University of Virginia Library

Though much I beare that boyling brest do beate
And tollerably take diuorcements threate,
Deathes only deadly darte, I see an end,
Of al my broyle and pinching payne can send,
What pleasant light to me (O wretch) is left,
My natural Mother slayne, and Syre bereft,
Of breathing life, by treason, and by gilt:
Of Brother eake depriude: with miseryes spilt:
And wayling ouercome: kept downe with care,
Enuyed of Make, which I dare not declare.
To mayden subiect now, and now defied:
What pleasant light can me (O wretch) abyde,
With feareful hart suspecting always ought:
Because I would no wicked deede were wroughte:
Not that I feare Deathes griesly gyrning face,
God graunt I do not so reuenge my case,
A better deede to dye: for to behold
The Tyrantes visage grimme, with browes vprolde
And with soft tender lippes my foe to kisse,
And stand in awe of beckes and noddes of his,
Whose will to please my griefe with cares yfirde
Since brothers death by wicked wyle conspirde,
Could neuer once vouchsafe for to sustayne,
Lesse griefe to die, then thus to liue in payne.
His Empyre Nero rules and ioyes in blood:
The cause and ground of death that Tirant wood.
How oft (alas) doth Fansie fondly fayne.
Whē slumber swete in pensiue parts doth raigne,
And sleepe in eyes, all tyrd with teares doth rest,
I apprehend deare Brittans liuely brest:
Ere whyle me thinkes his feble shiuering hands
He fenseth sure with deadly blasing brandes,
And fiercely on his brother Neros face,
With sturdy stinging stroakes he flies apace.
Ere whyle thilke wretch recoyleth backe agayne,
And to my thewes for aide retyres amayne:
Him foming foe pursues with hast to haue:
And whyle my brother I desire to saue,
And in my clasped armes to shield him free,
His goary bloudied falchion keene I see.
The boysterous raumping fiend to tugge, & hale
Through out my shiuering limmes, as ashes pale.
Forthwith a mighty trembling chattering quake
From weary lims all souple sleepe doth shake,
And makes me woeful wretch for to recount,
My wayling sobbing sorrowes that surmount.
Hereto, put to that gorgeous stately [illeg.]ouse,
All glistring bright, with spoyles of Claudius house
His parent deare in bubling boate did douse,
That wicked sonne, this fisking dame to please.
Whom yet escaping daungers great of Seas.
He fiercer freake than waues that scantly rest,
VVith bloudy blade hir bowels did vnbrest.
VVhat hope of health, can me, O wretch, abyde,
That after them thilke way I should not ryde?
My speciall foe, triumphant wise doth weight,
VVith naked nates to presse by louers sleight,
Our spousall, pure, and cleane vnspotied bed:
Gainst whom, she burns, with deadly foode bloud red.
And, for a meede of filthy strumpets sport,
She causeth Make from spouse for to diuort.