University of Virginia Library

Actus. v.

Scena. j.

CREON.
CHORVS.
Alas what shall I do? bemone my selfe?
Or rue the ruine of my Natiue lande,
About the which such cloudes I see enclosde
As darker cannot couer dreadfull hell.
With mine own eyes I saw my own deare sonne
All gorde with bloud of his too bloudy brest,
Which he hath shed full like a friend, too deare
To his countrey, and yet a cruell foe
To me that was his friend and father both.
Thus to him selfe he gaynde a famous name,
And glory great, to me redoubted payne,
Whose haplesse death in my afflicted house,
Hath put suche playnt, as I ne can espie
What comfort might acquiet their distresse.
I hither come my sister for to seeke,
Iocasta, she that might in wofull wise
Amid hir high and ouerpining cares
Prepare the baynes for his so wretched corps,
And eke for him that nowe is not in life,
May pay the due that to the dead pertaynes,
And for the honor he did well deserue,
To giue some giftes vnto infernall Gods.

Cho.
My Lorde, your sister is gone forth long since,
Into the campe, and with hir Antigone
Hir daughter deare.

Cre.
Into the campe? alas and what to do?

Cho.
She vnderstoode, that for this realme foorthwith
Hir sonnes were greed in combate for to ioyne.

Cre.
Alas, the funerals of my deare sonne
Dismayed me so, that I ne did receiue,
Ne seeke to knowe these newe vnwelcome newes.
But loe, beholde a playne apparant signe
Of further feares, the furious troubled lookes
Of him that commeth heere so hastilie.

Scena. ij.

NVNTIVS.
CREON. CHORVS.
Alas , alas, what shall I doe? alas,
What shriching voyce may serue my wofull wordes?
O wretched I, ten thousande times a wretche,
The messanger of dread and cruell death.

Cre.
Yet more mishappe? and what vnhappie newes?

Nun.
My Lord, your nephues both haue lost their liues.

Cre.
Out and alas, to me and to this towne
Thou doest accompt great ruine and decay:
You royall familie of Oedipus,
And heare you this? your liege and soueraigne Lordes
The brethren bothe are slayne and done to death.

Cho.
O cruell newes, most cruell that can come,
O newes that might these stony walles prouoke
For tender ruthe to burst in bitter teares,
And so they would, had they the sense of man.

Cre.
O worthy yong Lordes, that vnworthy were
Of suche vnworthy death, O me moste wretche.

Nun.
More wretched shall ye deeme your selfe, my lord,
When you shall heare of further miserie.

Cre.
And can there be more miserie than this?

Nun.
With hir deare sonnes the queene hir self is slaine,

Cho.
Bewayle ladies, alas good ladies waile
This harde mischaunce, this cruell common euill,
Ne hencefoorth hope for euer to reioyce.

Cre.
O Iocasta, miserable mother,
What haplesse ende thy life alas hath hent?
Percase the heauens purueyed had the same,
Moued therto by the wicked wedlocke
Of Oedipus thy sonne, yet might thy scuse
Be iustly made, that knewe not of the crime.
But tell me messanger, oh tell me yet
The death of these two brethren, driuen therto,
Not thus all onely by their drearie fate,
But by the banning and the bitter cursse
Of their cruell sire, borne for our annoy,
And here on earth the onely soursse of euil.

