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The Fiends of Hell will mark thefe Injuries.
Never fhall thefe blood-fucking mafty Curs
Bring wretched Sabren to her lateft home.
For I my felf, in spite of thee and thine,
Mean to abridge my former Deftinies,
And that which Locrine's Sword could not perform,
This prefent Stream shall present bring to pass.

[She drowns her felf.
Guen. One Mischief follows on another's Neck.
Who would have thought fo young a Maid as fhe,
With fuch a Courage would have fought her Death?
And for because this River was the Place
Where little Sabren refolutely died,

Sabren for ever fhall this fame be call'd.
And as for Locrine, our deceased Spouse,
Because he was the Son of mighty Brute,
To whom we owe our Country, Lives and Goods,
He shall be buried in a ftately Tomb,
Close by his aged Father Brutus Bones,
With fuch great Pomp and great Solemnity,
As well befeems fo brave a Prince as he.
Let Eftrild be without the fhallow Vaults,
Without the Honour due unto the dead,
Because he was the Author of this War.
Retire brave Followers unto Troynovant,
Where we will celebrate thefe Exequies,

And place young Locrine in his Father's Tomb. [Exeunt.
Ate. Lo here the end of lawless Treachery,

Of Ufurpation and ambitious Pride,

And they that for their private Amours dare
Turmoil our Land, and fet their Broils abroach,
Let them be warned by thefe Premiffes,

And as a Woman was the only cause

That civil difcord

was then stirred up,

So let us pray for that renowned Maid,
That eight and thirty Years the Scepter fway'd
In quiet Peace and fweet Felicity,

And every Wight that feeks her Grace's Smart,
Would that this Sword were pierced in his Heart.

The End of the Sixth and Laft Volume.

[Exit.

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