University of Virginia Library

Euribates, Clytemnestra
Cly.
The tydings of a message good vnto mine eares is blowne.
Where stayes my spouse whō longing for ten yeres I haue out scand?
What doth he yet sayle on the seas, or he is come a land?
Yet hath he fyxt and set his foote back stepping home agayne.
Uppon the sandy shore, that longe he wished to attayne?
And doth he styll enioy his health enhauncte in glory great,
And painted out in pompe of prayes whose fame the sky doth beate?

Eu.
Blesse we with burning sacrifice at length this lucky day

Cli.
And eke the Gods though gracious, yet dealing long delay:
Declare if that my brothers wyfe enioy the vytall ayre
And tel me to what kind of Coast my sister doth repayre.

Euri.
God graunt, & geue vs better newes then this that thou dost craue
The heauy hap of fyghting flouds forbiddes the truth to haue,
Our scattred fleete the swelling seas attemptes in such a plight,
That ship from ship was taken cleane out of each others sight.
Atrides in the waters wyde tormoyld and straying farre
More vyolence by seas sustaynd then by the bloudy warre
And as it were a conquerd man escaping home al weete
Now bringeth in his company of such a mighty fleete,
A sort of brused broken barkes, beshaken, torne, and rent.

Cli.
Shew what vnlucky chaunce it is that hath our nauy spent.
What storme of seas dispersed hath our Captaynes hear and there

Eury.
Thou willest me to make report of heauy woful geare.
Thou biddest me most greeuous newes with tydinges good to part:
For vttring of this woeful hap my feeble mynd doth start.
And horribly appauled is with this so monstruous ill.

Cly,
Speake out and vtter it: himselfe with terrour he doth fill,
Whose hart his owne calamity and carke doth loath to know:
The hart whom doubted domage dulles with greater griefe doth glow

