 | Hippolytus, Medea, Agamemnon, Herculas Oetaeus |  |
THE FIRST ACTE.
HERCVLES alone.O Lorde of Ghostes whose fyrye flashe (that forth thy hand doth shake)
Doth cause the trembling Lodges twayne of Phœbus Carre to quake,
Raygne reachlesse nowe: in euery place thy peace procurde I haue
Aloofe where Nereus lockes vp lande Empalde in winding Waue.
Thwack not about with thunder thumpes, the rebell kinges bee downe,
The rauening tyrauntes Scepterlesse, are pulled from their crowne:
By mee all daunted is whereon, thy boults thou shouldst bestowe.
And yet O Father, yet the Heauens are still withhelde mee froe,
At all assayes I serue, as might an Impe of Ioue behoue,
And that thou ought to Father mee, my stepdame well doth proue.
Why dost thou linger in delay, is Heauen of vs afraide?
Seeme wee so awfull, fell, and fierce? and wherefore are wee staide?
And cannot Atlas boysteous backe on stouping shoulder tough,
Upholde the payse of Hercules, and heauen well inough?
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What may thee force keepe backe thy sonne from scaling of the Starres
For death hath let me passe againe from dungeon darke to thee,
When mischiefes fell and monsters all destroyde and spoyled bee
That eyther Lande, or Seas, or Ayre, Or hell engender coulde
Arcadian Lion none to raunge in saluage Nemea wolde.
The Stymphall Foule hath chased bin with Bowe, and Brasell boulte,
No nimble heart of Menalus doth lye in hill nor houlte
The Dragon daunting with his bloud hath goarde the goulden groue.
And Hydra hath his courage coolde, and Diomedes droue
Whose puffed paunches pampred were with stoare of straungers bloud
That scoarde the Coaste and barren bankes of cruell Heber floud
I slaughterd them, and that the force of foe might well bee scene.
I prowlde away the booties of the prowde Amazon Queene,
Of silent shades in glummy Goulphes the dreadfull doomes I saw
On Cerber black the Tartar Tike the sonne did shine with awe,
And he with steaming Goggle eyes hath glyed vpon the soone:
Anteus yawnes, and gapes no more whose gasping breath is doone.
A front his alters Busir fell was knockt vnto the grounde,
By him whose hande gaue Gerion his deepe and deadly wounde
And slew the mighty Bull that was to hundred heartes a dreade,
All noyous plagues I spoyled haue that euer Tellus bread,
And daunted by my hand they lye: the Gods now neede not fret:
The worlde to aunswere Iunoes yre, no monsters now can get.
Now shew thy valiaunt sonne his sire, or set him in the clowdes,
Thou shalt not neede to bee my guide, my selfe will climbe the shrowdes.
Doe thou my passage but allow, and I shall finde away:
But if thou dreade, that monsters more the earth engender may,
Hast on eache monster hideous, to shew it selfe in time,
Whyle Hercules hath his aboade beneath the heauenly Clyme.
For who encounter shall the fiendes? who ist that Grecia hath,
That may be meete, to bide the brunt of mighty Iunoes wrath?
My prayse hurtes not my health: my fame doth fly, from land to land:
The ysy poale doth know mee, where the northerne beare doth stand:
The easterlinge encombred with the gleede of scorching sunne:
The south, where Phœbe by crooked cleaze of Tropick Crab doth rūne:
In euery coast O Titan where thou dost thy selfe reueale,
How I haue met thee face to face, to thee I doe appeale.
Aloofe beyonde the compasse of thy light I set my foote,
And neuer coulde thy blaze so farre his glymsinge glory shoote.
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The day it selfe hath had his stint, within my trauells reatch
Dame Nature faylde, the worlde was shogd beside his center dew,
And ougsome night in shimmering shade, from dungeon darck I drew,
And cankred Chaos lodged aloafe encountred mee amayne:
Yet from the deepe I gat to ground, whence none returnes agayne.
