University of Virginia Library

THE SECOND TRAGEDIE OF SENECA ENTITVTULED Thyestes, faythfully Englished by Iasper Heywood Felow of Alsolne Colledge in Oxenforde.

THE FIRST ACTE.

The names of the Speakers

• Tantalus.
• Megæra.
• Atreus.
• Seruant,
• Thiestes.
• Philistenes.
• Messenger,
• Chorus,

Tantalus Megæra,
Meg,
Go forth thou detestable sprite
And vexe the Goddes of wicked house with rage of furyes might.
Let them contend with all offence, by turnes and one by one
Let swordes be drawne: and meane of ire procure there may be none,
Nor shame: let fury blynd enflame theyr myndes and wrathful will,
Let yet the parentes rage endure and longer lasting yll
Through childrens children spreade: nor yet let any leysure be
The former fawte to hate, but still more mischiefe newe to see,
Nor one in one: but ere the gylt with vengeance be acquit,
Encrease the cryme: from brethren proud let rule of kingdom flyt
To runnagates: and swaruing state of all vnstable thinges,
Let it by doubtfull dome be toste, betwene thuncertaine kyngs.
Let mighty fall to misery, and myser clime to might,
Let chaunce turne thempyre vpsydowne both geue and take the right.
The banyshed for gylt, whan god restore theyr country shall.
Let them to mischiefe fall a fresh as hatefull then to all,
As to themselues: let Ire thinke nought vnlawfull to be doon,
Let brother dread the brothers wrath, and father feare the soon,
And eke the soon his parents powre: let babes be murdered yll,
But worse begot? her spouse betrapt in treasons trayne to kyll,
Let hatefull wyfe awayte, and let them beare through seas their warre,
Let bloodshed lye the lands about and euery field a farre:
And ouer conqueryng captaynes greate, of countreys far to see,
Let lust tryumphe: in wicked house let whoredome counted be
The light'st offene: let trust that in the breasts of brethren breedes,
And truth be gone: let not from sight of your so heynous deedes
The heauens be hyd, about the poale when shyne the starres on hye,
And flames with woonted beames of light doe decke the paynted skye.
Let darkest night bee made, and let the day the heauens forsake.
Dysturbe the godds of wicked house, hate, slaughter, murder make.
Fyll vp the house of Tantalus with mischieues and debates,
Adorned by the pillars hygh with bay, and let the gates
Be garnysht greene: and worthy there for thy returne to sight,
Be kyndled fyre: let mischyefe done in Thracia once, theyr lyght
More manyfolde, wherefore doth yet the vncles hand delaye?
Doth yet Thyestes not bewayle his childrens fatall day?
Shall he not finde them where with heat of fyres that vnder glowe
The cawderne boyles? their limmes eche one a peeces let them go
Disperste: let fathers fires, with blood of chyldren fyled bee:
Let deynties such be drest: it is no mischiefe newe to thee,
To banquet so: behold this day we haue to thee releast,
And hunger starued wombe of thyne we send to such a feast.
With fowlest foode thy famyne fyll, let bloud in wyne be drownd,
And dronke in sight of thee: loe now such dishes haue I found,
As thou wouldst shonne, stay whither doste thou hedlong way now take

Tan.
To pooles and floods of hell agayne and styll declining lake,
And flight of tree ful frayght with fruite that from the lippes doth flee,
To dungeon darke of hateful hell let leeful be for me
To goe: or if to light be thought the paynes that there I haue,
Remoue me from those lakes agayne: in midst of worser waue
Of Phlegethon, to stand in seas of fyre beset to bee.
Who so beneath thy poynted paynes by destenyes decree
Dost stil endure who soo thou bee that vnderliest alow
The hollow denne, or ruyne who that feares and ouerthrow
Of fallyng hyl, or cruel cryes that sound in caues of hell
Of greedy roaryng Lyons throats or flocke of furyes fell
Who quakes to know or who the brandes of fyre in dyrest payne
Halfe burnt throwes of harke to the voyce of Tantalus: agayne
That hastes to hel, and whom the truth hath taught beleeue wel mee
Loue wel your paynes, they are but small when shall my hap so bee
To flee the light?

Meg
Disturbe thou fyrst thys house with dire discord
Debates and battels bring with thee, and of th'unhappy sworde
Ill loue to kinges: the cruel brest strike through and hateful hart,
With tumult mad,

Tan.
To suffer paynes it seemeth wel my part,
Not woes to worke: I am sent forth lyke vapoure dyre to ryse,
That breakes the ground or poyson like the plague in wondrouse wyse
That slaughter makes, shall I to such detested crymes, applye
My nephewes hartes? o parentes great of Gods aboue the skie
And myne (though sham'de I be to graunt) although with greater pain
My tounge be vext, yet this to speake I may no whit refrayne
Nor hold my peace: I warne you this least sacred hand with bloud
Of slaughter dyre, or fransie fell of frantike fury wood
The aulters slayne, I will resist: And garde such gylt away.
With strypes why dost thou me affryght? why threatst thou me to fraye
Those crallyng snakes? or famine fyxt in empty wombe, wherfore
Dost thou reuyue? now fries within with thyrst enkindled sore
My harte: and in the bowels burnt the boyling flames do glow.

Meg
I follow thee: through all this house now rage and fury throwe
Let them be driuen so, and so let eyther thirst to see
Each others blood ful well hath felt the comming in of thee
This house, and all with wicked touch of the begune to quake.
Enough it is, repayre agayne to dens and loathsome lake,
Of floud well knowen, the sadder soyle with heauy fote of thyne
Agreeued is, seest thou from springes how waters do declyne
And inward sinke? or how the bankes lye voyde by drughty heate?
And hoatter blast of fyery wynde the fewer cloudes doth beate?
The treese be spoyld, and naked stand to sight in withred woddes,
The barayne bowes whose fruites are fled: the land betwene the floods
With surge of seas on eyther syde that wonted to resound,
And nearer foordes to seperat sometyme with lesser ground,
Now broader spred, it heareth how aloofe the waters ryse.
Now Lerna turnes agaynst the streame Phoronides likewyse
His poares be stopt, with custom'd course Alphéus dryues not still,
His hollie waues, the trembling tops of high Cithæron hill,
They stand not sure: from height adowne they shake their syluer snowe,
And noble fieldes of Argos feare, theyr former drought to know.
Yea Tytan doubtes himselfe to rolie the worlde his wonted way,
And driue by force to former course the backward drawing daye.

Chorus

This Argos towne if any God be founde,
And Pisey boures that famous yet remayn,
Or kingdomes els to loue of Corinthes ground,
The double hauens, or sundred seas in twayne
If any loue of Taygetus his snowes,
(By VVinter which when they on hils be cast:
By Boreas blastes that from Sarmatia blowes,
VVith yerely breath the sommer meltes as fast)
VVhere clere Alphéus runnes with floude so cold,
By playes wel knowen that there Olimpiks hight;
Let pleasaunt powre of his from hense withholde
Such turnes of stryfe that here they may not light:
Nor nephew worse then grandsier spring from vs,
Or direr deedes delyght the yonger age.
Let wicked stocke of thirsty Tantalus
At length leaue of, and wery be of rage.
Enoughe is done, and naught preuaild the iust,
Or wrong: betrayed is Mirtilus and drownde,
That did betray his dame, and with like trust
Borne as he bare, himselfe hath made renound
VVith chaunged name the sea: and better knowne
To mariners therof no fable is.
On wicked sword the litle infant throwne
As ran the chide to take his fathers kisse.
Vnrype for thaulters offring fell downe deade:
And with thy hand (O Tantalus) was rent,
VVith such a meate for Gods thy boordes to spread.
Eternall famine for such foode is sent,
And thyrst: nor for those daynty meats vnmilde,
Might meeter payne appoynted euer bee
Vith empty throate standes Tantalus begylde,
Aboue thy wicked head their leanes to thee,
Then Phineys fowles in flight a swifter pray.
VVith burned bowes declynd on euery syde,
And of his fruites all bent to beare the sway,
The tree deludes the gapes of hunger wyde
Though hee full greedy feede theron would fayne.
So oft deceyu'de neglectes to touch them yet:
He turnes his eyes, his iawes he doth refrayne,
And famine fixt in closed gummes doth shet.
But then each braunch his plenteous ritches all,
Lets lower downe, and apples from an hie
VVith lither leaues they flatter like to fall
And famine styrre:in vayne that bids to trye
His handes: which when he hath rought forth anone
To be beguyld, in higher ayre againe
The haruest hanges and fickle fruite is gone,
Then thirst him greeues no lesse then hungers payne:
Wherwith when kindled is his boyling bloud
Lyke fyre, the wretch the waues to him doth call,
That meete his mouth: which straight the fleeyng floud
VVithdrawes, and from the dryed foorde doth fall:
And him forsakes that followes them. He drinkes
The dust so deepe of gulfe that from him shrinkes.

