University of Virginia Library

[THE FIRST TRAGEDIE OF SENECA ENTITVLED Hercules Furens.]

THE SPEAKERS

• Iuno.
• Chorus.
• Megara.
• Amphitrion.
• Lycus.
• Hercules.
• Theseus.

THE FIRST ACTE.

Iuno
alone.
I syster of the Thunderer, (for now that name alone
Remaynes to me) Ioue euermore as though deuorst and gone,
And temples of the highest ayre as wydowe shunned haue,
And beaten out of skyes aboue the place to Harlots gaue.
I must go dwell beneath on ground, for Whoores do hold the sky.
From hence the Beare in parte aboue of ycy peale full hy,
A haughty starre the greekish shyps by Seas doth guyde about:
From this way, whence at spring time warme the day is loased out,
Europaes bearer through the waues of Tyria shynes full bright.
From thence, their stormy fearefull flocke to Ships, and seas affright,
The wandring daughters here and there of Atlas vpward sway.
With staring bush of hayre from hens Orion Gods doth fray:
And Perseus eke his glitteryng starres of golden glosse hath here.
From hence the twynnes of Tyndars stocke do shine, a signe full clere:
And at whose byrth first stode the grounde that erst went to and fro.
Nor onely Bacchus now himselfe, or Bacchus mother lo,
Haue clymd to Gods: least any parte should from rebuke be free,
The skies the Gnossian strumpets crownes do beare in spight of mee.
But I of old cōtemptes complayne: me, one dire, fierce, and shrewde,
Thebana land with wicked broode of Ioues base daughters strewde,
How oft hath it a stepdame made? though vp to heauen should ryse,
The conqueryng drabbe Alcmena now, and hold my place in skyes,
And eke her sonne to promisd starres obtayne the worthy way,
At byrth of whom the staying worlde so long deferd the day,
And Phœbus slow from morning sea began to glister bright,
Commaunded long in th'Ocean waues to hyde his drowned lyght.
Yet shall my hates not leaue them so, a wrathful kindled rage
His mynd in madnes shall stirre vp, and yre that may not swage
Shall euermore (all peace layd downe) wage warres eternally.
What warres? what euer hideous thinge the earth his ennemy
Begets, or what soeuer sea or ayre hath brought to syght
Both dredfull, dire, and pestilent, of cruel fiercest might,
T'is tierd and tam'd: he passeth all, and name by ills doth rayse,
And all my wrath he doth inioy, and to his greater prayse
He turnes my hates: whyle tedious toyles to much I him behest,
He proues what father him begot: both thence where light opprest
Hath sea, and where it showde agayne, where Titan day doth trayne,
And with his brand approaching nere doth dye those Aethiops twaine,
His strengh vntamde is honoured: and God eche where is hee
Now calde in worlde, and now more store of monsters want to mee,
And laboure lesse to Hercles is t'acomplish all my will,
Then me to bydde: at ease he doth myne imperies fulfyl.
What cruel hestes of tyrante now so fyerce a yong man may
Preuayle to hurt? for lo he beares for weapons now awaye
What once he feerde, and put to flight: he armed comes at syde
With Lyon fyerce and Hydra both: nor land suffiseth wyde,
But broake he hath the threshold loe of that infernall Ioue,
And spoyls with him of conquerd king he drawes to Gods aboue.
But thats but light, broke is the league of sprites that there do dwell.
I saw my selfe, I saw him lo (the night now gone, of hell
And Ditis tamde) throw out abroade before his fathers sight
His brothers spoyles. Why drawes he not opprest and bound by might
Hymselfe in chaynes that equall thynges to Ioue by lot doth hold?
And beare the rule of captiue hel, and way to Styxe vnfolde?
Up opened is from lowest ghostes the backward way to skye,
And sacred secrets of dire death in open sight do lye.
But he (the dredful den of sprites brake vp ful fierce and stout
Euen ouer mee doth tryumph lo, and with proude hand about
The foule blacke dogge by Grekish townes he leades frō hel away.
When seene was vgly Cerberus I saw the fading day,
And fearefull sunne: euen me lykewyse a trembling dread opprest,
And looking on the fylthy neckes of conquerd monstruous beast,
I feared much myne owne behestes: but light things I complayne,
For heauen I may be frayde, lest he may get the highest rayne,
That lowest wonne, the sceptors from his father wil he take,
Nor hee to starres (as Bacchus dyd) his way wil gently make:
The way with ruine will he seeke, and hee in empty skyes
Wil reygne alone with force displayd hys haughty hart doth ryse,
And he that heauen it selfe by force of his might gotted bee,
It bearyng learnd: quite vnderneth the world his head set hee.
Nor once his shoulders bowde the prayse of such a mighty mas:
And midst of heauen on Hercles necke alone (loe) setled was.
His necke vnwryde the starres aboue and skyes did only stay:
And me likewyse oppressyng him, to Gods he seekes the way.
Goe ire, goe on, and beate hym downe that great things doth inuent
Match thou with him, and with thy handes now thou thy selfe him rent.
Such hates why dost thou meditate? let all wyld beastes now go:
And weary Euristheus now be free from geeuing charges mo.
The Tytans daryng once of Ioue to breake the impery
Send out: let loase the denne abroade of mount of Sicilye.
The Doricke land that with the turne of gyant quakes afrayd,
Let it bring forth the dredful neckes of monster vnder layd.
Let yet the haughty moone aboue some other beastes beget,
But these he ouercame. Seekes thou a match t'Alcides yet?
Thers none, except hymselfe: let him agaynst himselfe rebell.
Let present be from bottome deepe vpraysd of lowest hell
Th'Eumenides, let flaming lockes of theyrs the fires out flinge,
And furious hands bestowe aboute the stroakes of vipers sting.
Go now ful prowde, and scale the skyes to seates of gods make waye.
Now must thy battels wages be ful cleere loe shynes the daye.
Despyse mans workes thinkst thou fierce wight yt hell and soules alow
Thou hast escapt? nay here I wil another hel thee show.
In deepe miste hid I will call vp from bottome low of hell
Beyond the wayes of gylty ghostes debateful goddesse fell.
Wheras the roaring dreadful den resoundes with cryes about.
From depest bond of Ditis raygne beneath I wil set out,
What so is left. Let hateful hurt now come in anger wood,
And fierce impyety imbrew himselfe, with his owne bloud,
And errour eke, and fury arm'd agaynst it selfe to fight.
This meane, this meane, let wrath of myne now vse to shewe my might.
Beginne ye seruantes now of hell: the feruent burning tree
Of Pyne shake vp: and set with snakes her dreadful flocke to see.
Let now Megæra bring to sight, and with her mournful hand
For burning rage bring out of hell a huge and direful brand.
Do this, require you vengeance due, and paynes of hel his spoyle,
Strike through his breast, let fyercer flame, within his bosome boyle.
Then which in Aetna fornace beates, so furiously to see.
That mad of mind and witles may Alcides driuen bee
With fury great through pearced quight, my selfe must first of all
Be mad. Wherfore doth Iuno yet not into raging fall?
Mee, me, ye Furyes, systers three throwne quite out of my wit
Tosse fyrst, if any thing to do, I do endeuour yet
For stepdame meete: let now my hates be turnd another way,
Let him (returnd) his babes behold in safety I you pray.
And strong of hand come home, I haue now found the day at length,
In which may greatly mee auayle the hated Hercles strength.
Both mee and eke hym selfe let him subdue and wish to die
Returnd from hel, yea let it here be my commodity,
That he of Ioue begotten is: here present wil I stand,
And that his shaftes goe streyght from bow, I wil direct his hand;
The mad mans weapons will I guide, euen Hercles fyghtyng, lo,
At length Ile ayde. This gylt once done then leefull is that so
His father may admit to skies those gylty handes of his

THE SECOND ACTE.

Megara.
O guider great of heauen, & of the world O Iudge full hie,
Yet now at length apoinct a meane of carefull miserie,
And ende of our calamitie. To mee yet neuer day
Hath careles shin'de: the ende of one affliction past away
Beginning of an other is: an other ennemy
Is forthwith founde, before that hee his ioyfull family
Retourne vnto an other fyght hee taketh by behest:
Nor any respite giuen is to him nor quiet rest:
But whyle that he commaunded is: straight him pursueth shee
The hatefull Iuno. Was yet once from toyle and labour free
His infants age? the monsters (lo) he vanquisht hath and slayne,
Before he knew what monsters ment. The skaled serpents twayne
Their double neckes drew on toward him, agaynst the which to ryse,
The infant crept to meete with them, the serpents glittring eyes
Lyke fyre, with quiet carelesse brest he looking fast vpon,
With coūtnance cleere, hard wrested knots of them he caught anon:
And strangling then the swelling throates of them with tender hand,
To Hydra prelude made the beast so swyfte of Mænale land,
That with much Golde bare vp full bright his beautifled head,
Is caught in course of Nemey wood likewise the greatest dread
The Lyon prest with Hereles armes hath roarde with dreadfull crie.
What should I speake of stables dyre, of steedes of Bystonye?
Or King cast out himselfe for foode his horses fierce to fill?
And bristled beast in thicke tops woont of Erymanthus hill?
The boare of Mænalye, the woods of Arcady to shake?
And Bull that did no litle dread to hundred peoples make?
Among the flocks of Hesper lande that hence farre distant bee,
The sheepherde of Cartesian coast of triple shape to see
Is slayne, and driuen is the pray from farthest parte of weast,
Citheton quak't when by him past to sea the well knowne beast.
He being bid to make by coastes of sommer sunne his way,
And parched landes which sore with heate doth boyle the middell day,
The mountaynes brake on either side and rampiers all vndoon,
Euen vnto swyft and raging sea hath made a way to roon.
Then entring in of plenteous wood, the pleasant gardeins gay,
The waking dragons golden spoyles with him he brought away.
The Lerna monsters numerous ill what neede to tell haue I?
Hath he not him with fyre at length subdewde, and taught to dye?
And which were woont with wings abrode to hyde the day from sight,
Euen from the cloudes he sought & braue the Stimphale birdes to flight.
Not him subdewde who euer lyes in bed vnmatcht at night
The wyddowe queene of them that tooke to Thermodont their flight.
Nor handes that well durst enterprise his noble trauayles all
The filthy labour made to shrynke of foule Augias hall.
What vayle all these? he wants the world which oft defended he.
And th'earth well knowes the worker of his quietnes to be
Away from earthe: the prosperous gilt that beareth happy sway,
Is vertue callde, and now the good to wicked doe obay.
The right doth stand in might of armes, feare treadeth downe the lawe.
Before my face with cruell hand, euen presently I sawe
Reuengers of theyr fathers reygne, the sonnes with sworde downe cast,
And of the noble Cadmus eke himselfe the ofspring last
Then slayne: I sawe his regall crowne at once from him away
With head bereft. Who Thebes alas enough bewayle nowe may?
The fertile land of Gods, what lorde now quakes it for to knowe?
Out of the fieldes of which somtime, and fruictfull bosome lowe,
The youth vpsprong with sworde in hand preparde to battell stoode:
And walls of which Amphion one of mighty Ioue his broode,
Hath built with sounding melody in drawing to the stones:
To towne of whom the parent chiefe of Gods not onely ones
Heauen being left hath come. this land that Gods aboue alway
Receiu'de, and which hath made them Gods, and (leefull beete to say)
Perhaps shall make, with lothsome yoake of bondage is prest downe.
O Cadmus stocke, and citezens of olde Amphions towne,
Whereto are yee nowe fall'ne? dread yee a cowardly exull thus,
His coastes to dwell in, lacking, and to ours iniurious?
Who through the worlde pursues the gilts and wrong by sea and land,
And cruell sceptors broken hath with iust and ryghtfull hand,
Nowe absent serues, and what he eas'de in other doth sustayne:
And now doth bannysht Lycus holde of Hercles Thebes the rayne.
Yet shall he not: he shall come home, and him with vengeaunce quight,
And sodaine rise to starres: he will soone flnde the way to light,
Or make it ells. returne thou safe, repayre to thine in haste:
And conquerour to conquer'de house yet come agayne at laste.
Ryse vp my spouse, and darknes deepe repell'de of helly shade
Breake vp with hand, if no way may for thee kept backe bee made,
And passage be shut vp, returne with world vprent by might.
And what soeuer li'the possest byneath in darkest night,
Send out with thee, as when the tops of haughty hylles vndoon
A headlong passage making through for hasty floude to roon
Thou somtime stoodst, whā with great might of thyne a sunder broake
The Tempye woods wyde open lay: and beaten with thy stroake
The mount, now here, now there fell downe: and [illeg.]amp[illeg.]er rente of slay,
The raging brooke of Thessaly did roon a newe found way,
Thy parentes so, thy sonnes, thy land repayring home to see,
Breake out, and lowest bonde of things out bringing thence with thee,
And what soeuer greedy age in all these long yeares race
Hath hid, shew forth, & ghosts that haue forgot theyr former case,
And people vp before thee driue that fearefull are of light.
Unworthy spoyles for thee they are, if thou but bring to sight
What bidden is. great thinges, but farre to much I speake for mee,
Unwotting of myne owne estate. when shall I hap to see,
The day when thee, and thy right hand, I may embrace agayne,
And slowe returnes, nor yet of me once myndefull, may complayne?
To thee for this O guide of Gods, vntamed Bulls shall bring
Their hundred necks: to thee O Queene of fruits on earth that spring
I'le geue thee secret sacrifice: to thee with much fayth loe
Long fyre brands at Eleusis towne full silent wyll I throe.
Then to my brethren shall I thinke to bee restoarde agayne
Theyr soules, and eke himselfe aliue and guiding of his rayne
My father for to flouryshe yet. if any greater might
Doe keepe thee shet, we followe thee: with thy returne to sight
Defend vs all, or els to hell drewe downe vs all to thee.
Thou shalt vs drawe, no God shall rayse vs vp that broken bee.

AMPHITRYON, MEGARA.
ME.
What wretches doe most chiefly wishe of all,
They soone beleue.

AM.
Nay what they feare to much lest it may fall,
They thinke it, neuer may bee shoon'de, nor rid by remedy.

ME.
Beleefe is ready still to dreade the woorser mysery.
Deepe drown'de, & whellm'de, & farthermore with all ye world full lowe
Oppressed downe, what way hath he to light agayne to goe?

AM.
What way I pray you had he then whē through the burning coste,
And tumbling after maner of the troubled Sea vp toste
He went by sands: and freate that twyse with ebbe away doth slip,
And twyse vpflowe: and when alone with his forsaken ship,
Fast caught he stucke in shallowe foordes of shelfye Syrtes sande,
And (nowe his ship on grounde) did passe through seas a foote to land?

ME.
Iniurious fortune vertue most of men most stout and strong
Doth seldome spare: no man alyue himselfe in safety long
To perills great and daungers may so often times out cast,
Whom chaunce doth often ouerslip, the same it findes at last.
But cruell loe, and greeuous threats euen bearing in his face,
And such as he of stomacke is, doth come euen such of pace,
Proude Lycus who the sceptors shakes in hande of other king,
The plentuous places of the towne of Thebes gouerning,
And euery thinge about the whych with fertile soyle doth goe
Sloape Phocis, and what euer doth Ismenus ouerfloe,
What euer thing Cithæron seeth with haughty top and hye,
And slender Isthmos Ile, the which betweene two seas doth lye.

Lycus. Megara. Amphitrion.
Meg.
What thing doth this destroyer of our stocke agayne anew
Prepare? what proueth he?

Ly.
O Queene that name renowmed hye
And tytle takste of regall stocke ful gentle and easily
A litle whyle receiue and heare my wordes with pacient eare,
If alwayes men eternal hates should one to th'other beare,
And rage be gone out of the hart should neuer fall away,
But th'happy still should armour holde, th'vnhappy stil obay,
Then shall the battayles nothing leaue: with wide fieldes then the lande
Shall lie vntild, with vnderlayd to housen fiery brand
Then ashes deepe shal ouerwhelme the buried people all.
Expedient is to conquerour to wish that peace befall:
To conquerd nedefull partner of the kingdome come to me:
Let's ioyne our myndes, take here this pledge of fayth and truth to thee.
My right hand touch. Why whishtest thou with cruell face and moode?

Meg.
Should I abyde, that I the hand sprinkt with my fathers bloud,
Should ouch, and double death imbrewd of both my brethren? nay
Fyrst shall sunne ryse extinguish quite, and West shal bring the day:
First faythful peace betweene the snowes and fiers there shalbe tryde,
And Scilla shall t'Ausonius fyrst ioyne his Sicilian syde:
And fyrst, the fleetyng floud that with swift turnes of course doth flowe
Euripus with Euboik waue shall standful stil and slow.
My father, th'empire, bretherne, house, thou hast me cleare bereft,
My countrey to: what may be more? one thing to me is left,
Then brother, father, kingdome, house, that dearer is to mee
The hate of thee, the which to me with people for to be
In commune woe I am: how great is myne alonly part?
Rule on ful proude, beare vp ful hye thy sprites and haughty hart:
Yet God the proude behynd theyr backes doth follow them to wreake.
I know the Thebane kingdomes: what should I the mothers speake,
Both suffring, and aduentring gyltes? what double mischiefe done?
And mixed name of spouse at once, of father and of sonne?
What bretherns double tentes? or what as many roages also?
The mother proude of Tantals brood congeald in mourning loe,
And sory stone yet flowes with teares in Phrygian Sipylye.
Himselfe likewyse erected vp his scaled heade awrye.
Euen Cadmus measuring throughout th'Illyrian landes in flight,
Behynd him left of body drawne long slymy markes in sight.
All these examples wayte for thee: rule thou as likes thy will,
Whyle thee our kingdomes wonted fates do call and oft hap yll.

Ly.
Goe to, these fierce and furious wordes thou woman mad refraine.
And imperyes of princes learne of Hercles to sustayne.
Though I the scepters gotten by the force of war do beare,
In conquering hand & all do rule without the law his feare.
Which armes subdue, a few wordes yet to thee now speake I shall
For this my cause thy father did in bloudy battel fall:
Thy brethren fell, the weapons kepe no measurable slay.
For neither easily tempred be, nor yet repressed may
The drawne swordes yre, the battels doth the bloud delite out shedde.
But he yet for his kingdome fought, wee altogether led
With wicked lust: yet th'end of war is now complayned, loe,
And not the cause, but now let all remembraunce therof goe:
When conquerour hath weapons left, the conquerds part should be
To leaue his hates. Not I that thou with lowly bended knee
Mee raygning worship should'st, require: euen this doth mee delight,
That thou thy myseries do'st beare with mynde so stout vpright.
Thou for a king a spouse art meete, let's ioyne our beds anone.

ME.
A trembling colde doth run throughout my bloudles lims ech one.
What hainous thinge comes to myne eares? I fear'de not then at all,
When (all peace broake) the noyse of warre did by the city wall
Resounde about, I bare all that vnfearefully to see,
I feare the wedding chambers: nowe I captiue seeme to mee.
Let heauy chaynes my body greeue, and eke with hunger long
Let lingring death be slowly brought, yet shall no force full strong
My truthe subdue: for euen thine owne Alcides will I dye.

LY.
Doth then thy husband droun'de in hell geue thee this stomack hie?

ME.
The hells alowe he toucht, that he the height againe might get.

LY.
The heauy paise oppresseth him of all the earth full great.

ME.
Hee with no burdein shall be prest, that heauen it selfe sustayn'de.

LY.
Thou shalt be forst.

ME.
He wots not how to die, that is cōstrain'd.

LY.
Speake, what may rather I prepare then wedding newe for thee.
More royall gyft?

ME.
Thine owne death els, or els the death of mee.

LY.
Thou shalt mad woman die.

ME.
I shall then to my husbande go.

LY.
More then my Sceptors is to thee a seruaunt loued so?

ME.
How many hath this seruant slayne of kings with hendy stroake?

LY.
Why doth he yet a king then serue, and still sustayne his yoake?

ME.
Take once away the hard behests, what's vertue then at last?

LY.
Do'st thou it vertue counte, to bee to beasts, and monsters cast?

ME.
T'is vertues part, to tame the things, that all men quake to know.

LY.
Him great things braggīg, darknes deepe of tartare presse ful low.

ME.
There neuer may from ground to stars an easy passage be.

LY.
Of whom begot, the housen then of Gods through pearceth he?

AM.
O wretched wife of Hercles great, thy words a whyle now spare.
My parte it is, the father of Alcides to declare,
And his true stocke, yet after all of man so stoute as this
So famous deedes, and after all appeas'de with hand of his
What euer Titan rysen vp, doth see, or els at fall,
And after all these monsters tam'de, and Phlegrey sprinkled all
With wicked bloud, and after Gods defended all on hye,
Is not his father yet well knowne? or Ioue doe we beelye?
Beleeue it yet by Iunoes hate.

LY.
Why do'ste thou sclaunder Ioue?
No mortall kinred euer may be mixt with heauen aboue.

AM.
To many of the Gods in skyes is this a common trade.

LY.
But were they euer seruauntes yet, before they Gods were made?

AM.
Of Delos Ile the sheepherde loe the flocks of Pherey fed.

LY.
But through all coasts he wandred not abroade as banished.

AM.
Whō straying mother first brought forth in wādring lond to sight?

LY.
Yet Phœbus did no monsters feare, or beasts of cruell might.

AM.
First Dragon with his bloud embrew'd the shafts of Phœbus lo.
Howe greeuous ills euen yet full yong he bare, doe you not knoe?
From mothers wombe ye babe out thrown with lightning flame frō hie,
Euen next his lightning Father stoode forthwith aboue in skye.
What? he him selfe that guides the starres, & shakes the clouds at will,
Did not that Infant lurke in Den of hollowe caued hill?
The byrthes so great full troublous pryce to haue loe alwayes ought:
And euer to be borne a God, with coste full great is bought.

LY.
Whom thou a miser see'st, thou mai'st know him a man to bee.

AM.
A miser him deny yee may, whom stout of heart yee see.

LY.
Call we him stout, from shoulders hye of whom the Lyon throwne
A gift for mayden made, and eke his Club from hand fell downe,
And paynted side with purple weede did shyne that he did weare?
Or may we him call stout of heart, whose staring lockes of heare
With ointmēt flowde? who hands renownde & knowne by prayses hye
To sound vnmeete for any man of timber did applye,
With barbarous mytar cloasing in his forhead rounde about?

AM.
The tender Bacchus did not blushe abroade to haue layde out
His brayded heares, nor yet with hand full soft the Thyrsus light
For to haue shooke, what time that he with pace vnstout in sight
His long train'de barbarous garment drew with golde full fayre to see.
Still vertue after many workes is woont releast to bee.