Nun.
Then know my Lorde, the battell that begonne
Under the walles, was brought to luckie ende,
Eteocles had made his foemen flee
Within their trenches, to their foule reproche:
But herewithall the bretheren streightway
Eche other chalenge foorth into the fielde,
By combate so to stinte their cruell strife,
Who armed thus amid the field appeard.
First Pollinices turning towarde Greece
His louely lookes, gan Iuno thus beseeche:
O heauenly queene, thou seest, that since the day
I first did wedde Adrastus daughter deare,
And stayde in Greece, thy seruaunt haue I bene:
Then (be it not for mine vnworthinesse)
Graunt me this grace, the victorie to winne,
Graunt me, that I with high triumphant hande,
May bathe this blade within my brothers brest:
I know I craue vnworthy victorie,
Unworthy triumphes, and vnworthy spoyles,
Lo he the cause, my cruell enimie.
The people wept to heare the wofull wordes
Of Pollinice, foreseeing eke the ende
Of this outrage and cruell combate tane,
Eche man gan looke vpon his drouping mate,
With mindes amazde, and trembling hearts for dread,
Whom pitie perced f or these youthfull knightes.
Eteocles with eyes vp cast to heauen,
Thus sayde:
O mightie Ioue his daughter graunt to me,
That this right hande with this sharpe armed launce
Passing amid my brothers cankred brest,
It may eke pierce that cowarde harte of his,
And so him slea that thus vnworthily
Disturbes the quiet of our common weale.
So sayde Eteocles, and trumpets blowne,
To sende the summons of their bloudy fighte,
That one the other fiercely did encounter,
Like Lions two yfraught with boyling wrath,
Bothe coucht their launces full agaynst the face,
But heauen it nolde that there they should them teinte:
Upon the battred shields the mightie speares
Are bothe ybroke, and in a thousande shiuers
Amid the ayre flowne vp into the heauens:
Beholde agayne, with naked sworde in hande,
Eche one the other furiously assaultes.
Here they of Thebes, there stoode the Greekes in doubt,
Of whom doth eche man feele more chilling dread,
Least any of the twayne should lose his life,
Than any of the twayne did feele in fight.
Their angry lookes, their deadly daunting blowes,
Might witnesse well, that in their heartes remaynde
As cankred hate, disdayne, and furious moode,
As euer bred in beare or tygers brest.
The first that hapt to hurt was Polinice.
Who smote the righte thighe of Eteocles:
But as we deeme, the blow was nothing deepe,
Then cryed the Greekes, and lepte with lightned harts,
But streight agayne they helde their peace, for he
Eteocles gan thrust his wicked sworde
In the lefte arme of vnarmed Pollinice,
And let the bloud from thinne vnfenced fleshe
With falling drops distill vpon the ground,
Ne long he stayes, but with an other thrust
His brothers belly boweld with his blade,
Then wretched he, with bridle left at large,
From of his horsse fell pale vpon the ground,
Ne long it was, but downe our duke dismountes
From of his startling steede, and runnes in hast,
His brothers haplesse helme for to vnlace,
And with such hungry minde desired spoyle,
As one that thought the fielde already woonne:
That at vnwares, his brothers dagger drawne,
And griped fast within the dying hand,
Under his side he recklesse doth receiue,
That made the way to his wyde open hart:
Thus falles Eteocles his brother by,
From both whose breasts the bloud fast bubling, gaue
A sory shewe to Greekes and Thebanes both.

Cho.
Oh wretched ende of our vnhappie Lordes.

Cre.
Oh Oedipus, I must bewaile the death
Of thy deare sonnes, that were my nephewes both,
But of these blowes thou oughtest feele the smarte,
That with thy wonted prayers, thus hast brought
Such noble blouds to this vnnoble end.
But now tell on, what followed of the Queene?