THE SECONDE ACTE.

Atreus. Seruaunt
Ser.
Doth some of people naught
Aduerse thee feare?

Atre.
The greatest good of kingdom may be thought
That still the people are constraynd their princes deedes as well
To prayse, as them to suffer all.

Ser.
Whom feare doth so compell
To prayse, the same his foes to bee, doth feare enforce agayne:
But who indeede the glory seekes of fauour trew t'obtayne
He rather would with hates of each be praysd, then tounges of all

Atre.
The trewer prayse ful oft hath hapt to meaner men to fall:
The false but vnto myghty man what nill they let them will.

Ser.
Let first the king will honest thinges and none the same dare nill.

Atre.
Where leeful are to him that rules but honest thinges alone,
There raynes the kyng by others leaue.

Ser.
And wher ye shame is none,
Nor care of ryght, fayth, piety, nor holines none stayeth,
That kingdome swarues.

Atre.
Such holines, such piety and fayth,
Are priuate goods: let kinges runne one in that that likes their will.

Ser.
The brothers hurt a mischiefe count though he be nere so ill.

Atre.
It is but right to do to hym, that wrong to brother were.
What heynous hurt hath his offence let passe to proue? or where
Refraynd the gylt, my spouse he stale away for lechery,
And raygne by stelth: the auncient note and sygne of impery,
By frawde he got: my house by fraud to vexe he neuer ceast:
In Pelops house there fostred is a noble worthy beast
The close kept Ramme: the goodly guyde of rych and fayrest flockes.
By whom throughout on euery syde depend adowne the lockes
Of glittering gold, with fleece of which the new kinges wonted were
Of Tantals stocke their sceptors gylt, and mace of might to beare.
Of this the owner raygneth he, with him of house so great
The fortune fleeth, this sacred Ramme aloofe in safety shet
In secret mead is wont to grase, which stone on euery syde
With rocky wall incloseth rounde the fatall beast to hyde.
This beast (aduentryng mischiefe greate) adioyning yet for pray
My spoused mate, the traytour false hath hence conuayde away
From hence the wrongs of mutuall hate, and mischiefe all vpsprong:
In exile wandred he throughout my kingdomes all along:
No part of myne remayneth safe to mee, from traynes of hys.
My feere deflourde, and loyalty of empyre broken is:
My house all vext, my bloud in doubt, and naught that trust is in,
But brother foe What stayst thou yet? at length lo now beginne.
Take hart of Tantalus to thee, to Pelops cast thyne eye:
To such examples well beseemes, I should my hand applye.
Tell thou which way were best to bring that cruell head to death.

Ser.
Through perst wt sword let him be slayne & yelde his hatefull breath.

Atre.
Thou speak'st of th'end: but I him would opres wt greter payne.
Let tyrants vexe with torment more: should euer in my rayne
Be gentle death?

Ser.
Doth piety in thee preuayle no whit?

Atre.
Depart thou hence all piety, if in this house as yet
Thou euer wert: and now let all the flocke of furies dyre,
And full of strife Erinnis come, and double brands of fyre
Megæra shaking: for not yet enough with fury great
And rage doth burne my boyling brest: it ought to bee repleate,
With monster more.

Ser.
What mischiefe new do'ste thou in rage prouide?

Atre.
Not such a one as may the meane of woonted griefe abide.
No guilt will I forbeare, nor none may be enough despight.

Ser.
What sword?

Atr.
To litle that.

Ser.
what fire?

Atr.
And yt is yet to light

Ser.
What weapon then shall sorrow such finde fit to worke thy will?

Atr.
Thyestes selfe.

Ser.
Then yre it selfe yet that's a greater ill.

Atr.
I graunt: a tombling tumult quakes, within my bosomes loe,
And rounde it rolles: I moued am and wote not wherevnto.
But drawen I am: from bottome deepe the roryng soyle doth cry
The day so fayre with thunder soundes, and house as all from hy
Were rent, from roofe, and rafters crakes: and lares turnde abought
Haue wryde theyr sight: so bee'te, so bee'te, let mischiefe such be sought,
As yee O Gods would feare.

Ser.
What thing seek'st thou to bring to pas
I note what greater thing my mynde, and more then woont it was

Atre.
Aboue the reache that men are woont to worke, begins to swell:
And stayth with slouthfull hands What thinge it is I cannot tell:
But great it is. Bee'te so, my mynde now in this feate proceede,
For Atreus and Thyestes bothe, it were a worthy deede.
Let eche of vs the crime commit. The Thracian house did see
Such wicked tables once: I graunt the mischiefe great to bee,
But done ere this: some greater guilt and mischiefe more, let yre
Fynde out. The stomacke of thy sonne O father thou enspyre,
And syster eke, like is the cause: assist me with your powre,
And dryue my hand: let greedy parents all his babes deuowre,
And glad to rent his children bee: and on their lyms to feede.
Enough, and well it is deuis'de: this pleaseth me in deede.
In meane time where is he? so long and innocent wherefore
Doth Atreus walke? before myne eyes alredy more and more
The shade of such a slaughter walkes: the want of children cast,
In fathers Iawes. But why my mynde, yet dreadst thou so at lost,
And faint'st before thou enterprise? it must bee done, let bee,
That which in all this mischiefe is the greatest guilt to see,
Let him commit.

Ser.
but what disceit may wee, for him prepare,
Whereby betrapt he may be drawne, to fall into the snare?
He wotes full well we are his foes.

Atre.
He could not taken bee,
Except himselfe woulde take: but now my kingdomes hopeth hee.
For hope of this he woulde not feare to meete the mighty Ioue,
Though him he threatned to destroy, with lightning from aboue.
For hope of this to passe the threats of waues he will not fayle,
Nor dread no whit by doubtfull shelues, of Lybike seas to sayle,
For hope of this (which thing he doth the woorst of all beleeue,)
He will his brother see.

Ser.
Who shall of peace the promise geeue?
Whom will he trust?

Atre.
His euill hope will soone beleue it well.
Yet to my sonnes the charge which they shall to theyr vnckle tell,
We will commit: that whom he would from exile come agayne,
And myseries for kingdome chaunge, and ouer Argos reygne
A king of halfe: and though to hard of heart our prayers all
Him selfe despise, his children yet nought woting what may fall,
With trauels tier'de, and apte to be entys'de from misery,
Requests will moue: on th'one side his desyre of Imperie,
On th'other syde his pouerty, and labour hard to see,
Will him subdue and make to yeelde, although full stoute he bee.

Sea.
His trauayles now the time hath made to seeme to him but small.

Atr.
Not so: for day by day the griefe of ill encreaseth all.
T'is light to suffer miseries, but heauy them t'endure.

