 | The Ninthe Tragedy of Lucius Annaeus Seneca, called Octauia |  |
178
THE THIRD ACTE
THE FIRST SCENE.
Agrippyna.
Through
paunch of riuened earth, from Plutoes raigne
With ghostly steps, I am returnd agayne.
In writhled wristes, that bloud do most desyre,
Forguyding wedlocke vyle with Stygian fire.
Let Poppie, which these cressets coupled sure,
Unto my sonne be ioynd in mariage pure:
Whom mothers griefe, and hand reuenging wrackes,
Shal send with heaue and hoe to funeral stackes
I always do remember wel beneath
Where piteous, ghostly, crauling soules do breath,
Th'unkindly slaughterous deede, which to our spright
Yet vnreuengd is grieuous and of right:
And for the good I did a cruell prise,
That deadly framed ship in crafty wyse:
And due reward that he gaue me agayne,
For helping him to rule of Empyres raygne:
And eake that night, when as I did bewayle,
Both losse of shippe wherin we then did sayle,
And mates vnhappye death, and whyle I thoughte,
For this accursed deede to haue besought
The Gods to trickling teares he gaue scant tyme
But twice encreased hath his deuillish cryme.
Quite slayne with sword, thrust through my bodyes boundes
And filthy layed through goary mattring woundes,
Deliuered safe from seas, deuouring sup,
In antique court my ghost I yeelded vp.
Nor yet his cancred, and vnsatiate hate.
For all this bloud doth Nero once abate.
With ghostly steps, I am returnd agayne.
In writhled wristes, that bloud do most desyre,
Forguyding wedlocke vyle with Stygian fire.
Let Poppie, which these cressets coupled sure,
Unto my sonne be ioynd in mariage pure:
Whom mothers griefe, and hand reuenging wrackes,
Shal send with heaue and hoe to funeral stackes
I always do remember wel beneath
Where piteous, ghostly, crauling soules do breath,
Th'unkindly slaughterous deede, which to our spright
Yet vnreuengd is grieuous and of right:
And for the good I did a cruell prise,
That deadly framed ship in crafty wyse:
And due reward that he gaue me agayne,
For helping him to rule of Empyres raygne:
And eake that night, when as I did bewayle,
Both losse of shippe wherin we then did sayle,
And mates vnhappye death, and whyle I thoughte,
For this accursed deede to haue besought
[178]
But twice encreased hath his deuillish cryme.
Quite slayne with sword, thrust through my bodyes boundes
And filthy layed through goary mattring woundes,
Deliuered safe from seas, deuouring sup,
In antique court my ghost I yeelded vp.
Nor yet his cancred, and vnsatiate hate.
For all this bloud doth Nero once abate.
That Tyrant dyre doth rage at mothers name.
And seeketh wayes my deedes for to defame.
Who threating death to them that doe withstand,
My shapes he dingeth downe in euery land:
My princely tytles large hee scrapeth out
In euery place, the whole wydeworld aboute,
Which my vnlucky parentes loue did geue,
To much vnto my paine whyle I did liue,
Unto a boy to guyde, which now I rue.
My poysoned make, my Ghost doth oft pursue:
And in my face with burning brondes doth flye.
He stayes a space with earnest talke hard by,
And threatneth sore, and doth impute his death
And tombe he should haue had to mee beneath.
And now desyres to haue some factious wight,
That dare despoyle my soane of breathing spright.
And seeketh wayes my deedes for to defame.
Who threating death to them that doe withstand,
My shapes he dingeth downe in euery land:
My princely tytles large hee scrapeth out
In euery place, the whole wydeworld aboute,
Which my vnlucky parentes loue did geue,
To much vnto my paine whyle I did liue,
Unto a boy to guyde, which now I rue.
My poysoned make, my Ghost doth oft pursue:
And in my face with burning brondes doth flye.
He stayes a space with earnest talke hard by,
And threatneth sore, and doth impute his death
And tombe he should haue had to mee beneath.
And now desyres to haue some factious wight,
That dare despoyle my soane of breathing spright.
Let be you shall haue one to worke this cryme,
I do require no long delayed tyme.
Reuenging spright Erin, a death doth coine,
Of life, that wicked tyrant to purloyne.
Sore smarting leaden strypes and shameful flight,
And pyning panges with thurst and hunger dight:
That Tantalus spungelike thursty mouth befurde,
And Sisyphus toyle shal passe, and Tityus burde,
And Ixions paynful wambling wheele aboute,
That teareth all his bodyes partes throughout.
Although that Tyrant proude and scornful wight,
His court with marble stone do strongly dyght,
And princelike garnish it with glistring golde:
Though troupes of souldiours shielded sure, vpholde
Their chieftaynes princely porch: and though yet still
The world drawne drye with talkes euen to his will,
Great heapes of riches yeeld themselues to saue,
Although his bloudy helpe the Parthians craue,
And Kingdomes bring, and goods al that they haue,
The tyme and day shall come, when as he shall
Forlorne, and quite vndone, and wanting all.
Unto his cursed deedes his life and more,
Unto his foes his bared throate restore.
Alas, vnto what ende is all my payne?
Or in what case do now my vowes remayne?
Wherto doth now thy rage and destnies spyte?
Draw thee O Sonne, with brayne benummed quite?
