That might torment the damned traitor's soul!
O that I had Amphion's instrument,
To quicken with his vital notes and tunes
The flinty joints of every stony rock,
By which the Scithians might be punished!
For, by the lightening of almighty Jove,
The Hun shall die, had he ten thousand lives:
And would to God he had ten thousand lives,
That I might with the arm-strong Hercules
Crop off so vile an Hydra's hissing heads!
But say me, cousin, for I long to hear,
How Albanact came by untimely death.

THRASIMACHUS.
After the traitrous host of Scithians
Entered the field with martial equipage,
Young Albanact, impatient of delay,
Led forth his army gainst the straggling mates,
Whose multitude did daunt our soldiers' minds.
Yet nothing could dismay the forward prince,
But with a courage most heroical,
Like to a lion mongst a flock of lambs,
Made havoc of the faintheart fugitives,
Hewing a passage through them with his sword.
Yea, we had almost given them the repulse,
When suddenly, from out the silent wood,
Hubba, with twenty thousand soldiers,
Cowardly came upon our weakened backs,
And murthered all with fatal massacre.
Amongst the which old Debon, martial knight,