Wee straue against the Ocean stormes, I balased the keele
Fraught with my waight, that wrestling waues could not cōpell it reele.
What heapes of hazardes tempted I through all the open ayre,
To qualify thy wedlocks wrath can mischiefe none repayre
The earth would loath such baggage bred as I would match by might,
Yea monsters none are to be founde, the fiendes doe shun my sight.
And Hecules for want of fiendes agaynst him selfe did rage
What eluishe creatures curst did I with naked arme asswage.
Was euer any peuish thing so big vpon the ground
That coapt with mee, but that my hand alone did it confound.
Not hetherto from vermin vyle through faynting feare I leapt
In babish yeares, not when to me in Cradell layde they leapt:
Eache thing that was commaunded me, at ease I did obay:
Thus free from paynefull toyle to me there neuer past a day.
What vermin haue I vanquished, no king commaunding it?
My courage cloyes me more then all the wyles of Iunoes wit.
But what auayleth me to rid mankinde of fickle feare?
The Gods yet cannot raygne in rest: while vp the world doth peare,
New rid of furious fiendes, it sees a loft in starry skies
The cruell creatures all, that earst on earth did sore aggrise.
Dame Iuno hath transport the elues The scorching Crab doth creepe
Abouth the burning zone, and loofe at Affrica doth keepe
The Tropick line: and Haruest far he feedes with parching heate:
To Virgo, Leo turnes the time, and in a reaking sweate
He buskling vp his burning Mane, doth dry the dropping south.
And swallowes vp the slabby cloudes in fyry foming mouth.
The Urchins all are creapt to skies, and haue preuented mee:
I Conqueror from Earth to Heauen, my trauells all may see:
These gargle Faces grim on heauen, Dame Iuno first did set:
As though thereof the terrour might to skies my passage let:
Although she scatter them in Skyes, or make the Heauens forlorne
More then ye Earth, or hellike Goulphes, (wherby ye Gods are sworne)
Yet roome for Hercles shalbe made, if after monsters quelde,
Or battells fought, or hellike hound in Chaynes as captiue helde,
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Then soukt vp bee the midland Sea twixt Barbarie, and Spayne,
That eyther shore may ioyne in one, with channell none betweene
There will I dam the running streame, that Sea shall none be seene.
Or as for Corinth out shot land that tweene two seas doth lye,
It shall giue way to eyther streame, that through the same shall fly.
And when the seas on passage haue, the Fleete of Athens towne
May floate in Channell new: thus shall the world turne topsidowne:
Let Ister turne his streame, and Tanaus flow another way:
Graunt Ioue a placket, graunt, whereby the Gods vpholde I may.
Discharge thy thunder dint, where I shall keepe due watch, & warde,
If eyther to the ysy poale thou bid mee haue regarde,
Or burning zone, heere let the Gods full safe all force defy:
Prynce Pæan purchast hath an house amid the cristall sky,
And well deserued he the temples of Pernassus hill,
For slaughter of a Dragon made? how oft recouering still
In Hydra poyson Python lay? with Bacchus Perseus strong
By lesse desert then Hercules, haue crept the Gods among.
But all the East (a mighty coast) to bond is brought, by him.
Whom Iuno spightes, how stearne a bug was snaky Gorgon grim?
What Impe is he, begot betweene my stepdame dyre and thee,
Whose praysed paynes haue purchaste him a place in heauen to be?
The heauen that on my shoulders I haue bolsterd vp I craue:
But Lycas, (partner of my paynes) dispatch our triumph braue.
Display in pomp the ruin of Euritus house, and Crowne:
And for the sacrifice with speede strike yee the Bullocks downe,
Where as the Aare (that doth aduaunce the Church of Cenei Ioue.)
Lyes open to Euboea sea: that wrackfull waue doth moue.
Chorus.