Ser.
Yet other messengers to send, in such affayres procure,

Atr.
The yonger sorte the wrose precepts do easely harken to.

Ser.
What thing agaynst their vnckle now, you them enstruckt to do,
Perhaps with you to worke the like, they will not be a dread.
Such mischiefe wrought hath oft return'de vpon the workers head.

Atre.
Though neuer man to thē the wayes of guile & guilt haue taught,
Yet kingdome will. Fear'st thou they should be made by coūsel naught?
They are so borne. That which thou cal'ste a cruell enterpryse,
And dyrely deemest doone to be, and wickedly likewise,
Perhaps is wrought agaynst me there.

Ser.
And shall your sons of this
Disceipt beware that worke you will? no secretnes there is
In theyr so greene and tender yeares: they will your traynes disclose,

Atre.
A priuy counsell cloase to keepe, is learnde with many woes.

Ser.
And will yee them, by whom yee woulde he should beguiled bee,
Themselues beguil'de?

At.
Nay let thē both from fault & blame be free.
For what shall neede in mischiefes such as I to woorke entende,
To mingle them? let all my hate by mee alone take ende.
Thou leau'ste thy purpose ill my mynde: if thou thine owne forbeare,
Thou sparest him. Wherefore of this let Agamemnon heare
Be mynister: and Client eke of myne for such a deede,
Let Menelâus present bee: truth of th'uncertayne seede,
By such a pracktise may be tri'de: if it refuse they shall,
Nor of debate will bearers be, if they him vnckle call,
He is their father: let them goe. But much the fearefull face
Bewrayes it selfe: euen him that faynes the secret wayghty case,
Doth oft betray: let them therefore not know, how great a guyle
They goe about. And thou these things in secret keepe the whyle.

Ser.
I neede not warned bee, for these within my bosome deepe,
Both fayth, and feare, but chiefely fayth, doth shet and closely kepe.

Chorus.

The noble house at length of high renowne,
The famous stocke of auncient Inachus,
Apeasd & layd the threats of brethrē down
But nowe what fury styrs & driues you thus
Eche one to thyrst the others bloud agayne,
Or get by guylt the golden Mace in hande?
Yee litle wote that so desyre to raygne,
In what estate or place doth kyngdome stande.
Not ritches makes a kyng or high renowne,
Not garnisht weede wyth purple Tyrian die,
Not lofty lookes, or head encloasde with crowne,
Not glyttring beames with golde and turrets hie.
A Kyng he is that feare hath layde aside,
And all affects that in the breast are bred:
VVhom impotent ambition doth not guide,
Nor fickle fauour hath of people led.
Nor all that west in mettalls mynes hath founde,
Or chanell cleere of golden Tagus showes,
Nor all the grayne that thresshed is on grounde,
That with the heate of libyk haruest glowes.
Nor whom the flasshe of lightning flame shall beate,
Nor eastern wynde that smightes vpon the seas,
Nor swelling surge with rage of vvynde repleate,
Or greedy Gulphe of Adria displease.
VVhom not the pricke of Souldiers sharpest speare,
Or poyncted pyke in hand hath made to rue,
Nor whom the glympse of swoorde myght cause to feare,
Or bright drawen blade of glyttring steele subdue.
VVho in the seate of safty sets his feete,
Beholdes all haps how vnder him they lye,
And gladly runnes his fatall day to meete,
Nor ought complaynes or grudgeth for to dye.
Though present vvere the Prynces euerychone,
The scattered Dakes to chase that vvonted bee,
That shyning seas beset with precious stone,
And red sea coastes doe holde, lyke bloud to see:
Or they vvhich els the Caspian mountaynes hye,
From Sarmats strong with all theyr power vvithholde:
Or hee that on the floude of Danubye,
In frost a foote to trauayle dare bee bolde:
Or Seres in vvhat euer place they lye,
Renownde with fleece that there of sylke doth spring,
They neuer might the truth hereof denye,
It is the mynde that onely makes a king.
There is no neede of sturdie steedes in warre,
No neede with armes or arrowes ells to fight,
That Parthus woonts with bowe to fling from farre,
VVhyle from the fielde hee falsely fayneth flight.
Nor yet to siege no neede it is to bringe
Great Guns in Carts to ouerthrowe the wall,
That from farre of theyr battring Pellets slyng.
A kyng hee is that feareth nought at all.
Eche man him selfe this kyngdome geeues at hand.
Let who so lyst with mighty mace to raygne,
In tyckle toppe of court delight to stand
Let mee the sweete and quiet rest obtayne.
So set in place obscure and lowe degree,
Of pleasaunt rest I shall the sweetnesse knoe.
My lyfe vnknowne to them that noble bee,
Shall in the steppe of secret sylence goe.
Thus when my dayes at length are ouer past,
And tyme without all troublous tumult spent,
An aged man I shall depart at last,
In meane estate, to dye full well content.
But greeuous is to him the death, that when
So farre abroade the bruite of him is blowne,
That knowne hee is to much to other men:
Departeth yet vnto him selfe vnknowne.

THE THYRDE ACTE.

[THE FIRST SCENE.]

Thyestes, Phylisthenes
Phy.
With slouthfull step (what meaneth this?) my father stādeth still,
And turnes his face and holdes him selfe, in doubt what thing to do.

Thy.
What thing (my minde) considrest thou? or els so long whereto
Do'st thou so easie counsayle wrest? wilt thou to thinges vnsure
Thy brother and the kingdome trust? fearst thou those ills t'endure
Now ouercome, and mielder made? and trauayls do'st thou flee
That well were plaste? it thee auayls, a myser now to bee.
Turne hence thy pace while leefull is, and keepe thee from his hande.

Phy.
What cause thee driues (O father deere) thus rō thy natiue lande,
Now seene to shrynk? what makes thee thus frō things so good at last
Withdrawe thy selfe? thy brother comes whose ires be ouerpast,
And halfe the kyngdome geues, and of the house Dylacerate,
Repayres the partes: and thee restores agayne to former state.

Thy.
The cause of feare that I know not, thou do'st require to heare.
I see nothing that makes mee dread, and yet I greatly feare.
I would goe on, but yet my limmes with weary legges doe slacke:
And other way then I would passe, I am withholden backe.
So oft the ship that driuen is with wynde and eke with Ore,
The swelling surge resisting both beares backe vpon the shore.

Phy.
Yet ouercome what euer stayes, and thus doth let your mynde,
And see what are at your returne, prepar'de for you to finde.
You may O father raygne.

Thy.
I may but then when die I mought.

P.
Chiefe thing is powre.

T.
nought worth at al, if thou desyre it nought.

P.
You shall it to your children leaue.

T.
the kingdome takes not twayne,

Phy.
Who may be happy, rather would he myser yet remayne?

Thy.
Beleue me well, with titles false the great thinges vs delight:
And heauy haps in vayne are fearde. while high I stoode in sight,
I neuer stinted then to quake, and selfe same sworde to feare,
That hanged by myne owne side was. Oh how great good it were,
With none to striue, but careles foode to care and rest to knowe?
The greater gyltes they enter not in cotage set alowe.
And safer foode is fed vpon, at narrowe boorde alway,
While drunke in golde the poyson is by proofe well taught I say,
That euill haps before the good to loue it likes my will.
Of haughty house that standes aloft in tickle top of hyll,
And swayes asyde, the cyty lowe neede neuer be affright:
Nor in the top of roofe aboue, there shynes no Iuery bright,
For watchman noue defendes my sleepes by night, or gardes my rest:
With fleete I fishe not, nor the sees I haue not backwarde prest,
Nor turn'de to flight with builded wall: nor wicked belly I
With taxes of the people fed: nor parcell none doth lie,
Of ground of myne beyonde the Getes: and Parthians farre about:
Nor worshiped with frankinsence I am, nor (Ioue shet out)
My Aulters decked are: nor none in top of house doth stande
In garden treese, nor kindled yet with helpe of eche mans hande,
The bathes doe smoake: nor yet are dayes in slouthfull slumbers led,
Nor nightes past forth in watche and wyne, without the rest of bed,
Wee nothing feare, the house is safe without the hidden knyfe,
And poore estate the sweetenes feeles, of rest and quiet lyfe.
Greate kindome is to be content, without the same to lyue.