LY.
Of this the house of Euritus destroyde doth witnesse beare,
And virgins flockes that brutishly by him oppressed weare.
No Iuno did commaunde him this, nor none Eurystheus loe.
But these in deede his owne workes are.

AM.
Yet all yee doe not knoe,
His worke it is, with weapons of his owne hand vanquished
Both Eryx, and to Eryx ioyn'de Antæus Lybian ded:
And aulters which with slaughter of the straungers flowing fast,
Busyris well deserued bloud likewise haue drunke at last.
His deede it is, that he that met the wounde, and sworde is slayne
Constrain'de to suffre death before those other Geryons twayne.
Nor one all onely Geryon doth with one hand conquer'de lye.
Thou shalt among these be which yet with none adulterye
Haue wedlocke hurt.

LY.
What is to Ioue, to king is leefull thyng:
To Ioue thou gau'ste a wyfe, thou shalt nowe geue one to a kyng.
And euen of thee shee shall it learne to bee a thing not newe,
Her husband euen approuing it the better man t'ensewe.
But if shee stubberne to be matcht with me deny it still,
Then euen by force a noble childe of her beget I will.

Meg.
O Creons ghosts and all yee Gods of th'house of Labdacus,
And wedding torches blasing bryght, of wicked Oedipus,
To this my wedding geue yee nowe our wonted destenyes.
Now, now yee bloudy daughters all of Ægypts king likewyse,
Bee here whose hands defyled are with so much bloud out spilt:
One daughter lacks of Danaus, I wyll fyll vp the gylt.

Ly.
Because that stubburnely thou do'st refuse my wedding so,
And fear'ste a king, thou shalt know what the Scepters now may do.
Embrace thyne aulters, yet no God shall euer take away
Thee from my hands: no not although with world vpturned, may
Alcides victor yet agayne to Gods aboue returne.
The woods on heapes together cast, let all their temples burne
Euen throwne vpon theyr heads: his wyfe, and all his flocke at laste
With vnderlayed fyre, let one wood pyle consume and waste.

AM.
This only bowne I father of Alcides aske of thee,
Which well may me beseeme to craue, that I fyrst slayne may bee.

LY.
Who all appoyncts with present death to haue their punishment,
He tyrant wots not how to be: more sundry greeues inuent.
Restrayne the wretched man from death, commaunde that th'happy dye.
I, while with beames prepar'de to burne the pyle encreaseth hye,
Will him with vowing sacrifyce that rules the seas entreate.

AM.
Oh chiefest powre of Gods, and oh of heauenly things so great
The guyde, and parent eke, with whose throwne thunderbolts do shake
All things humane throughout the world of king so cruell slake
The wicked hande: but why do I to Gods in vayne thus cry?
Where euer thou be, heare me soone, why start so sodaynely
The temples thus with moouing shakte? Why roareth out the groūd?
The noyse of Hell from bottome deepe byneathe hath made a sound:
Wee herde are, loe it is the sound of Hercules his pace.

Chorus.

O fortune hating men of stoutest brest,
How ill rewards dost thou to good deuyde?
Eurystheus raynes at home in easy rest,
Alcmenaes sonne in euery battayle tryde,
To Monsters turnes hys hande that Skyes dyd stay:
And cruell Neckes cuts of, of hydous Snake,
And Apples brynges from Systers mokt away,
When once to sleepe hys watchefull Eyes beetake,
Dyd Dragon set ryche fruicte to ouersee.
Hee past the Scythian bowres that straye abroade,
And those that in their countreys straungers bee
And hardned top of frosen freate hee troade,
And sylent Sea with bankes full dumme about.
The Waters hard want there their floudes to sloe.
And where before the Shyps full Sayles spred out
Is worne a pathe for Sarmates wylde to goe.
The Sea doth stande to mooue in course agayne,
Nowe apt to beare the Ship, nowe horsemen bolde
The Queene that there doth ouer Wydowes rayne,
That gyrds her Wombe wyth gyrth of glittring gold,
Her noble spoyle from body drawne hath shee
And shyelde, and bandes of breast as whyte as snowe,
Acknowledging the Conquerour with Knee.
Wyth what hope drawne to headlong Hell alowe,
So bolde to passe the vnreturned wayes
Saw'ste thon Proserpines rayne of Sicylye?
Wyth Southern wynde, or Western there no seas
Aryse wyth waue and swellinge Surges hye.
Not there of Tyndars stocke the double broode
Two starres the fearefull Shyps doe ayde and guide.
Wyth gulph full blacke doth stande the slouthfull floode
And when pale death with greedy teeth so wyde.
Vnnumbred Nations hath sent downe to sprightes
Wyth one Boateman all ouer feryed bee.
God graunt thou maist of Hell subdue the rightes
And vnreuoked webs of Systers three.
There kyng of many people raygneth hee,
Who when thou did'st wyth Nestors Pylos fight,
Pestiferous handes appli'de to matche with thee
And weapon bare with triple mace of might:
And prickt with litle wounde he fled away,
And lorde of death hymselfe did feare to dye.
Breake Fate by force: and let the sight of day
To sorry sprightes of Hell apparant lye
And porche vnpast shew way to Gods aboue.
The cruell lordes of sprightes wyth pleasaunt song
And humble bownefull well could Orpheus moue,
Whyle he Eurydicen them craues among.
The Arte that drew Woods, Byrds, and stones at will:
Which made delay to Floudes of flitting flight
At sound whereof the sauage Beastes stoode still
With tunes vnwont doth Ghosts of hell delight
And clearer doth resounde in darker place:
And weepe wyth teares did Gods of cruell brest:
And they which faultes with to seuere a face
Doe seeke, and former gylt of Ghosts out wrest:
The Thracian Daughters wayls Eurydicen.
For her the Iudges weeping sit also.
Wee conquer'de are, chyefe kyng of death sayd then
To Gods (but vnder this condition) goe,
Behynde thy husbandes backe keepe thou thy way,
Looke thou not backe thy Wyfe before to see.
Than thee to sight of Gods hath brought the day
And gate of Spartane Tænare present bee.
Loue hates delay, nor coulde abyde so long.
His gyft, hee lost, while hee desires the syght.
The place that coulde be thus subdew'de with song
That place may soone bee ouercome by myght.

THE THYRDE ACTE.

Hercules.
O comfortable guyde of light, and honour of the skye,
That cōpassing both Hemyspheres with flaming chariot hye
Thy radiāt head to ioyful lāds about ye world dost bring,
Thou Phœbus pardon geue to me, if any vnlawful thing
Thyne eyes haue seene: (cōmaūded) I haue here to light out set
The secretes of the worlde: and thou of heauen o guider gret,
And parent eke, in flashe out throwne of lightning hide thy syght.
And thou that gouernest the seas with seconde sceptors myght,
To bottome synke of deepest waues: who so from hye doth see,
And dreading yet with countnaunce newe the earth defil'de to bee,
Let him from hence turne backe his sight, and face to heauen vpholde,
These monstrous sights to shun: let twayn this mischiefe great behold,
Hee who it brought, and shee that bad. for paynefull toyles to mee,
And laboures long, not all the earth thought wide inough may bee
For Iunoes hate: things vncome to all men I did see,
Unknowne to sonne, and spaces wyde that darke and shadefull bee
Which woorser poale geues dyrer Ioue to raygne and rule therein.
And yet if thyrde place pleased more for mee to enter in,
I there coulde raygne, the Chaos of eternall nyght of hell,
And woorse then night, the dolefull Gods I haue that there doe dwell,
And Fates subdu'de, the death contemn'de I am return'de to light.
What yet remaynes? I sawe and show'de the spryghts of hell to sight:
Appoynct, if ought be more, do'ste thou my hands so long permit
Iuno to ceasse? what thing byd'st thou to be subdued yet?
But why doe cruell souldiars holde the holy temples wyde?
And dread of armour sacred porche beset on euery syde?

Amphitryon, Hercules, Theseus.
Her.
Whens (father) happes this vglines, and why in mourning clad
Is thus my wyfe? how happes it that with filth so foule bestad
My children are? what misery doth thus my house oppresse?

Am.
Thy father in law is slayne: the kingdome Licus doth possesse.
Thy sonnes, thy parent and thy wyfe to death pursueth hee.

Her.
Ungrateful land, doth no man come that will an ayder bee
Of Hercles house? and this behelde so great and haynous wronge
Hath th'ayded world? but why were I the day in playnt so long?
Let thenmy dye and this renoume let strength obtayne in haste,
And of Alcides enmies all let Lycus be the last.
I driuen am to goe to shedde the bloud of enmye out.
Watch Theseu that no sodayne strength beset vs here aboute:
My warres require, embracing yet deferre O father deare,
And wyfe deferre them: Lycus shall to hell this message beare
That I am now returnd.

The,
Shake of O Queene out of thyne eyes
This weping face, and thou synce that thy sonne is safe likewyse
Thy dropping teares refrayne: yf yet I Hercles euer knew
Then Lycus shall for Creon paye the paynes to him ful due.
T'is lyght, he shal, he doth and that's to light he hath it done.

Am.
Now God that can them bring to passe, spede wel our wishes soone,
And come to helpe our weary woes. O noble harted mate
Of my stout sonne, of his renowne declare vs all the rate:
How long away doth leade to place where sory sprites doth dwell,
And how the hard and heauy bondes the dog hath borne of hell.

The.
The deedes thou dost constrayne to tell, that euen to mynde secure
Are dredful yet and horrible, scant yet the trust is sure
Of vitall ayre, sore blunted is the sharpnesse of my sight,
And dulled eyes do scant sustayne to see th'vnwoonted light.

AM.
Yet Theseus throughly ouercome what euer feare remaynes
In bosome deepe, nor do thou not of best fruict of thy paynes
Beguilde thy selfe. What thing hath once to suffre beene a care,
To haue remembred it is sweete, those dredfull haps declare.

TH.
All ryght of worlde, and thee lykewyse I praye ye bearst the rayne
In kingdome wyde, and thee, for whom all round about in vayne
Thy mother throughout Ætna sought, that secret things alowe
And hid in ground, it freely may bee lawfull for to showe.
The Spartane land a noble toppe of hyll aduaunceth hye,
Where Tænarus with woods full thick the Sea doth ouerly.
The house of hatefull Ditis here his mouth doth open set,
And rocke of hyll aboue doth gape, and with a denne full gret
A huge and gaping cleft of ground with Iawes full wyde doth lye,
And way full broade to people all doth spred to passe thereby.
Not straight with darkenes doth begin the way that blindes the sight.
A litle lingring brightnes loe behinde of late left light,
And doubtfull glittring yet of sonne afflicted falles alowe,
And mocks the sight: such light is wont vndoubtedly to showe
The dawne of day, or twylight els at edge of euening tyde.
From hence to hollowe places voyde are loaste the spaces wyde,
To which needes peryshe must all kinde of men that once are throwne.
Nor it a labour is to goe, the way it selfe leades downe.
As oft the ships agaynst theyr willes doth tosse the swelling surge,
So downward doth that headlong way, and greedy Chaos vrge:
And backe agayne to drawe thy pace thee neuer doe permit
The sprits who what they catch hold fast. alowe within doth flit
In chanell wyde with silent foorde the quiet lake of lethe,
And cares doth rid: and that there may to scape agayne from death
No meane be made, with many turnes and windings euery way
Foldes in his floude. in such sorte as with waue vnsure doth play
Mæander wandring vp and downe, and yeldes himselfe vnto,
And doubtfull stands, if he toward banke, or backe to spryng may goe.
The foule and filthy poole to see of slowe Cocytus lyes.
On th'one the Grype, on th'other side the mournefull Howlet cries,
And sad lucke of th'vnhappy Strix likewise resoundeth there.
Full vglily in shady bowes blacke Locks of lothsome heare,
Where Taxus tree doth ouer leane, which holdeth slouthfull sleepe,
And hunger sad with famisht Iawe that lyes his place to keepe,
And shame to late doth hide his face that knowes what crimes it hath,
Both feare, and quaking, funerall, and fretting raging wrath,
And mourning dyre doth follow on, and trembling pale disease,
And boystrous battayles set with sworde: and hid beyond all thease
Doth slouthfull age his lingring pace help forth with staffe in hand.

AM.
Of corne and wyne in hell alowe is any fertile land?

TH.
No ioyfull Meades do there bring forth with face so greene & fayre,
Nor yet with gentill Zephyrus wagges ripened corne in th'ayre,
Nor any tree hath there such bowes as doe bryng apples out.
The barrayne compasse of deepe foyle full filthy lyes about,
And withred with eternall drought the lothsome land doth waste
And bond full sad of thinges, and of the worlde the places laste:
The ayre vnmoued stands, and night sits there full darke to see
In slouthfull world, all thinges by dread full horrible there bee.
And euen farre worse then death it selfe, is place where death doth bide.

AM.
What? he that doth those places darke with regall sceptor guide,
In what seate set, doth he dispose and rule those peoples light?

TH.
A place there is in turne obscure of Tartarus from sight,
Which mist full thick with fearefull shade doth holde and ouergoe.
From hence a double parted streame from one wellspring doth floe:
The tone, much like a standing poole (by this the gods doe sweare)
The which the sacred Stygian lake with silent floude doth beare:
The t'other fierce with tumult great is drawen his course to goe,
And Acheron with raging floud the stones dryues to and froe
Unsaylable. with double foorde is rounde about beset
Agaynst it Ditis pallace dyre, and mansion house full gret
In shadefull woode is couered: from wide den here the posts
And thresholds of the tyrant hang, this is the walke of ghosts:
This of his kingdome is the gate: a fielde about it goes,
Where sitting with a countnaunce proude abroade he doth dispose
Newe soules. a cruell maiesty is in the God to knowe:
A frowning forehead, which yet of his brethren beares the showe,
And so great stocke: there is in him of Ioue the very face,
But when he lightens: and great part of cruell kingdomes place,
Is he himselfe the lorde thereof: the sight of whom doth feare,
What euer thing is fear'de.

AM.
Is fame in this poynct true, yt there
Such rygours are, and gilty Ghosts of men that there remayne
Forgetfull of theyr former faulte, haue there deserued payne?
Who is the rector there of ryght, and iudge of equity?

TH.
Not onely one extorter out of faultes in seate set hye
The iudgements late to trembling soules doth there by lot awarde:
In one appoyncted iudgement place is Gnossian Minos harde,
And in an other Radamanthe: this crime doth Aeac heare.
What eche man once hath done, he feeles: and guilt to th'author theare
Returnes, and th'hurtfull with their owne example punisht bee.
The bloudy cruell captaynes I in pryson shet did see,
And backe of tyrant impotent euen with his peoples hande
All torne and cut. what man of might with fauour leades his lande,
And of his owne lyfe lorde reserues his hurtlesse handes to good,
And gently doth his empyre guide without the thyrst of blood,
And spares his soule, he hauing long led forth the lingring dayes
Of happy age, at length to heauen doth eyther finde the wayes,
Or ioyfull happy places ells of fayre Elysius woode.
Thou then that here must be a iudge abstayne from man his bloode,
Who so thou be that raygnest kyng: our gyltes are there acquit
In greater wyse.

AM.
Doth any place prescript of lymite shit
The gylty Ghosts, and as the fame reportes, doth cruell payne
The wicked men make tame that in eternall bondes remayne?

TH.
Ixion roll'de on whyrling wheele is tost and turned hye:
Upon the necke of Sisyphus the mighty stone doth lye.
Amyd the lake with thyrsty Iawes olde Tantalus therein
Pursues the waues, the water streame doth wet and washe his chin,
And when to him nowe ofte deceyu'de it doth yet promise make,
Straight flits the floud: the fruicte at mouth his famyne doth forsake,
Eternall foode to fleeing foule doth Tytius hart geue still:
And Danaus daughters doe in vayne theyr water vessells fill.
The wicked Cadmus daughters all goe raging euery way:
And there doth greedy rauening byrde the Phiney tables fray.

AM.
Nowe of my sonne declare to me the noble worthy fight.
Brings he his willing vnckles gyft, or Plutoes spoyles to sight?

TH.
A dyre and dredfull stone there is the slouthfull foordes fast bye,
Where sluggish freat with waue aston'd full dull and slowe doth lye:
This lake a dredfull fellow keepes both of attire and sight,
And quaking Ghosts doth ouer beare an aged vgly wyght:
His Bearde vnkempt, his bosome foule deform'de in filthy wyse
A knot byndes in, full lothesome stand in head his hollowe eyes:
He Feary man doth steare about his Boate with his long Ore.
He driuing nowe his lightned Ship of burden towarde the Shore,
Repayres to waues: and then his way Alcides doth requyre,
The flocke of Ghosts all geuing place: alowde cryes Charon dyre,
What way attemptest thou so bolde? thy hastening pace here stay.
But Nathales Alemenaes sonne abyding no delay,
Euen with his owne poale bet he dothe full tame the shipman make,
And clymes the ship: the barke that coulde full many peoples take,
Did yelde to one: he sat, the boate more heauy like to breake
Whith shyuering ioyntes on eyther syde the lethey floud doth leake.
Then tremble all the monsters huge, the Centaures fierce of myght,
And Lapithes, kindled with much wyne to warres and bloudy fight.
The lowest Chanelles seeking out of Stygian poole a downe,
His Lerney labour sore affright his fertile heads doth drowne.
Of greedy Ditis after this doth then the house appere.
The fierce and cruell Stygian dogge doth fray the spirites there,
The which with great and roaring sounde his heads vpshaking three,
The kingdome keepes his vgly head with filth full foule to see
The serpentes licke: his hayres be fowle with vypers set among,
And at his crooked wrested tayle doth hysse a Dragon longe:
Lyke yre to shape. when him he wyst his pace that way to take,
His bristle hoyres he lifteth vp with fierce vp bended snake:
And sounde sent out he soone perceyues in his applyed eare,
Who euen the sprits is wont to sent as soone as stoode more neare
The sonne of Ioue, the doubtfull dogge strait couched downe in denne,
And eche of them did feare. beholde with dolefull barking then
The places dumme he makes a dred, the threatning serpent stout
Through all the fieldes about doth hysse: the bawling noyse sent out
Of dredfull voyce from triple mouth, euen sprits that happy bee
Doth make afrayde. from left side then strayte way vndoeth hee
The cruell Iawes, and Lyons head once slayne in Cleon fielde
Agaynst him sets, and couer doth himselfe with mighty shielde.
And bearing in his conquering hande a sturdy club of Oke,
Nowe here, now there he rolleth him about with often stroke:
His stripes he doubles: he subdew'de his threates asswaged all,
And all his heads the weary dogge at once full lowe let fall,
And quite out of the denn he fled. full greatly feared (set
In regall throne) both king and queene, and bad him to bee fet.
And me likewyse they gaue for gyft to Hercles crauing mee.
The monsters heauy neckes with hand then stroaking downe all three,
In lynked chayne he byndeth faste forgetting then his strength
The dogge the watchefull keeper of the kingdome darke at length
Layth downe his eares full sore affray'de: and suffring to be led,
And eke acknowledging his lorde, following wyth lowly hed,
With tayle that snakes theron doth beare he both his sides doth smight.
But after that to Tænare mouth we came, and clearenes bright
Had strooke his eyes of light vnknowne, good stomacke yet agayne
He takes although once ouercome, and now the happy chayne
He raging shakes: he had almost his leader pluckt from place,
And headlong backward drawne to hell, and moued from his pace.
And euen to my handes Hercles then his eyes did backward cast,
Wee both with double ioyned strength the dogge out drawne at last
For anger woode, and battells yet attempting all in vayne,
Brought vp to world. as soone as he the cleere ayre sawe agayne,
And spaces pure of bryght fayre poale had once behelde with eye,
The nyght arose: his sight to ground he turned by and by,
Cast downe his eyes, and hatefull day forthwith he put to flight,
And backward turnd away his looke, and streight with all his might
To th'earthe he falles: and vnderneath the shade of Hercles then
He hyd his head. therewith there came a great resorte of men
With clamour glad, that did the bay about theyr forheads bryng:
And of the noble Hercules deserued prayses sing.

Chorus.

Evrystheus borne with swiftned birth in hast,
Did bid to bottome of the Worlde to go:
This onely lackt of labours all at last,
To spoyle the Kyng of thyrde estate also,
The dongeons darke to enter ventred hee,
Where as the way to sprits farre of doth bring
Full sadde, and woode so blacke and fear'de to bee;
But full with flocke full great him following.
As great a preasse as flocke in cyties streetes,
To see the Playes of Theatre newe wrought:
As great as at Eléus thundrer meetes,
When Sommer fift the sacred game hath brought:
As great as when comes houre of longer night,
And willing quiet sleepes to bee extent,
Holdes equall Libra Phœbus Charlots light,
A sorte the secrete Ceres doe frequent,
And from theyr howsen left doe hast to comme,
The Atticke priestes the nyghte to celebrate:
Such heape is chaste beneath by fieldes so dumme.
With age full slowe some taking forth their gate
Full sad, and fillde with life so long now led:
Some yet doe runne the race of better yeares,
The virgins yet vnioynde to Spowses bed,
And yonglings eke on whom grow yet no heares
And Infant lately taught his mothers name.
To these alone, (that they the lesse might feare)
Is graunted night to ease with foreborne flame.
The rest full sad by darke doe wander theare:
As is our mynde, when once away is fled
The lyght, when eche man sorry feeles to bee
Deepe ouerwhelmde with all the earth his hed.
Thick Chaos standes, and darknesse fowle to see,
And colour ill of night, and slouthfull state
Of silent World, and diuers Cloudes about,
Let hoary age vs thyther bring full late.
No man comes late to that, whence neuer out,
When once hee is come, turne agayne he may.
To hast the hard and heauy Fate what vayles?
This wandring heape in wyde landes farre away,
Shall goe to Ghosts: and all shall geue their sayles
To slowe Cocytus all is to thee enclinde,
Both what the fall, and rise of sonne doth see:
Spare vs that comme, to thee wee death are signde:
Though thou be slow, our selues yet haste doe wee.
Fyrst houre, that gaue the lyfe, it loast agayne.
To Thebes is come the ioyfull day,
Your Aulters touch yee humbylly,
The fat fayre Sacrifices slay.
Maydes myxte with men in cumpany
Let them in solempne Flockes goe royle:
And nowe wyth yoake layde downe let cease
The Tillers of the fertile Soyle.
Made is wyth hande of Hercles peace
Betweene the morne and Hespers Glade,
And where Sonne holding myddle seate,
Doth make the Bodyes caste no Shade.
What euer grounde is ouerweate
Wyth compasse longe of Seas abought,
Alcydes laboure taemde full well.
Hee ouer Foordes of Tartare brought
Returnde appeased beeinge Hell.
There is remayning nowe no feare,
Nought lyes beyonde the Hell to see.
O Priest thy staring Lockes of heare
Wrappe in wyth loued Poplar tree.

