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 | Hercules Furens, Thyestes, Troas |  |
Tantalus Megæra,
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.
What
furye fell enforceth mee to fle, th'unhappy seat,
That gape and gaspe with greedye iawe, the fleeyng food to eate
What GOD to Tantalus the bowres wher breathing bodyes dwel
Doth shew agayne? is ought found worse, then burning thyrst of hel
In lakes alow? or yet worse plague then hunger is there one,
In vayne that euer gapes for foode? shal Sisyphus his stone,
That slipper restles, rollyng payse vppon my backe be borne.
Or shall my lymmes with swifter swinge of whirling whele be torne?
Or shal my paynes be Tytius panges th'encreasyng liuer still,
Whose growing guttes the gnawing gripes and fylthy foules do fyll?
That styl by nyght repayres the panch that was deuourd by day,
And wondrous wombe vnwasted lieth a new prepared pray
What ill am I appoynted for? O cruell iudge of sprites,
Who so thou be that tormentes new among the sowles delytes
Stil to dispose, ad what thou canst to all my deadly woe,
That keeper euen of dungeon darke would sore abhorre to knowe.
Or hel it selfe it quake to se: for dread wherof likewyse
I tremble wold, that plague seke out: lo now there doth aryse
My broode that shal in mischiefe farre the grandsyers gilt out goe,
And gyltles make: that first shall dare vnuentred ils to do.
What euer place remayneth yet of all this wicked land,
I wil fill vp: and neuer once while Pelops house doth stand
Shall Minos idle be.
Meg,
That gape and gaspe with greedye iawe, the fleeyng food to eate
What GOD to Tantalus the bowres wher breathing bodyes dwel
Doth shew agayne? is ought found worse, then burning thyrst of hel
In lakes alow? or yet worse plague then hunger is there one,
In vayne that euer gapes for foode? shal Sisyphus his stone,
That slipper restles, rollyng payse vppon my backe be borne.
Or shall my lymmes with swifter swinge of whirling whele be torne?
Or shal my paynes be Tytius panges th'encreasyng liuer still,
Whose growing guttes the gnawing gripes and fylthy foules do fyll?
That styl by nyght repayres the panch that was deuourd by day,
And wondrous wombe vnwasted lieth a new prepared pray
What ill am I appoynted for? O cruell iudge of sprites,
Who so thou be that tormentes new among the sowles delytes
Stil to dispose, ad what thou canst to all my deadly woe,
That keeper euen of dungeon darke would sore abhorre to knowe.
Or hel it selfe it quake to se: for dread wherof likewyse
I tremble wold, that plague seke out: lo now there doth aryse
My broode that shal in mischiefe farre the grandsyers gilt out goe,
And gyltles make: that first shall dare vnuentred ils to do.
What euer place remayneth yet of all this wicked land,
I wil fill vp: and neuer once while Pelops house doth stand
Shall Minos idle be.
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
22
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,
[22]
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?
23
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.
| Hercules Furens, Thyestes, Troas | |