Nun.
Whē thus with pierced harts, by there owne hands
The brothers fell had wallowed in their bloud,
Th'one tumbling on the others gore,
Came their afflicted mother, then to late,
And eke with hir, hir chast childe Antygone,
Who saw no sooner how their fates had falne,
But with the doubled echo of alas,
Sore dymmde the ayre with loude complaints and cryes:
Oh sonnes (quod she) too late came all my helpe,
And all to late haue I my succour sent:
And with these wordes, vpon their carcas colde
She shriched so, as might haue stayed the Sunne
To mourne with hir, the wofull sister eke,
That both hir chekes did bathe in flowing teares,
Out from the depth of hir tormented brest,
With scalding sighes gan draw these weary words:
O my deare brethren, why abandon ye
Our mother deare, when these hir aged yeares,
That of themselues are weake and growne with griefe,
Stoode most in neede of your sustaining helpe?
Why doe you leaue hir thus disconsolate?
At sounde of such hir weeping long lament,
Eteocles our king helde vp his hand,
And sent from bottome of his wofull brest
A doubled sighe, deuided with his griefe,
In faithfull token of his feeble will
To recomfort his mother and sister both:
And in the steade of sweete contenting words,
The trickling teares raynde downe his paled chekes:
Then claspt his handes, and shut his dying eyes.
But Pollinice, that turned his rolling eyen
Unto his mother and his sister deare,
With hollow voyce and fumbling toung, thus spake:
Mother, you see how I am now arryued
Unto the hauen of myne vnhappie ende,
Now nothing doth remaine to me, but this,
That I lament my sisters life and yours
Left thus in euerlasting woe and griefe:
So am I sory for Eteocles,
Who though he were my cruell enimy,
He was your sonne, and brother yet to me:
But since these ghosts of ours must needes go downe
With staggering steppes into the Stigian reigne,
I you beseche, mother and sister bothe,
Of pitie yet, that you will me procure
A royall tombe within my natiue realme,
And now shut vp with those your tender handes,
These grieffull eyes of mine, whose daseled sight
Shadowes of dreadfull death be come to close,
Now rest in peace, this sayde, he yeelded vp
His fainting ghost, that ready was to part.
The mother thus beholding both hir sonnes
Ydone to death, and ouercome with dole,
Drewe out the dagger of hir Pollinices,
From brothers brest, and gorde hir mothers throte
Falling betweene hir sonnes,
Then with hir feebled armes, she doth enfolde
Their bodies both, as if for company
Hir vncontented corps were yet content
To passe with them in Charons ferrie boate.
When cruell fate had thus with force bereft
The wofull mother and hir two deare sonnes,
All sodenly allarme allarme they crye,
And hote conflict began for to aryse
Betwene our armie and our enemyes:
For either part would haue the victorye.
A while they did with equall force maintaine
The bloudy fight, at last the Greekes do flie,
Of whom could hardly any one escape,
For in such hugie heapes our men them slew,
The ground was couerde all with carcases:
And of our souldiers, some gan spoyle the dead,
Some other were that parted out the pray,
And some pursuing Antigone toke vp
The Queene Iocasta and the brethren both,
Whom in a chariot hither they will bring
Ere long: and thus, although we gotten haue
The victory ouer our enemies,
Yet haue we lost much more than we haue wonne.

Creon exit.
Cho.
O hard mishap, we doe not onely heare
The wearie newes of their vntimely death,
But eke we must with wayling eyes beholde
Their bodies deade, for loke where they be brought.

Scena. 3.

ANTIGONE.
CHORVS.
Most bitter plaint, O ladyes, vs behoues,
Behoueth eke not onely bitter plainte,
But that our heares dysheuylde from our heades
About our shoulders hang, and that our brests
With bouncing blowes be all be battered,
Our gastly faces with our nayles defaced:
Behold, your Queene twixt both hir sonnes lyes slayne,
The Queene whom you did loue and honour both,
The Queene that did so tenderly bring vp
And nourishe you, eche one like to hir owne,
Now hath she left you all (O cruell hap)
With hir too cruell death in dying dreade,
Pyning with pensifenesse without all helpe.
O weary life, why bydst thou in my breast,
And I contented be that these mine eyes
Should see hir dye that gaue to me this life,
And I not venge hir death by losse of life?
Who can me giue a fountaine made of mone,
That I may weepe as muche as is my will,
To sowsse this sorow vp in swelling teares?

Cho.
What stony hart could leaue for to lament?