The Gods in blisse that man doth coūteruaile,
That can at once both Graue, & glory gayne,
Death vpon death the whilst doth him assaile
Whose wretched life is lingred on in payne,
With frowning fate in spurning spighte who striues,
And sets the Keele of gaping goulphe at nought,
Will not submit his captiue handes to giues,
As dishe of dishonour in triumph to bee brought:
That can at once both Graue, & glory gayne,
Death vpon death the whilst doth him assaile
Whose wretched life is lingred on in payne,
With frowning fate in spurning spighte who striues,
And sets the Keele of gaping goulphe at nought,
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As dishe of dishonour in triumph to bee brought:
Like carefull caytife hee shall neuer droupe,
Whelmed in storming thoughts of sower annoy
Whose stomacke scornes, for dawnting death to stoupe,
Though seas amid the deepe in hoysted hoy
Driue him aloofe, when as a southern gale
Beates Boreas back, or eastern puffe agayne
Recoiles the western winde, and seemes to hale
From deepest sandes the surges torne in twayne.
Whelmed in storming thoughts of sower annoy
Whose stomacke scornes, for dawnting death to stoupe,
Though seas amid the deepe in hoysted hoy
Driue him aloofe, when as a southern gale
Beates Boreas back, or eastern puffe agayne
Recoiles the western winde, and seemes to hale
From deepest sandes the surges torne in twayne.
Tht broken planckes to catche hee scrambles not
Of wracked barke, as one that hopes to haue
Amid the Channell deepe a landing plot,
When dismall death appeares in euery waue
Hee cannot suffer shipwracke all alone:
With pined karrayne coarse, and streames of teares,
And with our countrey dust our heades vpon,
Powldring our lockes, wee languishe out our yeares.
Of wracked barke, as one that hopes to haue
Amid the Channell deepe a landing plot,
When dismall death appeares in euery waue
Hee cannot suffer shipwracke all alone:
With pined karrayne coarse, and streames of teares,
And with our countrey dust our heades vpon,
Powldring our lockes, wee languishe out our yeares.
Neyther flashing flame, nor thumping thunder cracke
Will once dawnt vs: O death thou dost pursew,
Where fortune fawnes: but where shee worketh wracke,
Thou shunnest those, that woulde thee not eschew,
Wee stand not in our razed countrey wall,
Whose ground shall now bee ouergrowne (alas)
With bramble, and bryer, and down the temples fall:
While mucky sheepecotes are planted in their place.
Will once dawnt vs: O death thou dost pursew,
Where fortune fawnes: but where shee worketh wracke,
Thou shunnest those, that woulde thee not eschew,
Wee stand not in our razed countrey wall,
Whose ground shall now bee ouergrowne (alas)
With bramble, and bryer, and down the temples fall:
While mucky sheepecotes are planted in their place.
And now the frostifaced Greeke (alas)
This way, this way, with all his droue of Neate
By so much of Æchalia must passe,
As heapt on ashes gloweth still with heate.
The Tessayle sheepherd sitting by the way
On iarringe Pype shall play his countrey ryme,
Singing wyth sighes alacke, and weladay,
Thus to bewayle the sorrowes of our time.
This way, this way, with all his droue of Neate
By so much of Æchalia must passe,
As heapt on ashes gloweth still with heate.
The Tessayle sheepherd sitting by the way
On iarringe Pype shall play his countrey ryme,
Singing wyth sighes alacke, and weladay,
Thus to bewayle the sorrowes of our time.
Ere tyme shall roll the race of many a yeare,
It will bee askt, where earst the towne did stand?
O well was I, when as I liued a leare,
Not in the barren balkes of fallow land,
Nor in Thessalia on the foodelesse cliues,
But now among rough Trachin craggy Rocks,
And ougly shrubs necessity mee driues,
Whose flaming toppes detarres the feeding Oxe.
It will bee askt, where earst the towne did stand?
[190]
Not in the barren balkes of fallow land,
Nor in Thessalia on the foodelesse cliues,
But now among rough Trachin craggy Rocks,
And ougly shrubs necessity mee driues,
Whose flaming toppes detarres the feeding Oxe.