THE FOVRTHE ACTE.

Hercules, Theseus, Amphitryon, Megara.
TH.
O Gods the builders of the towne, and which of Dragon fell,
The wilde woods vens, and noble waues likewise of Dirces well,
And Tyrian house enhabite eke of straunger wandring king.

HE.
Cast into fyres ye frankencense.

AM.
Sonne fyrst thy hands flowing
With bloudy slaughter, and the death of enmy purify.

HE.
Would God the bloud of hatefull head euen vnto Gods on hye
I might out shed, for lycour loe more acceptable none
Myght th'austers stayne: nor sacrifice more ample any one
Nor yet more plentyfull may bee to Ioue aboue downe cast,
Then king vniust.

AM.
Desyre that now thy father ende at last
Thy labours all: let quietnes at length yet gieuen bee,
And rest to weary folke.

HE.
I will thee prayers make, for mee
And Ioue ful meete in this due place let stand the haughty skye,
And land, and ayre, and let the starres dryue forth eternally
Their course vnstayde: let restful peace kepe nations quietly,
Let labour of the hurtles land all yron now occupye,
And swordes lye hyd: let tempest none ful vyolent and dyre
Disturbe the sea: let from the skyes no flash of lightning fyre
Fall downe whyle Ioue ful angry is: nor yet with winter snowe
Encreased flood the ground vpturnde, and field quyte ouerthrowe,
Let poysons cease: and from hensforth let vp from ground aryse
No greeuous hearbe with hurtful sappe: nor fierce and fell lykewyse
Let tyrantes raygne but if to sight some other mischiefe bringe
The ground yet shall, let it make hast: and any monstruous thinge
If it prepare let it be myne, but what meanes this? myd day
The darkenes haue incloas'd aboute lo Phœbus goeth his way
With face obscure without a clowde who dryues the day to flight,
And turnes to east? from whence doth now his dusky hed the night
Unknowne bring forth? whence fil the poale so many rownde about
Of daytyme starres? lo here behold my laboure first ful stout
Not in the lowest parte of heauen the Lyon shyneth bryght,
And feruently doth rage with yre, and byttes prepares to fyght.
Euen now loe he some star wil take, with mouth full wyde to see
He threatning standes, and fires out blowes and mane vp rustleth he
Shaking with necke the haruest sad of shape, what euer thinge,
And what soeuer winter colde in frosen tyme doth bring,
He with one rage wil ouerpasse, of spring tyme bull he will
Both seeke and breake the neckes at once.

Am.
what is this sodayne yll?
Thy cruel count'naunce whether sonne dost thou cast here and there?
And seest with troubled daseld syght false shape of heauen appere

Her.
The land is tam'de the swelling feas their surges did asswage,
The kingdomes lowe of hell lyke wyse haue felt and knowne my rage,
Yet heauen is free, a labour meete for Hercules to proue.
To spaces high I wil be borne of haughty skies aboue
Let th'ayre be skaeld, my father doth me promise starres t'obtayne.
What if he it denyde? all th'earth can Hercles not contayne,
And geeues at length to gods, me calles of one accorde beholde
The whole assembly of the gods, and doth their gates vnfolde,
Whyle one forbyddes, receyu'st thou mee, and openest thou the skye,
Or els the gate of stubburne heauen draw after me do I?
Do I yet doubt? I euen the bondes from Saturne wyll vndoe,
And euen agaynst the kingdome prowde of wicked father loe
My graundsyre loase. let Titans now prepare agayne their fight
With me theyr captaine raging: stones with woods I will down smight
And hye hilles tops with Centaures full in right hande will I take.
With double mountayne now I will a stayre to Gods vp make.
Let Chyron vnder Ossa see his Pelion mountayne gret:
Olympus vp to heauen aboue in thyrd degree then set
Shall come it selfe, or ells be cast.

AM.
Put farre away from thee
The thoughts that ought not to be spoake: of mynde vnsounde to see,
But yet full great, the furious rage asswage and lay away.

HE.
What meaneth this? the Gyauntes doe pestiferous armes assay,
And Tityus from the sprights is fled, and bearing torne to see
And empty bosome, loe howe neere to heauen it selfe stoode hee?
Cythæron falles, the mountayne hie Pallene shakes for feare,
And torne are Tempe. he the tops of Pindus caught hath here,
And Oethen he, some dredfull thing threatning doth rage about
Erynnis bringing flames: with stripes she soundes nowe shaken out,
And burned brandes in funeralles, loe yet more neare and neare
Throwes in my face: fearce Tisyphone with head and vgly heare
With serpentes set, nowe after dogge fet out with Hercles hand,
That empty gate shee hath shut vp, with bolte of fyry brande,
But loe the stocke of enmious king doth hidden yet remayne,
The wicked Lycus seede: but to your hatefull father slayne
Euen now this right hande shall you sende let nowe his arrowes light
My bowe out shoote: it seemes the shaftes to goe with such a flight
Of Hercles.

AM.
Whether doth the rage and fury blinde yet goe?
His mighty Bowe he drewe with hornes together driuen loe,
And quiuer loaste: great noyese makes with violence sent out
The shaft, and quight the weapon flewe his middle necke throughout,
The wound yet left.

HE.
His other broode I ouerthrow will quight,
And corners all. What stay I yet? to me a greater fyght
Remaynes then all Mycenes loe, that rockye stones should all
Of Cyclops being ouerturn'de with hande of myne, downe fall.
Let shake both here, and there the house, with all stayes ouerthrowne,
Let breake the poasts: and quight let shrinke the shaken piller downe:
Let all the Pallace fall at once. I here yet hidden see
The sonne of wycked father.

AM.
Loe his flattring handes to thee
Applying to thy knees dooth craue his lyfe with piteous mone.
O wicked gylt, full sad, and eke abhorde to looke vpone,
His humble right hand caught he hath, and raging rounde about
Him rolled twyse, or thryse hath cast. his head resoundeth out,
The sprinkled houses with the brayne of him throwne out are wet.
But shee poore wretch her little sonne in bosome hyding yet
Loe Megara, like one in rage doth from the corners flee.

HE.
Though runagate in bosome of the thundrer hid thou bee,
This right hand shall from euery where thee seeke, and bring to sight.

AM.
Wher goest thou wretch? what lurking dens, seekst thou to take, or flight?
No place of sauegarde is if once bee Hercles styrde with yre:
But doe thou rather him embrace, and with thy meeke desyre
Assay t'asswage him.

ME.
Husband spare vs I beseech thee nowe,
And knowe thy Megara, this sonne thy countenaunce doth showe,
And bodyes pytche: behould'st thou howe his hands vp lyfteth hee?

HE.
I holde my stepdame: followe on due penaunce paye to mee,
And bounden Ioue from fylthy bonde deliuer free away:
But I before the mother will this litle monster slay.

ME.
Thou mad man whither goest thou? wylt thou thine owne bloude sheade?

AM.
Th'infant with fathers fyry face astonnied all for dread,
Died euen before the wounde: his feare hath tooke away his lyfe.
And now likewise his heauy club is shaken towarde his wyfe:
He broaken hath the bones, her head from blocklyke body gone
Is quight, nor any where it stayes. dar'ste thou this looke vpone
To long lyu'de age? if mourning doe the greeue, thou hast then loe
The death preparde. Doe thou thy breast vppon his weapons throe,
Or ells this club with slaughter stayn'de of monsters slayne that bee,
Nowe hyther turne. thy parent false, vnfit for name of thee
Ryd hence away, least he should be to thy renowne a let.

TH.
Which way the father toward thy death dost thou thy selfe cast yet?
Or whyther goest thou mad man? flee and lye thou cloasely hid,
And yet from handes of Hercules this onely myschiefe rid.

HE.
T'is well, the house of shameful king is now quight ouerthrowne.
To thee O spouse of greattest Ioue I haue loe beaten downe
This offred flocke: I gladly haue fulfill'de my wyshes all
Full meete for thee, and Argos now geue other offrings shall.

AM.
Thou hast not sonne yet all perform'de, fill vp the sacrifice.
Loe th'offring doth at th'aultars stande, it waytes thy hand likewyse
With necke full prone: I geue my selfe, I roon, I follow loe.
Mee sacrifice. what meaneth this? his eyes rolle to and froe,
And heauines doth dull his sight. see I of Hercules
The trembling hands? downe falles his face to sleepe and quietnes,
And weary necke with bowed head full fast doth downeward shrynke,
With bended knee: nowe all at once he downe to ground doth sinke,
As in the woods wylde Ashe cut downe, or Bulwarke for to make
A Hauen in Seas. Liu'ste thou? or els to death doth thee betake
The selfe same rage, that hath sent all thy famyly to death?
It is but sleepe, for to and fro doth goe and come his breath.
Let tyme bee had of quietnesse, that thus by sleepe and rest
Great force of his disease subdew'de, may ease his greeued brest.
Remoue his weapons seruants, least he mad get them agayne.

Chorus.

Let th'ayre complayne, and eke the parent great
Of haughty Sky, and fertile land throughout,
And wandring waue of euer mouing freat.
And thou before them all, which lands about
And trayn of Sea thy beames abroade dost throe
With glittring face, and mak'st the night to flee,
O feruent Titan: bothe thy settinges loe
And rysing, hath Alcides seene wyth thee:
And knowne lykewise hee hath thy howsen twayne.
From so great ills release yee nowe hys brest,
O Gods release: to better turne agayne
His ryghter mynde, and thou O tamer best
O sleepe of toyles, the quietnesse of mynde,
Of all the lyfe of man the better parte,
O of thy mother Astrey wynged kynde,
Of hard and pyning death that brother arte,
With truth mingling the false, of after state
The sure, but eke the worste foreteller yet:
O Father of all thynges, of Lyfe the gate,
Of lyght the rest, of nyght and fellowe fyt,
That com'st to Kyng, and seruaunt equally,
And gently cherysshest who weary bee,
All mankynde loe that dreadfull is to dye,
Thou doost constrayne long death to learne by thee.
Keepe him fast bounde wyth heauy sleepe opprest,
Let slomber deepe his Limmes vntamed bynde,
Nor soner leaue his vnright raginge breaste
Then former mynd his course agayne may fynd,
Loe layd on ground with full fierce hart yet still
His cruel sleepes he turnes: and not yet is
The plague subdude of so great raging yll
And on great club the weary head of his
He wont to laye, doth secke the staffe to fynde
VVith empty handes his armes out casting yet
VVith mouing vayne: nor yet all rage of minde
He hath layd downe, but as with Sowthwind greate
The waue once vext yet after kepeth still
His raging long, and though the wind now bee
Asswaged swelles, shake of theis madde and yll
Tossinges of mynde, returne let piety,
And vertue to the man, els let be so
His mynde with mouing mad toste euery waye:
Let errour blynd, where it begun hath, go,
For naught els now but only madnes maye
Thee gyltles make in next estate it standes
To hurtles handes thy mischiefe not to know.
Now stroken let with Hercules his handes
Thy bosome sounde: thyne armes the worlde allow
VVere wonte to beare, let greuous strypes now smyte
VVith conquering hande, and lowde complayning cryes,
Let th'ayre now heare, let of darke pole and nighte
The Queene them hear, and who ful fyercely lyes
That beares his neckes in mighty chaynes fast bounde,
Low lurking Cerberus in deepest caue.
Let Chaos all with clamour sad resound,
And of broad sea wide open wafting waue.
And th'ayre that felt thy weapons beter yet, but felt them though.
The breastes with so great yls as these beset,
VVith litle stroake they must not beaten bee.
Let kingdomes three sound with one playnt and crye,
And thou neckes honour and defence to see,
His arrowe strong longe hanged vp on hye,
And quiuers light the cruell stripes now smyte
On his fierce backe his shouldars strong and stout
Let oken club now strike and poast of might
VVith knots ful hard his brestee load all aboute.
Let euen his weapons so great woes complayne
Not you pore babes mates of your fathers praise,
VVith cruell wound reuenging kinges agayne:
Not you your lims in Argos barriars playes,
Are taught to turne with weapons strong to smite
And strong of hand yet euen now daring loe
The weapons of the Scithian quiuer light
VVith stedy hand to paise set out from bow.
And stags to perce that saue them selues by flight
And backes not yet ful maend of cruel beast.
To Stigian hauens goe ye of shade and night
Goe hurtles soules, whom mischiefe hath opprest
Euen in fyrst porch of lyfe but lately had,
And fathers fury goe vnhappy kind
O litle children, by the way ful sad
Of iourney knowen.
Goe see the angry kynges.

THE FIFTHE ACTE.

Hercules, Amphitryon, Theseus.
A.
Let thus thyne ylles in sylens ouerpas.

He.
That I should vnreuenged bee?

Am,
Reuenge oft hurtful was.

He
Did euer man so greeuous yls without reuenge sustayne?

A
Whos'euer greater fearde.

H.
Then these O father yet agayne
May any greater thing, or els more greuous feared be?

Am.
How great apart is it thou wotst of thy calamity?

Her.
Take mercy father, lo I lift to thee my humble hands.
What meaneth this? my hand fleeth backe, some priuy gylt their standes
Whence comes this bloud? or what doth mean flowing wt death of child
The shaft imbrewd with slaughter once of Lerney monster kilde?
I see my weapons now, the hand I seeke no more to witte.
Whose hand could bend this bow but myne? or what right arme but it,
Could string the bow that vnto mee euen scantly doth obay?
To you I turne: O father deare, is this my gylt I pray?
They held their peace: it is myne own.

Am.
Thy greuous woe is there,
The cryme thy stepdames: this mischaunce no falt of thyne hath here.

Her.
From euery part now father throw in wrath thy thunders mighte,
And of thy sonne forgetful now with cruel hand requighte
At least thy nephewes, let the world that beares the starrs sounde out.
And let both th'one and th'other poale, flyng downe thy flames aboute:
And let the bankes of Caspyan sea my bounden body teare,
And gredy foule. Wherfore do of Prometheus lacke heare
The rockes? with huge and haughty top let now prepared be,
Both feeding beastes and foules, the syde of Caucas turne to see,
And bare of woods, the yle that bridge of Scithe that therby standes
Simplegas ioynes, both here and there let it my bounden handes
Stretch out abroade: and when with course return'de accustomd'ly
They shall togeather dryue, and shall the rockes tosse vp to skye
With bankes togeather beyng thrust, and eke the middle seay,
Let me betweene the mountaynes lye vnquiet restlesse stay
But building vp with wood throwne on a heaped plie on hie
My body thus with wicked bloud besprinct, why burne not I?
So, so yt must be done: to hell I Hercles will restore.

Am.
Not yet his hart astonied lackes his ragyng tumult sore,
But wrath hath turnd: and which of rage is property and yre
Agaynst himselfe he rageth now

Her.
The furies places dire
And dungeon depe of sprites in hell and place of tormentry
To gylty ghostes and banishment yf any yet do lye
Beyond Erebus, yet vnknowen to Cerberus and mee,
There hyde me ground to farthest bond of Tartarus to see,
To tary there Ile goe. O brest of myne to fierce and stoute:
Who you my children thus disperst through all my house about,
May worthely enough bewayle? in all my euils yet
This countnaunce hard can neuer weepe, a sword now hether set:
My shaftes reach hether, hyther reach my mighty club also:
To thee my weapons breake I will, to thee my sonne a two
Ile knappe my bowes, and eke my clubbe, this blocke of heauy wayghte
Shal to thy sprites be burned loe: this selfe same quiuer frayght
With Lerney shaftes to funerall of thyne shall likewyse goe.
Let all my weapons penance pay and you vnhappy to
Euen with my weapons burne I wil, O stepdames handes of myne,

Th.
Who euer yet to ignoraunce hath geuen name of cryme?

Her.
Ful oftentymes did errour greate the place of gylt obtayne.

Th.
T'is neede to be a Hercles now, this heape of yll sustayne.

Her.
Not so, hath shame yet geuen place with fury drowned quight:
But peoples all I rather should dryue from my wicked sight.
My weapons, weapons Theseus, I quickly craue to mee
Withdraw to be restoard agayne: if sound my mynd now bee,
Restore to me my weapons if yet last my rage of mynd,
Then father flee: for I the waye to death my selfe shal fynde.

Am.
By sacred holy kynreds rightes, by force and duty all
Of both my names; if eyther me thy brynger vp thou call,
Or parent els, and (which of good men reuerenced are)
By these hoare hayres, I the besech my desert age yet spare,
And wery yeares of house falne downe the one as only stay,
One onely light to mee, with yls afflicted euery way
Reserue thy selfe: yet neuer hath there happ'ned once of thee
Fruite of thy toyles: still eyther I the doubtful sea to see
Or monsters feard: who euer yet hath bene a cruell king
In all the world to ghostes allow, and aulters both hurtinge,
Of me is feard: the father of thee absent stil to haue
The fruite, the touching, and the sight of thee at length I craue.

He.
Wherfore I longer should sustayn my life yet in this light,
And linger here no cause there is, all good lost haue I quighte,
My mynd, my weapons, my renoume, my wife, my sonnes, my handes,
And fury to no man may heale and lose from gylty bandes
My mynd defyeld: needes must with death be heald so haynous yll.

Th.
Wilt thou thy father slay?

He.
Least I shoulde do it die I will.

Th.
Before thy fathers face?

He.
I taught him mischief for to see.

Th.
Thy deedes marking rather that should of al remembred bee,
Of this one only cryme I do a pardon of thee craue.

Her.
Sall he geue pardon to himselfe, that to none els it gaue?
I beeing bidden prayse deseru'd, this deede mine owne doth proue.
Helpe father now, if eyther els thy piety thee moue,
Or els my heauy fate, or els the honour and renowne.
Of stained strength, my weapons bringe, let fortune be throwen downe.
with my right hand.

Th.
The prayers which thy father makes to thee
Are stronge enough, but yet likewyse with weeping loe of me
Be moued yet: aryse thou vp, and with thy wonted myght
Subdue thyne yls: now such a mynde vnmeete to beare vpright
No euill hap, receyue againe loe now with manhode gret
Thou must preuayle euen Hercules forbyd with yre to fret.

HE.
Alyue, I hurt: but if I dye I take the gylt also.
I hast to ridde the world of cryme euen now before me lo
A wicked monster cruel, and vntamed fierce and stout
Doth wander: now with thy ryght hand beginne to goe aboute
A greate affayre, yea more then all thy twyse sixe labours long.
Yet stayst thou wretch, that late agaynst the children wast so stronge,
And fearful mother now except restoard my weapons bee,
Of Thracian Pindus eyther I wil teare downe euery tree,
And Bacchus holly woods and tops of mount Cythæron hye
Burne with myselfe, and al at once with all their housen I
And with the Lordes therof the roofes with goddes of Thebes all
The Thebane temples euen vppon my body will let fall:
And wyl be hyd in towne vpturnd: if to my shoulders might
The walles themselues all cast theron shall fall a burden light,
And couerd with seuen gates I shall not be enough opprest,
Then all the wayght wheron the worlde in middle part doth rest,
And partes the Goddes vppon my head Ile turne and ouerthrow
My weapons geue.

Am.
This word is meete for Hercles father lo
With this same arrow slaine behold thy sonne is tombled downe,
This weapōs cruell Iuno lo from handes of thyne hath throwne,
This same wil I now vse, loe see how leaps with feare afright
My wretched harte, and how it doth my careful body smight.
The shaft is set therto thou shalt a mischiefe lo do now
Both willing it and wotting: tel, what thing commaundest thou?
I nothing craue my doloure let in saf'ty standeth now.
To kepe my sonne alyue to mee that onely do canst thou
O Theseu, yet I haue not scapte great'st feare that happen can
Thou canst mee not a miser make, thou mayst a happy man
So order euery thyng thou dost, as all thy cause in hand,
And faine thou mayst wel know in strayght and doubtful case to stande
Thou liu'st, or diest: this slender soule that light is hence to flee,
Weried with age and no lesse bet with greuous ils to see,
In mouth I holde so slowly to a father with such staye
Doth any man geue lyfe? I wil no longer bid delay,
The deadly sword throughout my breast to strike I wil apply,
Here, here the gylt of Hercules euen sound of mynd shall lye.

Her.
Forbeare O father now forbeare, withdraw thy hand againe.
My manhood yeld thy fathers will, and impery sustaine.
To Hercles labours now like wyse, let this one labour goe,
Let me yet liue, lift vp from ground th'afflicted lims with woe
O Theseu of my parent: for from Godly touch doth flee
My wicked hand.

Am?
I gladly do this hand embrace to mee,
By this I beyng slayed will goe, this mouing to my brest
Ile slake my woes,

Her.
what place shall I seeke ronnagate for rest?
Where shall I hyde my selfe? or in what land my selfe engraue?
What Tanais, or what Nilus els, or with his Persyan waue
What Tygris violent of streame, or what fierce Rhenus flood,
Or Tagus troublesome that flowes with Ibera treasures good
May my ryght hand yow wash from gylt? although Mæoris cold
The waues of all the Northen sea on me shed out now wolde,
And al the water ther of shoulde now pas by my two handes,
Yet wil the mischiefe deepe remayne alas into what landes
Wilt thou O wicked man resort? to East or westerne costs?
Ech where wel knowen, all place I haue of banishment quight loste
From me the worlde doth flee a back, the starres that sydelyng rone
Do backwarde dryue their turned course, euen Cerberus the sone
With better count'naunce did behold O faythfull friend I saye,
O Theseu seeke some lurking place, farre hence out of the way
O thou awarder of mens gyltes what euer Iudge thou bee
That hurtful men dost loue, repay a worthy thanke to me:
And my desertes. I thee beseech, to ghostes of hell againe
Send me that once escaped them: & subiect to thy raine
Restore me yet to those thy bandes, that place shal me wel hyde:
And yet euen that place knowes me wel

Th.
Our land for thee doth bide
There Mars his hande acquite agayne and made from slaughter free
Restoard to armoure, loe that land (Alcides) calles for thee,
Which wontes to quite the gods, and proue them Innocent to be.

THE SECOND TRAGEDIE OF SENECA ENTITVTULED Thyestes, faythfully Englished by Iasper Heywood Felow of Alsolne Colledge in Oxenforde.

THE FIRST ACTE.

The names of the Speakers

• Tantalus.
• Megæra.
• Atreus.
• Seruant,
• Thiestes.
• Philistenes.
• Messenger,
• Chorus,

Tantalus Megæra,
Meg,
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.