That to such monstruous heapes of ylles thy dame
(Whom thou with cursed mischiefe ouercame)
Hir wrath should yeeld? O that ere to the light
A sucking babe I brought thee foorth in sight,
And fedd thee fyne with pappe as princely borne,
The fierce, wild, sauage beastes had rent and torne
My wombe and bloudy entrails all beforne.
Without all cryme, and wanting reasons pride,
Mine own deere dādling thou child shouldst haue dide.
And fastned sure to me shouldst aye beholde,
The quiet place, where Ghostly soules be rolde:
And see thy graundsyres great of worthy fame,
And syre Domitius eake of princely name,
Whom now both shame and wayling doth abyde,
That whyle they dure, from them shal neuer slyde.
For which both thee, O cursed Barne, they may,
And mee, that thee haue borne geeue thankes for aye.
I do require no long delayed tyme.
Reuenging spright Erin, a death doth coine,
Of life, that wicked tyrant to purloyne.
Sore smarting leaden strypes and shameful flight,
And pyning panges with thurst and hunger dight:
That Tantalus spungelike thursty mouth befurde,
And Sisyphus toyle shal passe, and Tityus burde,
And Ixions paynful wambling wheele aboute,
That teareth all his bodyes partes throughout.
Although that Tyrant proude and scornful wight,
His court with marble stone do strongly dyght,
179
Though troupes of souldiours shielded sure, vpholde
Their chieftaynes princely porch: and though yet still
The world drawne drye with talkes euen to his will,
Great heapes of riches yeeld themselues to saue,
Although his bloudy helpe the Parthians craue,
And Kingdomes bring, and goods al that they haue,
The tyme and day shall come, when as he shall
Forlorne, and quite vndone, and wanting all.
Unto his cursed deedes his life and more,
Unto his foes his bared throate restore.
Alas, vnto what ende is all my payne?
Or in what case do now my vowes remayne?
Wherto doth now thy rage and destnies spyte?
Draw thee O Sonne, with brayne benummed quite?
That to such monstruous heapes of ylles thy dame
(Whom thou with cursed mischiefe ouercame)
Hir wrath should yeeld? O that ere to the light
A sucking babe I brought thee foorth in sight,
And fedd thee fyne with pappe as princely borne,
The fierce, wild, sauage beastes had rent and torne
My wombe and bloudy entrails all beforne.
Without all cryme, and wanting reasons pride,
Mine own deere dādling thou child shouldst haue dide.
And fastned sure to me shouldst aye beholde,
The quiet place, where Ghostly soules be rolde:
And see thy graundsyres great of worthy fame,
And syre Domitius eake of princely name,
Whom now both shame and wayling doth abyde,
That whyle they dure, from them shal neuer slyde.
For which both thee, O cursed Barne, they may,
And mee, that thee haue borne geeue thankes for aye.
But why ceasse I, with hel to hyde my face,
Wyfe, stepdame, mother dire, in my life space?
Wyfe, stepdame, mother dire, in my life space?
[179]
THE SECOND SCENE.
OctauiaChorus.
Do not, alas, thus sore lament,
But rather yet your mourning stay,
Sith that the city whole is bent
To celebrate this ioyful day:
Least your great loue and fauour both,
Which I do count to be most sure,
The more cause Nero me to loth,
And eake his bitter wrath procure:
And I fal out to be the ground
To you of many mischieues vyle,
This same is not the first deepe wounde,
That I haue felt now this good whyle:
Farre worse then this haue I abode:
But of these troublous cares this day
Shall make an end I trust in God,
Although with Death he do me pay,
No man to see shal me constrayne
His bended browes knit furrowyse,
Nor step within the Chamber ragyne
Of mayde drest vp in brydall guise
Augulius sister I wil bee,
And not his wyfe as wont I was:
But onely paynes remoue from mee,
And feare of death I wil not passe.
Yet canst thou piteous wreth once trust,
Thy cruell husbandes father law,
Or these few thinges to haue so iust
180
Now long reserud, vntil this day,
And these same maryage rytes be past,
Thou shalt poore wretch without delay,
A bloudy offring dye at last.
Why thus with teares disfigured sore
Thy wonted home dost thou behold?
Make hast to shunne this deadly shore
And leaue this straughtrous Princes fold.
Cho.
Lo see that day suspecttd long
And whispered Fame in all mens eares,
With glisteryng pompe of brydall throng,
To vs pore wretches now appeares.
And Claudius broode Octauias grace,
From Neroes wedlocke place expelde,
Departed is, whose spousall space,
Hath Poppie conquerour long tyme helde.
The whyle, our pyety couched lyes
Kept downe with heauy, combrous feare.
And slow reuenging grief likewyse:
Where doth the peoples power appeare,
That brake the force of Princes great,
That conquerous city lawes hath framde,
That worthy men to honours seat
Preferd, that warre and peace proclaymd,
That sauage people straunge did tame
That Kinges and Princes caught in fight
Shut surely vp in prison frame
To keepe them close from all mens sight
Loe, which wee cannot once abyde,
To see wher Poppies ymage trym,
Conioyned vnto Neroes syde
All glistring bright shynes very brim.
Let force of Armes pul downe that frame
And match with grounde that Ladyes face
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And snatch her downe from hedddig place,
And let it forthwith flye with brandes
With Dartes and Iauelins fiercely flonge,
From pythy braunes and sturdy handes
Unto the princes courtly throng.
| The Ninthe Tragedy of Lucius Annaeus Seneca, called Octauia | |