgive, this foul accursed sin!
Forget, O gods, this foul condemned fault!
And now, my sword, that in so many fights [Kiss his sword.]
Hast saved the life of Brutus and his son, End now his life that wisheth still for death;Work now his death that wisheth still for death;Work now his death that hateth still his life.
Farewell, fair Estrild, beauty's paragon, Framed in the front of forlorn miseries!
Ne'er shall mine eyes behold thy sunshine eyes, But when we meet in the Elysian fields;Thither I go before with hastened pace.
Farewell, vain world, and thy inticing snares!
Farewell, foul sin, and thy inticing pleasures!
And welcome, death, the end of mortal smart, Welcome to Locrine's overburthened heart!
[Thrust himself through with his sword.]
ESTRILD.
Break, heart, with sobs and grievous suspires!
Stream forth, you tears, from forth my watery eyes;Help me to mourn for warlike Locrine's death!
