ATE. 
In pœnam sectatur & umbra. 
A Mighty Lion, ruler of the woods, 
Of wondrous strength and great proportion, 
With hideous noise scaring the trembling trees, 
With yelling clamors shaking all the earth, 
Traverst the groves, and chased the wandering beasts. 
Long did he range amid the shady trees, 
And drave the silly beasts before his face, 
When suddenly from out a thorny bush, 
A dreadful Archer with his bow ybent, 
Wounded the Lion with a dismal shaft. 
So he him stroke that it drew forth the blood, 
And filled his furious heart with fretting ire; 
But all in vain he threatened teeth and paws, 
And sparkleth fire from forth his flaming eyes, 
For the sharp shaft gave him a mortal wound. 
So valiant Brute, the terror of the world, 
Whose only looks did scare his enemies, 
The Archer death brought to his latest end. 
Oh what may long abide above this ground, 
In state of bliss and healthful happiness. [_Exit._] 

SCENE I. 
Enter Brutus carried in a chair, Locrine, Camber, Albanact, Corineus, 
Gwendoline, Assarachus, Debon, Thrasimachus. 

BRUTUS. 
Most loyal Lords and faithful followers, 
That have with me, unworthy General, 
Passed the greedy gulf of Ocean, 
Leaving the confines of fair Italy, 
Behold, your Brutus draweth nigh his end, 
And I must leave you, though against my will. 
My sinews shrunk, my numbed senses fail, 
A chilling cold possesseth all my bones; 
Black ugly death, with visage pale and wan, 
Presents himself before my dazzled eyes, 
And with his dart prepared is to strike. 
These arms my Lords, these never daunted arms, 

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