Chorus

This Argos towne if any God be founde,
And Pisey boures that famous yet remayn,
Or kingdomes els to loue of Corinthes ground,
The double hauens, or sundred seas in twayne
If any loue of Taygetus his snowes,
(By VVinter which when they on hils be cast:
By Boreas blastes that from Sarmatia blowes,
VVith yerely breath the sommer meltes as fast)
VVhere clere Alphéus runnes with floude so cold,
By playes wel knowen that there Olimpiks hight;
Let pleasaunt powre of his from hense withholde
Such turnes of stryfe that here they may not light:
Nor nephew worse then grandsier spring from vs,
Or direr deedes delyght the yonger age.
Let wicked stocke of thirsty Tantalus
At length leaue of, and wery be of rage.
Enoughe is done, and naught preuaild the iust,
Or wrong: betrayed is Mirtilus and drownde,
That did betray his dame, and with like trust
Borne as he bare, himselfe hath made renound
VVith chaunged name the sea: and better knowne
To mariners therof no fable is.
On wicked sword the litle infant throwne
As ran the chide to take his fathers kisse.
Vnrype for thaulters offring fell downe deade:
And with thy hand (O Tantalus) was rent,
VVith such a meate for Gods thy boordes to spread.
Eternall famine for such foode is sent,
And thyrst: nor for those daynty meats vnmilde,
Might meeter payne appoynted euer bee
Vith empty throate standes Tantalus begylde,
Aboue thy wicked head their leanes to thee,
Then Phineys fowles in flight a swifter pray.
VVith burned bowes declynd on euery syde,
And of his fruites all bent to beare the sway,
The tree deludes the gapes of hunger wyde
Though hee full greedy feede theron would fayne.
So oft deceyu'de neglectes to touch them yet:
He turnes his eyes, his iawes he doth refrayne,
And famine fixt in closed gummes doth shet.
But then each braunch his plenteous ritches all,
Lets lower downe, and apples from an hie
VVith lither leaues they flatter like to fall
And famine styrre:in vayne that bids to trye
His handes: which when he hath rought forth anone
To be beguyld, in higher ayre againe
The haruest hanges and fickle fruite is gone,
Then thirst him greeues no lesse then hungers payne:
Wherwith when kindled is his boyling bloud
Lyke fyre, the wretch the waues to him doth call,
That meete his mouth: which straight the fleeyng floud
VVithdrawes, and from the dryed foorde doth fall:
And him forsakes that followes them. He drinkes
The dust so deepe of gulfe that from him shrinkes.

THE SECONDE ACTE.

Atreus. Seruaunt
Ser.
Doth some of people naught
Aduerse thee feare?

Atre.
The greatest good of kingdom may be thought
That still the people are constraynd their princes deedes as well
To prayse, as them to suffer all.

Ser.
Whom feare doth so compell
To prayse, the same his foes to bee, doth feare enforce agayne:
But who indeede the glory seekes of fauour trew t'obtayne
He rather would with hates of each be praysd, then tounges of all

Atre.
The trewer prayse ful oft hath hapt to meaner men to fall:
The false but vnto myghty man what nill they let them will.

Ser.
Let first the king will honest thinges and none the same dare nill.

Atre.
Where leeful are to him that rules but honest thinges alone,
There raynes the kyng by others leaue.

Ser.
And wher ye shame is none,
Nor care of ryght, fayth, piety, nor holines none stayeth,
That kingdome swarues.

Atre.
Such holines, such piety and fayth,
Are priuate goods: let kinges runne one in that that likes their will.

Ser.
The brothers hurt a mischiefe count though he be nere so ill.

Atre.
It is but right to do to hym, that wrong to brother were.
What heynous hurt hath his offence let passe to proue? or where
Refraynd the gylt, my spouse he stale away for lechery,
And raygne by stelth: the auncient note and sygne of impery,
By frawde he got: my house by fraud to vexe he neuer ceast:
In Pelops house there fostred is a noble worthy beast
The close kept Ramme: the goodly guyde of rych and fayrest flockes.
By whom throughout on euery syde depend adowne the lockes
Of glittering gold, with fleece of which the new kinges wonted were
Of Tantals stocke their sceptors gylt, and mace of might to beare.
Of this the owner raygneth he, with him of house so great
The fortune fleeth, this sacred Ramme aloofe in safety shet
In secret mead is wont to grase, which stone on euery syde
With rocky wall incloseth rounde the fatall beast to hyde.
This beast (aduentryng mischiefe greate) adioyning yet for pray
My spoused mate, the traytour false hath hence conuayde away
From hence the wrongs of mutuall hate, and mischiefe all vpsprong:
In exile wandred he throughout my kingdomes all along:
No part of myne remayneth safe to mee, from traynes of hys.
My feere deflourde, and loyalty of empyre broken is:
My house all vext, my bloud in doubt, and naught that trust is in,
But brother foe What stayst thou yet? at length lo now beginne.
Take hart of Tantalus to thee, to Pelops cast thyne eye:
To such examples well beseemes, I should my hand applye.
Tell thou which way were best to bring that cruell head to death.

Ser.
Through perst wt sword let him be slayne & yelde his hatefull breath.

Atre.
Thou speak'st of th'end: but I him would opres wt greter payne.
Let tyrants vexe with torment more: should euer in my rayne
Be gentle death?

Ser.
Doth piety in thee preuayle no whit?

Atre.
Depart thou hence all piety, if in this house as yet
Thou euer wert: and now let all the flocke of furies dyre,
And full of strife Erinnis come, and double brands of fyre
Megæra shaking: for not yet enough with fury great
And rage doth burne my boyling brest: it ought to bee repleate,
With monster more.

Ser.
What mischiefe new do'ste thou in rage prouide?

Atre.
Not such a one as may the meane of woonted griefe abide.
No guilt will I forbeare, nor none may be enough despight.

Ser.
What sword?

Atr.
To litle that.

Ser.
what fire?

Atr.
And yt is yet to light

Ser.
What weapon then shall sorrow such finde fit to worke thy will?

Atr.
Thyestes selfe.

Ser.
Then yre it selfe yet that's a greater ill.

Atr.
I graunt: a tombling tumult quakes, within my bosomes loe,
And rounde it rolles: I moued am and wote not wherevnto.
But drawen I am: from bottome deepe the roryng soyle doth cry
The day so fayre with thunder soundes, and house as all from hy
Were rent, from roofe, and rafters crakes: and lares turnde abought
Haue wryde theyr sight: so bee'te, so bee'te, let mischiefe such be sought,
As yee O Gods would feare.

Ser.
What thing seek'st thou to bring to pas
I note what greater thing my mynde, and more then woont it was

Atre.
Aboue the reache that men are woont to worke, begins to swell:
And stayth with slouthfull hands What thinge it is I cannot tell:
But great it is. Bee'te so, my mynde now in this feate proceede,
For Atreus and Thyestes bothe, it were a worthy deede.
Let eche of vs the crime commit. The Thracian house did see
Such wicked tables once: I graunt the mischiefe great to bee,
But done ere this: some greater guilt and mischiefe more, let yre
Fynde out. The stomacke of thy sonne O father thou enspyre,
And syster eke, like is the cause: assist me with your powre,
And dryue my hand: let greedy parents all his babes deuowre,
And glad to rent his children bee: and on their lyms to feede.
Enough, and well it is deuis'de: this pleaseth me in deede.
In meane time where is he? so long and innocent wherefore
Doth Atreus walke? before myne eyes alredy more and more
The shade of such a slaughter walkes: the want of children cast,
In fathers Iawes. But why my mynde, yet dreadst thou so at lost,
And faint'st before thou enterprise? it must bee done, let bee,
That which in all this mischiefe is the greatest guilt to see,
Let him commit.

Ser.
but what disceit may wee, for him prepare,
Whereby betrapt he may be drawne, to fall into the snare?
He wotes full well we are his foes.

Atre.
He could not taken bee,
Except himselfe woulde take: but now my kingdomes hopeth hee.
For hope of this he woulde not feare to meete the mighty Ioue,
Though him he threatned to destroy, with lightning from aboue.
For hope of this to passe the threats of waues he will not fayle,
Nor dread no whit by doubtfull shelues, of Lybike seas to sayle,
For hope of this (which thing he doth the woorst of all beleeue,)
He will his brother see.

Ser.
Who shall of peace the promise geeue?
Whom will he trust?

Atre.
His euill hope will soone beleue it well.
Yet to my sonnes the charge which they shall to theyr vnckle tell,
We will commit: that whom he would from exile come agayne,
And myseries for kingdome chaunge, and ouer Argos reygne
A king of halfe: and though to hard of heart our prayers all
Him selfe despise, his children yet nought woting what may fall,
With trauels tier'de, and apte to be entys'de from misery,
Requests will moue: on th'one side his desyre of Imperie,
On th'other syde his pouerty, and labour hard to see,
Will him subdue and make to yeelde, although full stoute he bee.

Sea.
His trauayles now the time hath made to seeme to him but small.

Atr.
Not so: for day by day the griefe of ill encreaseth all.
T'is light to suffer miseries, but heauy them t'endure.

Ser.
Yet other messengers to send, in such affayres procure,

Atr.
The yonger sorte the wrose precepts do easely harken to.

Ser.
What thing agaynst their vnckle now, you them enstruckt to do,
Perhaps with you to worke the like, they will not be a dread.
Such mischiefe wrought hath oft return'de vpon the workers head.

Atre.
Though neuer man to thē the wayes of guile & guilt haue taught,
Yet kingdome will. Fear'st thou they should be made by coūsel naught?
They are so borne. That which thou cal'ste a cruell enterpryse,
And dyrely deemest doone to be, and wickedly likewise,
Perhaps is wrought agaynst me there.

Ser.
And shall your sons of this
Disceipt beware that worke you will? no secretnes there is
In theyr so greene and tender yeares: they will your traynes disclose,

Atre.
A priuy counsell cloase to keepe, is learnde with many woes.

Ser.
And will yee them, by whom yee woulde he should beguiled bee,
Themselues beguil'de?

At.
Nay let thē both from fault & blame be free.
For what shall neede in mischiefes such as I to woorke entende,
To mingle them? let all my hate by mee alone take ende.
Thou leau'ste thy purpose ill my mynde: if thou thine owne forbeare,
Thou sparest him. Wherefore of this let Agamemnon heare
Be mynister: and Client eke of myne for such a deede,
Let Menelâus present bee: truth of th'uncertayne seede,
By such a pracktise may be tri'de: if it refuse they shall,
Nor of debate will bearers be, if they him vnckle call,
He is their father: let them goe. But much the fearefull face
Bewrayes it selfe: euen him that faynes the secret wayghty case,
Doth oft betray: let them therefore not know, how great a guyle
They goe about. And thou these things in secret keepe the whyle.

Ser.
I neede not warned bee, for these within my bosome deepe,
Both fayth, and feare, but chiefely fayth, doth shet and closely kepe.

Chorus.

The noble house at length of high renowne,
The famous stocke of auncient Inachus,
Apeasd & layd the threats of brethrē down
But nowe what fury styrs & driues you thus
Eche one to thyrst the others bloud agayne,
Or get by guylt the golden Mace in hande?
Yee litle wote that so desyre to raygne,
In what estate or place doth kyngdome stande.
Not ritches makes a kyng or high renowne,
Not garnisht weede wyth purple Tyrian die,
Not lofty lookes, or head encloasde with crowne,
Not glyttring beames with golde and turrets hie.
A Kyng he is that feare hath layde aside,
And all affects that in the breast are bred:
VVhom impotent ambition doth not guide,
Nor fickle fauour hath of people led.
Nor all that west in mettalls mynes hath founde,
Or chanell cleere of golden Tagus showes,
Nor all the grayne that thresshed is on grounde,
That with the heate of libyk haruest glowes.
Nor whom the flasshe of lightning flame shall beate,
Nor eastern wynde that smightes vpon the seas,
Nor swelling surge with rage of vvynde repleate,
Or greedy Gulphe of Adria displease.
VVhom not the pricke of Souldiers sharpest speare,
Or poyncted pyke in hand hath made to rue,
Nor whom the glympse of swoorde myght cause to feare,
Or bright drawen blade of glyttring steele subdue.
VVho in the seate of safty sets his feete,
Beholdes all haps how vnder him they lye,
And gladly runnes his fatall day to meete,
Nor ought complaynes or grudgeth for to dye.
Though present vvere the Prynces euerychone,
The scattered Dakes to chase that vvonted bee,
That shyning seas beset with precious stone,
And red sea coastes doe holde, lyke bloud to see:
Or they vvhich els the Caspian mountaynes hye,
From Sarmats strong with all theyr power vvithholde:
Or hee that on the floude of Danubye,
In frost a foote to trauayle dare bee bolde:
Or Seres in vvhat euer place they lye,
Renownde with fleece that there of sylke doth spring,
They neuer might the truth hereof denye,
It is the mynde that onely makes a king.
There is no neede of sturdie steedes in warre,
No neede with armes or arrowes ells to fight,
That Parthus woonts with bowe to fling from farre,
VVhyle from the fielde hee falsely fayneth flight.
Nor yet to siege no neede it is to bringe
Great Guns in Carts to ouerthrowe the wall,
That from farre of theyr battring Pellets slyng.
A kyng hee is that feareth nought at all.
Eche man him selfe this kyngdome geeues at hand.
Let who so lyst with mighty mace to raygne,
In tyckle toppe of court delight to stand
Let mee the sweete and quiet rest obtayne.
So set in place obscure and lowe degree,
Of pleasaunt rest I shall the sweetnesse knoe.
My lyfe vnknowne to them that noble bee,
Shall in the steppe of secret sylence goe.
Thus when my dayes at length are ouer past,
And tyme without all troublous tumult spent,
An aged man I shall depart at last,
In meane estate, to dye full well content.
But greeuous is to him the death, that when
So farre abroade the bruite of him is blowne,
That knowne hee is to much to other men:
Departeth yet vnto him selfe vnknowne.

THE THYRDE ACTE.

[THE FIRST SCENE.]

Thyestes, Phylisthenes
Phy.
With slouthfull step (what meaneth this?) my father stādeth still,
And turnes his face and holdes him selfe, in doubt what thing to do.

Thy.
What thing (my minde) considrest thou? or els so long whereto
Do'st thou so easie counsayle wrest? wilt thou to thinges vnsure
Thy brother and the kingdome trust? fearst thou those ills t'endure
Now ouercome, and mielder made? and trauayls do'st thou flee
That well were plaste? it thee auayls, a myser now to bee.
Turne hence thy pace while leefull is, and keepe thee from his hande.

Phy.
What cause thee driues (O father deere) thus rō thy natiue lande,
Now seene to shrynk? what makes thee thus frō things so good at last
Withdrawe thy selfe? thy brother comes whose ires be ouerpast,
And halfe the kyngdome geues, and of the house Dylacerate,
Repayres the partes: and thee restores agayne to former state.

Thy.
The cause of feare that I know not, thou do'st require to heare.
I see nothing that makes mee dread, and yet I greatly feare.
I would goe on, but yet my limmes with weary legges doe slacke:
And other way then I would passe, I am withholden backe.
So oft the ship that driuen is with wynde and eke with Ore,
The swelling surge resisting both beares backe vpon the shore.

Phy.
Yet ouercome what euer stayes, and thus doth let your mynde,
And see what are at your returne, prepar'de for you to finde.
You may O father raygne.

Thy.
I may but then when die I mought.

P.
Chiefe thing is powre.

T.
nought worth at al, if thou desyre it nought.

P.
You shall it to your children leaue.

T.
the kingdome takes not twayne,

Phy.
Who may be happy, rather would he myser yet remayne?

Thy.
Beleue me well, with titles false the great thinges vs delight:
And heauy haps in vayne are fearde. while high I stoode in sight,
I neuer stinted then to quake, and selfe same sworde to feare,
That hanged by myne owne side was. Oh how great good it were,
With none to striue, but careles foode to care and rest to knowe?
The greater gyltes they enter not in cotage set alowe.
And safer foode is fed vpon, at narrowe boorde alway,
While drunke in golde the poyson is by proofe well taught I say,
That euill haps before the good to loue it likes my will.
Of haughty house that standes aloft in tickle top of hyll,
And swayes asyde, the cyty lowe neede neuer be affright:
Nor in the top of roofe aboue, there shynes no Iuery bright,
For watchman noue defendes my sleepes by night, or gardes my rest:
With fleete I fishe not, nor the sees I haue not backwarde prest,
Nor turn'de to flight with builded wall: nor wicked belly I
With taxes of the people fed: nor parcell none doth lie,
Of ground of myne beyonde the Getes: and Parthians farre about:
Nor worshiped with frankinsence I am, nor (Ioue shet out)
My Aulters decked are: nor none in top of house doth stande
In garden treese, nor kindled yet with helpe of eche mans hande,
The bathes doe smoake: nor yet are dayes in slouthfull slumbers led,
Nor nightes past forth in watche and wyne, without the rest of bed,
Wee nothing feare, the house is safe without the hidden knyfe,
And poore estate the sweetenes feeles, of rest and quiet lyfe.
Greate kindome is to be content, without the same to lyue.

Phy.
Yet should is not refused be, if God the kingdome giue.

Thy.
Not yet desierd it ought to be.

Phy.
your brother byds you rayne.

Thy.
Bids he? the more is to be fearde: there lurketh there some trayne.

Phy.
From whence it fell, yet piety is woont to turne at length:
And loue vnfaynde, repayres agayne his erst omitted strength.

Thy.
Doth Atreus then his brother loue? eche Vrsa fyrst on hye,
The Seas shall washe. and swelling surge of Seas of Sicylye
Shall rest and all asswaged be: and corne to rypenes growe
In bottome of Ionian seas, and darkest night shall showe
And spreade the light about the soyle: the waters with the fyre,
The lyfe with death, the wynde with seas, shall friendship first requyre,
And be at league.

Phy.
of what deceipte are you so dreadfull here?

Thy.
Of euerychone: what ende at length might I prouide of feare?
In all he can he hateth me.

Phy.
to you what hurt can he?

Thy.
As for my selfe I nothing dread you litle Babes make mee
Afrayde of him.

Phy.
dread, yee to be beguilde when caught yee are:
To late it is to shoon the trayne in middle of the snare.
But goe we on, this (father) is to you my last request.

Thy.
I follow you. I leade you not.

Phy.
God turne it to the best
That well deuised is for good: passe farth with cherefull pace.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Atreus, Thyestes.
Thy.
I coulde excuse my selfe, except thou wert as now thou art.
But (Atreus) now I graunt, the faulte was myne in euery part:
And I offended haue in all, my cause the worse to bee,
Your this dayes kindnes makes: in deede a guilty wight is hee,
That would so good a brother hurt as you, in any whit.
But now with teares I must entreate, and first I me submit.
These handes that at thy feete doe lye, doe thee beseeche and pray,
That yre and hate be layde aside, and from thy bosome may
Be scraped out: and cleere forgot for pledges take thou these
O brother deere, these guiltles babes.

Atr.
thy hands yet from my kneese
Remoue, and rather me to take in armes, vpon me fall
And yee Daydes of elders age, yee litle infants all.
Mee clyp and coll about the necke: this fowle attyre forsake,
And spare myne eyes that pity it, and fresher vesture take
Lyke myne to see. and you with ioy, the halfe of emperie
Deere brother take: the greater prayse shall come to mee thereby,
Our fathers seate to yelde to you, and brother to relieue.
To haue a kingdome is but chaunce, but vertue it to geeue.

Thy.
I iust reward for such deserts, the Gods (O brother deare)
Repay to thee: but on my head a regall crowne to weare,
My lothsome lyfe denyes: and farre doth from the sceptor flee
My hand vnhappy: in the mydst let leefull be for mee
Of men to lurke.

Atre.
this kingdome can with twayne full well agree.

Thy.
What euer is (O brother) yours, I count it myne to bee.

Atr.
Who would dame fortunes gifts refuse, if shee him rayse to raigne?

Thy.
The gyfts of hir eche man it wotes, how soone they passe againe.

Atr.
Yee me depryue of glory great, except yee th'empyre take.

Thy.
You haue your prayse in offring it, and I it to forsake.
And full perswaded to refuse the kingdome, am I still.

Atre.
Except your part yee will susteine myne owne forsake I will.

Thy.
I take it then. and beare I will the name there of alone:
The ryghts and armes, as well as myne they shall be yours eche one.

Atre.
The regall crowne as you beseemes vpon your head then take:
And I th'appoyncted sacrifice for Gods, will now goe make.

Chorus.

Woulde any man it weene? that cruell wight
Atreus, of mynde so impotent to see
VVas soone astonied with his brothers sight,
Mo greater force then pietye may bee:
VVhere kynred is not, lasteth euery threat,
VVhom true loue holdes, it holdes eternally.
The vvrath but late vvith causes kyndled great
All fauour brake, and did to battayle cry,
VVhan horsemen did resounde one euery syde,
The swoardes eche vvhere, then glystred more & more:
VVhich raging Mars vvith often stroke did guide
The fresher bloud to shed yet thyrsting sore.
But loue the sworde agaynst theyr vvills doth swage,
And them to peace perswads vvith hand in hand.
So sodeyne rest, amid so great a rage
VVhat God hath made? throughout Mycenas land
The harnesse clynkt, but late of cyuill strife:
And for their babes did fearefull mother quake,
Her armed spouse to leese much fearde the vvyfe,
VVhen sworde vvas made the scabberde to forsake,
That now by rest vvith rust vvas ouergrowne.
Some to repayre the vvalles that did decay,
And some to strength the towres halfe ouerthrowne,
And some the gates vvith gyns of Yrne to stay
Full busie vvere, and dredfull vvatch by nyght
From turret high did ouerlooke the towne.
VVoorse is then warre it selfe the feare of fight.
(Nowe are the threats of cruell sworde layde downe,
And nowe the rumour whists of battayles sowne,
The noyse of crooked trumpet silent lyes,
And quiet peace returnes to ioyfull towne.
So when the waues of swelling surge aryse,
VVhyle Corus wynde the Brutian seas doth smight,
And Scylla soundes from hollowe Caues within,
And Shipmen are with wafting waues affright,
Charybdis casts that erst it had drunke in:
And Cyclpos fierce his father yet doth dred,
In AEtna banke that feruent is with heates,
Least quenched be with waues that ouershed
The fire that from eternall Fornace beates:
And poore Laërtes thinkes his kyngdomes all
May drowned be, and Ithaca doth quake:
If once the force of wyndes begin to fall,
The sea lyth downe more mylde then standing lake.
The deepe, where Ships so vvyde full dredfull vvere
To passe, vvith sayles on eyther syde out spred
Now fallne adowne, the lesser Boate doth beare:
And leysure is to vewe the fyshes ded
Euen there, vvhere late vvith tempest bet vpon
The shaken Cyclades vvere vvith Seas agast.
No state endures the payne and pleasure, one
To other yeldes, and ioyes be soonest past.
One howre sets vp the thinges that lowest bee.
Hee that the crownes to prynces doth deuyde,
VVhom people please with bending of the knee,
And at whose becke theyr battayles lay aside
The Meades, and Indians eke to Phebus nye,
And Dakes that Parthyans doe with horsemen threat,
Him selfe yet holdes his Sceptors doubtfully,
And men of might he feares and chaunces great
(That eche estate may turne) and doubtfull howre.
O yee, vvhom lorde of lande and vvaters wyde,
Of Lyfe and death grauntes here to haue the powre,
Lay yee your proude and lofty lookes aside:
VVhat your inferiour feares of you amis.
That your superiour threats to you agayne.
To greater kyng, eche kyng a subiect is.
VVhom dawne of day hath seene in pryde to raygne,
Hym ouerthrowne hath seene the euening late.
Let none reioyce to much that good hath got,
Let none dispayre of best in vvorst estate.
For Clotho myngles all, and suffreth not
Fortune to stande: but Fates about doth driue.
Such friendship finde wyth Gods yet no man myght,
That he the morowe might be sure to lyue.
The God our things all tost and turned quight
Rolles with a whyrle wynde.