Anti.
O Polinice, now hast thou with thy bloud
Bought all too deare the title to this realme,
That cruell he Eteocles thee refte,
And now also hath reft thee of thy life,
Alas, what wicked dede can wrath not doe?
And out alas for mee.
Whyle thou yet liuedst I had a liuely hope
To haue some noble wight to be my pheere,
By whome I might be crownde a royall Queene:
But now, thy hastie death hath done to dye
This dying hope of mine, that hope hencefoorth
None other wedlocke, but tormenting woe,
If so these trembling hands for cowarde dread
Dare not presume to ende this wretched life.

Cho.
Alas deare dame, let not thy raging griefe
Heape one mishap vpon anothers head.

Anti
O dolefull day, wherein my sory sire
Was borne, and yet O more vnhappie houre
When he was crowned king of stately Thebes,
The Hymenei in vnhappie bed,
And wicked wedlocke, wittingly did ioyne
The giltlesse mother with hir giltie sonne,
Out of which roote we be the braunches borne,
To beare the scourge of their so foule offence:
And thou, O father, thou that for this facte,
Haste torne thine eyes from thy tormented head,
Giue eare to this, come foorth, and bende thine eare
To bloudie newes, that canst not them beholde:
Happie in this, for if thine eyes could see
Thy sonnes bothe slayne, and euen betweene them bothe
Thy wife and mother dead, bathed and imbrude
All in one bloud, then wouldst thou dye for dole,
And so might ende all our vnluckie stocke.
But most vnhappie nowe, that lacke of sighte
Shall linger life within thy lucklesse brest,
And still tormented in suche miserie,
Shall alwayes dye, bicause thou canst not dye.

Oedipus entreth.

Scena. iiij.

OEDIPVS.
ANTIGONE. CHORVS.
Why dost thou call out of this darkesome denne,
The lustleste lodge of my lamenting yeres,
O daughter deare, thy fathers blinded eyes,
Into the light I was not worthy of?
Or what suche sight (O cruell destenie)
Without tormenting cares might I beholde,
That image am of deathe and not of man?

Anti.
O father mine, I bring vnluckie newes
Unto your eares, your sonnes are nowe both slayne,
Ne doth your wife, that wonted was to guyde
So piteously your staylesse stumbling steppes,
Now see this light, alas and welaway.

Oed
O heape of infinite calamities,
And canst thou yet encrease when I thought least
That any griefe more great could grow in thee?
But tell me yet, what kinde of cruell death
Had these three sory soules?

Anti
Without offence to speake, deare father mine,
The lucklesse lotte, the frowarde frowning fate
That gaue you life to ende your fathers life,
Haue ledde your sonnes to reaue eche others life.

Oed.
Of them I thought no lesse, but tell me yet
What causelesse death hath caught from me my deare,
(What shall I call hir) mother or my wife?

Ant.
When as my mother sawe hir deare sonnes dead,
As pensiue pangs had prest hir tender heart,
With bloudlesse cheekes and gastly lookes she fell,
Drawing the dagger from Eteocles side,
She gorde hirselfe with wide recurelesse wounde:
And thus, without mo words, gaue vp the ghost,
Embracing both hir sonnes with both hir armes.
In these affrightes this frosen heart of mine,
By feare of death maynteines my dying life.

Cho.
This drearie day is cause of many euils,
Poore Oedipus, vnto thy progenie.
The Gods yet graunt it may become the cause
Of better happe to this afflicted realme.

Scena. v.

CREON. OEDIPVS. ANTIGONE.
Good Ladies leaue your bootelesse vayne complaynt,
Leaue to lament, cut of your wofull cryes,
High time it is as now for to prouide
The funerals for the renowned king:
And thou Oedipus hearken to my wordes,
And know thus muche, that for thy daughters dower,
Antigone with Hemone shall wedde.
Thy sonne our king not long before his death
Assigned hath the kingdome should descende
To me, that am his mothers brother borne,
And so the same might to my sonne succeede.
Now I that am the lorde and king of Thebes,
Will not permit that thou abide therein:
Ne maruell yet of this my heady will,
Ne blame thou me, for why, the heauens aboue,
Which onely rule the rolling life of man,
Haue so ordeynde, and that my words be true,
Tyresias he that knoweth things to come,
By trustie tokens hath foretolde the towne,
That while thou didst within the walles remayne,
It should be plagued still with penurie:
Wherfore departe, and thinke not that I speake
These wofull wordes for hate I beare to thee,
But for the weale of this afflicted realme.

