A Newe Enterlude of Uice Conteyninge, the Historye of Horestes with the cruell reuengment of his Fathers death, vpon his one naturill Mother |
 | A Newe Enterlude of Uice |  |
A Syrra nay soft, what? let me see,
God morrowe to you syr, how do you fare?
Sante a men. I thincke it wyll be.
the next day in ye morning, before I com thear
Well forwarde I wyll, for to prepare,
Some weapons & armour, ye catiues to quell,
Ille teache the hurchetes, agayne to rebell.
Rebell? ye syr, how saye you there to?
What? you had not beste their partes to take:
Houlde the content foole, and do as I do,
Or elles me chaunce, your pate for to ake.
Ye and thats more, for feare thou shalt quake,
Before Horestes, when in good south he,
Shall arryue in this lande, reuenged to bee:
Well forwarde I wyll, thynges to pouruaye,
In good south for the wares, as I shall thincke good.
Farre well good man dotterell, and marke what I saye,
Or eles it may chaunce you, to seke a new houd:
You would eate no more cakbread, I thinke then by ye roud,
If that, that same poulle from your shoulderes were hent,
You would thincke you were yll, if so you were shent.
Hear entryth Rustycus, & hodge.
Rustycus.
Chyll neuer nabore hodge, haue a glade harte,
Tyll Egistous the Kynge, hath for his desarte:
Receiued dew punnyshment, for this well I knowe,
Horrestes to Crete, with Idumeous dyd go.
When his father was slayne, by his Mother most yll,
And therefore I thincke, that com heather he wyll:
And reuenge the iniurey, of his mother most dyare,
wastinge our land with zworde, and with vyare.
Hodge.
Iesu nabor, with vyar and zworde? zaye you zo?
By gys nabor, chyll zaue one I tro:
For iche haue smaull good, by gise for to lose,
And therefore iche care not, how euer it gose.
But chyll not be zlayne, chyll loue nothinge worsse,
Chyll neuer be bournt, for the mony in my pourse.
Wyll robbe the riche chorles, and let the poore knaues go.
Uyce.
A syrre, nowe steye, and pause their a whyle,
Be not to hastye, but take all the daye:
Be God I am wearey, with comming this myle,
And hauing no money, my horse beyare to paye.
Who how, I rode on my fete, all the waye,
Iesu what ground, since yesterday at none,
Haue I gut thorow, with this pare of shoune.
Rusticus.
Nabor hodge, be goge hatche none I beare,
That this lyttell hourchet, the devayaunce doth beare.
Come let vs go, and of him in good south?
We woll conquear out, the verey truth.
Uyce.
Hurchyt, goges oundes gyppe with a wanyon,
Ar you so loustey, in fayth good man clound:
Oundes, hart, and nayles, this is a franion,
Ille teache you to floute me, I hould you a pounde.
O that it weare not, in fayth for my gound?
It wyll I be knoc vm, yet for all that.
Fight
Hodge.
Hould good master, you mare my new hat.
Uyce.
Ha, ha, he, mar his hat quoth he? thear was all his thought
Tout tout, for the blose he set not a pyn:
That garment is dyer, that with blose is bought,
Well sieres to in treat me, syth you begyn?
I am contentyd, my blade, now shaull in.
But tell me syeres tell me no whearefore of me,
The cause on this sort, your taullkynge should be.
Rusticus.
By gis and iche chyll master, for all my great payne,
Of this matter to you to tell the veary playne:
My naybor hodge and I, in good south,
Mot hear in the veldes, I tell you the truth:
Now as we wear talkinge, marke what I zaye,
Which thinge for zartyn, when I dyd espye,
This fancey vlouncht, in my head by and by:
And to hodge I zayde that, by gys I dyd veare,
That your masshyp, good master the devyaunce doth beare,
And be cause you weare lyttell, and of stature but smaull:
Your person a hourchet, in fayth I dyd caull.
But by gis be contentyd, vor chyll neauer more,
Ofvend you a gaine, but cham zorey thearuore.
Uyce.
Yf they weare not twayne, I cared not a poynt,
But two is to meyney, the prouerbe douth tell:
Elles be his oundes, I would iobard this ioynt,
And teache them agaynste me, againe to rebell?
O that I wear abull, the knaues vor to quell,
Then would I tryomphe, passinge all measure.
Hodge.
Zentyll man zentyll man, at your owne pleasure:
In fayth we be, and thearuore we praye,
What they name, is to vs vor to zaye.
Uyce.
My name would ye kno, marrey you shaull,
Harke frynde, fourst to the I wyll it declare:
Master pacience master pacience, many on doth me caull?
But com heather nabor hodge, thou must haue a share.
By gys vnto the I wyll not spare,
The same for to showe, whearfore my frend,
My name is pacience if thou it perpend.
Hodge.
Past shame? Godes gee naybor past shame?
By godes de naybor thates a tryccom name.
Uyce.
Tell a mare a tall, and shyell gerd out a fart
Se bow the as my wordes, douth mystake,
Would it not anger a saynt at the hart:
To se what a scoffe of my name, he douth make?
O oundes of me, as still as a stake.
He standith, nought caring what of him maye be tyde,
Sought let me se, it is best to be styll,
Good slepinge in a hole skynne, ould foulkes do saye,
Not withstanding I wis, ill haue myne owne wyll.
Naye I wyll be reuenged, by his oundes and I maye,
Syrra you good man Rustycus, marke what I saye:
Harke in thine eare man, this dyd I see,
A hoge of thyne wearyed to be.
Rusticus.
Godes gee maister pacience, I praye you me tell,
What horsen chorles doge, my hogge so dyd quell:
Iche zware by gise, and holye zaynt blyue,
Chyll be zwinge him, and ich be a lyue,
By godes de cham angry, and not well content,
Chould ha wear hear, chould make him repent.
Ich had rather gyuen, vore stryke of corne,
Then to had my hogge on this wyse forlorne:
But if I knewe whous dogge chould be,
Reuenged well inough iche warrent the.
Uyce.
Ha, ha, he, by god Rusticus, I maye saye in no game,
I knowe the person, whose dogge so did slaye:
Thy hogge fye fye man, it was a vearey shame,
For thy naybor hodge, to let it by this daye.
Well I wyll go to him, and se if I maye,
By aney meanes procure him, to make the amendes:
Ille do the best I can, to make you both frendes.
Rusticus.
Chyll be no frendes, chad rather be hanged,
Tyll iche haue that oulde karle, wel and thryfteley banged,
And tweare not your masshyppe, dyd me with hould,
To swing the ourchet, iche chould be boulde,
Uyce.
Ha, ha, he, nay, nay, spare not for me,
Go to it strayght, if thear to ye gre,
Rusticus.
Hodge I harde saye, thou illy, hast wrought,
For my hogge vnto death, with thi dog thou haste broughgt
Or chyll zwaddell the, iche zweare in my bat end.
Hodge.
Zwaddell me godes get? chyll care not a poynte,
Iche haue a good bat, thy bones to a noynte:
Thou olde carle I zaye, thy hoge hurtyd me,
And therefore I wyll haue, a mendes now of the.
My rye and my otes, my beanes and my pease,
They haue eaten vp quight, but small for my ease:
And therfore iche zaye, all thy hogges kepe vaste,
Or iche wyll them wearey, as longe as they laste.
By godes get, I can neuer come in my ground,
But that zame zwyne, in my pease iche haue founde.
Uyce.
Tout tout Rusticus, these wordes be but wynd
To him man, to him, and swaddell him well:
Ye neauer leaue him, as longe as thou can fynd
Him whot, but teathe him, a gaine to rebell,
What nededest thou to care, though his wordes be so fell,
Tout tout tharte vnwyse, and followe my mynde:
And I warraunt the in end, some ease thou shalt finde.
Rusticus.
Godes gee hourson hoge, paye me for my zwine,
Or eles larne to kepe, that cockescome of thyne.
Up with thy staf, & be readye to smyte, but hodg smit first, and let ye vise thwacke them both and run out.
Hodge.
Godes de, do thy worst, I care not a poynte,
Chyll paye the none, chyll iobard a ioynte.
Uyce.
Nay stand I styll some what, I wyll lend,
Take this for a reward, now a waye I must wend.