Phy.
Yet should is not refused be, if God the kingdome giue.

Thy.
Not yet desierd it ought to be.

Phy.
your brother byds you rayne.

Thy.
Bids he? the more is to be fearde: there lurketh there some trayne.

Phy.
From whence it fell, yet piety is woont to turne at length:
And loue vnfaynde, repayres agayne his erst omitted strength.

Thy.
Doth Atreus then his brother loue? eche Vrsa fyrst on hye,
The Seas shall washe. and swelling surge of Seas of Sicylye
Shall rest and all asswaged be: and corne to rypenes growe
In bottome of Ionian seas, and darkest night shall showe
And spreade the light about the soyle: the waters with the fyre,
The lyfe with death, the wynde with seas, shall friendship first requyre,
And be at league.

Phy.
of what deceipte are you so dreadfull here?

Thy.
Of euerychone: what ende at length might I prouide of feare?
In all he can he hateth me.

Phy.
to you what hurt can he?

Thy.
As for my selfe I nothing dread you litle Babes make mee
Afrayde of him.

Phy.
dread, yee to be beguilde when caught yee are:
To late it is to shoon the trayne in middle of the snare.
But goe we on, this (father) is to you my last request.

Thy.
I follow you. I leade you not.

Phy.
God turne it to the best
That well deuised is for good: passe farth with cherefull pace.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Atreus, Thyestes.
Thy.
I coulde excuse my selfe, except thou wert as now thou art.
But (Atreus) now I graunt, the faulte was myne in euery part:
And I offended haue in all, my cause the worse to bee,
Your this dayes kindnes makes: in deede a guilty wight is hee,
That would so good a brother hurt as you, in any whit.
But now with teares I must entreate, and first I me submit.
These handes that at thy feete doe lye, doe thee beseeche and pray,
That yre and hate be layde aside, and from thy bosome may
Be scraped out: and cleere forgot for pledges take thou these
O brother deere, these guiltles babes.

Atr.
thy hands yet from my kneese
Remoue, and rather me to take in armes, vpon me fall
And yee Daydes of elders age, yee litle infants all.
Mee clyp and coll about the necke: this fowle attyre forsake,
And spare myne eyes that pity it, and fresher vesture take
Lyke myne to see. and you with ioy, the halfe of emperie
Deere brother take: the greater prayse shall come to mee thereby,
Our fathers seate to yelde to you, and brother to relieue.
To haue a kingdome is but chaunce, but vertue it to geeue.

Thy.
I iust reward for such deserts, the Gods (O brother deare)
Repay to thee: but on my head a regall crowne to weare,
My lothsome lyfe denyes: and farre doth from the sceptor flee
My hand vnhappy: in the mydst let leefull be for mee
Of men to lurke.

Atre.
this kingdome can with twayne full well agree.

Thy.
What euer is (O brother) yours, I count it myne to bee.

Atr.
Who would dame fortunes gifts refuse, if shee him rayse to raigne?

Thy.
The gyfts of hir eche man it wotes, how soone they passe againe.

Atr.
Yee me depryue of glory great, except yee th'empyre take.

Thy.
You haue your prayse in offring it, and I it to forsake.
And full perswaded to refuse the kingdome, am I still.

Atre.
Except your part yee will susteine myne owne forsake I will.

Thy.
I take it then. and beare I will the name there of alone:
The ryghts and armes, as well as myne they shall be yours eche one.

Atre.
The regall crowne as you beseemes vpon your head then take:
And I th'appoyncted sacrifice for Gods, will now goe make.

Chorus.

Woulde any man it weene? that cruell wight
Atreus, of mynde so impotent to see
VVas soone astonied with his brothers sight,
Mo greater force then pietye may bee:
VVhere kynred is not, lasteth euery threat,
VVhom true loue holdes, it holdes eternally.
The vvrath but late vvith causes kyndled great
All fauour brake, and did to battayle cry,
VVhan horsemen did resounde one euery syde,
The swoardes eche vvhere, then glystred more & more:
VVhich raging Mars vvith often stroke did guide
The fresher bloud to shed yet thyrsting sore.
But loue the sworde agaynst theyr vvills doth swage,
And them to peace perswads vvith hand in hand.
So sodeyne rest, amid so great a rage
VVhat God hath made? throughout Mycenas land
The harnesse clynkt, but late of cyuill strife:
And for their babes did fearefull mother quake,
Her armed spouse to leese much fearde the vvyfe,
VVhen sworde vvas made the scabberde to forsake,
That now by rest vvith rust vvas ouergrowne.
Some to repayre the vvalles that did decay,
And some to strength the towres halfe ouerthrowne,
And some the gates vvith gyns of Yrne to stay
Full busie vvere, and dredfull vvatch by nyght
From turret high did ouerlooke the towne.
VVoorse is then warre it selfe the feare of fight.
(Nowe are the threats of cruell sworde layde downe,
And nowe the rumour whists of battayles sowne,
The noyse of crooked trumpet silent lyes,
And quiet peace returnes to ioyfull towne.
So when the waues of swelling surge aryse,
VVhyle Corus wynde the Brutian seas doth smight,
And Scylla soundes from hollowe Caues within,
And Shipmen are with wafting waues affright,
Charybdis casts that erst it had drunke in:
And Cyclpos fierce his father yet doth dred,
In AEtna banke that feruent is with heates,
Least quenched be with waues that ouershed
The fire that from eternall Fornace beates:
And poore Laërtes thinkes his kyngdomes all
May drowned be, and Ithaca doth quake:
If once the force of wyndes begin to fall,
The sea lyth downe more mylde then standing lake.
The deepe, where Ships so vvyde full dredfull vvere
To passe, vvith sayles on eyther syde out spred
Now fallne adowne, the lesser Boate doth beare:
And leysure is to vewe the fyshes ded
Euen there, vvhere late vvith tempest bet vpon
The shaken Cyclades vvere vvith Seas agast.
No state endures the payne and pleasure, one
To other yeldes, and ioyes be soonest past.
One howre sets vp the thinges that lowest bee.
Hee that the crownes to prynces doth deuyde,
VVhom people please with bending of the knee,
And at whose becke theyr battayles lay aside
The Meades, and Indians eke to Phebus nye,
And Dakes that Parthyans doe with horsemen threat,
Him selfe yet holdes his Sceptors doubtfully,
And men of might he feares and chaunces great
(That eche estate may turne) and doubtfull howre.
O yee, vvhom lorde of lande and vvaters wyde,
Of Lyfe and death grauntes here to haue the powre,
Lay yee your proude and lofty lookes aside:
VVhat your inferiour feares of you amis.
That your superiour threats to you agayne.
To greater kyng, eche kyng a subiect is.
VVhom dawne of day hath seene in pryde to raygne,
Hym ouerthrowne hath seene the euening late.
Let none reioyce to much that good hath got,
Let none dispayre of best in vvorst estate.
For Clotho myngles all, and suffreth not
Fortune to stande: but Fates about doth driue.
Such friendship finde wyth Gods yet no man myght,
That he the morowe might be sure to lyue.
The God our things all tost and turned quight
Rolles with a whyrle wynde.

THE FOVRTHE ACTE.

Messenger. Chorus.
Ch.
what new thing hast thou brought?