[Oed.]
O foule accursed fate, that hast me bredde
To beare the burthen of the miserie
Of this colde death, which we accompt for life:
Before my birth my father vnderstoode
I should him slea, and scarcely was I borne,
When he me made a pray for sauage beastes.
But what? I slew him yet, then caught the crowne,
And last of all defilde my mothers bedde,
By whom I haue this wicked ofspring got:
And to this heinous crime and filthy facte
The heauens haue from highe enforced me,
Agaynst whose doome no counsell can preuayle.
Thus hate I now my life, and last of all,
Lo by the newes of this so cruell death
Of bothe my sonnes and deare beloued wife,
Mine angrie constellation me commaundes
Withouten eyes to wander in mine age,
When these my weery, weake, and crooked limmes
Haue greatest neede to craue their quiet rest.
O cruell Creon, wilt thou slea me so,
For cruelly thou doste but murther me,
Out of my kingdome now to chase me thus:
Yet can I not with humble minde beseeche
Thy curtesie, ne fall before thy feete.
Let fortune take from me these worldly giftes,
She can not conquere this couragious heart,
That neuer yet could well be ouercome,
To force me yeelde for feare to villanie:
Do what thou canst I will be Oedipus.

Cre.
So hast thou reason Oedipus, to say,
And for my parte I would thee counsell eke,
Still to maynteine the high and hawtie minde,
That hath bene euen in thy noble heart:
For this be sure, if thou wouldst kisse these knees,
And practise eke by prayer to preuayle,
No pitie coulde persuade me to consent
That thou remayne one onely houre in Thebes.
And nowe, prepare you worthie Citizens,
The funeralls that duely doe pertayne
Unto the Queene, and to Eteocles,
And eke for them prouide their stately tombes.
But Pollynice, as common enimie
Unto his countrey, carrie foorth his corps
Out of the walles, ne none so hardie be
On paine of death his bodie to engraue,
But in the fieldes let him vnburied lye,
Without his honour, and without complaynte,
An open praie for sauage beastes to spoyle.
And thou Antigone, drie vp thy teares,
Plucke vp thy sprites, and cheere thy harmelesse hearte
To mariage: for ere these two dayes passe,
Thou shalt espouse Hemone myne onely heire.

Antig.
Father, I see vs wrapt in endlesse woe,
And nowe muche more doe I your state lamente,
Than these that nowe be dead, not that I thinke
Theyr greate missehappes too little to bewayle,
But this, that you, you onely doe surpasse
All wretched wightes that in this worlde remayne.
But you my Lorde, why banishe you with wrong
My father thus out of his owne perforce?
And why will you denye these guiltlesse bones
Of Polinice, theyr graue in countrey soyle?

Creon.
So would not I, so woulde Eteocles.

Anti.
He cruel was, you fonde to hold his hestes.

Creon.
Is then a fault to doe a kings cōmaund?

Anti.
When his cōmaunde is cruel and vniust.

Creon.
Is it vniust that he vnburied be?

Anti.
He not deseru'd so cruell punishment.

Creon.
He was his countreys cruell enimie.

Anti.
Or else was he that helde him from his right.

Cre.
Bare he not armes against his natiue land?

Anti.
Offendeth he that sekes to winne his owne?

Cre.
Perforce to thee he shall vnburied be.

Anti.
Perforce to thee these hands shall burie him.

Cre.
And with him eke then will I burie thee.

Anti.
So graunt the gods, I get none other graue,
Then with my Polinices deare to rest.

Cre.
Go sirs, lay holde on hir, and take hir in.

Anti.
I will not leaue this corps vnburied.