Rusticus.
O Godes get, cham zwinged zo zore,
Iche thincke chaul neauer lyue one houre more.
Hodge.
O godes ge I thincke, my bewnes will in zonder,
Yf ich get home by gis, ittes a wounder:
Farwell Rusticus, for by gis ich chaull,
When I mete the againe, bezwinge the vor all.
Naye letes be frendes, and chyll in good part,
Of browne ale at my house, giue the a whole whart:
What hodge make hondes, mon be merey and lauffe,
By godes ge iche had not, the best end of the staffe.
Hodge.
Cham content naybor Rusticus, shaull be ene so,
Come to they house, I praye the let vs go.
go out
Horestes.
Entrith.
To caull to minde the crabyd rage of mothers yll attempt
Prouokes me now all pyttie quight, from me to be exempt.
Yet lo dame nature teles me that, I must with willing mind
Forgiue the faute and to pytie, some what to be inclynd.
But lo be hould thad vlleres dame, on hourdome morder vill
Hath heaped vp not contented, her sponsaule bed to fyll:
With forrayne loue but sought also, my fatal thred to share
As erst before my fathers fyll, in sonder she dyd pare.
O paterne loue why douste thou so, of pytey me request,
Syth thou to me wast quight denyed, my mother being prest:
When tender yeres this corps of mine, did hould alas for wo
Whē frend my mother shuld haue bin thē was she chefe my fo
Oh godes therfore sith you be iust, vnto whose poure & wyll,
All thing in heauen, and earth also? obaye and sarue vntyll.
Declare to me your gracious mind, shall I reuenged be,
Of good Kynge Agamemnones death, ye godes declare to me
Or shall I let the, adulltres dame, styll wallow in her sin,
Oh godes of war, gide me a right, when I shall war begyn.
Uyce.
Warre quoth he, I war in dede, and trye it by the. sworde,
God saue you syr, the godes to ye: haue sent this kind of word
That in the hast you armour take, your fathers fose to slaye
And I as gyde with you shall go, to gyde you on the way.
By me thy mind ther wrathful dome, shalbe performd in dede
Therfore Horestes marke me well, & forward do procede.
For to reueng thy fathers death, for this they all haue ment
Which thing for to demonstrat lo, to the they haue sent me.
Horestes.
Ar you good syr, the messenger of godes as you do saye
Uyce.
What nede you dout, I was in heauen, whē al ye gods did gre
That you of Agamemnons death, forsouth reuengid should be,
Tout tout, put of that childish loue, couldst thou wt a good wil
Contentyd be? that one should so, they father seme to kyll?
Why waylst yu man, leaue of I say, plucke corrage vnto the.
This lamentation sone shall fade, if thou imbrasydest me.
Horestes
What is they name may I in quear? O sacrid wight I pray
Declare to me & with this feare, do not my hart dismaye.
Uyce.
Amonge the godes celestiall, I Courrage called am,
You to assyste in vearey truth, from out the heauens I cam
And not wtout god Marsis his leaue, I durst hear show my face
which thou shalt fele if that ther gilt thou dost forthwt imbrace
Horestes.
And sith it is thear gratious will, welcom thou art to me,
O holy wight for this thear gyft, I thanke them hartelley.
My thinkes I fele all feare to fley, all sorrow griefe & payne,
My thinkes I fele corrage prouokes, my wil for ward againe
For to reuenge my fathers death, and infamey so great,
Oh how my hart doth boyle in dede, wt firey perching heate.
Corrage now welcom by the godes, I find thou art in dede,
A messenger of heauenly gostes, come let vs now procede.
And take in hand to bringe to pas, reuengyd for to be,
Of those which haue my father slaine, but soft now let me se
Idumeus that worthy Kinge, doth com into this place,
What saye you corrage? shal I now? declare to him my case?
Uyce.
Faull to it then and slacke no time, for tyme once past away,
Doth cause repentence, but to late to com old foulks do say.
When stede is stolen, to late it is to shyt the stable dore,
Take time I say, while time doth giue a leasure good therfore
Idumeus.
What euer he be that sceptar beares or rules in state full hie
Is sonest down through fortunes eyar, & brought to myserey,
As of late yeares the worthy kinge Agamemnon by name,
His wel won fame in marshall stoure, doth reache vnto ye sky
Yet lo through fortunes blind attempt, he lo in earth doth lie
He yt had past the fate of war, where chaunce was equall set,
Through fortunes spight is caught alacke, wtin olde Meros net
And he which somtime did delight, in clothed coat of maylle,
Is now constraynd in Carones bote, ouer the brouke to saylle.
That flose vpon ye fatall bankes, of Plutose kingdome great
And that in shade of silent wodes, and valeys greene do beate.
Where soules of kinges & other wights a poyntyd are to be,
In quiet state there also is, this worthey reall tree.
Of south I ioye for to behold, Horestes actyue cheare,
The which in father somtime was, in son doth now apear,
But where is he that all this day, I neauer sawe his face,
Horestes.
Kenll downe.
At hand O King thy saruant is, which wissheth to thy grace
All hayl with happey fate certayne, wt pleasures many fould,
But yet my leege a sute I haue, if I might be so bold.
To craue the same my soferayn lord, wherby I might aspyer
Unto the thing with very much, O king I do requier.
Idumeus.
What thing is that if we suppose, it laufull for to be,
On prynces faith without delaye, it shall be giuen the.
Uyce.
Tout let him alone now, we may in good south,
I was not so lustey, my pourpose to get:
But now of my honestey, I tell you of truth,
In reuenging the wronge, his mynd he hath set?
It is not Idumeus that hath poure to let.
Horestes fro sekinge his mother to kyll,
Tout let hym alone, hele haue his owne wyll.
Horestes.
Sith that your grace hath willed me, this my desiar to show,
Oh gratious king this thing it is, I let your grace to know
That long I haue request to vew, my fathers kingley place,
And eke for to reuenge the wrong done to my fathers grace,
Is myne intent wherefore o king, graunt that wtout delaye,
My earytage and honor eke, atchyue agayne I maye.
Stey their a whyle Horestes mine, tyll councell do decree?
The thing that shall vnto your state, most honorabell bee.
My counciler how do you thinke, let vs your councell haue,
How think you by this thīg, ye which Horestes now doth craue
Councell.
As I do thinke my soferayne lord, it should be nothing ill,
A Prynce for to reuenged be, on those which so dyd kyll.
His fathers: grace but rather shall, it be a feare to those,
That to the lyke at anye time, their cruell mindes dispose:
And also as I thinke it shall, an honer be to ye,
To adiuuate and helpe him with, some men reuenged to be.
This do I thinke most fyttest for, your state and his also,
Do as you lyst sieth that your grace, my mind herin doth kno.
Idumeus.
Sith Councell thinkes it fyt in ded, reuenged for to be,
That you Horestes in good south, for to reuenge I gree.
And also to mayntaine your war, I graunt you wt good will,
A thousand men of stomake bolde, your enimise to kyll.
Take them forth with, & forward go, let slyp no time ne tyd,
For chaunce to leasure to be bound, I tell you can not byd
Go therfore straight prouide your men, & like a manly knight
In place of stouer put forth thy selfe, assay wt all thy might.
To win the fame, for glorey none, in cham bering doth rest
Marke what I saye to get thy men, I take it for they best.
Uyce.
Com on Horestes sith thou hast, obtayned thy desier.
Tout tout man, seke to dystroye, as doth the flaming fier?
Whose properte thou knoest doth gro, as long as any thing
Is left wher by the same may seme, som suckcor for to bring.
Horestes.
I thanke your grace I shal sequest, your gratius mind herin.
Uyce.
Se se I praye you how he ioyse, that he must war begin.
Go out.
Idumeus,
My councell now declare to me, how think you by this wight
Go out.
Doth not he seme in south to be, in tyme a manley knight.
By all the godes I thinke in south, a man may easeley kno,
Councell.
Undoubtedly my soferaynd lorde, he semeth vnto me,
Not to sequest his fathers steppes, in feates of cheuallrey:
But rather for to imitate, the floure of greation land,
I meane Achilles that same knight, by whose one only hand
The Greaciās haue obtaind at laingth ye cōquest of old Troy
For which thei did holl x. yeres space, their labor great imploy
Idumeus.