THE FOVRTHE ACTE.

Messenger. Chorus.
Ch.
what new thing hast thou brought?

Me.
What lande is this? lythe Sparta here and Argos, that hath bred
So wicked brethern? and the ground of Corinth lying spred
Betweene the seas? or Ister else where woont to take their flight,
Are people wylde? or that which woonts with snowe to shyne so bright
Hircana lande? or els doe here the wandring Scythtans dwell?

Ch.
What monstrous mischiefe is this place then guilty of? that tell,
And this declare to vs at large what euer be the ill.

Me.
If once my mynde may stay it selfe, and quaking limmes I will.
But yet of such a cruell deede before myne eyes the feare
And Image walkes: yee raging stormes now far from hence me beare
And to that place me driue, to which now driuen is the day
Thus drawen from hence.

Ch.
Our myndes yee holde yet still in doubt: full stay.
Tell what it is yee so abhorre. The author thereof showe.
I aske not who, but which of them that quickly let vs know.

Me.
In Pelops Turret high, a part there is of Pallace wyde
That towarde the south erected leanes, of which the vtter syde
With equall top to mountayne slantes, and on the City lies,
And people proude agaynst theyr prynce if once the treytors rise
Hath vnderneath his batiring stroke: there shynes the place in sight
Where woont the people to frequent, whose golden beames so bright
The noble spotted pillers gray, of marble doe supporte,
Within this place well knowen to men, where they so oft resorte,
To many other roomes about the noble court doth goe.
The priuie Palaice vnderlieth in secret place aloe,
With ditch ful deepe that doth enclose the wood of priuitee,
And hidden parts of kyngdome olde: where neuer grew no tree
That chereful bowes is woont to beare, with knife or lopped be,
But Taxe, and Cypresse, and with tree of Holme ful blacke to see
Doth becke and bende the wood so darke: alofte aboue all theese
The higher oke doth ouer looke, surmounting all the treese.
From hens with lucke the raigne to take, accustom'd are the kyngs,
From hens in daunger ayd to aske, and doome in doubtfull things.
To this affixed are the gifts, the sounding Trumpets bright,
The Chariots broke, and spoyles of sea that now Mirtôon hight,
There hang the wheeles once won by crafte of taller axel tree,
And euery other conquests note, here leefullis to see
The Phrygian tyre of Pelops head: the spoyle of enmies heere,
And of Barbarian triumphe left, the paynted gorgeous geere.
A lothsome springe stands vnder shade, and slouthfull course doth take,
With water blacke: euen such as is: of yrkesome Stygian lake
The vgly waue whereby art wont, to sweare the gods on hye.
Here all the night the grisly ghosts and gods of death to crie
The fame reportes: with clinkyng chaynes resoūds the wood ech where
The sprights cry out and euery thinge that dredfull is to heare,
May there bee seene: of vgly shapes from olde Sepulchres sent
A fearefull flocke doth wander there, and in that place frequent
Worse things then euer yet were knowwne: ye all the wood full afte
With flame is woont to flash, and all the higher trees alofte
Without a fyre do burne: and ofte the wood beside all this
With triple barkyng roares at once: ful oft the pala:ce is
Affright with shapes, nor lighte of day may on the terrour quell.
Eternall night doth hold the place, and darknes there of hell
In mid day raignes: from hens to them that pray out of the ground
The certayne answers geuen are, what tyme with dredful sound
From secret place the fates be tolde, and dungeon roares within
While of the God breakes out the voyce: whereto when entred in
Fierce Atreus was, that did wyth him his brothers children trayle,
Dekt are the aulters: who (alas) may it enough bewayle?
Behynde the infants backs anone he knyt theyr noble hands,
And eke theyr heauy heads about he bound with purple bands:
There wanted there no Frankenfence, nor yet the holy wine,
Nor knyfe to cut the sacrifice, besprinkt with leuens fine,
Kept is in all the order due, least such a mischiefe gret
Should not be ordred well

Ch.
who doth his hand on sword then set?

Me.
He is him selfe the priest, and he himselfe the deadly verse
With prayer dyre from feruent mouth doth syng and oft reherse.
And he at th'aulters stands himselfe, he them assygn'de to dye
Doth handle, and in order set, and to the knyfe applye,
He lights the fyres, no rights were left of sacrifice vndone.
The woode then quakt, and all at once from trembling grounde anone
The Pallace beckt, in doubt which way the payse thereof woulde fall,
And shaking as in waues it stoode: from th'ayre and therewithall
A blasing starre that foulest trayne drew after him doth goe:
The wynes that in the fyres were cast, with chaunged licour floe,
And turne to bloud: and twyse or thryse th'attyre fell from his hed,
The Iuerye bright in Temples seem'de to weepe and teares to shed.
The sights amas'de all other men, but stedfast yet alway
Of mynde, vnmoued Atreus stands, and euen the Gods doth fray
That threaten him and all delay forsaken by and by
To th'aulters turnes, and therewithwall a syde he lookes awry.
As hungry Tygre wonts that doth in gangey woods remayne
With doubtfull pace to range & roame betweene the bullocks twayne,
Of eyther pray full couetous and yet vncertayne where
She fyrst may byte, and roaring throate now turnes the tone to teare
And then to th'other strayght returnes, and doubtfull famyne holdes:
So Atreus dyre, betwene the babes doth stand and them beholdes
On whom he poynctes to slake his yre: first slaughter where to make,
Hee doubts: or whom he shoulde agayne for second offring take,
Yet skills it nought, but yet he doubtes and such a cruelty
It him delights to order well.

Ch.
Whom take he fyrst to dy?

Me.
First place, least in him thinke yee might no piete to remayne
To graundsier dedicated is, fyrst Tantalus is slayne.

Ch.
With what a minde & count'naūce, could ye boy his death sustayne?

Me.
All careles of him selfe he stoode, nor once he would in vayne
His prayers leese. But Atreus fierce the sword in him at last
In deepe and deadly wound doth hide to hilts, and gryping fast
His throate in hād, he thrust him through. The sword thē drawne away
When long the body had vphelde it selfe in doubtfull stay,
Which way to fall, at length vpon the vnckle downe it falles.
And then to th'aulters cruelly Philisthenes he tralles,
And on his brother throwes: and strayght his necke of cutteth hee.
The Carcase headlong falles to ground: a piteous thing to see,
The mourning head with murmure yet vncertayne doth complayne.

Chor.
What after double death doth he and slaughter then of twayne?
Spares he the Child? or gilt on gilt agayne yet heapeth he?

Mess.
As long maynd Lyon feerce amid the wood of Armenie,
The droue pursues and conquest makes of slaughter many one,
Though now defyled be his iawes with bloud and hunger gone
Yet slaketh not his yreful rage with bloud of Bulles so great,
But slouthful now with weary tooth the lesser Calues doth threat:
None other wyse doth Atreus rage, and swelles with anger straynd,
And holding now the sword in hand, with double slaughter staynd,
Regarding not where fell his rage, with cursed hand vnmild
He strake it through his body quite, at bosome of the Child
The blade goeth in, and at the backe agayne out went the same,
He falles and quenching with his bloud the aulters sacred flame,
Of eyther wound at lenght he dieth.

Chor.
O'heynous hateful act.

Mess.
Abhorre ye this? ye heare not yet the end of all the fact,
There followes more.

Cho.
A fiercer thing, or worse then this to see
Could Nature beare?

Me.
why thinke ye this of gylt the end to be?
It is but part.

Cho.
what could he more? to cruel beastes he cast
Perhappes their bodyes to be torne, and kept from fyres at last.

Me.
Would God he had: that neuer tombe the dead might ouer hyde,
Nor flames dissolue, though them for food to foules in pastures wyde
He had out throwen, or them for pray to cruell beastes would flinge.
That which the worst was wont to be, were here a wished thing,
That them their father saw vntombd: but oh more cursed crime
Uncredible, the which denye will men of after tyme:
From bosomes yet aliue out drawne the trembling bowels shake,
The vaynes yet breath, the feareful hart doth yet both pant and quake;
But he the stringes doth turne in hand, and destenies beholde,
And of the guttes the sygnes each one doth vewe not fully cold.
When him the sacrifyce had pleasd, his diligence he puttes
To dresse his brothers banquet now: and streight asonder cuttes
The bodyes into quarters all, and by the stoompes anone
The shoulders wyde, and brawnes of armes he strikes of euerychone,
He layes abroad their naked lims, and cuts away the bones:
The onely heads he kepes and handes to him committed once.
Some of the guttes are broacht, and in the fyres that burne full sloe
They drop, the boyling licour some doth tomble to and froe
In moorning cawderne: from the flesh that ouerstandes aloft
The fyre doth flye, and skatter out and into chimney ofte
Up heapt agayne, and there constraynd by force to tary yet
Unwilling burnes: the liuer makes great noyse vpon the spit,
Nor easely wot I, if the flesh, or flames they be that cry,
But crye they do: the fyre like pitch it fumeth by an by:
Nor yet the smoke it selfe so sad, like filthy miste in sight
Ascendeth vp as wont it is, nor takes his way vpright,
But euen the Gods and house it doth with fylthy fume defile.
O pacient Phœbus though from hence thou backeward flee the whyle,
And in the midst of heauen aboue dost drowne the broken day,
Thou fleest to late: the father eats his children, well away,
And limmes to which he once gaue life, with cursed iaw doth teare.
He shynes with oyntment shed ful sweete all round about his heare,
Replete with wyne: and oftentymes so cursed kynd of food
His mouth hath held, that would not downe, but yet this one thing good
In all thy yls (Thyestes) is that them thou dost not knoe,
And yet shal that not long endure, though Titan backward goe
And chariots turne agaynst himselfe, to meete the wayes he went,
And heauy night so heynous deede to kepe from sight be sent,
And out of tyme from East aryse, so foule a fact to hyde,
Yet shall the whole at length be seene: thy ylles shall all be spide.

Chorus.

Which way O Prince of landes and Gods on hie,
At whose vprise eftsones of shadowd night
All beawty fleeth, which way turnst thou awrye?
And drawest the day in midst of heauen to flight?
Why dost thou (Phœbus) hide from vs thy sight?
Not yet the watch that later howre bringes in,
Doth Vesper warne the Starres to kindle light.
Not yet doth turne of Hespers whele begin
To loase thy chare his well deserued way.
The trumpet third not yet hath blowen his blast
Whyle toward the night beginnes to yeld the day:
Great wonder hath of sodayne suppers hast
The Plowman yet whose Oxen are vntierd.
From woonted course of Heauen what drawes thee back?
What causes haue from certayne race conspierd
To turne thy horse? do yet from dongeon black
Of hollow hell, the conquerd Gyantes proue
A fresh assaut? doth Tityus yet assay
VVith trenched hart, and wounded wombe to moue
The former yres? or from the hil away?
Hath now Typhœus wound his syde by might?
Is vp to heauen the way erected hie
Of phlegrey foes by mountaynes set vpright?
And now doth Ossa Pelion ouerlye?
The wonted turnes are gone of day and night,
The ryse of Sunne, nor fall shall be no more,
Aurora dewish mother of the light
That wontes to send the horses out before,
Doth wonder much agayne returne to see,
Her dawning light: she wots not how to ease
The weary wheeles, nor manes that smoaking be
Of horse with sweate to bathe amid the seas.
Himselfe vnwonted there to lodge likewise,
Doth setting sonne agayne the morning see,
And now commaundes the darkenes vp to ryse,
Before the night to come prepared bee.
About the Poale yet glowth no fyre in sight.
Nor light of Moone the shades doth comfort yet.
What so it be, God graunt it be the night.
Our hartes do quake with feare oppressed gret,
And dreadfull are least heauen and earth and all
With fatall ruine shaken shall decay:
And least on Gods agayne, and men shall fall
Disfigurde Chaos: and the land away
The Seas, and Fyres, and of the glorious Skise
The wandring lampes, least nature yet shal hide.
Now shall no more with blase of his vprise,
The Lord of starres that leades the world so wyde,
Of Sommer both and Winter geue the markes.
Nor yet the Moone with Phœbus flames that burnes,
Shall take from vs by night the dreadful carkes,
With swifter course or passe her brothers turnes,
While compasse lesse she fets in croked race:
The Gods on heaps shal out of order fall,
And each with other mingled be in place.
The wryed vvay of holy planets all,
With path a slope that doth deuide the Zones.
That beares the sygnes, and yeares in course doth brynge,
Shall see the starres with him fall downe at ones.
And he that first not yet vvith gentle spring,
The temperate Gale doth geue to sayles, the Ramme
Shall headlong fall a dovvne to Seas agayne,
Through vvhich he once vvith fearefull Hellen svvam.
Next him the Bull that doth vvith horne sustayne
The systers seuen with him shall ouerturne
The twins and armes of croked Cancer all,
The Lyon hoat that wontes the soyle to burne
Of Hercules agayne from heauen shall fall.
To landes once left the Virgin shall be throwne,
And leueld payse of balance sway alow,
And draw with them the stinging Scorpion downe.
So likewyse he that holdes in Thessale bowe
His swift wel fethred arrowes Chiron old,
Shal breake the same and eke shal lese his shotte
And Capricorne that bringes the winter cold
Shall ouerturne and breake the water pot
VVho so thou be: and downe with thee to grounde,
The last of all the sygnes shal Pisces fall
And monsters eke in seas yet neuer drounde,
The water gulph shal ouerwhelme them all.
And he which doth betwene each vrsa glyde,
Lyke croked flood the slipper serpent twynde:
And lesser Beare by greater Dragons syde,
Full cold with frost congealed hard by kinde,
And carter dull that slowly guides his waine
Vnstable shall Bootes fall from hye.
VVe are thouhgt meete of all men whom agayn
Should hugy heape of Chaos ouerly.
And world oppresse with ouerturned masse
The latest age now falleth vs vppon.
VVith euil hap we are begot alas
If wretches we haue lost the sight of sonne,
Or him by fraught enforced haue to flye
Let our complayntes yet goe and feare be pasts
He greedy is of life, that wil not die
VVhen all the world shall end with him at last.

THE FIFTE ACTE.

[THE FIRST SCEANE]

Atreus
alone.
Nowe equall with the Starres I goe, beyond each other wight,
With haughty heade the heauens aboue, and highest Poale I smite.
The kingdome nowe, and seate I holde, where once my father raynd:
I nowe lette goe the gods: for all my wil I haue obtaynde
Enoughe and well, ye euen enough for me I am acquit
But why enough? I wil procede and fyl the father yet
With bloud of his least any shame should me restrayne at all,
The day is gone, go to therfore whyle thee the heauen doth call
Would God I could agaynst their wils yet hold the Goddes that flee
And of reuenging dish constrayne them witnesses to bee:
But yet (which wel enough is wrought) let it the father see.
In spighte of al the drowned day I will remoue from thee
The darknesse all, in shade wherof do lurke thy miseryes.
And guest at such a banquet now to long he careles lyes,
With mery face: now eate and drunke enough he hath at last
T'ys best him selfe should know his ylls ye seruauntes, all in hast
Undoe the temple dores: and let the house bee open all:
Fayne would I see, when loke vppon his childrens heads he shal
What countenaunce he then would make, or in what woordes break out
Would first his griefe, or how would quake his body round about
With spright amased sore: of all my worke the fruite were this
I would him not a miser see, but while so made he is,
Behold the temple opened now doth shyne with many a light:
In glitteryng gold and purple seate he sittes hymselfe vpright,
And staying vp his heauy head with wyne vppon his hand,
He belcheth out, now chiefe o! goddes in highest place I stand,
And king of kinges: I haue my wish, and more then I could thinke
He filled is, he now the wyne in siluer bolle doth drinke
And spare it not: there yet remaynes a worser draught for thee
That sprong out of the bodyes late of sacrifyces three,
Which wine shall hyde let therwithall the boordes be taken vp.
The father (mingled with the wyne) his childrens bloud shall sup.
That would haue dronke of myne. Behold he now beginnes to strayne
His voyce, and synges, nor yet for ioy his mynde he may refrayne,

THE SECONDE SCEANE

Thiestes
alone.
O beaten bosomes dullde so longe with woe,
Laie down your cares, at length your greues relēt
Let sorowe passe, and all your dread let goe,
And fellow eke of fearefull banishment,
Sad pouertye and ill in misery
The shame of cares, more whense thy fall thou haste,
Then whether skylles, great hap to him, from hye
That falles, it is in surety to be plast
Beneath and great it is to him agayne
That prest with storme, of euylls feeles the smart,
Of kyngedome loste the payses to sustaine
VVith necke vnbowde: nor yet detect of heart
Nor ouercome, his heauy haps alwayes
To beare vpright but now of carefull carkes
Shake of the showres, and of thy wretched dayes
Away with all the myserable markes.
To ioyfull state returne thy chearefull face.
Put fro thy mynde the olde Thyestes hence.
It is the woont of wight in wofull case,
In state of ioy to haue no confidence.
Though better haps to them returned be,
Thafflicted yet to ioy it yrketh sore.
VVhy calst thou me abacke, and hyndrest me
This happy day to celebrate? wherefore
Bidst thou me (sorrow) wepe without a cause?
VVho doth me let with flowers so fresh and gay,
To decke my hayres? it lets and me withdrawes
Downe from my head the roses fall away:
My moysted haire with oyntment ouer all,
With so dayne mase standes vp in wondrous wyse,
From face that would not weepe the streames do fall.
And howling cryes amid my wordes aryse.
My sorrowe yet thaccustomd teares doth loue
And wretches stil delyght to, weepe and crye.
Vnpleasant playntes it pleaseth them to moue:
And florisht fayre it likes with Tyrian die
Their robes to rent, to waile it likes them still
For sorrow sendes (in signe that woes draw nie)
The mind that wots before of after yll.
The sturdy stormes the shipmen ouer lye,
VVhen voyd of wynd thasswaged seas do rest.
VVhat tumult yet or countenaunce to see
Makste thou mad man? at length at trustful breast
To brother gene, what euer now it be,
Causeles, or els to late thou art a dred.
I wretch would not so feare, but yet me drawes
A trembling terrour: downe myne eyes do shed
Their sodayne teares and yet I know no cause,
Is it a greefe, or feare? or els hath teares great ioy it selfe.

THE THIRDE SCEANE.

Atreus. Thyestes.
Thy.
Enough with meate and eke with wyne, now satisfyed am I.
But yet of all my ioyes it were a great encrease to mee,
If now about my syde I might my litle children see.

Atr.
Beleeue that here euen in thyne armes thy children present be.
For here they are, and shalbe here, no part of them fro thee
Sal be withhelde: their loued lookes now geue to thee I wil,
And with the heape of all his babes, the father fully fyll.
Thou shalt be glutted, feare thou not: they with my boyes as yet
The ioyful sacrifyces make at borde where children sit,
They shalbe cald, the frendly cup now take of curtesy
With wyne vpfylde.

Thy.
of brothers feast I take ful willingly
The fynal gyft, shed some to gods of this our fathers lande,
Then let the rest be dronke, what's this? in no wyse wil my hand
Obeye: the payse increaseth sore, and downe myne arme doth sway.
And from my lippes the wafting wyne it selfe doth flye away,
And in deceiued mouth, about my iawes it rūneth rounde.
The table to, it selfe doth shake and leape from trembling ground.
Scant burnes the fyre: the ayre it selfe with heauy chere to slyght
Forsooke of sonne amased is betweene the day and night.
What meaneth this? yet more and more of backward beaten saye
The compas falles, and thicker myst the world doth ouerly
Then blackest darkenes, and the night in night it selfe doth hyde.
All starres be fled, what so it bee my brother God prouyde
And soones to spare: the Gods so graunt that all this testmpest fall
On this vyle head: but now restore to me my children all,

Atr.
I wil, and neuer day agayne shal them from thee withdraw,

Thy.
What tumult tumbleth so my guttes, and doth my bowels gnaw?
What quakes within? with heauy payse I feele my selfe opprest,
And with an other voyce then myne bewayles my doleful brest:
Come nere my sonnes, for you now doth thunhappy father call:
Come nere, for you once seene, this griefe would soone asswage & fall
Whence murmure they?

Atr.
wt fathers armes embrace them quickly now
For here they are loe come to thee: dost thou thy children know?

Th.
I know my brother: such a gylt yet canst thou suffer well
O earth to beare? nor yet from hence to Stygian lake of hell
Dost thou both drowne thy selfe and vs? nor yet with broaken ground
Dost thou these kingdomes and their king with Chaos rude confounde?
Nor yet vprenting from the soyle the bowres of wicked land.
Dost thou Micenas ouerturne with Tantalus to stand,
And aunciters of ours, if there in hel be any one,
Now ought we both: now from the frames on eyther syde anone
Of ground, all here and there rent vp out of thy bosome depe:
Thy dens and dungeons set abrode, and vs enclosed keepe,
In bottome low of Acheron: aboue our heds aloft
Let wander all the gylty ghostes, with burning frete ful oft
Let fyry Phlegethon that driues his sands both to and fro
To our confusion ouerroon and vyolently flow
O slothful soyle vnshaken payse vnmoued yet art thou?
The Gods are fled:

Atr.
but take to thee with ioy thy children now,
And rather them embrace: at length thy children all of thee
So long wisht for (for no delay there standeth now in mee)
Enioy and kisse embracing armes deuyde thou vnto three.