Cre.
Canst thou vndoe the thing that is decreed?

Anti.
A wicked foule decree to wrong the dead.

Cre.
The ground ne shall ne ought to couer him.

Anti.
Creon, yet I beseche thee for the loue

Cre.
Away I say, thy prayers not preuaile.

Anti.
That thou didst beare Iocasta in hir life,

Cre.
Thou dost but waste thy words amid the wind.

Anti.
Yet graunt me leaue to washe his wounded corps.

Cre.
It can not be that I should graunt thee so.

Anti.
O my deare Polinice, this tirant yet
With all his wrongfull force can not fordoe,
But I will kisse these colde pale lippes of thine,
And washe thy wounds with my waymenting teares.

Cre.
O simple wench, O fonde and foolishe girle,
Beware, beware, thy teares do not foretell
Some signe of hard mishap vnto thy mariage.

Anti.
No, no for Hemone will I neuer wed.

Cre.
Dost thou refuse the mariage of my sonne?

Anti.
I will nor him, nor any other wed.

Cre.
Against thy will then must I thee constraine.

Anti.
If thou me force, I sweare thou shalt repent.

Cre.
What canst thou cause that I should once repent?

Anti.
With bloudy knife I can this knot vnknit.

Cre.
And what a foole were thou to kill thy selfe?

Anti.
I will ensue some worthie womans steppes.

Cre.
Speake out Antigone, that I may heare.

Anti.
This hardie hand shall soone dispatche his life.

Cre.
O simple foole, and darst thou be so bolde?

Anti.
Why should I dread to doe so doughtie deede?

Cre.
And wherfore dost thou wedlocke so despise?

Anti.
In cruell exile for to folow him.

pointiug to Oedipus.
Cre.
What others might beseme, besemes not thee.

Anti.
If neede require, with him eke will I dye.

Cre.
Depart, depart, and with thy father dye,
Rather than kill my childe with bloudie knife:
Go hellishe monster, go out of the towne.

Creon exit.
Oedi.
Daughter, I must commend thy noble heart.

Anti.
Father, I will neuer come in company
And you alone wander in wildernesse.

Oedi.
O yes deare daughter, leaue thou me alone
Amid my plagues: be mery while thou maist.

Anti.
And who shall guide these aged feete of yours,
That banisht bene, in blind necessitie?

Oedi.
I will endure, as fatall lot me driues,
Resting these crooked sory sides of mine
Where so the heauens shall lend me harborough.
And in exchange of riche and stately toures,
The woodes, the wildernesse, the darkesome dennes
Shalbe the bowre of mine vnhappy bones.

Anti.
O father, now where is your glory gone?

“Oedi.
One happy day did raise me to renoune,
“One haplesse day hath throwne mine honor downe.

Anti.
Yet will I beare a part of your mishappes.

Oedi.
That sitteth not amid thy pleasant yeares.

“Anti.
Deare father yes, let youth giue place to age.

Oedi.
Where is thy mother? let me touche hir face,
That with these hands I may yet feele the harme
That these blind eyes forbid me to beholde.

Anti.
Here father, here hir corps, here put your hand,

Oedi.
O wife, O mother, O both wofull names,
O wofull mother, and O wofull wyfe,
O woulde to God, alas, O woulde to God
Thou nere had bene my mother, nor my wyfe.
But where lye nowe the paled bodies two,
Of myne vnluckie sonnes, Oh where be they?

Anti.
Lo here they lye one by an other deade.

Oedip.
Stretch out this hand, dere daughter, stretch this hande
Upon their faces.

Anti.
Loe father, here, lo, nowe you touche them both.

Oedi.
O bodies deare, O bodies dearely boughte
Unto your father, bought with high missehap.

Anti.
O louely name of my deare Pollinice,
Why can I not of cruell Creon craue,
Ne with my death nowe purchase thee a graue?