And in the way lesse woods vntrode before
All comfortlesse, afright and in a maze
Needes must I trot alone, that would abhorre
The saluage beastes, that on the mountaynes graze
But better lot (if any Dames may haue)
They ouer Inach wambling streame shall row,
Or shrowd in Dirce Walles, where Ismen waue
With feeble force of shallow fourde doth flow.
All comfortlesse, afright and in a maze
Needes must I trot alone, that would abhorre
The saluage beastes, that on the mountaynes graze
But better lot (if any Dames may haue)
They ouer Inach wambling streame shall row,
Or shrowd in Dirce Walles, where Ismen waue
With feeble force of shallow fourde doth flow.
The hawty Hercles mother heere was wed,
What Scythian crag, what stones engendred him?
What Rocky mountayne Rhodope thee bred,
Of Tyrant Titans race a cursed lim?
Stipe Athos hill, the brutish Caspia land,
With teate vnkinde fed thee twixt rocke & stoane:
False is the tale, wherewith thou bearst in hande,
Two nights for thee thy Mother deare did groane.
What Scythian crag, what stones engendred him?
What Rocky mountayne Rhodope thee bred,
Of Tyrant Titans race a cursed lim?
Stipe Athos hill, the brutish Caspia land,
With teate vnkinde fed thee twixt rocke & stoane:
False is the tale, wherewith thou bearst in hande,
Two nights for thee thy Mother deare did groane.
While lingring starres long lodged in purple sky:
The shepherd starre his course did enterchaunge
With the loade starre, and vp the Moone doth sty,
That couched Phœbe durst not the Welkin raunge,
No Launce can pearce his monsters ruggy skin,
The blunted Iron tryed it with thumping thwack,
And Steele is not so tough: on naked skin
A swerd was brast, and stones rebounded back.
The shepherd starre his course did enterchaunge
With the loade starre, and vp the Moone doth sty,
That couched Phœbe durst not the Welkin raunge,
No Launce can pearce his monsters ruggy skin,
The blunted Iron tryed it with thumping thwack,
And Steele is not so tough: on naked skin
A swerd was brast, and stones rebounded back.
The force of fate he vtterly defies,
And toughly timberd as he is of lim
Hee doth contriue, how quarrells may arise,
That death might proue his febled force in him
The quaries coulde not enter to his flesh,
Nor yet the bowe with Scythian steule drawn deepe,
No nor the glaues, vvith vvhich Sarmacians fresh,
Hot skirmishes in th'ysy Clyme doe keepe.
And toughly timberd as he is of lim
Hee doth contriue, how quarrells may arise,
That death might proue his febled force in him
The quaries coulde not enter to his flesh,
Nor yet the bowe with Scythian steule drawn deepe,
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Hot skirmishes in th'ysy Clyme doe keepe.
No nor the Parthian better Archer farre,
Then Creete, who parcht with Phaetons soultring flame,
Vnder the Equinoctiall rayseth warre,
Gaynst th'easterling discomfetinge the same.
Hee with his body did batter downe the wall,
Of Oechalie: nothing may him withstande:
By valiaunt prowesse hee hath conquerd all:
Tis woon before, that hee doth take in hande:
Then Creete, who parcht with Phaetons soultring flame,
Vnder the Equinoctiall rayseth warre,
Gaynst th'easterling discomfetinge the same.
Hee with his body did batter downe the wall,
Of Oechalie: nothing may him withstande:
By valiaunt prowesse hee hath conquerd all:
Tis woon before, that hee doth take in hande:
The howgy Briar that fifty paunches had,
The hawty Giges with hundred armes likewise,
That clamb vp Thassayle hills as Gyant mad,
When rebells rage woulde take from Ioue the skyes,
Such steaming byes, such gastly visage foule,
Such Gargle face, such countnaunce glaring grim,
Wherewith stearne Hercles glowningly doth scowle,
Those Gyaunts had resembling playnely him.
