 |
|
| [1]. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 2. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 4. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
 | Octavia (1581) |  |
And Scipio, thee did Fortune yeelde
Unto lyke death, and curssed wracke,
Whom neyther honours pompe coulde sheelde,
Nor fenced house thy foes keepe backe.
Moe to repeate, although I coulde,
Pure present griefe forbiddeth sore:
Ere whyle to whom the people woulde,
Her Fathers antique Courte restore,
And Brothers wedlocke once againe,
Now weeping, wringing hands poore wretch,
Unto hir cruell, deadly payne,
The armed souldiours doe hir fetch.
How safe doth pouerty lye content,
In thetched house safe shrouded there?
High raysed towers with blasts are bent,
Which often tymes them ouer beare.
Oct.
Chor.
The mortall broode the destnies guide:
Themselues they nothing can assure,
That certainly doth stedfast bide:
VVhich our last day of life, procure,
(VVhereof we alwayes should beware,)
Much daungerous chaunces for to try:
Unto your troubled minde with care,
Now many saumples do apply,
Which your accursed court hath brought,
To bolden you in all your broyle:
For what hath more your troubles wrought,
What doth against you sorer toyle,
Than fortune doth? the first of all,
Agrippas childe brought forth to life,
Whome we Tyberrus daughter call,
By lawe, and eke Prince Cæsars wife,
Of many sonnes a carefull dame,
I cannot chose but now recount,
Whose worthy, glorious ample name,
Throughout the world doth much surmount.
So oft with belly bolne that bare
Desyred fruicts, and peares pledge,
Ere long thou sufferedst exiles care,
Strypes, chaines, and boltes of yron wedge,
And mourning much, which so did frame,
That death they causde thee to abyde.
Unto lyke death, and curssed wracke,
Whom neyther honours pompe coulde sheelde,
Nor fenced house thy foes keepe backe.
Moe to repeate, although I coulde,
Pure present griefe forbiddeth sore:
Ere whyle to whom the people woulde,
Her Fathers antique Courte restore,
And Brothers wedlocke once againe,
Now weeping, wringing hands poore wretch,
Unto hir cruell, deadly payne,
The armed souldiours doe hir fetch.
How safe doth pouerty lye content,
In thetched house safe shrouded there?
High raysed towers with blasts are bent,
Which often tymes them ouer beare.
Oct.
Where pull you mee poore wretch? alas,
Into what banisht exiles place,
Woulde Nero haue mee for to passe,
Or Fortune bids, with frowning face?
If now with faynting strength quite coolde,
And with my broyles all wearied ceasse,
And longer lyfe shee graunt nice woolde,
If that shee worke for to increase,
My sorrowes great with deadly dart,
Why is she then so much my foe,
In country that I may not part,
And leaue my life before I goe?
Into what banisht exiles place,
Woulde Nero haue mee for to passe,
Or Fortune bids, with frowning face?
If now with faynting strength quite coolde,
And with my broyles all wearied ceasse,
And longer lyfe shee graunt nice woolde,
If that shee worke for to increase,
[185]
Why is she then so much my foe,
In country that I may not part,
And leaue my life before I goe?
But now no helpe of health I feele,
Alas I see my Brothers boate:
This is the same, whose vaulted keele,
His Mother once did set a flote.
And now his piteous Sister I,
Excluded cleane from spousall place,
Shall be so caried by and by:
No force hath vertue in this case.
No Gods there be my woes to wrecke.
The griesly, dreadfull drab Eryn,
Doth weld the worlde at nod and becke,
Who can lament my state, wherein
I am, alas, sufficientlie?
Now can Aedon duely playne,
My smarting streames of teares that I
Do shedde? whose wings I would be faine,
If destnies would them graunt, to weare.
Then would I leaue my mourning mates,
As swiftly fled, as wings could beare,
Aud so auoyde these bloudy pates.
Then sitting sole in shirwood shirle,
And hanging sure, by dandling twigge
VVith plaintiue pipe I might out twirle
My heauy tuned note so bigge.
Alas I see my Brothers boate:
This is the same, whose vaulted keele,
His Mother once did set a flote.
And now his piteous Sister I,
Excluded cleane from spousall place,
Shall be so caried by and by:
No force hath vertue in this case.
No Gods there be my woes to wrecke.
The griesly, dreadfull drab Eryn,
Doth weld the worlde at nod and becke,
Who can lament my state, wherein
I am, alas, sufficientlie?
Now can Aedon duely playne,
My smarting streames of teares that I
Do shedde? whose wings I would be faine,
If destnies would them graunt, to weare.
Then would I leaue my mourning mates,
As swiftly fled, as wings could beare,
Aud so auoyde these bloudy pates.
Then sitting sole in shirwood shirle,
And hanging sure, by dandling twigge
VVith plaintiue pipe I might out twirle
My heauy tuned note so bigge.
Chor.
The mortall broode the destnies guide:
Themselues they nothing can assure,
That certainly doth stedfast bide:
VVhich our last day of life, procure,
(VVhereof we alwayes should beware,)
Much daungerous chaunces for to try:
Unto your troubled minde with care,
Now many saumples do apply,
Which your accursed court hath brought,
186
For what hath more your troubles wrought,
What doth against you sorer toyle,
Than fortune doth? the first of all,
Agrippas childe brought forth to life,
Whome we Tyberrus daughter call,
By lawe, and eke Prince Cæsars wife,
Of many sonnes a carefull dame,
I cannot chose but now recount,
Whose worthy, glorious ample name,
Throughout the world doth much surmount.
So oft with belly bolne that bare
Desyred fruicts, and peares pledge,
Ere long thou sufferedst exiles care,
Strypes, chaines, and boltes of yron wedge,
And mourning much, which so did frame,
That death they causde thee to abyde.
| Octavia (1581) | |