Me.
What lande is this? lythe Sparta here and Argos, that hath bred
So wicked brethern? and the ground of Corinth lying spred
Betweene the seas? or Ister else where woont to take their flight,
Are people wylde? or that which woonts with snowe to shyne so bright
Hircana lande? or els doe here the wandring Scythtans dwell?

Ch.
What monstrous mischiefe is this place then guilty of? that tell,
And this declare to vs at large what euer be the ill.

Me.
If once my mynde may stay it selfe, and quaking limmes I will.
But yet of such a cruell deede before myne eyes the feare
And Image walkes: yee raging stormes now far from hence me beare
And to that place me driue, to which now driuen is the day
Thus drawen from hence.

Ch.
Our myndes yee holde yet still in doubt: full stay.
Tell what it is yee so abhorre. The author thereof showe.
I aske not who, but which of them that quickly let vs know.

Me.
In Pelops Turret high, a part there is of Pallace wyde
That towarde the south erected leanes, of which the vtter syde
With equall top to mountayne slantes, and on the City lies,
And people proude agaynst theyr prynce if once the treytors rise
Hath vnderneath his batiring stroke: there shynes the place in sight
Where woont the people to frequent, whose golden beames so bright
The noble spotted pillers gray, of marble doe supporte,
Within this place well knowen to men, where they so oft resorte,
To many other roomes about the noble court doth goe.
The priuie Palaice vnderlieth in secret place aloe,
With ditch ful deepe that doth enclose the wood of priuitee,
And hidden parts of kyngdome olde: where neuer grew no tree
That chereful bowes is woont to beare, with knife or lopped be,
But Taxe, and Cypresse, and with tree of Holme ful blacke to see
Doth becke and bende the wood so darke: alofte aboue all theese
The higher oke doth ouer looke, surmounting all the treese.
From hens with lucke the raigne to take, accustom'd are the kyngs,
From hens in daunger ayd to aske, and doome in doubtfull things.
To this affixed are the gifts, the sounding Trumpets bright,
The Chariots broke, and spoyles of sea that now Mirtôon hight,
There hang the wheeles once won by crafte of taller axel tree,
And euery other conquests note, here leefullis to see
The Phrygian tyre of Pelops head: the spoyle of enmies heere,
And of Barbarian triumphe left, the paynted gorgeous geere.
A lothsome springe stands vnder shade, and slouthfull course doth take,
With water blacke: euen such as is: of yrkesome Stygian lake
The vgly waue whereby art wont, to sweare the gods on hye.
Here all the night the grisly ghosts and gods of death to crie
The fame reportes: with clinkyng chaynes resoūds the wood ech where
The sprights cry out and euery thinge that dredfull is to heare,
May there bee seene: of vgly shapes from olde Sepulchres sent
A fearefull flocke doth wander there, and in that place frequent
Worse things then euer yet were knowwne: ye all the wood full afte
With flame is woont to flash, and all the higher trees alofte
Without a fyre do burne: and ofte the wood beside all this
With triple barkyng roares at once: ful oft the pala:ce is
Affright with shapes, nor lighte of day may on the terrour quell.
Eternall night doth hold the place, and darknes there of hell
In mid day raignes: from hens to them that pray out of the ground
The certayne answers geuen are, what tyme with dredful sound
From secret place the fates be tolde, and dungeon roares within
While of the God breakes out the voyce: whereto when entred in
Fierce Atreus was, that did wyth him his brothers children trayle,
Dekt are the aulters: who (alas) may it enough bewayle?
Behynde the infants backs anone he knyt theyr noble hands,
And eke theyr heauy heads about he bound with purple bands:
There wanted there no Frankenfence, nor yet the holy wine,
Nor knyfe to cut the sacrifice, besprinkt with leuens fine,
Kept is in all the order due, least such a mischiefe gret
Should not be ordred well

Ch.
who doth his hand on sword then set?

Me.
He is him selfe the priest, and he himselfe the deadly verse
With prayer dyre from feruent mouth doth syng and oft reherse.
And he at th'aulters stands himselfe, he them assygn'de to dye
Doth handle, and in order set, and to the knyfe applye,
He lights the fyres, no rights were left of sacrifice vndone.
The woode then quakt, and all at once from trembling grounde anone
The Pallace beckt, in doubt which way the payse thereof woulde fall,
And shaking as in waues it stoode: from th'ayre and therewithall
A blasing starre that foulest trayne drew after him doth goe:
The wynes that in the fyres were cast, with chaunged licour floe,
And turne to bloud: and twyse or thryse th'attyre fell from his hed,
The Iuerye bright in Temples seem'de to weepe and teares to shed.
The sights amas'de all other men, but stedfast yet alway
Of mynde, vnmoued Atreus stands, and euen the Gods doth fray
That threaten him and all delay forsaken by and by
To th'aulters turnes, and therewithwall a syde he lookes awry.
As hungry Tygre wonts that doth in gangey woods remayne
With doubtfull pace to range & roame betweene the bullocks twayne,
Of eyther pray full couetous and yet vncertayne where
She fyrst may byte, and roaring throate now turnes the tone to teare
And then to th'other strayght returnes, and doubtfull famyne holdes:
So Atreus dyre, betwene the babes doth stand and them beholdes
On whom he poynctes to slake his yre: first slaughter where to make,
Hee doubts: or whom he shoulde agayne for second offring take,
Yet skills it nought, but yet he doubtes and such a cruelty
It him delights to order well.

Ch.
Whom take he fyrst to dy?

Me.
First place, least in him thinke yee might no piete to remayne
To graundsier dedicated is, fyrst Tantalus is slayne.

Ch.
With what a minde & count'naūce, could ye boy his death sustayne?

Me.
All careles of him selfe he stoode, nor once he would in vayne
His prayers leese. But Atreus fierce the sword in him at last
In deepe and deadly wound doth hide to hilts, and gryping fast
His throate in hād, he thrust him through. The sword thē drawne away
When long the body had vphelde it selfe in doubtfull stay,
Which way to fall, at length vpon the vnckle downe it falles.
And then to th'aulters cruelly Philisthenes he tralles,
And on his brother throwes: and strayght his necke of cutteth hee.
The Carcase headlong falles to ground: a piteous thing to see,
The mourning head with murmure yet vncertayne doth complayne.

Chor.
What after double death doth he and slaughter then of twayne?
Spares he the Child? or gilt on gilt agayne yet heapeth he?

Mess.
As long maynd Lyon feerce amid the wood of Armenie,
The droue pursues and conquest makes of slaughter many one,
Though now defyled be his iawes with bloud and hunger gone
Yet slaketh not his yreful rage with bloud of Bulles so great,
But slouthful now with weary tooth the lesser Calues doth threat:
None other wyse doth Atreus rage, and swelles with anger straynd,
And holding now the sword in hand, with double slaughter staynd,
Regarding not where fell his rage, with cursed hand vnmild
He strake it through his body quite, at bosome of the Child
The blade goeth in, and at the backe agayne out went the same,
He falles and quenching with his bloud the aulters sacred flame,
Of eyther wound at lenght he dieth.

Chor.
O'heynous hateful act.

Mess.
Abhorre ye this? ye heare not yet the end of all the fact,
There followes more.

Cho.
A fiercer thing, or worse then this to see
Could Nature beare?

Me.
why thinke ye this of gylt the end to be?
It is but part.

Cho.
what could he more? to cruel beastes he cast
Perhappes their bodyes to be torne, and kept from fyres at last.