The hawty Giges with hundred armes likewise,
That clamb vp Thassayle hills as Gyant mad,
When rebells rage woulde take from Ioue the skyes,
Such steaming byes, such gastly visage foule,
Such Gargle face, such countnaunce glaring grim,
Wherewith stearne Hercles glowningly doth scowle,
Those Gyaunts had resembling playnely him.
Thus greatest blisse is prone to greatest bale
There wants no woe whose cup wee haue not taste
Wee wretched women haue with countnaunce pale.
There wants no woe whose cup wee haue not taste
Wee wretched women haue with countnaunce pale.
But carefull caytiffe I doe not bewayle forlorne
The sweeping flames, nor Idolles, wyth their tattred Temples torne:
Nor that the Fathers burne together with theyr Sonnes,
That Gods, & men, that tombes & Church, at once to ruin runnes.
Upon the common care wee doe not powre our playnt,
And Fortune wills vs turne our teares with other woes attaynt:
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Another kinde of wretchednes, that must lamented bee:
What shall I first be weepe? Or chiefly what complayne?
And to bewayle them all at once, woulde mitigate my payne.
Alas that but on breast Dame Nature did mee frame,
That blowes agreeing to my griefe might bounce vpon the same.
With weeping Sipill rocke, brouse yee my balefull breast,
Or on Eridanus silent shore in sorrowes let mee rest,
Where as the mourning troupe of Nymphes doe hale theyr heares,
To wayle the death of Phaëton with showres of dropping teares.
Or els in Sicill rocke cause mee encoucht to dwell,
Where Scilla Hag with howling noyse, and barking big doth yell.
Or else in Lynnets shape let me tell on my tale,
And weepe with Adon in the woods, or turnde to Nightingale
As Lady Philomele, recordes with weeping lay
In shade of hawty Ismar hill vpon a tender spray,
With soking sighes her griefe, O Gods: and mee addight
In shape, that may be suetable vnto my playntiffe plight.
And of my piteous moane let craggy Trachin sounde,
Sith Myrra sawe the teares where in Dame Venus eyes were drownde,
That shee for Adonis with smoky sighes did shed,
And Halcion might wayle at will her louing Ceyx dead:
The Lady Tastalis gat life to weepe alone,
And Philomele did chaunge her shape, and earnefully did mone
Her tender Itis death: (alas) why are not yet
With flickering Fethers fit for wynges, my naked armes beset?
O happy shall I bee, and happily bee bleast,
When in the woods as in an house I make my shrowding neast,
And sitting like a birde vpon my countrey grounde
In dolefull harmony shall tune the cares, that me confounde.
That thus the people fond may talke how they haue seene
In piteous likenesse of a Byrde, the Daughter of a Queene.
I carefull caytiffe, I, behelde my Fathers fate,
When in the Courte a deadly club did Palt him on the pate,
And sprawling on the floore with braynes pasht out hee laye,
Alas if fates would let thy Coarse be shrynde in pit of Claye,
What flowing teares (O Syer) would I on thee bestowe?
And coulde I brooke it Toxeus, to see thy death with woe?
That wert vnwaynde in yeares, and eake in pits vnpaysde,
Upon whose naked Cheekes the pregnaunt sap no hayres had raysde.
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Whom death with hand indifferent hath taken hence to rest:
My Fortune seekes my teares, due to myne owne distresse,
Now as a captiue must I dawnce attendaunce more and lesse,
Upon my Ladyes rock: and twyst her threde yspoon,
Woe worth my beauty, for the which in dread of death I run.
And for thy sake alone my stock hath lost his lyfe,
Whyle that my syer Denyeth me to Hercles as his wyfe
And did for feare refuse his stepfather to bee,
But to our Laydes balefull bower as Captiues hence goe wee:
| Hippolytus, Medea, Agamemnon, Herculas Oetaeus | |