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 | Hercules Furens, Thyestes, Troas |  |
The first Scene.
Forsaking now the places tenebrouse,
And deepe dennes of thinfernall region
From all the shadowes of illusious
That wāder there the pathes ful many one
Lo, here am I returned al alone,
The same Achil whose fierce and heauy hande
Of al the world no wight might yet withstand.
And deepe dennes of thinfernall region
From all the shadowes of illusious
That wāder there the pathes ful many one
Lo, here am I returned al alone,
The same Achil whose fierce and heauy hande
Of al the world no wight might yet withstand.
What man so stout of al the Grecians host,
That hath not sometyme crau'd Achilles aide,
And in the Troyans, who of prowes most
That hath not feard to see my Banner splaide
Achilles lo, hath made them all affrayde.
And in the Greekes hath bene a piller post,
That stvrdy stode agaynst their Troyan host.
That hath not sometyme crau'd Achilles aide,
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That hath not feard to see my Banner splaide
Achilles lo, hath made them all affrayde.
And in the Greekes hath bene a piller post,
That stvrdy stode agaynst their Troyan host.
Where I haue lackt the Grecians went to wracke,
Troy proued hath what Achills sword could doe
Where I haue come the Troyans fled a backe,
Retyring fast from field their walles vnto,
No man that might Achilles stroke fordoe
I dealt such stripes amid the Troian route,
That with their bloud I staynd the fieldes aboute.
Troy proued hath what Achills sword could doe
Where I haue come the Troyans fled a backe,
Retyring fast from field their walles vnto,
No man that might Achilles stroke fordoe
I dealt such stripes amid the Troian route,
That with their bloud I staynd the fieldes aboute.
Mighty Memnon that with his Persian band,
Would Pryams part with all might mayntayne,
Lo now he lyeth and knoweth Achilles hand
Amid the field is Troylus also slayne.
Ye Hector great, whom Troy accompted playne
The flowre of chiualry that might be found,
All of Achilles had theyr mortall wound.
Would Pryams part with all might mayntayne,
Lo now he lyeth and knoweth Achilles hand
Amid the field is Troylus also slayne.
Ye Hector great, whom Troy accompted playne
The flowre of chiualry that might be found,
All of Achilles had theyr mortall wound.
But Paris lo, such was his false deceipt,
Pretending maryage of Polixeine,
Behynd the aulter lay for me in wayte
Where I vnwares haue falne into the trayne
And in Appolloes church he hath me slayne
Wherof the Hel will now iust vengeance haue,
And here agayne, I come my right to craue.
Pretending maryage of Polixeine,
Behynd the aulter lay for me in wayte
Where I vnwares haue falne into the trayne
And in Appolloes church he hath me slayne
Wherof the Hel will now iust vengeance haue,
And here agayne, I come my right to craue.
The deepe Auerne my rage may not sustayne,
Nor beare the angers of Achilles spright
From Acheront I rent the spoyle in twayne,
And though the ground I grate agayne to sight:
Hell could not hide Achilles from the light,
Vengeance and bloud doth Orcus pit require,
To quench the furies of Achilles yre.
Nor beare the angers of Achilles spright
From Acheront I rent the spoyle in twayne,
And though the ground I grate agayne to sight:
Hell could not hide Achilles from the light,
[102]
To quench the furies of Achilles yre.
The hatefull land, that worse then Tartare is
And burning thrust excedes of Tantalus,
I here beholde againe, and Troy is this
O, trauell worse, then stone of Sisyphus
And paines that passe the panges of Tityus
To light more lothsome furie hath me sent
Then hooked wheele, that Ixions flesh doth rent.
And burning thrust excedes of Tantalus,
I here beholde againe, and Troy is this
O, trauell worse, then stone of Sisyphus
And paines that passe the panges of Tityus
To light more lothsome furie hath me sent
Then hooked wheele, that Ixions flesh doth rent.
Remembred is alowe where sprites do dwell
The wicked slaughter wrought by wyly way.
Not yet reuenged hath the deepest hell,
Achilles bloud on them that did him slay
But now of vengeance come the yrefull day
And darkest dennes of Tartare from beneath
Conspire the fautes, of them that wrought my death.
The wicked slaughter wrought by wyly way.
Not yet reuenged hath the deepest hell,
Achilles bloud on them that did him slay
But now of vengeance come the yrefull day
And darkest dennes of Tartare from beneath
Conspire the fautes, of them that wrought my death.
Now mischiefe, murder, wrath of hell draweth nere
And dyre Phlegethon floud doth bloud require
Achilles death shall he reuenged here
VVith slaughter such as Stygian lakes desyre
Her daughters bloud shal slake the spirites yre,
VVhose sonne we slew, whereof doth yet remayne,
The wrath beneath, and hell shalbe their payne.
And dyre Phlegethon floud doth bloud require
Achilles death shall he reuenged here
VVith slaughter such as Stygian lakes desyre
Her daughters bloud shal slake the spirites yre,
VVhose sonne we slew, whereof doth yet remayne,
The wrath beneath, and hell shalbe their payne.
From burning lakes the furies wrath I threate,
And fire that nought but streames of bloud may slake
The rage of winde and seas their shippes shall beate,
And Ditis deepe on you shall vengeance take,
The sprites crie out, the earth and seas do quake
The poole of Styx, vngratefull Greekes it seath,
VVith slaughtred bloud reuenge Achilles death.
And fire that nought but streames of bloud may slake
The rage of winde and seas their shippes shall beate,
And Ditis deepe on you shall vengeance take,
The sprites crie out, the earth and seas do quake
The poole of Styx, vngratefull Greekes it seath,
VVith slaughtred bloud reuenge Achilles death.
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The soyle doth shake to beare my heauy foote
And fearth agayne the sceptors of my hand,
The pooles with stroake of thunderclap ring out,
The doubtful starres amid their course do stand,
The fearfull Phœbus hides his blasing brande
The trembling lakes agaynst their course do flite,
For dread and terrour of Achilles spright.
And fearth agayne the sceptors of my hand,
The pooles with stroake of thunderclap ring out,
The doubtful starres amid their course do stand,
The fearfull Phœbus hides his blasing brande
The trembling lakes agaynst their course do flite,
For dread and terrour of Achilles spright.
Great is the raunsome ought of due to mee,
Wherwith ye must the sprightes and hell appease,
Polyxena shal sacrifysed be,
Vpon my tombe, their yreful wrath to please,
And with her bloud ye shall asswage the seas
Your ships may not returne to Greece agayne
Til on my tombe Polyxena be slayne.
Wherwith ye must the sprightes and hell appease,
Polyxena shal sacrifysed be,
Vpon my tombe, their yreful wrath to please,
And with her bloud ye shall asswage the seas
Your ships may not returne to Greece agayne
Til on my tombe Polyxena be slayne.
And for that she should then haue bene my wyfe,
I wil that Pyrrhus render her to mee,
And in such solemne sort bereaue her life,
As ye are wont the weddinges for to see,
So shal the wrath of Hel appeased bee,
Nought els but this may satisfy our yre,
Her wil I haue and her I you require.
I wil that Pyrrhus render her to mee,
And in such solemne sort bereaue her life,
As ye are wont the weddinges for to see,
So shal the wrath of Hel appeased bee,
Nought els but this may satisfy our yre,
Her wil I haue and her I you require.
| Hercules Furens, Thyestes, Troas | |