Have so entrapt poor Locrine’s lovesick heart,
That from the same no way it can be won.
How true is that which oft I heard declared,
One dram of joy, must have a pound of care.

ESTRILD.
Hard is their fall who, from a golden crown,
Are cast into a sea of wretchedness.

LOCRINE.
Hard is their thrall who by Cupid’s frown
Are wrapt in waves of endless carefulness.

ESTRILD.
Oh kingdom, object to all miseries.

LOCRINE.
Oh love, the extremest of all extremities.
Let him go into his chair.

FIRST SOLDIER.
My lord, in ransacking the Scithian tents,
I found this Lady, and to manifest
That earnest zeal I bear unto your grace,
I here present her to your majesty.

SECOND SOLDIER.
He lies, my Lord; I found the Lady first,
And here present her to your majesty.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Presumptuous villain, wilt thou take my prize?

SECOND SOLDIER.
Nay, rather thou deprivest me of my right.

FIRST SOLDIER.
Resign thy title, cative, unto me,
Or with my sword I’ll pierce thy coward’s loins.

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