Eu.
When Troyan buildings blasing bright did burne away and broyle,
Enkindled first by Grekish brand, they fall to part the spoyle:
Repayring fast vnto the seas agayne we come aboord,
And now the souldiers weary loynes were eased of his sword,
Their bucklers cast aside, vppon the hatches lie aboue.
Their warlike handes in practise put, and Oers learne to moue:
Ech litle hindraunce seemes to much to them in hasty plight,
When of recourse the Admirall gaue watchword by his light,
And trumpet blast beganne to cal our army from delay.
The paynted Pup with gilded snowt did first guyde on the way:
And cut the course, which following on a thousand shippes did ryue,
Then first a wynd with pipling puffes our launcing ships did dryue,
Watch glyded downe vpon our sayles the water beyng calme
With breath of westerne wynd so myld scant moued any walme.
The shyning seas bespred about with shippes doth glister bright,
And also couerd with the same lay hid from Phœbus syght:
It doth vs good to gase vppon the naked shore of Troy:
The desart Phrygian plots so bare to vew wee hop for ioye:
The yeuth each one besturres themselues, and striking altogeather,
They tough their oers & with their toyle they helpe the wynd & weather
They tug and chearely row by course, the spirting seas vp dash,
Agaynst the tatling ribs of ships the flapping floods do flash
The hory froth of wrestling waues which ores aloft doth rayse,
Do draw and trace a furrow through the marblefaced seas.
When stronger blast with belly swolne our hoysted sayles did fil,
They row no more, but let the Pup to goe with wynd at wil,
Their sheryng oers layd assyde our Pilot doth espye,
How farre from any land aloofe our sayles reculing flye.
Or bloudy battels doth display the threats of Hector stout,
Or of his ratling waggings tels, wherein he rode about.
Or how his gashed carkas slayne and traynd about the field
To funeral flames and obit rightes for coyne agayne was yeld.
How Iupiter embathed was al in his royall bloud.
The frolicke fish disposed was to mirth in Tyrren floud,
And fetching friskes both in and out playes on the waters brim,
And on his broade and fynny backe about the seas doth swim,
With gambals quicke in ringes around and side to side enclynd,
Erwhyle he sportes afront the pup, and whips agayne behynd,
Now fidling on the snout before the dalying wanton route
With iocundary ioly tryckes doth skip the fleete about.
Sometyme he standeth gasing on and eyes the vessels bright,
Now euery shore is couered cleane, and land is out of sight,
The parlous poynt of Ida rocke in sight doth open lye,
And that alone espie we could with fyrmly fixed eye,
A duskye clowde of stifling smoake from Troy did smolter blacke,
When Titan from the weary neckes the heauy yokes did slacke.
The fading light did groueling bend, and downe the day did shrowd,
Agaynst the Starres amounting vp a litle misty clowde
Came belching out in yrksome lompe, and Phœbus galland beams
He spewd vppon, bestayning them duct downe in Westerne streams.
The Sunne set swaruing in such sort with diuers chaunge of face,
Did geue vs cause to haue mistrust of Neptunes doubted grace,
The euening first did burnish bright, and paynt with starres the sky.
The wyndes were layed, and cleane forsooke our sayles that quiet lie.
When cracking, ratling, rumbling noyse, rusht down wt thundring sway
From top of hills, which greatter sturre doth threaten and bewraye.
With bellowinges, and yellinges lowde, the shores do grunt & grone,
The craggy clyues and roaring rocks do howle in hollow stone.
The bubling waters swelles vpreard before the wrastling wynd,
When sodaynly the lowring light of Mone is hid and blynd.
The glymsing starres do goe to glade, the surging seas are tost
Euen to the skyes among the clowdes the light of heauen is lost.
More nightes in one compacted are with shadow dim and blacke,
One shadow vpon another doth more darknes heape and packe,
And euery sparke of light consum'd the waues and skyes do meete,
The ruffling windes range on the seas, through euery coast they fitt.
They heaue it vp with violence, oreturnde from bottom low,
The westerne wynd flat in the face of Easterne wynd doth blow.
With hurley burley Boreas set ope his blasting mouth,
And girdeth out his boysteous breth agaynst the stormy south,
Each wynd with al his might doth blow, and worketh daungers deepe,
They shake the floods, a sturdy blast along the seas do sweepe.
That rolles and tumbles waue on waue, a northren tempest stronge,
Aboundance great of flacky snow doth hurle our shippes amonge.
The southwynd out of Libia, doth rage vppon a shold,
And with the puissant force therof the quicksandes vp be rold,
Nor bydeth in the south which doth with tempest lumpe and lower,
And force the flowing floods to rise by powring out a shower.
The stubberne Eurus, Earthquakes made, and shoke the coūtries East,
And Eos cost where Phœbus first aryseth from his rest.
How violent Corus stretcht and tare his yawning breast ful wyde?
A man would sure haue thought the world did from his center slyde,
And that the frames of Heauen broke vp the Gods adowne would fall
And Chaos darke confused heape would shade and couer all.
The streame straue with the wynd, the wynd dyd beate it downe againe
The springing sea within his bankes can not it selfe contayne,
The raging showre his trilling droppes doth mingle with the seas,
And yet in all this misery the fynd not so much ease,
To see and know what ill it is, that worketh theyr decay.
The darknes dim oppresseth still and keepes the light away:
The blackfacst night with Hellicke hue was clad of Stygian lake
And yet ful oft with glimsing beames the sparkling fyre out brake,
The clowde doth cracke, and beyng rent the lightning leapeth out,
The wretches like the same so well it shyning them about,
That stil they wish such light to haue (although God wot but yll)
The nauy swaying downe it selfe doth cast away, and spill.
One side with other side is crackt, and helme is rent with helme,
The ship it selfe the gulping seas do headlong ouerwhelme.
Erwhyle a greedy gaping gulph doth sup it vp amayne,
Then by and by tost vp aloft it spewes it out againe,
She with her swagging full of sea to bottome lowe doth sinke
And drencheth deepe asyde in floods her totring broken brinke.
That vnderneath a dosen waues lay drowned out of sight,
Her broken plankes swim vp and downe, spoyld is her tackle quight,