Syth he is gon for to puruaye, such thinges as shall in dede,
Suffise to sarue his sourn in wares, wherof he shal haue nede
Let vs depart and when he shall, retourne heather a gayne,
To see the mustor of his men, we wyll sure take the payne.
Go out.
Haltersycke.
The Songe.
Entrithe & syngeth this song to ye tune of haue ouer ye water to floride or selengers round.
Farre well adew, that courtlycke lyfe,
To warre we tend to gowe:
It is good sport to se the stryfe,
Of sodyers on a rowe.
How mereley they forward march,
These enemys to slaye:
With hey trym and tryxey to,
Their banners they dysplaye.
Now shaull we haue the Golden cheates,
When others want the same:
And sodyares haue foull maney feates,
Their enemyes to tame.
With couckinge heare, and bomynge their,
They breake thear fose araye:
And loustey lades amid the feldes,
Thear ensines do dysplaye.
The droum and flute playe lousteley,
The troumpet blose a mayne?
And ventrous knightes corragiousley,
Do march before thear trayne:
With speare in reste so lyuely drest,
In armour bryghte and gaye:
With hey trym and tryxey to,
Hempstring commeth in & speaketh.
Hempstringe.
Goges oundes haultersycke, what makes thou heare,
Haultersycke.
What? Iacke hempstringe welcom, draw neare:
Hempstringe.
By his oundes I haue soughte the some newse the to tell,
Haultersycke.
Godes bloud what newse, ist the deuell in hell?
Hempstring.
In faythe thou art mearey, but this is the matter,
Doust thou hear haltersicke? each man doth clatter:
Of warres, ye of warres, for Horestes wyll go,
His erytage to wyn, boye the truth is so.
Haultersycke.
Nay but Iacke Hempstringe sease of this prate,
Yf thou caull me boye, then beware thy pate.
Hempstringe.
What hould thy peace, as far as I se,
We be boyse both thearfore let vs gree.
Haultersycke.
Boye naye be god, though I be but smaull,
Yet Iacke hempstringe, a hart is worth all.
And haue not I an hart, that to warres dare go,
Yes hempstringe I warrant the, & that thou shouldest know
If dycke haltersyckes mynde, thou moue vnto eyar,
Colles neauer bourne, tyll they be set one fyare.
Hempstringe.
Ye but if they bourne, so that they flame,
Yet water dycke halltersycke, the bourning cane tame.
But harke thee, my master will venter a ioynt,
And me to wayte on him, he all readye doth poynt.
But hearste thou, thou knowest my master loues well,
Now and then to be snappinge, at some dayntye mossell.
But by goges bloud halltersycke, if thou loue me,
Take some prytey wenche our laundrar to be,
And be goges bloud, I am contentyd to beare,
Halfe of her chargis, when that she comes thear.
As fyt for the warre, Iacke hempstringe thou art,
In fayth as a be, is to drawe a carte:
He is lyke to be manned, that hath such a knight,
Under his banner, I sweare for to fight.
When Horestes in fight, moste busiest shalbe,
Then with they gynney, we must seke the.
Hempstringe.
Goges oundes, hart, and nayles, you are a franion,
Come of with a myschiefe, my gentell companion.
By your sleue sire haultersicke, I thinke that a be,
As good a sodyer as euer was ye,
Haultersycke.
He hath learned his lesson, but of south I feare,
He hath quight forgotten, the waye for to sweare.
Oundes, hart, and nayles, marey hes no lad,
And he be not hanged, he wyll be starke mad.
Hempstringe.
Hange me no hanginge, yf ye be so quicke,
Roube not to hard, lest hempstringe do kycke.
Haultersycke.
Had better be styll, and a sleepe in his head,
Yf a kycke me, me chaunce to breake his head.
flort him.
Hempstringe.
Goges bloud good man haltersycke, begine you to flout me
Haultersycke.
No not at all he douth but lout ye.
What hempstringe I saye, are you angred at ieste.
In fayth goodman lobcocke, your handsomley drest:
flort hym on ye lipes
Hempstringe.
Goges bloud so to flout me, thou art muche to blame?
Haultersycke.
Why all that I do man, is but in game.
Hempstringe.
giue him a box on ye eare
Take thou that for they ieste, and flout me no more?
Haltersicke.
For that same on blowe, thau shault haue a score:
Drawe thy sword vylyne, yf thou be a man,
Hempstringe.
Naye set sword a syde, and at boffetes well trey,
Wheather of vs both, shall haue the masterey.
Haultersycke.
Goges oundes thou art bygger, yet I care not a poynt,
Fyght at bofites wt fystes
Yf to be reuenged, I iobard a ioynt.
Hempstring.
I haue coylyd the well, but I holde the a grote?
Yf thou meddell with me, I wyll swinge thye cote.
Haultersycke.
In dede I must saye, I haue cought the worst,
But I wyll be reuengyd, or eles I shall bourste.
Yf tyme did not call me, from hence to depart,
I should anger the hempstring, euen at the hart?
Therefore farwell, tyll an other daye,
But hearste thou take this, to spend by the waye.
Giue him a box on ye eare & go out.
Hempstring.
Goges oundes is he gon, naye after I wyll,
And of the slaue by his oundes, I wyll haue my fyll.
go out. let ye drum playe and Horestes enter wt hie men & then lette him knele downe & speake.
Horestes.
Oh godes be prosperous I praye, & eke preserue my band,
Show now yt ye be gods in ded, stretch out your mighty hand
And giue vs hartes & willes also, where by we may preuayll
And suffer not you godes I praye, our courragis to fayll.
But let our hartes addytyd be, for aye as we pretend,
And of that vile adulltres dame, oh gods now make an end.
My hāds do thryst her blod to haue, nought can my mīd cōtent
Tyll yt on her I haue perfourmed, oh gods your iust iudgmēt
Nature.
Nay stey my child frō mothers bloud wt draw thy bloudy hād
stand vp.
Horestes.
No nought at all oh nature can, my purpose now withstand,
Shall I for giue my fathers death, my hart can not agre
My father slayne in such a sorte, and vnreuengyd to be.
Nature.
Consider first horestes myne, what payne forthe she toke,
Horestes.
And of my fathers death againe, o Nature do thou louke.
I do confesse a wycked facte, it was this is most playne,
Not wtstandīg frō mothers bloud, thou must thy hāds refrain
Canst thou a lacke vnhappey wight, consent reuenged to be,
On her whose pappes before this time, hath giuen foud to the
In whom I nature formyd the, as best I thought it good,
Oh now requight her for her pain, wtdraw thy hāds frō bloud
Horestes.
Who offendith ye loue of god, & eke mans loue wt willing hart
Must by yt loue haue punnishment, as dutey due for his desart
For me therfor to pūnish dear, as law of gods & mā doth wil
Is not a crime though yt I do, as thou dost saie my mother kil
Nature.
The cruel beasts yt raūg in feldes whose iause to blod ar whet
Do not consent their mothers paunch, in cruell wise to eate
The tyger fierse doth not desiare, the ruine of his kinde,
And shall dame nature now in the, such tyraney once finde:
As not the cruell bestes voutsafe, to do in aney case,
Leue now I say Horestes myne, & to my wordes giue place,
Lest that of men this facte af thine, may iudged for to be:
Ne lawe in south, ne iustys eke, but cruell tyraney.
Horestes.
Pythagoras doth thincke it lo, no tyraney to be,
When that iustyse is mynestryd, as lawe and godes decree.
If that the law doth her condemne, as worthy death to haue,
Oh nature woulst thou wil yt I, her life should seme to saue?
To saue her lyfe whom law doth slay, is not iustise to do,
Therefore I saye I wyll not yeld, they hestes to com vnto.
Nature.
Yf nature cannot brydell the, remember the decaye,
Of those which hereto fore in south, their parēts sought to slay
œdippus fate, caull thou to minde, that slew his father so,
And eke remember now what fame, of him a brode doth go.
Horestes.
what fame doth blowe I forse not I, ne yet what fame I haue
For this is true yt bloud for bloud, my fathers deth doth craue
And lawe of godes, & lawe of man, doth eke request ye same,
Therefore oh nature sease to praye, I forse not of my name.