Thy.
Is this thy league? may this thy loue and fayth of brother bee?
And doost thou so repose thy hate? the father doth not craue
His sonnes aliue (which might haue bene without thy gylt) to haue
And eke without thy hate, but this doth brother brother pray:
That them he may entoombe restore, whom see thou shalt strayght waye,
Be burnt: the father naught requires of thee that haue he shall,
But soone forgoe

Atr.
what euer part yet of thy children all
Remaynes, here shalt thou haue: and what remayneth not thou host.

Thy.
Lye they in fieldes, a food out flong for fleeyng fowles to wast?
Or are they kept a pray, for wyld and brutish beastes to eate?

Atr.
Thou hast deuourd thy sonnes and fyld thy selfe with wicked meat.

Thy.
Oh this is it that sham'de the Gods and day from hence did dryue
Turn'd back to east, alas I wretch what waylinges may I geue?
Or what complayntes? what woeful woordes may be enough for mee?
Their heads cut of, and handes of torne, I from their bodyes see,
And wrenched feete from broken thighes I here behold agayn
Tys this that greedy father could not suffer to sustayne.
In belly roll my bowels round, and cloased cryme so great
Without a passage stryues within and seekes a way to get.
The sword (O brother) lend to me much of my bloud alas
It hath: let vs therwith make way for all my sonnes to passe.
Is yet the sword from me withheld? thy selfe thy bosoms teare,
And let thy brestes resound with stroakes: yet wretch thy hand forbeare
And spare the deade: who euer saw such mischiefe put in proofe?
What rude Heniochus that dwels by ragged coast aloofe,
Of Caucasus vnapt for men? or feare to Athens, who
Procustes wyld? the father I oppress my children do
And am opprest, is any meane of gylt or mischiefe yet?

Atr.
I meane in mischiefe ought to be when gylt thou dost commit,
Not when thou quytst: for yet euen this to litle seemes to me.
The blood yet warme euen from the wound I should in sight of thee
Euen in thy iawes haue shed, that thou the bloud of them mightst drinke
That lyued yet: but whyle to much to hast my hate I thinke
My wrath beguyled is my selfe with sword the woundes them gaue
I strake them downe, the sacred fyres with slaughter vowde I haue
Wel pleasd, the carcase cutting then, and liueles lymmes on grounde.
I haue in litle parcels chopt, and some of them I drounde
In boyling cauderns, some to fyres that burnte ful slow I put,
And made to droppe: their synewes all, and limmes a two I cut
Euen yet alyue and on the spitte, that thrust was through the same
I harde the liuer wayle and crye, and with my hand the flame:
I oft kept in: but euery whit the father might of this
Haue better done, but now my wrath to lightly ended is.
He rent his sonnes with wicked gumme, himselfe yet wotting naught,
Nor they therof

Th.
O ye encloas'd with bending bankes abought
All seas me heare, and to this gylt ye Gods now harken well
What euer place ye fled are to here all ye sprites of hel,
And here ye landes, and night so darke that them dost ouerly
With clowde so blacke to my complayntes do than thy selfe apply.
To thee now left I am, thou dost alone me miser see,
And thou art left without thy starres: I wil not make for me
Peticions yet, nor ought for me require may ought yet bee
That me should vayle? for you shal all my wishes now foresee.
Thou guyder great of skyes aboue, & prince of highest might,
Of heauenly place now all with cloudes ful horrible to sight,
Enwrap the worlde, and let the wyndes on euery syde breake out
And send the dredfull thunderclap through al the world about
Not with what hand thou gyltles house and vndeserued wall
With lesser bolt are wonte to beate, but with the which did fall
The three vnheaped mountaynes once and which to hils in height
Stoode equall vp, the gyantes huge: throuw out such weapons streight,
And flyng thy fires: and therwithall reuenge the drowned day.
Let flee thy flames, the light thus lost and hid from heauen away,
With flashes fyll: the cause (lest long thou shouldst doubte whom to hit)
Of ech of vs is ill: if not at least let myne be it.
Me strike with tryple edged toole thy brande of flaminge fyre:
Beate through this breast: if father I my children do desyre
To lay in tombe or corpses cast to fyre as doth behoue,
I must be burnt if nothing now the gods to wrath may moue,
Nor powre from skies with thunder bolt none strikes the wicked men
Let yet eternall night rewayne, and hyde with darknes then
The world about: I, Titan naught complayne as now it standes
If stil thou hyde thee thus away.

Atre.
now prayse I well my handes,
Now got I haue the palme. I had bene ouercome of thee,
Except thou sorrow'dst so but now euen children borne to mee
I compt and uow of bridebed chast the fayth I do repayre,

Thy.
In what offended haue my sons:

Atr.
In that, that thyne they were

Thy.
Setst thou the sonnes for fathers foode?

Atr.
I do & (which is best)
The certayne sonnes,

Thy.
The gods that guyde all infantes I protest.

Atr.
What wedlock gods?

Th.
who would the gilt wt gylt so quite again?

Atr.
I know thy greefe preuented now with wrong thou dost complayne:
Nor this thee yrkes, that fed thou art with food of cursed kind,
But that thou hadst not it prepard for so it was thy mynd,
Such meates as these to set before thy brother wotting naught,
And by the mothers helpe to haue, likewyse my children caught:
And them with such like to slay: this one thing letted thee,
Thou thought'st them thine.

Thy.
the gods shall al of this reuengers be
And vnto them for vengeance due my vowes thee render shall

Atr.
But vext to be I thee the whyle, geeue to thy children all.

THE FOVRTH SCENE, Added to the Tragedy by the Translatour.

Thyestes
alone.
O Kyng of Dytis dungeon darke, and goysly Ghosts of hell,
That in the deepe and dredfull Denne, of blackest Tartare dwell.
Where leane and pale dyseases lye where feare and famyne are,
Where discord stands with bleeding browes, where euery kynde of care,
Where furies fight in beds of steele, and heares of crauling snakes,
Where Gorgon grimme, white Harpyes are, & lothsome Lymbo lakes,
Where most prodigious vgly thinges, the hollows hell both hyde,
If yet a monster more myshapt then all that there dot byde,
That makes his broode his cursed foode, yee all abhorre to see,
Nor yet the deepe Auerne it selfe, may byde to couer mee,
Nor grisly gates of Putoes place, yet dare them selues to spred,
Nor gaping grounde to swallowe him, whom Gods and day haue fled:
Yet breake yee out from cursed seates, and heere remayne with mee,
Yee neede not now to be affrayde, the Ayre and Heauen to see.
Nor triple headed Cerberus, thou needst not bee affryght,
The day vnknowne to thee to see or els the lothsome lyght.
They both be fled: and now doth dwell none other count'naunce heere,
Then doth beneath the fowlest face, of hatefull hell appeere.
Come see a meetest match for thee, a more then monstrous wombe,
That is of his vnhappy broode, become a cursed tombe.
Flocke here yee fowlest flendes of hell, and thou O graundsyre greate,
Come see the glutted guts of myne, with such a kinde of meate,
As thou didst once for Gods prepare. Let torments all of hel
Now fall vppon this hatefull head, that hath deserude them well.
Yee all be plagued wrongfully, your guiltes be small, in sight
Of myne, and meete it were your pange on me alone should light.
Now thou O graundster guiltlesse arte, and meeter were for mee,
With fleeing floud to be beguilde, and fruite of fickle tree.
Thou slewst thy sonne, but I my sonnes, alas, haue made my meate.
I coulde thy famyne better beare, my paūch is now repleate
With foode: and with my children three, my belly is extent.
O filthy fowles and gnawyng gripes, that Tytius bosome rent
Beholde a fitter pray for you, to fill your selues vppone
Then are the growing guts of him: foure wombes enwrapt in one.
This paūche at once shall fill you all: if yee abhorre the foode,
Nor may your selues abide to bathe, in such a cursed bloode:
Yet lend to me your clinching clawes, your pray a while forbeare,
And with your tallons suffer mee, this monstrous mawe to teare.
Or whirling wheeles, with swinge of which Ixion still is rolde,
Your hookes vpon this glutted gorge, would catche a surer holde.
Thou filthy floud of Lymbo lake, and Stygian poole so dyre,
From choaked chanell belche abrode. Thou fearefull freate of fyre,
Spue out thy flames O Phlegethon: and ouershed the grounde.
With vomit of thy fyry streame, let me and earth be drownde,
Breake vp thou soyle from bottome deepe, and geue thou roome to hell,
That night, where day, yt ghosts, where Gods were woōt to raigne, may dwel.
Why gapst thou not? Why do you not O gates of hell vnfolde?
Why do yee thus thinfernall fiendes, so long from hence withholde?
Are you likewyse affrayde to see, and knowe so wretched wight,
From whom the Gods haue wryde theyr lookes, & turned are to flight?
O hatefull head, whom heauen and hell, haue shoonde and left alone,
The Sunne, the starres, the light, the day, the Gods, the ghosts be gone.
Yet turne agayne yee Skyes a while, ere quight yee goe fro mee,
Take vengeance fyrst on him, whase faulte enforceth you to flee.
If needes yee must your flight prepare, and may no longer bide,
But rolle yee must with you forthwt, the Gods and Sunne a syde,
Yet slowly flee: that I at length, may you yet ouertake,
While wandring wayes I after you, and speedy iorney make.
By seas, by lands, by woods, by rocks, in darke I wander shall:
And on your wrath, for right rewarde to due des rts, will call.
Yee scape not fro me, so yee Gods, still after you I goe,
And vengeaunce aske on wicked wight, your thunder bolte to throe.

THE SIXTE TRAGEDIE OF THE MOST GRAVE & prudēt Author LVCIVS ANNÆVS SENECA, entituled TROAS, vvith diuers and sundrye Additions to the same, by IASPER HEYVVOOD.

The Argument.

The Speakers names.

• HECVBA Queene of Troy.
• A company of women.
• TALTHYBIVS a Grecian.
• AGAMEMNON King of Greeks.
• ASTYANAX.
• NVNCIVS.
• CALCHAS.
• PYRRHVS.
• CHORVS.
• ANDROMACHA
• An old man TROIAN.
• VLYSSES.
• HELENA.
• The Sprihgt of Achilles.

THE FIRST ACTE.

[THE FIRSTE SCENE.]

Hecuba.
Who so in pompe of prowde estate, or Kingdome sets delight:
Or who that ioyes in Princes courte to beare the sway of might.
Ne dreads the fates which from aboue the wauering Gods downe flinges:
But fast affiance fixed hath, in frayle and fickle thinges:
Let him in me both se the Face, of Fortunes flattering ioy:
And eke respect the ruthful end of thee (O ruinous Troy)
For neuer gaue shee playner proofe, then this ye present see:
How frayle and britle is the state of pride and high degree,
The flowre of flowring Asia, loe whose fame the heauens resound,
The Worthy worke of Gods aboue, is batered downe to ground.
And whose assaultes they sought afar, from West wt Banners spred
Where Tanais cold her braunches seuen, abroad the world doth shed.
With hugie host and from the East, where springes the newest dea,
Where Lukewarme Tygris channell runnes, and meetes the ruddy sea.
And which frō wandring land of Seythe, the band of widowes sought:
With fire and sworde thus battered be her Turrets downe to nought.
The walles but late of high renowne lo here their ruinous fall:
The buildinges burne, and flashing flame, swepes through the pallas al.
Thus euery house ful hie it smoakes, of old Assarackes lande:
Ne yet the flames withholdes from spoyle, the greedy Victors hand.
The surging smoake, the asure skye, and light hath hid away:
And (as with cloude beset) Troyes Ashes staynes the dusky day.
Through pearst with ire and greedy of hart, the victor from a farre.
Doth view the long assaulted Troy, the gaine of ten yeares warre,
And eke the miseryes therof abhorres to looke vppon,
And though he se it yet scant himselfe, belieues might be wonne,
The spoyles thereof with greedy hand, they snatch and beare awaye:
A thousand shippes would not receiue aboorde so huge a pray
The yreful might I do protest of Gods aduerse to mee,
My countryes dust, and Troyan King I call to witnes thee,
Whom Troy now hydes, and vnderneath the stones art ouertrode:
With al the Gods that guides the Ghost, and Troy that lately stoode.
And you also you flocking Ghostes of al my children dere:
Ye lesser Sprightes what euer ill, hath hapned to vs here.
What euer Phœbus watrish face, in fury hath foresayde:
At raging rise from seas when earst, the monsters had him frayde.
In childbed bandes I saw it yore, and wist it should be so:
And I in vayne before Cassandra told it long agoe.
Not false Vlysses kindled hath these fires, nor none of his:
Nor yet deceyptful Sinons craft, that hath bene cause of this.
My fyre it is wherwith ye burne, and Parys is the brand
That smoaketh in thy towres (O Troy) the flowre of Phrygian land.
But ay (alas) vnhappy age, why dost thou yet so sore,
Bewayle thy Countries fatall fall, thou knewest it long before:
Behold thy last calamityes, and them bewayle with teares:
Account as old Troys ouerturne, and past by many yeares,
I saw the slaughter of the King, and how he lost his life:
By Th'aulter sloe (more mischiefe was) with stroake of Pyrrhus knife.
When in his hand he wound his lockes, and drew the King to ground,
And hid to hiltes his wicked sword, in deepe and deadly wound.
Which when the gored King had tooke, as willing to bee slayne,
Out of the old mans throate he drew his bloudy blade agayne.
Not pitty of his yeares (alas) in mans extreamest age:
From slaughter might his hand withhold, ne yet his yre asswage:
The Gods are witnes of the same, and eake the sacrifyes,
That in his kingdome holden was, that flat on ground now lies.
The father of so many Kings Pryam of aunient name,
Untombed lieth and wants in blase of Troy: his funerall flame.
Ne yet the Gods are wreakt, but loe his Sonnes and daughters all,
Such Lordes they serue as doth by chance of lot to them befall.
Whom shall I follow now for pray? or where shall I be led
There is perhaps amonge the Greekes that Hectors wyfe will wed.
Some man desyres Helenus spouse some would Antenors haue,
And in the Greekes their wantes not some, that would Cassandra craue
But I (alas) most woeful wight whom no man seekes to chuse,
I am the only refuge left, and me they cleane refuse
Ye careful captiue company, why stints your woful crye?
Beate on your breastes and piteously complayne with voyce so hye,
As meete may be for Troyes estate, let your complayntes rebound
In toppes of Trees: and cause the hills to ring with terible sounde.

THE SECOND SCENE.

The VVoman, Hecuba.
HEC.
Ye faythful fellowes of your casualty,
Vntie thattyre, that on your heads ye weare,
And as behoueth state of misery,
Let fall aboute your woeful neckes your hayre.
In dust of Troy rub all your armes about,
In slacker weede and let your breastes be tyed
Downe to your bellies let your limmes lye out,
For what wedlocke should you your bosomes hyde?
Your garmentes loose, and haue in readines
Your furious handes vppon your breast to knocke
This habite well beseemeth our distresse,
It pleaseth me, I know the Troyan flocke
Renew agayne your longe accustomde cryes,
And more then earst lament your miseryes.
We bewayle Hector.

WO.
Our hayre we haue vntide, now euerychone,
All rent for sorrow of our cursed cace,
Our lockes out spreads, the knottes we haue vndone
And in these ashes stayned is our face.

HEC.
Fill vp your handes and make therof no spare,
For this yet lawful is from Troy to take
Let dovvne your garmentes from your shoulders bare.
And suffer not your clamour so to slake.
Your naked breastes wayte for your handes to smight
Now dolor deepe now sorrow shevv thy might:
Make all the coastes that compas Troy about
Witnes the souude of all your careful crye
Cause from the Caues the eccho to cast out:
Rebounding voyce of all your misery:
Not as she wontes, the latter word to sound
But all your woe from farre let it rebound
Let al the Seas it heare, and eke the land
Spare not your breastes vvith heauy stroake to strike
Beate ye your selues, ech one vvith cruell hand
For yet your vvonted crie doth me not like
VVe bevvayle Hector.

VVO.
Our naked armes, thus here vve rent for thee,
And bloudy shoulders, (Hector) thus vve teare:
Thus vvith our fistes, our heades lo beaten bee
And all for thee, behold vve hale our heare.
Our dugges alas, vvith mothers hands be torne
And vvhere the flesh is vvounded round about
VVhich for thy sake, vve rent thy death to morne
The flovving streames of bloud, they spring thereout.
Thy countres shore, and destinies delay.
And thou to vvearied Troians vvast an ayde,
A vvall thou vvast, and on thy shoulders Troy
Ten yeres it stode, on thee alone it staide,
VVith thee it fell: and fatall day alas
Of Hector both, and Troy but one there vvas.

HEC.
Enough hath Hector: turne your plaint and mone
And shed your teares for Pryame euery chone.

VVO.
Receiue our plaintes, O lord of Phrigian land
And old tvvise captiue king, receiue our feare,
VVhile thou vvert king. Troy hurtles then could stand
Though shaken tvvise, with Grecian sword it weare,
And twise did shot of Hercles quiuer beare,
At latter losse of Hecubes sonnes all
And roges for kings, that hgih on piles we reare:
Thou father shutst our latest funerall.
And beaten downe, to Ioue for sacrifies.
Like liueles blocke, in Troy thy carkas lies.

HEC.
Yet turne ye once your teares, another way,
My pryams death, should not lamented be.
O Troyans all, ful happy is Pryame say,
For free from bondage, downe descended hee,
To the lowest Ghoste: and neuer shall sustayne
His Captiue necke with Greekes to yoked bee.
Hee neuer shal behold the Atrids twayne
Nor false Vlisses euer shal he see,
Not hee a pray for Greekes to triumph at
His necke shall subiect to their conquestes beare
Ne geue his handes to tye behynde his backe,
That to the rule of Scepters wonted weare,
Nor following Agamemnons chare, in bande
Shall he bee pompe, to proude Mycenas land.

WO.
Ful happy Pryame is, each one wee say
That toke vvith him his Kingdome then that stoode
Now safe in shade, he seekes the wandring way,
And treads the pathes of all Elizius wood,
And in the blessed Sprightes, ful happy hee,
Agayne there seekes to meete with Hectors Ghost.
Happy Pryam, happy who so may see,
His Kingdome all, at once with him be lost.

Chorus added to the Tragedy by the Translator.

O ye to whom the Lord of Lande and Seas,
Of Life and Death hath graunted here the powre
Lay dovvne your lofty lookes, your pride appeas
The crovvned King fleeth not his fatall howre.
Who so thou be that leadst thy land alone,
Thy life vvas limite from thy mothers vvombe,
Not purple robe, not Glorious glittering throne,
Ne crovvne of Gold redeemes thee from the tombe:
A King he was that wayting for the vayle,
Of him that slew the Minotaure in fight:
Begilde with blacknes of the wonted saile
In seas him sonke, and of his name they hight.
So he that wild, to vvin the golden spoyle
And first vvith ship, by seas to seeke renovvne,
In lesser vvaue, at length to death gan boyle,
And thus the daughters, brought their father dovvne:
Whose songes, the vvoodes hath dravven, and riuers held,
And birdes to heare his notes, did theirs forsake,
In peece meale throvvne, amid the Thracian field,
Without returne hath sought the Stigian lake.
They sit aboue, that holde our life in line,
And vvhat vve suffer dovvne they fling from hie,
No carke, no care, that euer may vntwine
The thrids, that vvouen are aboue the skie,
As vvitnes he that sometyme King of Greece,
Had Iason thought, in drenching seas to drovvne
Who scapt both death and gaind the Golden fleece,
Whom fates aduaunce, there may no povvre plucke dovvne
The highest God sometyme that Saturne hight
His fall him taught to credite their decrees
The rule of heauens: he lost it by their might,
And Ioue his sonne novv turnes the rolling Skies.
Who vveneth here to vvin eternall vvelth,
Let him behold this present perfite proofe.
And learne the secrete stoppe of chaunces stelth,
Most nere alas, vvhen most it seemes aloofe.
In slipper ioy let no man put his trust:
Let none dispayre that heauy haps hath past
The svvete vvith sovvre she mingleth as she lust
Whose doubtful web pretendeth nought to last.
Frailtie is the thride, that Clothoes rocke hath sponne,
Novv from the Distaffe dravvne novv knapt in tvvaine
With all the world at length his end he wonne,
Whose works haue wrought, his name should great remaine
And he whose trauels twelue, his name display,
That feared nought the force of worldly hurt,
In fine (alas) hath found his fatall daye,
And died with smart of Dianyraes shurt,
If prowes might eternity procure,
Then Priam yet should liue in lyking lust,
Ay portly pompe of pryde thou art vnsure,
Lo learne by him O Kinges yee are but dust.
And Hecuba that wayleth now in care,
That was so late of high estate a Queene,
A mirrour is to teach you what you are
Your wauering wealth, O Princes here is seene.
Whom dawne of day hath seene in high estate
Before Sunnes set, (alas) hath had his fall
The Cradels rocke, appoyntes the life his date
From setled ioy, to sodayne funerall.

THE SECOND ACTE.

The Spright of Achilles added to the tragedy by the Translator.

The first Scene.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Talthibius, Chorus.
Ch.
Why, shew what cause doth hold your ships? and Grecian nauy stayes,
Declare if any of the Gods haue stopt your homeward wayes.

Tal.
My mynd is mas'd, my trembling sinnewes quake and are affeard,
For straunger newes of truth then these I thinke were neuer heard.
Lo I my selfe haue playnly seene in dawning of the day,
When Phœbus first gan to approch and driue the starres away,
The earth all shaken sodaynly and from the hollow grownde:
My thought I hard with roaryng crye a deepe and dreadful sound:
That shoke the woods, and al the trees rong out with thunder stroke,
From Ida hils downe fel the stones, the mountayne toppes were broke.
And not the earth hath onely quakt, but all the Sea likewyse,
Achilles presence felt and knew, and high the surges ryse.
The clouen ground Erebus pittes then shewd and deepest dennes,
That downe to Gods that guyde beneath, the way appeard from hence.
Then shoke the tombe from whence anone in flame of fiery light,
Appeareth from the hollow caues Achilles noble spright.
As wonted he his Thracian armes and bannars to disploy
And weild his weighty weapons wel agaynst thassaultes of Troy,
The same Achilles seemde he than that he was wont to bee
Amid the hostes and easly could I know that this was hee.
With carkasse slayne in furious fight, that stopt and fild each floude.
And who with slaughter of his hand made Xanthus runne with bloud.
As when in Chariot high he sate with lofty stomacke stoute.
Whyle Hector both and Troy at once he drew the walles aboute.
Alowd he cride, and euery coast rang with Achilles sound,
And thus with hollow voyce he spake, from bottom of the ground.
The Greekes shal not with litle pryce redeeme Achilles yre,
A princely raunsome must they geue, for so the fates require
Unto my ashes Polyxene spoused shal here be slayne
By Pyrrhus hand, and al my tombe her bloud shal ouerstayne.
This sayd, he strayght sanke downe agayne to Plutoes deepe region,
The earth then cloasd, the hollow caues were vanished and gon
Therwith the wether waxed clere, the raging wyndes did slake,
The tombling seas began to rest and al the tempest brake.