Both sayle and Oers cleane are lost, the mayne mast eke is gone.
That wonted was to beare vpright the sayle yard thereuppon,
The limber and the broken bordes lye on the waters brim,
When cold and shiuering feare in vs doth strike through euery lim,
The wysest wits entocksicate dare nothing enterprise,
And cunning practise naught auayles when feareful stormes aryse,
The mareners letting duty slip stand staring all agast,
Their scoping ores sodaynly out of their handes are wrast.
To prayer then apace we fall, when other hope is none,
The Greekes and Troyans to the Gods alyke do make their mone.
Alacke what succour of the fates may wee poore wretches fynd?
Agaynst his father Pyrrhus beares a spyteful cankred mynd,
At Ayax grudge Vlisses doth, king Menela doth hate
Great Hector: Agamemnon is with Priam at debate.
O happy man is he that doth lye slayne in Troyan ground,
And hath deserude by handy stroake to take his fatall wound,
Whom same preserueth, taking vp his tombe in conquerd land
Those momes whose melting cowardes hart durst neuer take in hand
Or enterprise no noble acte, those force of floods shall drowne
But fate forbearing long, wil take stoute Brutes of high renoume,
Ful wel we may ashamed be, in such a sort to dye,
If any man his spyteful mynd yet can not satisfye,
With these outragious plunging plagues that downe frō Gods are sēt,
Appease at length thy wrathful God agayne and eake relent.
Euen Troy for pity would haue wept, to see our woefull case,
But if that in thy boyling breast black rancour still haue place,
And that the Greekes to ruin run, it bee thy purpose bent,
Why doe these Troyans goe to wrack? for whom thus are wee spent?
Asswage the rygaur of the sea that threatning hilles vp reares:
This drenched Fleete the Troyan folke and Greekes together beares.
Then from theyr prayers are they put, theyr foultring tonges doe stay,
The roring seas doth drowne their voyce and caryes their cries away.
Then mighty Pallas armed with the lepping lightning fyre,
That teasty loue doth vse to hurle prouokt to swelling yre,
With threatning Iaueling in her hand, her prowesse meanes to try,
And eke her force whose boyling breast with Gorgon fits doth fry,
Or what with Target she can doe, and with her Fathers fyre.
Then from the Skyes another storme begins abroade to spyre,
But Aiax nothing yet dismaide all force withstandeth stout,
Whom when hee spred his swelling sayles with Cable stretched out,
She lighting downe did wryng him hard, and wrapt him in her flame,
And slang another flasshing dint of lightning on the same,
With all her force and violence her hand brought back agayne,
She tost him out, as late that feate her father tought her playne.
Both ouer Aiax and his Pup she flyeth ouerthwart,
And renting man and shyp, of both shee beares away a part,
His corage nought abated yet hee all to singde doth seeme,
Euen like a stubberne ragged Rocke amid the striuing streame,
Hee traynes along the roaring seas and eke the waltring waue
By shouing on his bourly breast in sunder quite he draue,
The Barke with hand he caught, and on it selfe did type it ouer,
Yet Aiax shyneth in the floud which darknesse blinde doth couer.
At length attayning to a rocke his thundring crakes were these,
I conquered haue the force of fyre and rage of fighting seas,
It doth mee good, to mayster thus the anger of the skye,
With Pallas wrath, the lightning flames and floods tumultyng hye.
The terrour of the warlyck god once could not make me flye,
The force of Mars and Hector both at once sustaynd haue I.
Nor Phœbus dartes could me constrayne, from him one foote to shoon,
All these beside the Phrygians subdued we haue, and woon.
When other Mecocks flinges his darts shall I not them withstand?
Yea, what if Phœbus came himselfe, to pytch them with his hand?
When in hys melancholy moode he boasted without meane.
Then father Neptune lyft his heat aboue the waters cleane.
The beaten rocke with forked mace he vndermyning pluckte
From bottom loose, and suncke it downe, when downe himself he duckt.
There Aiax lay, by land, by fyre, and storme of seas destroid
But we by suffering shypwrack, are with greater plagues anoyd.
A subtyle shallow floud there is flowne on a stony shold,
Where crafty Caphar out of syght the lurking rocks doth hold,
Uppon whose sharpe and ragged tops the swelling tide doth flow,
The boyling waues do beat thereon still sweaing to and fro:
A turrret nodding ouer it doth hange with fallyng sway,
From whence on either side from height prospect espy wee may
Two seas: and on this hand the coast where Pelops once did raygne,
And Isthmus floud in narrow creeke, reculing back agayne,
Doth stop Ionian sea, least into Hellespont it run,
On th'other part is Lemnon floud that fame by bloudshed woon.
On th'other side Calcedon towne doth stand agaynst this forte,
And Aulis Ile that stayde our ships that thyther did resorte.
This Castell heere inhabyte doth our Palimedes sier,
Whose cursed hand helde in the top a brand of flaming fier.
That did alure our fleete, to turne on lurking rockes a ryght,
Entysing them with wily blaze to come vnto the lyght.
All into fitters shaken are the vessels on the sholde,
But other some doe swym, and some vpon the rockes are roulde,
And other slipping backe agayne so to eschew the Rocks,
His brused Rybs, and ratling sides agaynst eche other knocks,
Whereby the other hee doth breake, and broken is himselfe,
Then woulde they launce into the deepe, for now they dread the shelfe,
This peck of troubles chaunct to hap in dawning of the day.
But when the Gods (besought of vs) began the rage to stay,
And Phœbus golden beames began a freshe to render lyght,
The dolefull day diserted all the domage done by nyght.

CLY.
O whether may I now lament, and weepe with wayling sad?
Or shall I els in that my Spouse returned is bee glad?
I doe reioyce, and yet I am compelled to bewayle
My countreyes great calamity that doth the same assayle.
O Father great whose maiesty doth thundring Scepters shake,
The sowring Gods vnto the Greekes now fauourable make,
With garlands greene let euery head reioysing now be crounde.
To thee the pype in sacryfice melodiously doth sounde,
And on thyne aulter lyeth slayne an Heyferd lilly whight,
Before the same doe present stand with hanging lockes vndight,
A carefull Troyan company in heauy wofull plight,
On whom frō high the Lawrell tree with spredding braunch doth shyne,
Whose vertue hath inspyred them with Phœbus grace diuine,