Me.
Would God he had: that neuer tombe the dead might ouer hyde,
Nor flames dissolue, though them for food to foules in pastures wyde
He had out throwen, or them for pray to cruell beastes would flinge.
That which the worst was wont to be, were here a wished thing,
That them their father saw vntombd: but oh more cursed crime
Uncredible, the which denye will men of after tyme:
From bosomes yet aliue out drawne the trembling bowels shake,
The vaynes yet breath, the feareful hart doth yet both pant and quake;
But he the stringes doth turne in hand, and destenies beholde,
And of the guttes the sygnes each one doth vewe not fully cold.
When him the sacrifyce had pleasd, his diligence he puttes
To dresse his brothers banquet now: and streight asonder cuttes
The bodyes into quarters all, and by the stoompes anone
The shoulders wyde, and brawnes of armes he strikes of euerychone,
He layes abroad their naked lims, and cuts away the bones:
The onely heads he kepes and handes to him committed once.
Some of the guttes are broacht, and in the fyres that burne full sloe
They drop, the boyling licour some doth tomble to and froe
In moorning cawderne: from the flesh that ouerstandes aloft
The fyre doth flye, and skatter out and into chimney ofte
Up heapt agayne, and there constraynd by force to tary yet
Unwilling burnes: the liuer makes great noyse vpon the spit,
Nor easely wot I, if the flesh, or flames they be that cry,
But crye they do: the fyre like pitch it fumeth by an by:
Nor yet the smoke it selfe so sad, like filthy miste in sight
Ascendeth vp as wont it is, nor takes his way vpright,
But euen the Gods and house it doth with fylthy fume defile.
O pacient Phœbus though from hence thou backeward flee the whyle,
And in the midst of heauen aboue dost drowne the broken day,
Thou fleest to late: the father eats his children, well away,
And limmes to which he once gaue life, with cursed iaw doth teare.
He shynes with oyntment shed ful sweete all round about his heare,
Replete with wyne: and oftentymes so cursed kynd of food
His mouth hath held, that would not downe, but yet this one thing good
In all thy yls (Thyestes) is that them thou dost not knoe,
And yet shal that not long endure, though Titan backward goe
And chariots turne agaynst himselfe, to meete the wayes he went,
And heauy night so heynous deede to kepe from sight be sent,
And out of tyme from East aryse, so foule a fact to hyde,
Yet shall the whole at length be seene: thy ylles shall all be spide.

Chorus.

Which way O Prince of landes and Gods on hie,
At whose vprise eftsones of shadowd night
All beawty fleeth, which way turnst thou awrye?
And drawest the day in midst of heauen to flight?
Why dost thou (Phœbus) hide from vs thy sight?
Not yet the watch that later howre bringes in,
Doth Vesper warne the Starres to kindle light.
Not yet doth turne of Hespers whele begin
To loase thy chare his well deserued way.
The trumpet third not yet hath blowen his blast
Whyle toward the night beginnes to yeld the day:
Great wonder hath of sodayne suppers hast
The Plowman yet whose Oxen are vntierd.
From woonted course of Heauen what drawes thee back?
What causes haue from certayne race conspierd
To turne thy horse? do yet from dongeon black
Of hollow hell, the conquerd Gyantes proue
A fresh assaut? doth Tityus yet assay
VVith trenched hart, and wounded wombe to moue
The former yres? or from the hil away?
Hath now Typhœus wound his syde by might?
Is vp to heauen the way erected hie
Of phlegrey foes by mountaynes set vpright?
And now doth Ossa Pelion ouerlye?
The wonted turnes are gone of day and night,
The ryse of Sunne, nor fall shall be no more,
Aurora dewish mother of the light
That wontes to send the horses out before,
Doth wonder much agayne returne to see,
Her dawning light: she wots not how to ease
The weary wheeles, nor manes that smoaking be
Of horse with sweate to bathe amid the seas.
Himselfe vnwonted there to lodge likewise,
Doth setting sonne agayne the morning see,
And now commaundes the darkenes vp to ryse,
Before the night to come prepared bee.
About the Poale yet glowth no fyre in sight.
Nor light of Moone the shades doth comfort yet.
What so it be, God graunt it be the night.
Our hartes do quake with feare oppressed gret,
And dreadfull are least heauen and earth and all
With fatall ruine shaken shall decay:
And least on Gods agayne, and men shall fall
Disfigurde Chaos: and the land away
The Seas, and Fyres, and of the glorious Skise
The wandring lampes, least nature yet shal hide.
Now shall no more with blase of his vprise,
The Lord of starres that leades the world so wyde,
Of Sommer both and Winter geue the markes.
Nor yet the Moone with Phœbus flames that burnes,
Shall take from vs by night the dreadful carkes,
With swifter course or passe her brothers turnes,
While compasse lesse she fets in croked race:
The Gods on heaps shal out of order fall,
And each with other mingled be in place.
The wryed vvay of holy planets all,
With path a slope that doth deuide the Zones.
That beares the sygnes, and yeares in course doth brynge,
Shall see the starres with him fall downe at ones.
And he that first not yet vvith gentle spring,
The temperate Gale doth geue to sayles, the Ramme
Shall headlong fall a dovvne to Seas agayne,
Through vvhich he once vvith fearefull Hellen svvam.
Next him the Bull that doth vvith horne sustayne
The systers seuen with him shall ouerturne
The twins and armes of croked Cancer all,
The Lyon hoat that wontes the soyle to burne
Of Hercules agayne from heauen shall fall.
To landes once left the Virgin shall be throwne,
And leueld payse of balance sway alow,
And draw with them the stinging Scorpion downe.
So likewyse he that holdes in Thessale bowe
His swift wel fethred arrowes Chiron old,
Shal breake the same and eke shal lese his shotte
And Capricorne that bringes the winter cold
Shall ouerturne and breake the water pot
VVho so thou be: and downe with thee to grounde,
The last of all the sygnes shal Pisces fall
And monsters eke in seas yet neuer drounde,
The water gulph shal ouerwhelme them all.
And he which doth betwene each vrsa glyde,
Lyke croked flood the slipper serpent twynde:
And lesser Beare by greater Dragons syde,
Full cold with frost congealed hard by kinde,
And carter dull that slowly guides his waine
Vnstable shall Bootes fall from hye.
VVe are thouhgt meete of all men whom agayn
Should hugy heape of Chaos ouerly.
And world oppresse with ouerturned masse
The latest age now falleth vs vppon.
VVith euil hap we are begot alas
If wretches we haue lost the sight of sonne,
Or him by fraught enforced haue to flye
Let our complayntes yet goe and feare be pasts
He greedy is of life, that wil not die
VVhen all the world shall end with him at last.

THE FIFTE ACTE.

[THE FIRST SCEANE]

Atreus
alone.
Nowe equall with the Starres I goe, beyond each other wight,
With haughty heade the heauens aboue, and highest Poale I smite.
The kingdome nowe, and seate I holde, where once my father raynd:
I nowe lette goe the gods: for all my wil I haue obtaynde
Enoughe and well, ye euen enough for me I am acquit
But why enough? I wil procede and fyl the father yet
With bloud of his least any shame should me restrayne at all,
The day is gone, go to therfore whyle thee the heauen doth call
Would God I could agaynst their wils yet hold the Goddes that flee
And of reuenging dish constrayne them witnesses to bee:
But yet (which wel enough is wrought) let it the father see.
In spighte of al the drowned day I will remoue from thee
The darknesse all, in shade wherof do lurke thy miseryes.
And guest at such a banquet now to long he careles lyes,
With mery face: now eate and drunke enough he hath at last
T'ys best him selfe should know his ylls ye seruauntes, all in hast
Undoe the temple dores: and let the house bee open all:
Fayne would I see, when loke vppon his childrens heads he shal
What countenaunce he then would make, or in what woordes break out
Would first his griefe, or how would quake his body round about
With spright amased sore: of all my worke the fruite were this
I would him not a miser see, but while so made he is,
Behold the temple opened now doth shyne with many a light:
In glitteryng gold and purple seate he sittes hymselfe vpright,
And staying vp his heauy head with wyne vppon his hand,
He belcheth out, now chiefe o! goddes in highest place I stand,
And king of kinges: I haue my wish, and more then I could thinke
He filled is, he now the wyne in siluer bolle doth drinke
And spare it not: there yet remaynes a worser draught for thee
That sprong out of the bodyes late of sacrifyces three,
Which wine shall hyde let therwithall the boordes be taken vp.
The father (mingled with the wyne) his childrens bloud shall sup.
That would haue dronke of myne. Behold he now beginnes to strayne
His voyce, and synges, nor yet for ioy his mynde he may refrayne,