Oedi.
Nowe commes Apollos oracle to passe,
That I in Athens towne should end my dayes:
And since thou doest, O daughter myne, desire
In this exile to be my wofull mate,
Lende mee thy hande, and let vs goe togither.

Anti.
Loe, here all prest my deare beloued father,
A feeble guyde, and eke a simple skowte,
To passe the perills in a doubtfull waye.

Oedi.
Unto the wretched, be a wretched guyde.

Anti.
In this all onely equall to my father.

Oedi.
And where shall I sette foorth my trembling feete?
O reache mee yet some surer staffe, to staye
My staggryng pace amidde these wayes vnknowne.

Anti.
Here father here, and here set forth your feete.

Oedi.
Nowe can I blame none other for my harmes
But secrete spight of foredecreed fate,
Thou arte the cause, that crooked, olde and blynde,
I am exilde farre from my countrey soyle,
A nd suffer dole that I myghte not endure.

“Anti.
O father, father, Iustice lyes on sleepe,
“Ne doth regarde the wrongs of wretchednesse,
“Ne princes swelling pryde it doth redresse.

Oedi.
O carefull caytife, howe am I nowe chang'd
From that I was? I am that Oedipus,
That whylome had triumphant victorie,
And was bothe dread and honored eke in Thebes:
But nowe (so pleaseth you my frowarde starres)
Downe headlong hurlde in depth of myserie,
So that remaynes of Oedipus no more
As nowe in mee, but euen the naked name,
And lo, this image, that resembles more
Shadowes of death, than shape of Oedipus.

Antig.
O father, nowe forgette the pleasaunt dayes
And happie lyfe that you did whylom leade,
The muse whereof redoubleth but your griefe:
Susteyne the smarte of these your present paynes
With pacience, that best may you preserue.
Lo where I come, to liue and die with you,
Not (as sometymes) the daughter of a king,
But as an abiect nowe in pouertie,
That you, by presence of suche faithfull guide,
May better beare the wracke of miserie.

Oedi.
O onely comforte of my cruell happe.

Anti.
Your daughters pitie is but due to you:
Woulde God I might as well ingraue the corps
Of my deare Pollinice, but I ne maye,
And that I can not, doubleth all my dole.

Oedi.
This thy desire, that is both good and iuste,
Imparte to some that be thy trustie frendes,
Who moude with pitie, maye procure the same.

“Anti.
Beleeue me father, when dame fortune frownes,
“Be fewe that fynde trustie companions.

Oedi.
And of those fewe, yet one of those am I:
Wherefore, goe we nowe daughter, leade the waye
Into the stonie rockes and highest hilles,
Where fewest trackes our steppings may be spyde.
“Who once hath sit in chaire of dignitie,
“May shame to shewe him selfe in miserie.

Anti.
From thee, O countrey, am I forst to parte,
Despoyled thus in floure of my youth,
And yet I leaue within mine enimies rule
Ismene my infortunate sister.

Oed.
Deare Citizens, beholde your lorde and king
That Thebes set in quiet gouernement,
Nowe as you see, neglected of you all,
And in these ragged ruthfull weedes bewrapt,
Ychased from his natiue countrey soyle,
Betakes him selfe (for so this Tyraunt will)
To euerlasting banishment: but why
Do I lament my lucklesse lotte in vayne?
“Since euery man must beare with quiet minde,
“The fate that heauens haue earst to him assignde.

CHORVS.
Example here, lo take by Oedipus,
You kings and princes in prosperitie,
And euery one that is desirous
To sway the seate of worldly dignitie,
How fickle is to trust in fortunes wheele:
For him, whom now she hoyseth vp on hye,
If so he chaunce on any side to reele,
She hurles him downe in twinkling of an eye:
And him agayne, that grouleth now on grounde,
And lyeth lowe in dungeon of dispaire,
Hir whirling wheele can heaue vp at a bounde,
And place aloft in stay of stately chaire.
As from the Sunne the Moone withdrawes hir face,
So might of man dothe yeelde dame fortune place.