For to lament this heauey fate, I cannot other do.
A lacke a lacke that once my chyld, should now consent vnto:
His mothers death wherefore farewell, I can no longer stey.
Go out.
Horestes.
Farwel dame Nature to my men, I straight wil take my way
Go out.
Idumeus.
Enter.
To se this mouster let vs go, for I suppose it tyme,
Where is Horestes why stease he: the truth to me define:
Councell.
Let ye drū playe.
Oh soferayne lord me thinkes I here, him for to be at hand
yft please your grace, he is in sight, euen now withal his band.
Idumeus.
Com on Horestes we haue stayd, your mouster for to se.
Let ye drū play & enter Horestis wt his band marche a bout the stage.
Horestes.
And now at hand my men and I, all redy armed be.
Lo mighty king this champions here, agre with me to wende
Oh gracious king that they shall so, wylt please you cōdissend
Idumeus.
I do agree and now awhyle, giue eare your king vnto,
It doth behoufe corragious knightes, on this wyse for to do.
That is to stryue for to obtayne, the victorey and prayse,
That lasts for aye, when death shal end, ye find of these our dais
Wherefore be bold, & feare no fate, the gods for you shall fight
For they be iust and will not se, that you in case of right.
Shall be desstrest wherefore attend, and do your busey payne,
The crabyd rage of enymyse, by forse for to restrayne?
And as to me your trusteynes, hath here to fore be knowne,
So now to this Horestes here, let eke the same be showne.
Be to his heastes obaydient, be stoute to take in hand,
Such enterpryse which he shal thinke, most for his state to stād
Which if you do the same is youres, the glorey and renoune,
That shal arise of this your facts, throughout ye world shal soūd
The which you may I pray the godes, your gydes here in to be
And now farwell but not that well, that I haue sayde to ye.
Sodyeares.
The godes presarue your grace for aye, & you defend from wo,
That we haue don as you cōmaūd, ful wel your grace shal kno
Now harke Horestes sith thou must, of men the gyder be,
And that the wyll of godes it is, thou must now part from me,
Take yet my last commaundement, & beare it in thy minde,
Let now they men courragiousnes, in the their captayne finde
And as thou art courragious, so lyke wyse let their be,
For safegard of thy men a brayne, well fraught with pollicye.
For ouer rashe in doinge ought, doth often damage bringe,
Therfore take councell first before, thou dost anye thinge.
For councell as Plaato doth tell, is sure a heauenly thinge.
And Socrates a certaynte doth say, councell doth brynge.
Of thinges in dout for Lyuy sayes, no man shall him repent,
That hath before he worked ought, his tyme in councell spent
And be thou lybraull to thy men, and gentell be also,
For yt way at thy wil thou mayst, haue them through fire to go
And he that shall at any tyme, deserue ought well of the,
Soffer him not for to depart, tyll well reward he be.
Thus haue you hard horestes mine, remembar well the same
In doing thus you shall pourchas, to the immortaull fame.
The which I hope you wyll assaye, for to atchife in dede,
The gods the blis when in ye war, thou forward shalt procede.
Horestes.
I thanke your grace and now of you, my leaue I here do take
Idumeus.
Farwell my sonne Horestes I, thy partinge yll shall take,
Imbrase him
Yet eare thou go let me imbrace, the once I the do praye,
A lacke alacke that now from me, thou must nedes part away
Yet whyell thou art in preasent place, receaue of me this kys,
Kys him.
Farwell good knight for now I shal, thy swete imbrasings mys
Horestes.
The sacred godes presarue and saue, thy state oh king I pray,
And send the helth and after death, to rayne with him for aye.
Come on my men, let vs depart,
Sodyers
As please your grace with all our hart.
March about and go out.
Idumeus.
Ah, ah, how, greuous is his parting now, my councell vnto me
The Godes him bles & send him helth, I pray them hartele.
And Clytemnestra may lament, that so she dyd assayle.
His father deare for now on bloud, Horestes mind is set,
And to reuenge his fathers death, sure nought their is can let.
In voyding of a mischefe smal, they haue wrought their decay
For now nought elles in Horestes, but sore reueng bears sway
Councell.
For to causes my soferayne lord, reuengment ought to be,
The on least others be in fecte, with that, that they shall se.
Their princes do, the other is, that those that now be yll,
May be reuoked and may be taught, for to subdew their wyll,
Plato a wyse phylosopher, dyd thinke it for to be,
A Prynceley facte when as a King, shall punnishe seriousley.
Such persons as dyd trayne their lyfe, to follow yt was naught
ye which their prīce at ani time, shal by mischaūce haue wroght
Protegeus an euell kinge, a carrayne lykenes to,
Which all the place about the same, to stinke causeth to do.
Therefore O king if that her faute, should vnreuengyd be,
A thousand euylles would insu, their of your grace should se.
Her faute is great and punnyshment, it is worthy for to haue,
For by that meane the good in south, frō duūgers may be saufe
For lo the vnyuersaull scoll, of all the world we knowe,
Is once the pallace of a kinge, where vyces chefe do flow.
And as to waters from on head, and fountayne oft do spring,
So vyce and vertue oft do flo, from pallace of a kinge.
Whereby the people seing that, the kinge adycte to be,
To prosecute the lyke, they all do labor as we se.
Therfore the gods haue wylled thus, Horestes for to take,
His iorney and a recompence, for fatheres death to make.
Idumeus.
Sith gods haue wild the same to be, good lucke ye gods him send
Com on my councell now from hence, we purpose for to wend
Go out.
Enter Egistus & Clytēnestra, singinge this songe, to ye tune of king Salomon.
Egistus.
And was it not a worthy sight,
Of Venus childe kinge Priames sonne:
To steale from Grece a Ladye bryght,
For whom the wares of Troye begon.
Naught fearinge daunger that might faull.
From Grece to Troye, he went with all,
My deare Lady.
Clytemnestra.
When Paris firste ariued there,
Where as dame Venus worshyp is:
And bloustringe fame abroade dyd beare,
His lyueley fame she dyd not mys.
To Helena for to repayre,
Her for to tell:
Of prayse and shape so trym and fayre,
That dyd exzell.
Egistus.
Her beautie caused Paris payne,
And bare chiefe sweye with in his mynde:
No thinge was abell to restraine,
His wyl some waye fourth for to finde.
Where by he might haue his despyare,
Lady ladye:
So great in him was Cupids fyare,
My deare ladye.
Clytemnestra.
And eke as Paris dyd desyear,
Fayre Helena for to possesse:
Her hart inflamid with lyke fyear,
Of Paris loue despiard no lesse,
And found occasion him to mete,
In Cytheron.
Where each of them the other dyd grete,
The feast vppon.
Egistus.
Yf that in Paris Cupides shafte,
O Clytemnestra toke such place:
That tyme ne waye he neuer left,
Tyll he had gotte her comley grace,
I thinke my chaunce not ill to be
Ladye ladye.
That ventryd lyfe to purchase ye,
Clytemnestra.
Kynge Priames. sonne loued not so sore,
The gretian dame they brothers wyfe:
But she his person estemed more,
Not for his sake sauinge her lyfe.
Which caused her people to be slayne,
With him to flye,
And he requight her loue a gayne,
Most faythfullye.
Egystus.
And as he recompence agayne,
The fayre quene Hellyn for the same:
So whyle I lyue I wyll take payne,
My wyll alwayes to yours to frame.
Syth that you haue voutsafe to be,
Ladye ladye.
A Queene and ladye vnto me,
My deare ladye.
Clytemnestra.
And as she louyd him best whyle lyfe,
Dyd last so tend I you to do:
Yf that deuoyd of warr and stryfe,
The Godes shall please to graunt vs to,
Syeth you voutsafest me for to take,
O my good knyght:
And me thy ladye for to make,
My hartes delyghte.
Egistus.
As ioyfull as the warlyke god is Venus to behoulde,
So is my hart repleate with ioye, much more a thousand fould
Oh Lady deare in that I do, posses my hartes delyghte,
Let ye trūpet blowe with in.
What menes this sound for very much, it doth my hart aflight
Clytemnestra.
Feare nought at all Egistus myne, no hourt it doth pretend,
But lo me thinkes a messenger, to vs heather doth wend.
enter.