THE SECONDE SCEANE

Thiestes
alone.
O beaten bosomes dullde so longe with woe,
Laie down your cares, at length your greues relēt
Let sorowe passe, and all your dread let goe,
And fellow eke of fearefull banishment,
Sad pouertye and ill in misery
The shame of cares, more whense thy fall thou haste,
Then whether skylles, great hap to him, from hye
That falles, it is in surety to be plast
Beneath and great it is to him agayne
That prest with storme, of euylls feeles the smart,
Of kyngedome loste the payses to sustaine
VVith necke vnbowde: nor yet detect of heart
Nor ouercome, his heauy haps alwayes
To beare vpright but now of carefull carkes
Shake of the showres, and of thy wretched dayes
Away with all the myserable markes.
To ioyfull state returne thy chearefull face.
Put fro thy mynde the olde Thyestes hence.
It is the woont of wight in wofull case,
In state of ioy to haue no confidence.
Though better haps to them returned be,
Thafflicted yet to ioy it yrketh sore.
VVhy calst thou me abacke, and hyndrest me
This happy day to celebrate? wherefore
Bidst thou me (sorrow) wepe without a cause?
VVho doth me let with flowers so fresh and gay,
To decke my hayres? it lets and me withdrawes
Downe from my head the roses fall away:
My moysted haire with oyntment ouer all,
With so dayne mase standes vp in wondrous wyse,
From face that would not weepe the streames do fall.
And howling cryes amid my wordes aryse.
My sorrowe yet thaccustomd teares doth loue
And wretches stil delyght to, weepe and crye.
Vnpleasant playntes it pleaseth them to moue:
And florisht fayre it likes with Tyrian die
Their robes to rent, to waile it likes them still
For sorrow sendes (in signe that woes draw nie)
The mind that wots before of after yll.
The sturdy stormes the shipmen ouer lye,
VVhen voyd of wynd thasswaged seas do rest.
VVhat tumult yet or countenaunce to see
Makste thou mad man? at length at trustful breast
To brother gene, what euer now it be,
Causeles, or els to late thou art a dred.
I wretch would not so feare, but yet me drawes
A trembling terrour: downe myne eyes do shed
Their sodayne teares and yet I know no cause,
Is it a greefe, or feare? or els hath teares great ioy it selfe.

THE THIRDE SCEANE.

Atreus. Thyestes.
Thy.
Enough with meate and eke with wyne, now satisfyed am I.
But yet of all my ioyes it were a great encrease to mee,
If now about my syde I might my litle children see.

Atr.
Beleeue that here euen in thyne armes thy children present be.
For here they are, and shalbe here, no part of them fro thee
Sal be withhelde: their loued lookes now geue to thee I wil,
And with the heape of all his babes, the father fully fyll.
Thou shalt be glutted, feare thou not: they with my boyes as yet
The ioyful sacrifyces make at borde where children sit,
They shalbe cald, the frendly cup now take of curtesy
With wyne vpfylde.

Thy.
of brothers feast I take ful willingly
The fynal gyft, shed some to gods of this our fathers lande,
Then let the rest be dronke, what's this? in no wyse wil my hand
Obeye: the payse increaseth sore, and downe myne arme doth sway.
And from my lippes the wafting wyne it selfe doth flye away,
And in deceiued mouth, about my iawes it rūneth rounde.
The table to, it selfe doth shake and leape from trembling ground.
Scant burnes the fyre: the ayre it selfe with heauy chere to slyght
Forsooke of sonne amased is betweene the day and night.
What meaneth this? yet more and more of backward beaten saye
The compas falles, and thicker myst the world doth ouerly
Then blackest darkenes, and the night in night it selfe doth hyde.
All starres be fled, what so it bee my brother God prouyde
And soones to spare: the Gods so graunt that all this testmpest fall
On this vyle head: but now restore to me my children all,

Atr.
I wil, and neuer day agayne shal them from thee withdraw,

Thy.
What tumult tumbleth so my guttes, and doth my bowels gnaw?
What quakes within? with heauy payse I feele my selfe opprest,
And with an other voyce then myne bewayles my doleful brest:
Come nere my sonnes, for you now doth thunhappy father call:
Come nere, for you once seene, this griefe would soone asswage & fall
Whence murmure they?

Atr.
wt fathers armes embrace them quickly now
For here they are loe come to thee: dost thou thy children know?

Th.
I know my brother: such a gylt yet canst thou suffer well
O earth to beare? nor yet from hence to Stygian lake of hell
Dost thou both drowne thy selfe and vs? nor yet with broaken ground
Dost thou these kingdomes and their king with Chaos rude confounde?
Nor yet vprenting from the soyle the bowres of wicked land.
Dost thou Micenas ouerturne with Tantalus to stand,
And aunciters of ours, if there in hel be any one,
Now ought we both: now from the frames on eyther syde anone
Of ground, all here and there rent vp out of thy bosome depe:
Thy dens and dungeons set abrode, and vs enclosed keepe,
In bottome low of Acheron: aboue our heds aloft
Let wander all the gylty ghostes, with burning frete ful oft
Let fyry Phlegethon that driues his sands both to and fro
To our confusion ouerroon and vyolently flow
O slothful soyle vnshaken payse vnmoued yet art thou?
The Gods are fled:

Atr.
but take to thee with ioy thy children now,
And rather them embrace: at length thy children all of thee
So long wisht for (for no delay there standeth now in mee)
Enioy and kisse embracing armes deuyde thou vnto three.

Thy.
Is this thy league? may this thy loue and fayth of brother bee?
And doost thou so repose thy hate? the father doth not craue
His sonnes aliue (which might haue bene without thy gylt) to haue
And eke without thy hate, but this doth brother brother pray:
That them he may entoombe restore, whom see thou shalt strayght waye,
Be burnt: the father naught requires of thee that haue he shall,
But soone forgoe

Atr.
what euer part yet of thy children all
Remaynes, here shalt thou haue: and what remayneth not thou host.

Thy.
Lye they in fieldes, a food out flong for fleeyng fowles to wast?
Or are they kept a pray, for wyld and brutish beastes to eate?

Atr.
Thou hast deuourd thy sonnes and fyld thy selfe with wicked meat.

Thy.
Oh this is it that sham'de the Gods and day from hence did dryue
Turn'd back to east, alas I wretch what waylinges may I geue?
Or what complayntes? what woeful woordes may be enough for mee?
Their heads cut of, and handes of torne, I from their bodyes see,
And wrenched feete from broken thighes I here behold agayn
Tys this that greedy father could not suffer to sustayne.
In belly roll my bowels round, and cloased cryme so great
Without a passage stryues within and seekes a way to get.
The sword (O brother) lend to me much of my bloud alas
It hath: let vs therwith make way for all my sonnes to passe.
Is yet the sword from me withheld? thy selfe thy bosoms teare,
And let thy brestes resound with stroakes: yet wretch thy hand forbeare
And spare the deade: who euer saw such mischiefe put in proofe?
What rude Heniochus that dwels by ragged coast aloofe,
Of Caucasus vnapt for men? or feare to Athens, who
Procustes wyld? the father I oppress my children do
And am opprest, is any meane of gylt or mischiefe yet?