THE THIRD SCENE.

Pyrrhus, Agamemnon, Calchas.
Ag.
The onely fault of youth it is not to refraine his rage
The Fathers bloud already sturres in Pryams wanton age:
Somtime Achilles grieuous checkes I bare with pacient hart,
The more thou mayst, the more thou oughtst to suffer in good part
Wherto would yee with slaughtred bloud a noble spirit stayne?
Thinke what is meete the Greekes to do, and Troyans to sustayne.
The proude estate of tyranny may neuer long endure.
The King that rules with modest meane of safety may be sure.
The higher step of princely state that fortune hath vs signd
The more behou'th a happy man humility of mynd
And dread the chaunge that chaūce may bring, whose gifts so sone be lost
And chiefly then to feare the Gods, whyle they the fauour most.
In beating downe that warre hath wonne, by proofe I haue ben taught,
What pompe and pride in twinke of eye, may fall and come to naught.
Troy made me fierce & proude of mynde, Troy makes me frayd withal:
The Grekes now stand wher Troy late fel, ech thing may haue his fal,
Sometyme I graunt I did my selfe, and Sceptors proudly beare,
The thing that might aduaunce my hart makes me the more to feare
Thou Priam perfit proofe presentst thou art to mee eftsones:
A cause of pride, a glasse of feare a mirrour for the nones,
Should I accoumpt the sceptors ought, but glorious vanity
Much like the borowed brayded hayre, the face to beautify.
One sodayne chaunce may turne to naught, and mayme the might of men
With fewer then a thousand shippes, and yeares in lesse then ten.
Not she that guydes the slipper wheele of fate, doth so delay:
That she to al possession grauntes, of ten yeares setled stay.
With leaue of Greece I wil confesse, I would haue wonne the towne
But not with ruine thus extreme to see it beaten downe.
But loe the battel made by night and rage of feruent mynd,
Could not abyde the brydling bitte that reason had assignd.
The happy sword once staind with blood vnsatiable is,
And in the darke the feruent rage doth strike thee more amis.
Now are we wreakt on Troy so much let all that may remayne.
A Uirgin borne of Princes bloud for offring to be slayne
And geuen be to slayne the tombe and ashes of the ded,
And vnder name of wedlocke see the guiltles bloud be shed,
I wil not graunt for myne should bee thereof both fault and blame.
Who when he may, forbiddeth not offence: doth wil the same.

Pyr.
And shall his sprights haue no reward their angers to appeyse?

Aga.
Yes very great, for all the world shall celebrate his prayse,
And landes vnknowen that neuer saw. the man so preysd by fame,
Shall heate and kepe for many yeares the glory of his name.
If bloudshed vayle his ashes ought strike of an Oxes hed,
And let no bloud that may be cause of mothers teares, be shed.
What furious fransy may this be that doth your will so leade,
This earnest carefull sutte to make in trauayle for the dead?
Let not such enuy towarde your father in your heart remayne,
That for his sacrifice yee would procure an others payne,

Pyr.
Proude tirant, while prosperity thy stomacke doth aduaunce,
And cowardly wretch that shrinks for feare in case of fearefull chaunce.
Is yet agayne thy breast enflamde, with brand of Venus might?
Wilt thou alone so oft depriue Achilles of his right?
This hand shall giue the sacrifice, the which if thou withstand.
A greater slaughter shall I make, and worthy Pyrrhus hand.
And now to long from Princes slaughter doth my hand abide,
And meete it were that Polyxene were layde by Priams side.

Aga.
I not deny, but Pyrrhus chiefe renowne, in warre is this,
That Pryam slaine with cruell sworde, to your father humbled is.

Pyr.
My fathers foes we haue them known, submit themselues humbly,
And Pryam presently yee wot, was glad to craue mercy.
But thou for feare not stout to rule, liest close from foes vp shit:
While thou to Aiax, and Vlysses, dost thy will commit.

Aga.
But needes I must, and will confesse, your father did not feare:
When burnt our fleete with Hectors brands, & Greeks they slaughtred weare.
While loytring then a loofe he lay, vnmindfull of the fight.
In steede of armes with scratch of quill, his sounding harp to smight.

Pyr.
Great Hector then despising thee, Achilles songes did feare:
And Thessale ships in greatest dread, in quiet peace yet weare.

Aga.
For why aloofe the Thessale fleete, they lay from Troyans handes,
And well your father might haue rest, he felt not Hectors brandes.

Pir.
Well seemes a noble king to giue an other king reliefe.

Aga.
Why hast thou then a worthy king berieued of his life?

Pyr.
A poinct of mercy sometime is, what liues in care to kill.

Aga.
But now your mercy mooueth you a virgins death to will.

Pyr.
Account yee cruell now her death whose sacrifice I craue.
Your own deere daughter once yee knowe, your selfe to th'aulters gaue.

Aga.
Naught els could saue the Greekes frō seas, but th'only bloud of her:
A king before his children ought, his countrey to prefer.

Pyr.
The law doth spare no captiues bloud nor wil'th their death to stay

Aga.
That which the law doth not forbid, yet shame doth oft say nay.

Pyr.
The conquerour what thing he list, may lawfully fulfill.

Aga.
So much the lesse he ought to list, that may do what he will.

PYR.
Thus boast ye these as though in all ye onely bare the stroke:
When Pyrrhus loosed hath the greekes, from bond of ten yeres yoke.

A.
Hath Scyros yle such stomaks bred?

P.
No bretherns wrath it knoes.

AG.
Beset about it is with waue.

PYR.
The seas it do enclose.
Thyestes noble stocke I know and Atreus eke full well,
And of the bretherns dire debate, perpetuall fame doth tell.

AG.
And thou a bastard of a mayde, defloured priuely.
Whom (then a boy) Achilles gat, in filthy lechery.

Pyr.
The same Achill that doth possesse, the raigne of Gods aboue,
With Thetys seas: with Æacus sprights, the starred heauen with Ioue

Aga.
The same Achilles that was slaine, by stroke of Paris hande.

Pyr.
The same Achilles, whom no god, durst euer yet withstand.

Aga.
The stoutest man I rather would his checkes he should refraine
I could them tame but all your bragges, I can full well sustaine.
For euen the captiues spares my sword: let Calchas called be.
If destynies require her bloud, I will thereto agree
Calchas whose counsel rulde our ships, and nauy hither brought,
Unlookst the poale and hast by arte the secretes thereof sought,
To whome the bowelles of the beast, to whom the thunder clap,
And blasyng starre with flaming traine, betokeneth what shall hap.
Whose words with dearest price I bought, now tell vs by what meane
The will of Gods agreeth that we returne to Greece againe.

Cal.
The fates apoint the Grekes to buy their waies with wonted price.
And with what cost ye came to Troy, ye shal repayre to Greece
With bloud ye came, with bloud ye must from hence returne againe,
And where Achilles ashes lieth, the virgin shal be slaine,
In seemely sort of habite, such as maydens wont ye see,
Of Thessalie, or Mycenas els, what time they wedded be.
With Pyrrhus hand she shal be slaine, of right it shalbe so
And meete it is that he the sonne, his fathers right should do.
But not this onely stayeth our shippes, our sayles may not be spred,
Before a worthier bloud then thine, (Polixena) be shed,
Which thirst thirst the fates, for Priames nephew, Hectors litle boy:
The Grekes shal tumble hedlonge down, from highest towre in Troy.
Let him there die, this onely way ye shal the gods appeas,
Then spread your thousand sayles with ioy ye neede not feare the seas.

Chorus.

These three staues following are added by the translatour.

THE THIRD ACTE.

[THE FIRST SCENE.]

Andromacha. Senex. Vlisses.
Sen.
What sodayne feare thus moues your mynd, & vexeth you so sore?

And.
Stil stil (alas) of one mishap there ryseth more and more,
Nor yet the doleful destenies of Troy be come to end.

Sen.
And what more grieuous chaunces yet prepare the Gods to send?

Andr.
The caues and dennes of hel be rent for Troyans greater feare
And from the bottoms of their tombes the hidden sprightes appeare.
May none but Greekes alone from hel returne to life agayne?
Would God the fates would finish soone the sorrowes I sustayne.
Death thankful were, a common care the Troyans all oppresse,
But me (alas) amaseth most the feareful heauines.
That all astonied am for dreade, and horrour of the sight:
That in my sleepe appeard to mee by dreame this latter night.

Sen.
Declare what sightes your dream hath shewd, & tell what doth you feare

And.
Two parts of al the silent night almost then passed were.
And then the cleare seuen clustered beams of starres: were fallen to rest
And first the sleepe so long vnknowne my wearyed eyes opprest.
If this be sleepe the astonied mase of mynd in heauy moode,
When sodaynly before myne eyes the spright of Hector stoode.
Not like as he the Greekes was wont to battail to require:
Or when amid the Grecians shippes, he threw the brandes of fyre.
Nor such as raging on the Grees, with slaughtring stroake had slayne
And bare indeede the spoyles of him that did Achilles fayne.
His countenaunce not now so bright, nor of so liuely cheere,
But sad and heauy like to owres and clad with vgly hayre
It did me good to see him though when shaking then his head:
Shake of thy sleepe in hast he sayd, and quickly leaue thy bed:
Conuay into some secrete place our sonne (O faythful wife)
This onely hope there is to helpe find meane to saue his life.
Leaue of thy piteous tears he sayd, dost thou yet wayle for Troy?
Would God it lay on Ground ful flat so ye might saue the boy.
Up stirre he sayd thy selfe in hast conuay him priuily.
Saue if ye may the tender bloud of Hectors progeny
Then strayght in trembling feare I wakt and rold myne eyes aboute
Forgettyng long my child pore wretch, and after Hector sought.
But strayght (alas) I wist not how the Spright away did passe,
And mee forsooke before I could my husband once embrasse.
O childe, O noble fathers broode and Troians only ioy,
O worthy seede of thauncient bloud, and beaten house of Troy.
O ymage of thy father loe, thou liuely bearst his face,
This countnaunce to my Hector had, and euen such was his pace.
The pitch of all his body such, his handes thus would he beare.
His shoulders high his threatning browes, euen such as thine they were
O sonne: begot to late for Troy, but borne to soone for mee,
Shal euer tyme yet come agayne, and happy daye may be,
That thou mayst once reuenge and build agayne the towres of Troy,
And to the towne and Troyans both restore their name with ioy?
But why do I (forgettyng state of present destenye),
So great thinges wish? enough for captiues is to liue only:
Alas what priuy place is left my litle childe to hide?
What seate so secret may be found where thou maist safely bide?
The towre that with the walles of gods so valiaunt was of might,
Through all the world so notable, so flourishing to sight,
Is turnde to dust: and fire hath al consumd'e that was in Troy,
Of all the towne not so much now is left to hide the boy.
What place were best to choose for guile, the holy tombe is heere,
That thenemies sword will spare to spoile wher sythe my husband deere.
Which costly worke his father builte, king Pryame liberall:
And it vp raisde with charges great, fo Hectors funerall.
Herein the bones and ashes both of Hector (loe) they lie,
Best is that I commit the sonne to his fathers custodie.
A colde and fearefull sweat doth runne, through out my members all,
Alas I carefull wretch do feare, what chaunce may thee befall,

Sen.
Hide him away: this onely way hath saued many more,
To make the enmies to beleue, that they were dead before.
He wil be sought: scant any hope remaineth of safenes,
The paise of his nobility doth him so sore oppres:

Andr.
What way wer best to worke: that none our doings might bewray

Sen.
Let none beare witnes what ye do remoue them all away.

Andr.
What if the enmies aske me: where Astianax doth remaine?

Sen.
Then shall ye boldelie answere make that he in Troy was slaine.

Andr.
What shal it helpe to haue him hid? at length they will him finde.

Sen
At first the enmies rage is fierce, delay doth slake his minde.

Andr.
But what preuailes, since free from feare we may him neuer hide?

Sen.
Let yet the wretch take his defence, me carelesse there to bide.

And.
What land vnknowne out of the way what vnfrequented place
May keepe thee safe? who ayds our feare? who shall defend our case?
Hector, Hector that euermore thy friendes didst wel defend
Now chiefly ayde thy wyfe and child and vs some succour send.
Take charge to keepe and couer close the treasures of thy wyfe,
And in thy Ashes hyde thy sonne preserue in tombe his life.
Draw neare my Childe vnto the Tombe, why fliest thou backward so?
Thou takst great scorne to lurke in dens thy noble hart I know.
I see thou art asham'd to feare shake of thy princely mynd,
And beare thy breast as thee behoues as chaunce hath thee assynd.
Behold our case: and se what flocke remayneth now of Troy
The tombe: I woeful captiue wretch and thou a seely boy,
But yeeld we must to sory fates thy chaunce must breake thy breast,
Go to, creepe vnderneath thy fathers holy seats to rest.
If ought the fates may wretches helpe thou hast thy sauegard there.
If not: already then pore foole thou hast thy sepulchere.

Sen.
The tombe him closely hides: but least your feare should him betray
Let him here lie and farre from hence goe ye some other way.

Andr.
The lesse he feares that feares at hand, and yet if neede be so,
If ye thinke meete a litle hence for safety let vs goe.

Sen.
A litle whyle keepe silence now refrayne your plaint and crie,
His cursed foote now hether moues the Lord of Cephalie.

And,
Now open earth, and thou my spouse frō Stix rend vp ye ground,
Deepe in thy bosome hyde thy sonne that he may not be found.
Vlysses comes with doubtful pace and chaunged countenaunce
He knittes in hart deceiptful craft for some more grieuous chaunce.

Vl.
Though I be made the messenger of heauy newes to you,
This one thing first I shal desyre that ye take this for true.
That though the wordes come from my mouth, and I my messuage tell
Of truth yet are they none of myne ye may beleue me wel.
It is the word of al the Greekes, and they the authors be,
Whom Hectors bloud doth yet forbid their countries for to see.
Our careful trust of peace vnsure doth stil the Greekes detayne,
And euermore our doubtful feare yet drawth vs backe agayne.
And suffreth not our wearyed handes, our weapons to forsake,
In child yet of Andromacha, while Troyans comfort take.

An.
And sayth your Augure Calchas so?

Vli.
Though Calchas nothing sayde
Yet Hector telles it vs himselfe, of whose seede are we frayde.
The worthy bloud of noble men oft tymes we se it playne,
Doth after in their heires succede and quickly springes agayne.
For so the hornles youngling yet, of high and sturdy brste,
With lofty necke and braunched brow, doth shortly rule the rest.
The tender twig that of the lopped stocke doth yet remayne,
To match the tree that bare the bough, in time startes vp again
With equall top to former wood the roume it doth supply,
And spreads on soyle alow the shade, to heauen his braunches hye.
Thus of one sparke by chaunce yet left it hapneth so ful oft.
The fyre hath quickly caught his force and flamth agayn aloft.
So feare we yet least Hectors bloud might rise er it be long,
Feare castes in all thextremity and oft interprets wrong.
If ye respect our case ye may not blame these old soldiars
Though after years and monthes twice fiue, they feare again the wars.
And other trauails dreadyng Troy, not yet to be wel wonne,
A great thing doth the Grecyans moue, the feare of Hectors son.
Rid vs of feare, this slayeth our fleete, and pluckes vs backe agayne,
And in the hauen our nauy stickes, til Hectors bloud be slayne.
Count me not feerce for that by fates I Hectors sonne require,
For I as wel if chaunce it would Orestes should desyre.
But since that needes it must be so, beare it with pacient hart:
And Suffer that which Agamemnon suffred in good part.

And.
Alas my child would God thou wert yet in thy mothers hand.
And that I knew what destenies thee held or in what land.
For neuer should the mothers fayth her tender child forsake:
Though through my breast the enmies al, their cruell weapons strake.
Nor though the Greekes with pinching bandes of yron my handes had bound,
Or els in feruent flame of fyre beset my body rounde.
But now my litle Child (pore wretch alas) where might he bee?
Alas, what cruel desteny what chaunce hath hapt to thee?
Art thou yet ranging in the fieldes and wandrest ther abroad?
Or smothred else in dusty smoake of Troy: or ouertroad?
Or haue the Greekes thee slayne (alas) and saught to see thy bloud?
Or torne art thou with iawes of beastes? or cast to foules for foode?

Vl.
Dissemble not, hard is for thee Vlisses to deceaue,
I can ful wel the mothers craftes and subtilty perceaue.
The pollecy of Goddesses Vlisses hath vndone,
Set al these fayned wordes assyde, tel mee where is thy sonne?

An.
Wher is Hector? where al the rest that had with Troy their fall
Where Priamus? you aske for one but I require of all.

Vl.
Thou shalt constrayned be to tell the thing thou dost deny.

And.
A happy chaunce were Death to her that doth desyre to dye.

Vli.
Who most desires to die, would faynest liue when death drawth on,
These noble wordes with present feare of death woulde soone be gone.

And.
Vlisses if ye wil constrayne Andromacha with feare,
Threaten my life for now to dye my cheefe desyre it were.

Vl.
With stripes with fyre tormenting death we wil the truth out wrest
And dolour shal thee force to tel the secrets of thy brest.
And what thy hart hath depest hid for payne thou shalt expresse,
Oft tymes thextremity preuayles much more then gentlenesse,

And.
Set me in midst of burning flame with woundes my body rent,
Use al the meanes of cruelty that ye may al inuent.
Proue me with thirst and hunger both, and euery torment trye,
Pearce through my sides with burning yrons in prison let me lie.
Spare not the worst ye can deuyse (if ought be worse then this)
Yet neuer get ye more of me. I wot not where he is.

Vli.
It is but vayne to hyde the thinge that strayght ye wil deteckt
No feares may moue the mothers hart, she doth them al neglect.
This tender loue ye beare your child, wherin ye stand so stoute,
So much more circumspectly warnth, the Greekes to looke about.
Least after ten yeares tract of tyme and battell borne so farre,
Some one should liue that on our children might renew the warre,
As for my selfe, what Calchas sayth, I would not feare at all
But on Telemachus I dread, the smart of warres would fall

And.
Now will I make Vlisses glad and all the Greekes also,
Needes must thou woeful wretch confesse declare thy hidden woe.
Reioyce ye sonnes of Atreus there is no cause of dread.
Be glad Vlisses tell the Greekes that Hectors sonne is dead.

Vl.
By what assurance proues thou that? how shal we credite thee:

And.
What euer thing the enmies hand may threaten hap to me
Let speedy fates me slay forthwith, and earth me hyde at ones
And after death from tombe agayne, remoue yet Hectors bones,
Except my sonne already now, do rest among the dead.
And that except Astianax into his tomb be led.

Vliss.
Then fully are the fates fulfild with Hectors childes disceace.
Now shal I beare the Grecians word, of sure and certayne peace.
Vlisses why what dost thou now: the Greekes wil euery chone,
Beleeue thy wordes, whom creditst thou? the mothers tale alone.
Thinkst thou for sauegard of her child the mother wil not lye?
And dread the more the worse mischaunce to geue her sonne to die?
Her fayth she byndes with bond of oth, the truth to verify,
What thing is more of weight to feare, then so to sweare and lye?
Now call thy craftes togeather al, bestirre thy wittes and mynd,
And shew thy selfe Vlisses now, the truth herein to find.
Search wel thy mothers mynd: behold shee weepes and wayleth out,
And here and ther with doubtful pace, she raungeth al aboute,
Her careful ears she doth apply to harken what I say,
More frayd shee seemes then sorrowful. Now worke some wily way.
For now most neede of wit there is and crafty pollecy,
Yet once agayne by other meanes I wil the mother trye.
Thou wretched woman maist reioyce, that dead he is: (alas)
More doleful death by destenie for him decreed ther was.
From Turrets top to haue bene cast and cruelly bene slayne.
Which onely towre of all the rest doth yet in Troy remayne.

And.
My spright failth me, my limmes do quake, fear doth my wits cōfounde
And as the Ise congeals with frost, my bloud with could is bound.

Vl.
She trēbleth loe: this way, this way I wil the truth out wreaste,
The mothers fear detecteth all the secrets of her breast:
I wil renew her feare goe sirs bestir ye spedely
To seeke this enmye of the Greekes where euer that he lie.
Wel done he wil be found at length, goe to stil seke him out,
Now shal he dye. what dost thou feare why dost thou looke about?

And
Would God that any cause there were yet left that might me fray,
My hart at last now all is lost hath layd all feare away.

Vliss.
Sins that your child now hath ye say already suffred death,
And with his bloud we may not purge the hostes as Calchas sayth.
Our fleete passe not (as wel inspired doth Calchas prophecy)
Till Hectors ashes cast abroad the waues may pacify,
And tombe be rent now sins the boy hath skapt his desteny.
Needes must we breake this holy tombe wher Hectors ashes lie.

An.
What shal I do? my mynd distracted is with double feare.
On thone my sonne, on thother syde my husbandes ashes deare,
Alas which part should moue me most, the cruel Goddes I call
To witnes with me in the truth, and Ghostes that guide thee all
Hector that nothing in my sonne is else that pleaseth me.
But thou alone God graunt him life he might resemble thee:
Shal Hectors ashes drowned bee? hide I such cruelty,
To see his bones cast in the Seas? yet let Astyanax die,
And canst thou wretched mother bide, thyne owne childes death to see?
And suffer from the hie towres top that headlong throwne he be?
I can and wil take in goad part, his death and cruel payne,
So that my Hector after death be not remou'd agayne.
The boy that life and sences hath may feele his payne and dye,
But Hector lo his death hath plast at rest in tombe to lie
What dost thou stay? determine which thou wilt preserue of twayne.
Art thou in doubt? saue this: loe here thy Hector doth remayne,
Both Hectors be, thone quicke of spright & drawing toward his strēgth
And one that may perhaps reuenge his fathers death at length.
Alas I cannot saue them both: I thinke that best it were,
That of the twayne I saued him that doth the Grecians feare.

Vl.
It shalbe done that Calchas words to vs doth prophecye,
And now shal all the sumptuous worke be throwne downe vtterly

An
That once ye sold?

Vl.
I wil it all from toppe to bottome rend.

An.
The fayth of Goddes I call vppon Achilles vs defend,
And Pyrrhus ayd thy fathers right.