Messenger.
The Gods presarue your eaquall state & send you of their blys
Welcom good messenger what newese, I pray the with the is
Messenger.
Yft please your grace euen now their is, aryued in this land
The mightey knight Horestes with, a mightey pewsaūt band
Who purposith for to inuade, this Mycœne Citie stronge,
And as he goese he leyse both tower, and castell all alonge.
It boutes no man defence to make, for yf he wyll not yeld,
By sodyeres rage he straight is slayne, in mydest of the felde.
Go out.
Clytemnestra.
Ah syr is he come in dede, he is wellcom by this daye,
Egistus now in south wt spede, from hence take you your way.
In to our realme and take vp men, our tyghtull to defend,
Tyll your retourne this Citie I, to kepe do sure intend.
For all his strength he shall not get, to entter once hear in,
The walles be strong and for his forse, I sure set not a pyn.
Egistus.
Syth you be abell to defend, this Citie as you saye,
Farwell in south to get me men, I now wyll take my waye.
And sone againe I wyll returne, his pamprid pryd to tame,
Clytemnestra.
Farwell Egistus and in south, I strayght will do the same.
Enter a woman, lyke a beger rounning before they sodier but let the sodier speke first, but let ye woman crye first pitifulley.
Sodyer.
Yeld the I saye and that by and by,
Or with this sword, in fayth thou shalt dye.
Woman.
Oh with a good wyll, I yeld me to the,
Good master sodier, haue mercye on me.
My husband thou hast slayne, in most cruell wyse,
Yet this my prayer, do now not dyspyse.
Sodier.
Come on then in hast, my prysoner thou art,
Come followe me I saye, we must nedes depart.
Go a fore her, & let her fal downe vpō the & al to be beate him.
Woman.
A horson slaue I wyll teach the in faye,
To handle a woman on, an other waye.
To put me in feare, with out my dezarte
I wyll teache the in faye to playe such a parte.
Be contentyd good woman, and thou shalt be,
Neauer heare after molysted for me.
Woman.
Naye vyllyn slaue, a mendes thou shalt make,
In that thou be fore me as prysinor dydest take.
Nowe I haue cought the, and my prysoner thou art,
By his oundes horson slaue, this gose to they harte.
Sodyer.
Naye saue my lyfe, for I wyll be,
Thy prysoner and lo I yelde me to the.
Woman.
Come wend thou with me, and they wepon thou shalt haue,
Syth that thou voutsafyste, my lyfe for to saue.
take his weapons & let him ryse vp & then go out both.
Enter. the Uyce synginge this song to ye tune of the Paynter.
Uyce.
Stand backe ye slepinge iackes at home,
And let me go.
You lye syr knaue am I a mome,
Why saye you so.
Tout tout, you dare not come in felde,
For feare you shoulde the goste vp yelde.
With blose, he gose, the gunne shot flye,
It feares, it feares, and their doth lye.
A houndreth in a moment be,
Disstroyed quight:
Syr sause in fayth yf you shoulde se,
The gonne shot lyght.
To quake for feare you would not stynte,
When as by forse of gounshotes dynte:
The rankes in raye, are tooke awaye,
As pleaseth fortune oft to playe.
But in this stower who beares the fame,
But onley I:
Reuenge, Reuenge, wyll haue the name,
Or he wyll dye.
I spare no wight, I feare none yll,
But with this blade I wyll them kyll:
For when myne eayre, is set on fyare,
I rap them, I snap them, that is my desyare.
In all the hast.
My cosen cutpursse wyll I truste,
Your pursse well tast,
But to it man, and feare for nought,
Me saye to the it is well fraught.
Wyth ruddockes red be at a becke,
Beware the arse, breake not thy necke,
Go out.
Horestes.
Horestes. entrith wt his bande & marcheth about the stage.
Come on my sodyers for at home, aryued their we be,
Where as we must haue our desyare, or els dye manfulley.
The walles be hye yet I intend, vppon them first to go,
And as I hope you sodierrs will, your captayne eke follow
Yf I for sake to go before then fley you eke be hynde,
And as I am so eke I trust, my sodyers for to finde.
Com hether harauld go proclame this mine intēt straightway
To yonder citite say that I, am come to their decaye.
Unlesse they yeld I will destroye, boch man woman & childe,
And eke their towers that for the war, so strongly they do bylde
Byd them in hast to yeld to me, for nough I do a byde.
But for their aunswear or elles fourthwt for thē & theres prouid
Harraulde.
Let ye trūpet go towarde the Citie and blowe.
Your gratious minde straight shalbe don, cum trōpet let vs go
That I haue don your message wel, your grace ful wel shal kno
Horestes.
Hye the apase and let me haue, agayne an aunsweare sone,
And then a non thou shalt well se, what quickely shalbe done.
Let ye trūpet leaue soundyng & let Harrauld speake & Clitemnestra speake ouer ye wal.
Harraulld.
How whow is their yt kepes the gate giue eare my words vnto
Clytemnestra,
what wouldst thou haue harald declare, what hast thou her to do
Harauld.
My master bydes the yeld to him, this citie out of hande,
Or elles he will not leaue on stone, on other for to stand.
And all things elles within this towne, he wil haue at his wil
As pleaseth him by any meanes, to saue or elles to spyll,
What you will now, therfore declare, & aunswere to him send
Clytemnestra.
Harrauld.
Then in his name I do defye, both the and all with in,
Clytemnestra.
By him and his tell him in south, we do not set a pyn.
Harrauld.
Yf it please your grace this word she sends, she wil not yeld to ye
But yf you com vnto your harme, she sayes that it shalbe.
Let ye haraulde go out here.
Horestes.
Sith that my grace and eke good wil, they on such sort dispise,
For to destroye both man and chyld, I surely do deuyse.
Com on my men, bend now your forse, this Citie for to wyn,
Saue no mans lyfe, yt once should make, rysistaunce there wtin,
And when you shall posses the towne, & haue all things at wil,
Loke out my mother but to her, do ye no kynde of yll.
Let her not die, though that she would, desiar the death to haue
For other wyse my fathers death, reuengment doth craue.
Sodyer.
We shall your hestes obaye with spede, oh captayne we desiar,
That we were there for to reuenge, our hartes are set on fyar.
Uyce.
Lyke men by God, I sweare well sayd, Horestes let vs gow,
Nowe to thy men lyke manley hart, I praye the for to showe.
And as thou seiste be firste the man, that shall the Citie wyn,
How, how, now for to flye, all ready they begynne.
Horestes.
With lyuely hartes my troumpeters, exault your tubal sound.
And now my sodyers in your harts, let courrage eke be found.
Com let vs go the godes for vs, shall make an easey waye,
Spare none a lyue for I am bent, to seke their great decaye.
Go & make your liuely battel & let it be longe eare you can win ye Citie and when you haue won it let Horestes bringe out his mother by the arme & let ye droum sease playing & the trumpet, also when she is takē let her knele downe and speake.
Clytemnestra.
A lack what heaps of myschefes great, me selly wight torment.
Now is the tyme falune me vpon, which I thought to preuent
Yet best I seke my lyfe to saue, perhappes he will me here,
A lacke reuengment he dothe craue, for slaying his father dere.
Yf aney sparke of mothers bloud, remaynd within thy breste,
Oh gratious child let now thine eares, vnto my words be prest
Pardon I craue Horestes myne, saue now my corpes frō death
I haue offendyd I do confesse, yet saue my lyfe I praye,
And to they mother this request, o-knight do not denaye.
Horestes.
For to repent this facte of thyne, now that it is to late,
Can not be thought a recompence, for kylling of thy mate.
Go haue her hence therfore with spede, & se her sureley kepte,
And for ye fact a fore thou dydest, thou surley shouldst haue wept
go out wt on of the sodiares.
Uyce.
Nay, far you wel, in fayth you haue an aunswer, get you hence.
Oundes of me I would not be, in her cote for forty pence.
Nay nay, a way, far well a dew, now now, it is to late.
When stede is stollen for you in south, to shut the stable gate.
She should haue wept whē first she went, ye king about to slay,
It makes no matter she foull well, dyd brede her owne decaye
Ounds of me what meane you man, begyn you now to faynt
Let Horestes syth hard.