Atr.
I meane in mischiefe ought to be when gylt thou dost commit,
Not when thou quytst: for yet euen this to litle seemes to me.
The blood yet warme euen from the wound I should in sight of thee
Euen in thy iawes haue shed, that thou the bloud of them mightst drinke
That lyued yet: but whyle to much to hast my hate I thinke
My wrath beguyled is my selfe with sword the woundes them gaue
I strake them downe, the sacred fyres with slaughter vowde I haue
Wel pleasd, the carcase cutting then, and liueles lymmes on grounde.
I haue in litle parcels chopt, and some of them I drounde
In boyling cauderns, some to fyres that burnte ful slow I put,
And made to droppe: their synewes all, and limmes a two I cut
Euen yet alyue and on the spitte, that thrust was through the same
I harde the liuer wayle and crye, and with my hand the flame:
I oft kept in: but euery whit the father might of this
Haue better done, but now my wrath to lightly ended is.
He rent his sonnes with wicked gumme, himselfe yet wotting naught,
Nor they therof

Th.
O ye encloas'd with bending bankes abought
All seas me heare, and to this gylt ye Gods now harken well
What euer place ye fled are to here all ye sprites of hel,
And here ye landes, and night so darke that them dost ouerly
With clowde so blacke to my complayntes do than thy selfe apply.
To thee now left I am, thou dost alone me miser see,
And thou art left without thy starres: I wil not make for me
Peticions yet, nor ought for me require may ought yet bee
That me should vayle? for you shal all my wishes now foresee.
Thou guyder great of skyes aboue, & prince of highest might,
Of heauenly place now all with cloudes ful horrible to sight,
Enwrap the worlde, and let the wyndes on euery syde breake out
And send the dredfull thunderclap through al the world about
Not with what hand thou gyltles house and vndeserued wall
With lesser bolt are wonte to beate, but with the which did fall
The three vnheaped mountaynes once and which to hils in height
Stoode equall vp, the gyantes huge: throuw out such weapons streight,
And flyng thy fires: and therwithall reuenge the drowned day.
Let flee thy flames, the light thus lost and hid from heauen away,
With flashes fyll: the cause (lest long thou shouldst doubte whom to hit)
Of ech of vs is ill: if not at least let myne be it.
Me strike with tryple edged toole thy brande of flaminge fyre:
Beate through this breast: if father I my children do desyre
To lay in tombe or corpses cast to fyre as doth behoue,
I must be burnt if nothing now the gods to wrath may moue,
Nor powre from skies with thunder bolt none strikes the wicked men
Let yet eternall night rewayne, and hyde with darknes then
The world about: I, Titan naught complayne as now it standes
If stil thou hyde thee thus away.

Atre.
now prayse I well my handes,
Now got I haue the palme. I had bene ouercome of thee,
Except thou sorrow'dst so but now euen children borne to mee
I compt and uow of bridebed chast the fayth I do repayre,

Thy.
In what offended haue my sons:

Atr.
In that, that thyne they were

Thy.
Setst thou the sonnes for fathers foode?

Atr.
I do & (which is best)
The certayne sonnes,

Thy.
The gods that guyde all infantes I protest.

Atr.
What wedlock gods?

Th.
who would the gilt wt gylt so quite again?

Atr.
I know thy greefe preuented now with wrong thou dost complayne:
Nor this thee yrkes, that fed thou art with food of cursed kind,
But that thou hadst not it prepard for so it was thy mynd,
Such meates as these to set before thy brother wotting naught,
And by the mothers helpe to haue, likewyse my children caught:
And them with such like to slay: this one thing letted thee,
Thou thought'st them thine.

Thy.
the gods shall al of this reuengers be
And vnto them for vengeance due my vowes thee render shall

Atr.
But vext to be I thee the whyle, geeue to thy children all.

THE FOVRTH SCENE, Added to the Tragedy by the Translatour.

Thyestes
alone.
O Kyng of Dytis dungeon darke, and goysly Ghosts of hell,
That in the deepe and dredfull Denne, of blackest Tartare dwell.
Where leane and pale dyseases lye where feare and famyne are,
Where discord stands with bleeding browes, where euery kynde of care,
Where furies fight in beds of steele, and heares of crauling snakes,
Where Gorgon grimme, white Harpyes are, & lothsome Lymbo lakes,
Where most prodigious vgly thinges, the hollows hell both hyde,
If yet a monster more myshapt then all that there dot byde,
That makes his broode his cursed foode, yee all abhorre to see,
Nor yet the deepe Auerne it selfe, may byde to couer mee,
Nor grisly gates of Putoes place, yet dare them selues to spred,
Nor gaping grounde to swallowe him, whom Gods and day haue fled:
Yet breake yee out from cursed seates, and heere remayne with mee,
Yee neede not now to be affrayde, the Ayre and Heauen to see.
Nor triple headed Cerberus, thou needst not bee affryght,
The day vnknowne to thee to see or els the lothsome lyght.
They both be fled: and now doth dwell none other count'naunce heere,
Then doth beneath the fowlest face, of hatefull hell appeere.
Come see a meetest match for thee, a more then monstrous wombe,
That is of his vnhappy broode, become a cursed tombe.
Flocke here yee fowlest flendes of hell, and thou O graundsyre greate,
Come see the glutted guts of myne, with such a kinde of meate,
As thou didst once for Gods prepare. Let torments all of hel
Now fall vppon this hatefull head, that hath deserude them well.
Yee all be plagued wrongfully, your guiltes be small, in sight
Of myne, and meete it were your pange on me alone should light.
Now thou O graundster guiltlesse arte, and meeter were for mee,
With fleeing floud to be beguilde, and fruite of fickle tree.
Thou slewst thy sonne, but I my sonnes, alas, haue made my meate.
I coulde thy famyne better beare, my paūch is now repleate
With foode: and with my children three, my belly is extent.
O filthy fowles and gnawyng gripes, that Tytius bosome rent
Beholde a fitter pray for you, to fill your selues vppone
Then are the growing guts of him: foure wombes enwrapt in one.
This paūche at once shall fill you all: if yee abhorre the foode,
Nor may your selues abide to bathe, in such a cursed bloode:
Yet lend to me your clinching clawes, your pray a while forbeare,
And with your tallons suffer mee, this monstrous mawe to teare.
Or whirling wheeles, with swinge of which Ixion still is rolde,
Your hookes vpon this glutted gorge, would catche a surer holde.
Thou filthy floud of Lymbo lake, and Stygian poole so dyre,
From choaked chanell belche abrode. Thou fearefull freate of fyre,
Spue out thy flames O Phlegethon: and ouershed the grounde.
With vomit of thy fyry streame, let me and earth be drownde,
Breake vp thou soyle from bottome deepe, and geue thou roome to hell,
That night, where day, yt ghosts, where Gods were woōt to raigne, may dwel.
Why gapst thou not? Why do you not O gates of hell vnfolde?
Why do yee thus thinfernall fiendes, so long from hence withholde?
Are you likewyse affrayde to see, and knowe so wretched wight,
From whom the Gods haue wryde theyr lookes, & turned are to flight?
O hatefull head, whom heauen and hell, haue shoonde and left alone,
The Sunne, the starres, the light, the day, the Gods, the ghosts be gone.
Yet turne agayne yee Skyes a while, ere quight yee goe fro mee,
Take vengeance fyrst on him, whase faulte enforceth you to flee.
If needes yee must your flight prepare, and may no longer bide,
But rolle yee must with you forthwt, the Gods and Sunne a syde,
Yet slowly flee: that I at length, may you yet ouertake,
While wandring wayes I after you, and speedy iorney make.
By seas, by lands, by woods, by rocks, in darke I wander shall:
And on your wrath, for right rewarde to due des rts, will call.
Yee scape not fro me, so yee Gods, still after you I goe,
And vengeaunce aske on wicked wight, your thunder bolte to throe.