Vl.
This tombe abroad shall lye:

An.
O mischiefe, neuer durst the Greekes show yet such cruelty.
Ye straine the temples and the Gods that most haue fauourd you,
The dead ye spare not, on their tombes your fury rageth now.
I wil their weapons all resist my selfe with naked hand,
Theyre of hart shal geue me strength their armour to withstand.
As fierce as did the Amazones beate down the Greekes in fight,
And Menas once enspierd with God, in sacrifyce doth smyght,
With speare in hand, and while with furyous pace she treads the groūd
And wood as one in rage she strykes, and feeleth not the wound:
So wil I runne on midst of them and on theyr weapons dye,
And in defence of Hectors tombe among his ashes lie.

Vl.
Cease ye: doth rage and fury vayne of women moue ye ought?
Dispatch with speede what I commaund, & plucke downe al to naught.

An.
O slay me rather here with sword rid me out the way,
Breake vp the deepe Auern, and rid my destenies delay.
Rise Hector and beset thy foes, breake thou Vlisses yre,
A spright art good enough for him, behold he casteth fire,
And weapon shakes with mighty hand do ye not Greekes him see?
Or els doth Hectors spright appear but onely vnto me

Vl.
Downe quight with al.

An.
What wilt thou suffer both thy sonnes be slayne,
And after death thy husbandes bones to be remou'd agayne?
Perhaps thou mayst with prayer yet appease the Grecians all.
Els downe to ground the holy tombe of Hector, streight shall fal.
Let rather die the childe pore wretch and let the Greekes him kil,
Then father and the sonne should cause the tone the others yll.
Ulisses, at thy knees I fal, and hmmbly aske mercie,
These handes that no mans feete els knew, first at thy feete they lye.
Take pitty on the mothers case and sorrowes of my breast,
Uouchsafe my prayers to receiue and graunt me my request.
And by how much the more the Goddes haue thee aduaunced hie,
More easely stryke the pore estate of wretched misery.
God graunt the chast bed of thy godly wyfe Penelope,
May thee receiue and so agayne Laerta may thee see,
And that thy sonne Telemachus may meete thee ioyfully,
His graundsires yeares, and fathers witte, to passe ful happely.
Take pity on the mothers teares, her litle child to saue,
He is my onely comfort left, and th'onely ioy I haue.

Vl.
Bryng forth thy sonne and aske.

THE SECOND SCENE.

Andromacha,
Come hither child out of the dennes to mee,
Thy wretched mothers lamentable store,
This Babe Vlisses (loe) this Babe is hee,
That stayeth your ships and feareth you so sore.
Submit thy selfe my sonne with humble hand,
And worship flat on ground thy maysters feete,
Thinke it no shame as now the case doth stand:
The thing that Fortune wilth a wretche is meete,
Forget thy worthy stocke of Kingly kynd,
Thinke not on Priams great nobility,
And put thy father Hector from thy mynde,
Such as thy Fortune let thy stomacke bee,
Behaue thy selfe as captiue bend thy Knee,
And though thy griefe pearce not thy tender yeares,
Yet learne to wayle thy wretched state by mee,
And take ensample at thy mothers teares.
Once Troy hath seene the weeping of a child,
When litle Priam turnde Alcides threats,
And he to whom all beastes in strength did yelde,
That made his way from hel, and brake their gates
His litle enmies teares yet ouercame,
Priam he sayd receiue thy liberty,
In seat of honor kepe thy Kingly name,
But yet thy Sceptors rule more faythfully.
Lo such the conquest was of Hercules.
Of him yet learne your hartes to mollify,
Do onely Hercles cruel weapons please,
And may no end be of your cruelty?
No lesse then Pryam, kneeles to thee this boy,
That lieth and asketh onely life of thee.
As for the rule and gouernaunce of Troy
Where euer Fortune wil ther let it bee.
Take mercy on the mothers ruthful teares
That with their streames my cheekes do ouerflow,
And spare this guiltles infantes tender yeares
That humbly falleth at thy feete so lowe.

THE THIRD SCENE.

Vlisses, Andromacha, Astianax,
Andr.
May euer he the burnt ruines of Troy reedifie?
And shall these handes in time to come, ereckt the towne againe?
If this be th onely helpe we haue, there doth no hope remain
For Troy, we stand not now in case to cause your feare of mynde,
Doth ought auayle his fathers force, or stocke of noble kinde?
His fathers heart abated was, he drawen the walles abought.
Thus euil haps, the haughtiest heart at lengh they bring to nought,
If ye wil needes oppresse a wretch what thing more grieuous were
Then on his noble neck he should the yoke of bondage bere?
To serue in life doth any man this to a King denye?

Vl.
Not Vlisses with his death, but Calchas prophecy.

An.
O false inuentor of deceipt and hainous cruelty,
By manhode of whose hand in warre no man did euer dye.
But by disceipt and crafty trayne of mynd that mischiefe seekes,
Before this tyme ful many one dead is, yea of the Greekes,
The Prophets wordes and guiltles Gods saist thou my sonne require,
Nay: mischiefe of thy breast it is, thou dost his death desyre.
Thou night souldier, and stout of hart a litle child to slay.
This enterprise thou takste alone and that by open day.

Vl.
Vlisses manhood wel to Greekes to much to you is knowne,
I may not spend the tyme in wordes, our Nauy wil be gone

And.
A little stay, while I my last farewel geue to my child,
And haue with oft embracing him my greedy sorrowes fild.

Vli.
Thy grieuous sorrowes to redresse, would God it lay in mee,
But at thy wil to take delay of tyme I graunt it thee.
Now take thy last leaue of thy Sonne, and fil thy selfe with teares.
Oft tymes the weeping of the eyes, the inward griefe out weares.

An.
O deere, O sweete, thy mothers pledge, farewel my onely ioy,
Farewel the flowre of honor left of beaten howse of Troy.
O Troyans last calamity and feare to Grecians part
Farewel thy mothers onely hope, and vayne comfort of hart.
Oft wisht I thee thy fathers strength and halfe thy graundsires yeares
But all for naught the Gods haue all dispoynted our desires.
Thou neuer shalt in regal court thy sceptors take in hand,
Nor to thy people geue decrees nor leade with law thy land.
Nor yet thine enmies ouercome by might of handy stroke,
Nor sende the conquerde nations all vnder thy seruile yoke.
Thou neuer shalt beat downe in fight, and Greekes with sword pursew,
Nor at thy Charyot Pyrrhus plucke, as Achill Hector drew
And neuer shal these tender handes thy weapons weild and wrest,
Thou neuer shalt in woods pursue the wyld and mighty beast.
Nor as accustom'd is by guyse and sacrifice in Troy,
With measure swift: betweene the aulters shalt thou daunce with ioy.
O grieuous kind of cruel death that doth remayne for thee,
More woeful thinges then Hectors death the walles of Troy shall see.

Vliss
Now breake of al thy mothers tears I may no more tyme spende.
The grieuous sorrowes of thy hart wil neuer make an end.

An.
Vlisses spare as yet my teares and graunt awhyle delay,
To close his eyes yet with my handes er he depart away.
Thou diest but young: yet feard thou art thy Troy doth wayte for thee,
Goe noble hart thou shalt agayne the noble Troyans see.

Asti.
Helpe me mother?

An.
Alas my child why tak'st thou holde by me?
In vayne thou calst where helpe none is I can not succour thee.
As when the litle tender beast that heares the Lyon crye,
Straight for defence he seekes his damme, & crouching downe doth lye,
The cruel beast when once remoued is the damme away,
In greedy iaw with rauening bit doth snatch the tender pray
So strayght the enmies wil thee take, and from my side thee beare.
Receiue my kisse and teares pore childe, receiue my rented hayre.
Depart thou hence now ful of mee, and to thy father goe,
Salute my Hector in my name and tel him of my woe
Complayne thy mothers griefe to him if former cares may moue,
The sprightes: and that in funerall flame they leese not all their loue.
O cruel Hector suffrest thou thy wyfe to be opprest?
With bond of Grecians heauy yoke and liest thou still at rest?
Achilles rose: take here agayne my teares and rented heare,
And (al that I haue left to send) this kisse thy father beare.
Thy coat yet for my comfort leaue, the tomb hath touched it
If of his ashes ought here lye Ile seeke it euery whit.

Vl.
There is no measure of thy teares I may no lenger stay,
Deferre no further our returne breake of our shippes delay.

Chorus altered by the translatour.

O Ioue that leadst the lampes of fire, and deckst vvith flaming starres the skye,
VVhy is it euer thy desyre to care their course so orderly?
That novve the frost the leaues hath vvorne & novv the sprīg doth close the tree.
Novv fiery Leo rypes the corne, and stil the soyle should chaunged be?
But vvhy art thou that all dost guide, betvvene vvhose hands the poale doth svvay,
And at vvhose vvil the Orbs do slyde, careles of mans estate alvvay?
Regarding not the goodmans case, nor caryng hovv to hurt the yll.
Chaunce beareth rule in euery place and turneth mans estate at vvill.
She geues the vvronge the vpper hand the better part she doth oppresse,
She makes the highest lovv to stand, her Kingdome all is orderlesse.
O parfite profe of her frailty, the princely tovvres of Troybeat dovvne,
The flovvre of Asia here ye see vvith turne of hand quight ouerthrovvne.
The ruthful ende of Hectors son, vvhō to his death the Greekes haue led,
His fatall hovvre is come and gone, and by this tyme the Child is ded:
Yet still (alas) more cares encrease, O Troyans doleful destenie,
Fast doth approach the maydes decease, and novv Polixena shall die.

THE FOVRTH ACTE.

Helena, Andromacha, Hecuba
An.
This ill the Troyans neuer knew in all their griefs and payne
Before this tyme ye neuer made vs to reioyce in vayne.
Troy towres geue light, O seemely tyme for mariage to be made,
Who would refuse the wedding day that Helayne doth perswade?
The Plague and ruine of each parte behold dost thou not see,
These tombes of noble men, and how their bones here scattered bee?
Thy brydebed hath bene cause of this for thee all these be ded
For thee the bloud of Asia both and Europe hath bene shed.
When thou in ioy and pleasure both the fighting folke from farre,
Hast viewde: in doubt to whom to wish the glory of the warre.
Goe to, prepare the mariages, what neede the Torches light?
Behold the Towres of Troy do shine with brands that blase ful bright.
O Troyans all set to your handes, this wedlocke celebrate:
Lament this day with woeful cry and teares in seemly rate.

Hel.
Though care do cause the want of wit, and reasons rule denye,
And heauy hap doth ofttymes hate his mates in misery
Yet I before most hateful iudge dare wel defend my part,
That I of all your greuous cares sustayne the greatest smart.
Andromacha for Hector weepes, for Priam Hecuba,
For onely Paris priuily bewayleth Helena.
A hard and grieuous thing it is captiuity to beare,
In Troy that yoke I suffred long a prisoner whole ten yeare.
Turnd are the fates, Troy beaten downe, to Greece I must repeare,
The natiue countrey to haue lost is ill, but worse to feare.
For dread therof you neede not care your euilles all be past,
On me both partes wil vengeance take al lightes to me at last.
Whom each man prisoner takes God wot shee standes in slipper stay,
And me not captiue made by lot yet Paris led away,
I haue bene cause of all these wars, and then your woes were wrought,
When first your shippes the Spartayn Seas & land of Grecia sought.
But if the Goddesse wild it so that I their pray should be,
And for reward to her beautyes iudge shee had appoynted me,
Then pardon Paris: thinke this thing in wrathful iudge doth lie,
The sentence Monelaus geues, and he this case shall trye.
Now turne thy playntes Andromacha, and weepe for Polyxeyne
Mine eyes for sorrowes of my hart theyr teares may not refrayne.

An.
Alas, what care makes Heleyn weepe? what griefe doth she lament?
Declare what craftes Vlisses castes, what mischiefe hath he sent?
Shall shee from height of Idey hil be hedlong tombled downe?
Or else out of the turrets toppe in Troy shal she be throwne?
Or wil they cast her from the clieues into Sygeon seas?
In bottom of the surging waues to end her ruthful days?
Show what thy countnaunce hides and tell the secrets of thy breast:
Some woes in Pyrhus wedding are farre worse then all the rest.
Go to, geue sentence on the mayd, pronounce her desteny:
Delude no longer our mishappes, we are prepard to die.

H.
Would God the'xpoūder of the Gods would geue his dome so right
That I also on poynt of sword might leese the lothsome light,
Or at Achilles tombe with stroake of Pyrrhus hand be slayne:
And beare a part of al thy fates O wretched Polixeyne.
Whom yet Achilles woeth to wed, and where his ashes lie,
Requireth that thy bloud be shed, and at his tombe to die.

An.
Behold loe how her noble mynd of Death doth gladly heare,
She deckes her selfe: her regal weede in seemely wyse to weare,
And to her head she settes her hand the broyded hayre to lay,
To wed she thought it Death, to die she thinkes a wedding day
But help? (alas) my mother sounds to heare her daughters death,
Aryse plucke vp your heart and take agayne the panting breath.
Alacke good mother how slender stay, that doth thy life sustayne?
A little thinge shall happy thee thou art almost past payne.
Her breath returnes: she doth reuyue, her lims their life do take.
So see when wretches fayne would die, how death doth them forsake.

Hec.
Doth yet Achilles liue (alas) to work the Troyans spight?
Doth he rebell agaynst vs yet? O hand of Paris light.
The very tombe and ashes loe, yet thirsteth for our bloud,
A happy heape of children late on euery syde mee stoode.
It wearied me to deale the mothers kisse among them al,
The rest are lost, and this alone now doth me mother call.
Thou onely child of Hecuba, a comfort left to me.
A slayer of my sory state and shall I now leese thee?
Depart O wretched soule, and from this carefull carcas flie,
And ease me of such ruthfull fates, to see my daughter die.
My weepyng wets (alas) my eyes, and staines them ouer al,
And downe my cheekes the sodeine streames and showres of teares do fal.
But thou deare daughter maist be glad, Cassandra would reioyse,
Or Hectors wife thus wed to be if they might haue their choyse.

And.
We are the wretches Hecuba in cursed case we stande.
Whom straight the shippe shal tosse by seas into a forraine land.
But as for Heleyns grieues be gone and turned to the best,
She shall againe her natyue countrey se and liue at rest.

Hele.
Ye would the more enuy my state if ye might know your owne,

Andr.
And grouth there yet more griefe to me that erst I haue not known?

Hele.
Such masters must ye serue as doth by chaunce of lots befal.

Andr.
Whose seruaunt am I then become whom shall I maister call?

Hele.
By lot ye fall to Pyrhus hands you are his prisoner.

Andr
Cassandra is happy, fury saues perhaps and Phœbus her.

Hele.
Chiefe kinge of Greekes Cassandra keepes and his captiue is shee.

Hec.
Is any one amonge them all that prysoner would haue me?

Hele
You chaunsed to Ulysses are his pray ye are become.

Hec.
Alas what cruell, dyre and yrefull dealer of the dome.
What god vniust doth so deuide, the captiues to their lordes?
What grieuous arbiter is he? that to such choyce accordes,
What cruel hand to wretched folke, so euil fates hath caste?
Who hath amonge Achilles armour, Hectors mothers plaste?
Now am I captiue, and beset with all calamitie.
My bondage grieues me not, but him to serue it shameth mee.
He that Achilles spoyles hath won, shall Hectors also haue:
Shall barraine lande enclosde with seas receiue my boanes in graue?
Leade me Ulysses where thou wylt, leade me. I make no stay,
My master I, and me my fates, shall follow euery way.
Let neuer calme come to the seas, but let them rage with winde,
Come fire and sword, mine owne mischaunce and Priams let me finde.
In meane time haps this deepe distres my cares can know no calme:
I ran the race with Priamus, but he hath won the Palme,
But Pyrrhus comes with swiftned pace & thretning browes doth wrest.
What stayste thou Pyrrhus? strike thy sword now through this woful brest.
And both at ones the parents of thy fathers wife now slay,
Murderer of age, likes thee her bloud? he draw my daughter away
Defile the gods and staine the sprights, of hel with slaughtred bloud,
To aske your mercy what auayles? our prayers do no good.
The vengeance aske I on your ships, that it the gods may pleas,
According to this sacrifice, to guide you on the seas.
This wishe I to your thousand sayles, Gods wrath light on them all,
Euen to the ship that beareth me, what euer may befall.

Chorus.

THE FIFTH ACTE.

Nuncius, Andromacha. Hecuba.
Hec.
What euer mans calamityes ye wayle for myne it is.
I beare the smart of al their woes each other feeles but his
Who euer he, I am the wretch all happes to me at last.

Nun
Slayne is the mayd, and from the walles of Troy the child is cast.
But both (as them became) they toke their death with stomacke stout.

And
Declare the double slaughters then, & tell the whole throughout.

Nun.
One towre of all the rest ye know doth yet in Troy remayne,
Where Pryam wonted was to sit, and view the armies twayne.
His litle Nephew eke with him to lead, and from a farre,
His fathers fightes with fire and sword to show on feats of war.
This towre, sometyme wel knowne by fame, and Troyans honor most.
Is now with captaynes of the Greeekes, beset on euery coast.
With swift recourse and from the shippes, in clustred heaps anone.
Both tagge and ragge they runne to gase what thing should ther be done
Some clime the hilles to seeke a place where they might see it best,
Some one the rockes a tiptoe stande to ouerloke the rest.
Some on their tēples weare the pine, some beech, some crownes of bay,
For garlandes torne is euery tree, that standeth in they'r way,
Some from the highest mountaynes top aloofe beholdeth all.
Some scale the buildinges halfe thurnt, and some the ruinous wall.
Yea some there were (O mischief loe) that for the more despyghte.
The tombe of Hector sits vppon beholders of the sight.
With princely pace Vlisses then past through the preased band
Of Greekes, King Priams litle nephew leading by the hand.
The Child with vnrepyning gate past through his enmies handes,
Up toward the walles, and as anone in turrets top he standes,
From thence adowne his lofty lookes he cast on euery part,
The neerer death more free from care he seemd, and feare of hart.
Amid his foes his stomacke swelles, and fierce he was to sight,
Like Tygers whelpe, that thrais in vayne wt tothles chap to bight.
Alas, for pitty then each one, rew on his tender yeares,
And al the route that present were, for him they shed their teares,
Yea not Vlisses them restraynd, but trickling downe they fal,
And onely he, wept not (poore foole) whom they bewayled al.
But whyle on Gods Vlisses cald, and Calchas wordes expound,
In midst of Pryams land (alas) the child leapt downe to ground.

And.
What cruel Calchas could or scith such slaughter take in hand?
Or by the shore of Caspyan Sea, what barbarous lawles land.
Busyridis to th'aulters yet no infantes bloud hath shed
Nor neuer yet were children slayne fortrast of Diomed.
Who shal alas in tombe thee lay, or hyde thy limmes agayne?

Nu.
What limmes from such a headlong fall could in a child remayne,
His bodies payse throwne downe to ground, hath batred al his bones.
His face, his noble fathers markes are spoyld agaynst the stones.
His necke vnioynted is: his head so dasht with flint stoane stroake,
That scattered is the brayne about, the scul is al to breake.
Thus lieth he now dismembred corpes, deformd and all to rent.

An.
Loe herein doth he yet likewyse, his father represent.

Nun
What time the Child hath headlong falne thus from the walls of Troy,
And al the Greekes thēselues bewaild ye slaughter of the Boy,
Yet strayght returne they backe, and at Achilles tombe agayne
The second mischiefe goe to worke the death of Polixeine.
This tombe the waues of surging seas, beset the vtter side,
The other part the fields encloase aboute, and pastors wyde.
In vale enuyroned with hils, that round aboute do ryse,
A sloape on height erected are the bankes in Theatre wyse.
By al the shore then swarme the Greekes, & thicke on heaps they prease
Some hope that by her death they shall theyr shippes delay release.
Some other ioy their enmies stocke thus beaten downe to bee:
A greate part of the people, both the slaughter hate, and see.
The Troyans eke no lesse frequent their owne calamityes
And all affrayd, beheld the last of all their miseryes.
When first proceeded torches bright as guise of wedlocke is.
And author therof led the way the Lady Tindaris.
Such wedlocke pray the Troyans then, God send Hermiona
And would God to her husband so, restoard were Helena.
Feare masd each part, but Polixeine her bashful looke downe cast:
And more then earst her glittring eyes and beauty shyn'd at last.
As sweetest seems then Phœbus light, when downe his beams do sway,
When starres agayne with night at hand opprest the doubtful day.
Astonnied much the people were, and all they her commende,
And now much more then euer earst, they prays'd her at her end.
Some with her beauty moued were, some with her tender yeares:
Some to behold the turnes of chaunce, and how each thing thus wears.
But most them moues her valiant minde, and lofty stomacke hie,
So strong, so stout, so ready of hart and wel prepard to dye.
Thus passe they forth and bold before King Pirrhus goeth the mayde,
They pitty her, they maruel her, their hartes were all affrayde.
As sone as then the hard hil top (where die she should) they trode,
And hie vppon his fathers tombe the youthful Pyrrhus stoode.
The manly mayd she neuer shronke one foote, nor backward drew,
But boldely turnes to meete the stroke, with stoute vnchanged hew,
Her corage moues eche one, and loe a strange thing monstrous like.
That Pyrhus euen himselfe stoode stil, or dread and durst not strike.
But as he had, his glittring sword in her to hilts vp doon,
The purple bloud, at mortall wound, then gushing out spoon.
Ne yet her corage her forsooke, when dieng in that stounde,
She fell as the'rth should her reuenge with ireful rage to groūd.
Each people wept the Troyans first with priuy fearful crye,
The Grecians eake, each one bewayld her death apparantly.
This order had the sacrifyce, her bloud the tombe vp dronke,
No drop remaynth aboue the ground, but downe forthwith it sonke.

Hec.
Now go, now goe ye Greekes, and now repayre ye safely home.
With careles shippes and hoised sailes now cut the salt sea fome.
The Child and Uirgin both be slaine, your battels finisht are.
Alas where shal I end my age? or whether beare my care?
Shal I my daughter, or my nephew, or my husband mone?
My countrey els, or all at once? or else my selfe alone?
My wish is death that children both and virgins fiercely takes
Where euer cruel death doth hast to strike, it me forsakes,
Amid the enmies weapons all, amid both sword and fyre,
All night sought for, thou fleest from me, that do thee most desyre.
Not flame of fyre, not fall of towre, not cruel enmies hand
Hath rid my life, how neere (alas) could death to Priam stand?

Nun.
Now captiues all with swift recourse repayre ye to the saies,
Now spread the ships their sayls abroad, & forth they seeke theyr waies.