Iesu god how styll he syttes, I thinke he be a saynt.
O oo oo, you care not for me, nay sone I haue don I warrant ye
wepe but let Horestes ryse & bid him pease.
Horestes.
By all the godes my hart dyd fayle, my mother for to se,
From hye estate for to be brought, to so great myserey.
That all most I had graunted lyfe, to her had not this be,
My fathers death whose death in south, chefe causer of was she.
Uyce.
Euen as you saye but harke at hand, Egistus draweth nye,
Who purposieth the chaunce of war, Horestes for to trye.
Horestes.
And by the godes I purpose eke, my honour to defend,
Com on my men kepe your araye, for now we do pretend.
Eather to be the conqerer, or elles to dye in felde,
Lyft vp your hartes and let vs se, how ye your blose can yeld.
Let Egistus enter & set hys men in a raye & let the drom playe tyll Horestes speaketh.
Egistus.
Lyke manley men adresse your selues, to get immortall fame,
Yf ye do flye lo what doth rest, behynde but foull defame.
Strike vp your drūs let trūpets soūd, your baners eke display,
And I my selfe as captayne, to you wyll lead the waye.
Horestes.
Thou traytor to my father dere, what makest the here in feld,
Egistus.
Thou pryncoks boy & bastard slaue, thinks thou me to subdew?
It lyeth not with in thy powre, thou boye I tell the trew.
But yf I take thy corpes, it shalbe a fode the byrdes to fede.
Stryke vp your droums & forward now, to wars let vs prosede.
stryke vp your drū, & fyght a good whil & then let sum of Egistus mē flye & thē take hym & let Horestes drau him vyolentlye & let ye drūs sease.
Horestes.
Oh vyllayne trayghtor now ye gods, ne mortall man shall saue
Thy corps frō death for blud for blud my fathers deth doth craue
Oh tyraunt fyrse couldest thou voucsafe, my father so to slaye?
But now no forse for thou hast wrought, at last thine one decay
Egistus.
A lacke a lacke yet spare my lyfe, Horestes I the praye.
Horestes.
Thy lyfe? naye trayghtor vyle, that chefe I do denaye.
For as thou hast deseruyd, so I shall thy facte requit.
That once couldst seme to me & mine, for to work such dispight
Therfore com forth and for thy facte, receaue dew punnishmēt
Repent I say this former lyfe, for this is my iudgment.
That for my fathers death, the which we finde the chefe to be,
The causer of thou shalt be hanged, where we thy death may se
And as thou for my fathers death, dew punnishment receiue,
So shall my mother in lykewise, for that she gaue the leaue.
Him for to slaye, and eke to it, with good will condysende,
Therfore com of and sone dyspatch, that we had made an end.
Egistus.
Ah heauey fate & chaunce most yll, wo worth this hap of mine,
For giue my faute you sacryd godes, and to my wordes incline
Your gracious eare for causer furst, I was this is most plaine,
Of Agamemnons death, wherefore I must receaue this paine.
Pardon I craue, voucsafe ye godes, the same to graunt it me,
Now sodier worke thy wyll in hast, I praye the harteley.
fling him of ye lader & then let on bringe in his mother Clytēnestra but let her loke wher Egistus hangeth.
Clytemnestra.
Ah heauey fate would god I had, in tormoyle great byn slayne
Syth nothing can Horestes hands, frō sheding bloud restraine
Uyce.
How chaunce you dyd not thē lament his father whē you slew?
But now when death doth you preuent, to late ites for to rew.
Yet hope I that he will me graunt, my lyfe that I should haue.
Uyce.
Euen as much as thou voutsafest, his fathers lyfe to saue,
Therfore com of we must not stey, all daye to wayght on the.
Lo myghtye prince for whom ye sent, lo preasent here is she.
Clytemnestra.
Haue mercy sonne & quight remitte, this faute of mine I pray,
Be mercyfull Horestes myne, and do not me denaye.
Consider that in me thou hadest, they hewmayne shape cōposid
That thou shouldst slay thy mother son, let it not be disclosyd,
Spare to perse her harte with sword, call eke vnto thy mynd,
Edyppus fate and as Nero, showe not thy selfe vnkynde.
Take downe Egistus and bear him out.
Horestes.
Lyke as a braunche once set a fyare, doth cause ye tree to bourne
As Socrates supposeth so, a wicked wight doth tourne.
Those that be good and cause them eke, his euell to sequest,
Wherefore the poete Iuuenal, doth thinke it for the beste:
That those that lyue lycentiousley, should brydlyd be wt payne
And so others that elles would syn, therby they might restrain
For thus he sayeth that Cities are, well gouerned in dede,
Where punnishment for wycked ones, by lawe is so decrede.
And not decrede but exersyesd, in punnyshinge of those,
Which law ne pain frō waloing still, in vice their mind dispose,
And as thou hast byn chiefes cause, of yelding vp they breath,
So call to minde thou wast the cause, of Agamemnons death.
For which as death is recompence, of death so eke with the,
For kyllinge of my father thou, now kylled eke shault be.
This thinge to se accomplyshyd, reuenge with the shall go,
Now haue her hence sieth yt you all, my iudgment here do kno
Clytemnestra.
A lacke a lack wt drawe thy hand, my son from sheding bloud.
Uyce.
Thou art a foule thus for to prate, this doth Horestes good,
Com on a way thou doust no more, but him with words molest
A foulyshe foull that thou wart ded, he takes it for the best?
Knele downe.
Clytemnestra.
Yf euer aney pytie was, of mother plante in the,
Horestes.
What pyttie thou on father myne, dydest cursedley bestowe,
The same to the at this present, I purpose for to showe.
Therfore Reuenge haue her a way, and as I iudgment gaue:
So se that she in order lyke, her punishment dew haue.
Uyce.
Let me alone, com on a way, that thou weart out of sight,
A pestelaunce on the crabyd queane, I thinke thou do delyght,
Him to molest, com of in hast, and troubell me no more,
Come on com on, ites all in vaine, and get you on a fore,
Let Clytemnestra wepe and go out reueng also
Horestes.
Now syeth we haue the conquest got, of all our mortall fose,
Let vs prouide that occasion, we do not chaunce to lose.
Stryke vp your droumes for enter now, we wyll the citie gate
For nowe resestaunce none there is, to let vs in there at.
Enter in fame & let all ye sodyers folow him in araye.
Fame.
As eache man bendes him selfe, so I report his fame in dede,
Yf yll, thē yll, through iarne trūp, his fame doth straigh prosede:
Yf good, then good, through golden trūp, I blo his lyuely fame:
through heauēs, throgh earth, & surgīg sease I bere abrod ye same
perhaps what wind me heather driues, wtin your mīds you muse
From Crete I com to you my frends, I bring this kind of newse
That Agamemnons brother is ariuyd in this land,
And eke with him his ladey fayre, Quene Helen vnderstand.
Whom for to se a great frequent, of people their aryue,
This newse to shew at this present, me heather now dyd driue.
enter the Uyce singing this songe.
Uyce.
A Newe master, a newe,
No lenger I maye:
A byde by this daye
Horestes now doth rew.
A new master a new,
And was it not yll?
His mother to kyll?
I pray you how saye you?
A new master a new,
To shut the gate?
Horestes gines to rew.
Fame.
Denique non paruas animo dati gloria vires:
Et fœcunda facit pectora laudis amor.
As Ouid sayeth I am in dede, the spure to each estate,
For by my troumpe I often cause the wicked man to hate,
Is fylthey lyfe, and eke I stoure, the good more good to be:
So much the hart and will of man, is lynked vnto me.
Uyce.
A new master a new, naye I wyll go,
Tout, tout, Horestes is be com a newe man:
Now he sorroweth to bad that it is so,
Yet I wyll dresse him, by his oundes and I can.
Who Saintie amen. God morrowe mystres Nan,
By his oundes I am glad to se the so trycke,
Nay may I be so bould, at your lyppes to haue a lycke.
Iesus how coye, do you make the same,
You neauer knew me afore I dare saye:
In fayth, in fayth, I was to blame,
That I made no courchey to you by the waye.
Who berladye Nan, thou art trym and gaye,
Woundes of me, she hath winges also,
Who whother with a myschefe, doust thou thinke for to go?
To heauen? or to hell? to pourgatorye? or spayne?
To Uenys? to pourtugaull? or to the eylles Canarey?
Nay stay a whyle for a myle or twayne.
I wyll go with the, I sweare by saynt marey,
Wylt thou haue a bote Nan, ouer seay the to carey.
For yf it chaunce for to rayne, as the weathers not harde,
It may chaunce this trym geare of thine, to be marde,
Fame.
Omnia si perdis, famam seruare memento,
Qua semel amissa, postia nullus eris.
A boue eache thinge kepe well thy fame, what euer yt thou lose
For fame once gone they memory, with fame a way it gose.
And it once lost thou shalt in south, accomptyd lyke to be,
Me fame therfore as Ouid thinkes, no man hath powre to hold,
To those with whom I please to dwell, I am more rich thē gold
What causid som for countris soyle, them selues to perrell cast
But that the knew that after death, ye fame of thers shall last.
Not on, but all, do me desiare, both good and bad lykewyse,
As maye apeare yf we perpend, of Nerose enterpryse.
Which first did cause his masters death, & eke whereas he laye
In mothers wound to se in south, his mother dyd straight slay.
With this Horestes eke takes place, whose father being slayn,
throgh mothers gile frō mothers blod, his hāds could not refraīe
But lyke as he reuengyd the death, of father in his eyare,
So fathers brother in lyke sort, Reuenge hath set on fyare.
For he is gon for to request, the ayde of prynces great,
So sore his hart is set on fyare, throught raging rigorus heat.
What to detarmayne all the kynges, of Grece aryued be,
At Nestores towne that Athens highte, their iudgment to decre
Uyce.
Oundes harte and nayles, naye now I am drest,
Is the kinge Menalaus at Athenes aryued?
And I am behind? to be packinges the best,
Least the matter in south, to sone be contryued:
Auxilla humilia firma, consensus facit, this allwayes prouided
That consent maketh suckers most sure for to be,
Well I wyll be their strayght, wayse you shall se,
Fame.
As Publius doth well declare, we ought chefest to se,
Unto our selues that nought be don, after extremite.
Ab alio expectes, alteri quod feceris.
Go out.
For loke what mesure thou dost meate, ye same againe shalbe,
At other tyme at others hand, repayde againe to the.
Therefore I wyshe eache wight to do, to others as he would,
That they in lyke occasion, vnto him offer would.
Wel forth I must som newse to here, for fame no where cā stay
But what she hears throughout ye world abrod she doth display
Go out.
Prouicion.
Make roume and gyue place, stand backe there a fore,
For all my speakinge, you presse styll the more.
It is not now tyme, to make aney taryaunce:
The kinges here do com, therefore giue way,
Or elles by the godes, I wyll make you I saye.
Lo where my Lord Kynge Nestor doth com,
And Horestes with him Agamemnons sonne:
Menelaus a kyng lykewyse, of great fame,
Make rome I saye, before their with shame.
Nestor.
Nowe syeth we be here Kynge Menalaij
Unto vs we praye you, your matter to saye.
For these prynces here, after they haue perpendyd,
If ought be amys, it shall be amendyd,
But syra prouision, go in haste and fet,
Good kynge Idumeus, tell him we are set.
Go out.
Prouision.
As your gracis haue wylled, so tend I to do,
I wyll fetche him strayght, and bringe him you to.
Pause a while till he be gon out & thē speak tretably.
Horestes.
If ought be amys, the same sone shall be,
If I haue commytted amendyd of me:
But lo Idumeus the good kyng of Crete,
Is come to this place, vs for to mete.
Enter Idumius & prouision comming wt his cap in his hād a fore him & making waye.
Idumeus.
The Gods presarue your gracis all, & send you health for aye.
Nestor.
Well com sier kinge the same to ye, contynewalley we pray.
Menalaus.
Two thīgs ther is o kings, yt moues me thus your ayds to pray:
And these be it the which to you, I purpose for to saye.
The one is this where with I fynde, my selfe agreuid to be,
That on such sort my systers slayne, as all your gracis se.
The other is that so her sonne, without all kind of right,
Should to his mother in such case, (I say) worke such dispight.
These two bethey, wherfore I craue, your ayds to ioyn wt me:
To the intent of such great ylles, reuengyd I may be.
That thus he dyd behould the state, of all my brothers land,
And se I pray you in what place, the same doth present stand.
That letted once his passage, but is brought vnto the ground:
The fatherles he pyttyed not, where as he euer went.
ye agyd wight whose yeres before, their youthly poure had spent
The mayd whose parentes at the sege, defending of their right
Was slaine, ye same this tyrant hath opressyd throuh his might
The wido yt through forrayne wars, was left now comfortles,
He spared not, but them & theres, he cruelly dyd dystres.
Wherfore sith that he thus hath wrought, as far as I can see,
From Mycœne land we should prouid, him exylyd to be.
Horestes,
Syth that you haue accusyd me, I must my aunswere make,
And here before these kings of Grece, this for my aunswer take
O ounckel that I neuer went, reuengment for to do,
On fathers fose tyll by the godes, I was comaund there to.
Whose heastes no man dare once refuse, but wyllingly obaye
That I haue slayne her wylfully, vntruely you do saye.
I dyd but that I could not chuse, ites hard for me to kycke,
Syth gods commaund as on would say, in fayth against ye prick
In that you say, I sparyd none, your grace full well may se,
That lyttell mercy they supposyd, in south to show to me.
When as they bad me do my worst, requesting them to yeld,
It is no iest when sodyares ioyne, to fight within a felde.
Thus I suppose sufficiently, I aunswerd haue to end,
Your great complaynt, the which you so, mightely did defend.
Idumeus.
In dede as Hermes doth declare, no man can once estew,
The iudgment of god most iust, that for his fautes is dew.
And as god is most mercyfull, so is he iust lyke wyse,
And wyll correcte most suerley those, that his heastes dispysel
Nestor.
As you good Kyng Idumeus, haue sayd so lykewise I,
Do thinke it trew therefore as nowe, I do him here defye.
That one dare say yt he hath wrought, ye thing yt is not right
Lo here my gloue to him I giue, in pledge with him to fyght.
I promys here to proue there by, Horestes nought dyd do,
But that was iust & that the gods, commaundyd him there to,
That he is kinge of Mycœne land, who euer do deney,
Yf none therebe wyll vnder take, his tyghtull to with saye.
Let vs be frendes vnto him nowe, my Lordes I do ye praye.
It was the parte of such a knyght, reuengyd for to be,
Should Horestes content him selfe, his father slayne to se.
No, no, a ryghtuous facte I thinke, the same to be in dede,
Syeth that it was accomplysht so, as godes before decrede.
Menelaus.
In dede I must confesse that I, reuengyd should haue be,
If that my father had byn slayne, with such great cruelte.
But yet I would for natures sake, haue spard my mothers lyfe
O wretched man, o cruell beast, o mortall blade and knyfe.
Idumeus.
Sease of syr kyng leaue morning lo, nought can it you auaylle
Not with standing be rulyd now, we pray by our counsaylle.
Consider first your one estate, consider what maye be,
A ioyefull mene to end at leyngth, this your calamytie.
Horestes he is younge of yeares, and you are somwhat olde,
And sorrowe may your grace to sone, within her net in folde,
Therefore ites best you do forget, so shall you be at ease,
And I am sure Horestes wyll, indeuor you to please.
So far as it for him may be, with honor lefe to do,
He wyll not shrynke but wyll consent, your gracis bydding to
For assuraunce of your good wyll, Horestes here doth craue,
your daughter fayre Hermione, in maryage for to haue.
Thereby for to contynew styll, true loue and amytie,
That ought in sought betwixte to such, indefferent for to be.
Menalaus.
As for my frendshyp he shall haue, the godes his helper be
But for my daughters maryage, I can not graunt to be.
She is but yong and much vnfet, such holy ryghtes to take,
Therefore syr kyngs at this present, no aunswere I can make.
Nestor.
She is a dame of comley grace, therefore kyng Menalaye,
Graunt this to vs this stryfe to end, o kyng we do the praye.
For eache of them a grede be, the other for to haue,
Good syr graunt this that at thy handes, so iustley we do craue
Menalaus.
I must nedes graunt whē nought I haue, against you to repley
Horestes here before these kinges, my sonne I the do make,
Horestes.
And the o kynge whyle lyfe doth last, for father I do take.
Nestor.
Ryght ioyfull is this thinge to vs, and happey for your state,
Therfore with spede let vs go hence, the maryage to seleybrate
And all the godes I praye presarue, & kepe you both from wo,
Com on syr king, shall we from hence, vnto our pallace go.
Menalaus.
As it shall please your grace in dede, so we consent to do,
Idumeus.
And we lykewyse oh gratious Prynce, do condisend there to.
go out all
Uyce entrith wt a staffe & a bottell or dyshe and wallet.
Reuenge.
I woulde I were ded, and layde in my graue,
Oundes of me, I am trymley promouted:
Ah, ah, oh, well now for my labor, these trynketes I haue?
Why se you not I praye you, how I am flouted.
A bagge and a bottell, thus am I louted?
Eache knaue now a dayes, would make me his man,
But chyll master them, I be his oundes and I can.
A begginge, a begginge, nay now I must go,
Horestes is maryed, god send him much care:
And I Reuenge, am dryuen him fro.
And then ites no maruayll, though I be thus bare.
But peace, who better then beggars doth fare.
For all they be beggares, and haue no great port,
Who is meryer, then the pooryste sort.
What shall I begge? nay thates to bad,
Is their neare a man, that a saruaunt doth lacke:
Of myne honestye gentle woman, I would be glad?
You to sarue but for clothes, to put on my backe.
A waye with these rages, from me the shall packe.
What thinke you scorne, me your seruaunt to make,
A nother wyll haue me, yf you me for sake.
Perhappes you all meruayll, of this sodayne mutation,
How sene I was downe, from so hye a degre:
Put of ye beggares cote & all thy thynges.
This one thinge you knowe, that on caulyd amyte,
Is vnto me reuenge most contrarey.
And we twayne to geather, could not abyde,
Whych causyd me so sone, from hye state to slyde.
Horestes and his ounckell, Kynge Menalaus,
Is made such sure frendes, without paraduenture,
Through the pollycye, of olde Idumeus?
That as, far as I can se, it is to hard to enter,
Ye and thates worsse, when I sought to venture.
I was dryuen with out comfort, awaye from their gate,
I was glad to be packinge, for feare of my pate.
Yet befor I went, my fancey to please,
The maryage selebratyd, at the church I dyd se,
Wyllinge I was, them all to dysease:
But I durst not be so bold, for master Amyte.
Sot by Menalaus, and bore him companye,
On the other syde Dewtey with Horestes boure swaye,
So that I could not enter, by no kynde of waye?
Well syeth from them both, I am bannyshyd so,
I wyll seke a new master, yf I can him finde:
Yet I am in good comfort, for this well I knowe,
That the most parte of wemen, to me be full kynde,
Yf they saye near a worde, yet I knowe their mynde.
Yf they haue not all thinges, when they do desiare,
They wyll be reuengyd, or elles lye in the myare.
Nay I knowe their quallytes, the lesse is my care,
As well as they do knowe, Reuengys operation,
Ye faull to it good wyues, and do them not spare.
Nay Ille helpe you forward, yf you lacke but perswacion.
What man a moste is free, from inuasion.
For as playnely Socrates declareth vnto vs,
Wemen for the most part, are borne malitious.
Perhappes you wyll saye, maney on that I lye,
And other sume I am sure, also wyll take my parte:
Not withstandinge what I haue sayde, they wyll veryfye,
ye and do it I wys, in spyght of thy hart.
Yf therefore thou wylt lyue quyetlye, after their desart?
And vnto they wyll, shall haue them in subiection.
In Athenes dwellyd Socrates, the phyllosopher dyuine,
Who had a wyfe namyd Exantyp, both deuelyshe and yll:
Which twayne beenge faulne out, vppon a tyme,
Perhappe cause Exantyp, could not haue her wyll.
He went out of dores, syttinge there styll.
She cround him with a pyspot, and their he
Was wet to the skynne, moste pytifull to se.
I praye god that such dames, be not in this place,
For then I might chaunce neare a mistres to get,
Nay yf ye anger them, they wyll laye you on the face,
Or elles their nayles in your chekes, they wyll set,
Nay lyke a rasor, some of their nayles are whet.
That not for to pare, but to cut to the bone,
I count him most happest, that medelles with none.
Well far you well, for I must be packinge,
Remembar my wordes, and beare it in mynde?
What suffer the myll, a whyle to be clackinge,
Yf that you intend, aney ease for to fynde,
Then wyll they be to you, both louinge and kinde.
Farwell cosen cutpursse, and be ruled by me,
Or elles you may chaunce, to end on a tre.
Go out.
Enter Horestes & Hermione Nobilytye and Cominyalte truth & Dewty
Horestes.
Syth yt the gods haue geuen vs grace, this realme for to posses
Which florysheth aboundauntlye, with gold & great riches.
Let vs now se how much the wilds, & minde of all this land,
Is vnto vs and of their state, lykewyse to vnderstand.
Hermione.
I deme of them Horestes myne, that they contentyd be,
With humbell hart for to submyte, o kyng them selues to ye,
Wherefore my loue inquiare, their state this preasente tyme,
And of their hartes good wyll to vs, o king let them deuyne.
Horestes.
As I do loue the laydye bright, so eke I thynke in dede,
That loue for loue as equallye, shalbe reward of mede.
Let Dewty and Truth take ye crowne in their right hands.
Hermione.
The godes neuer prolonge my lyfe, that day I shall a peare,
Horestes.
Com on my Lordes & commons eke, let me now vnderstand,
Of all your mindes for I desiare, to know what case this land
Doth now consyst voutsate the same, therfore to shew to me,
And yf that ought be now a myse, amendyd it shalbe.
Nobelles.
Most regall Prynce we now are voyd, of mortall wars vexatiō
And through your grace we ar ioyned, in loue wt euery nation.
So yt your nobelles may now lyue, in pleasaunt state sartaine,
Deuoyd of wars & ciuill stryfes, whyle yt your grace doth raine
The which you may I pray the god, with happy days and blys
And after death to send you there, where ioyse shall neuer mys.
As syne of our obedyence, lo Dewty doth the Crownd,
And Truth also which doth me bynd, they subiecte to be found.
Let truth & Dewty Crowne Horestes.
Horestes.
My Nobels all I gyue you thankes, for this now showed to me
And as you haue so eke wyll I, the lyke show vnto ye.
My cōmons how gose it we you, your state now let me know,
Commons.
Where as such on as you do raine, there nedes must riches gro
We are o king easyd of the yoke, which we haue so desiard,
The state of this our common welth, nede not to be inquiard.
Peace, welth, ioye, and felycitie, o kinge it is we haue,
And what thing is their ye which, subiects ought more to craue
Horestes.
Syeth all thinges is in so good state, my commons as you saye
That it may so contynew styll, the sacred godes I praye.
And as to me your trusteynes, shall anye wayes be found,
So styll to mayntayne your estate, I sureley shalbe bound.
And for your faythfull harts, the which you graūted haue to me
Both you my lordes, and commons eke, I thanke you hartele.
Therfore sith time wil haue an end, & now my mind you know
Let vs giue place to tyme, and to our pallase let vs go.
Nobelles.
We both wil waight vpon your grace, yft please you to depart
Commons.
Eeuen when you please to waigh you on I shall wt all my hart
Truth.
A kyngdome kept in Amyte, and voyde of dissention,
Ne deuydyd in him selfe, by aney kynde of waye,
Neather prouoked by wordes, of reprehention,
Must nedes long contynew, as Truth doth saye.
For desention and stryfe, is the path to decaye.
And continuinge therein, must of nesecitie,
Be quight ruinate, and brought vnto myserye.
Dewtey.
Where I Dewtey am neclected, of aney estate,
Their stryfe and dyssention, my place do supplye:
Cankred mallyse pryde, and debate,
Therefore to rest, all meanes do trye.
Then ruin comes after, of their state whereby,
They are vtterly extynguyshed, leuinge nought behynde,
Whereof so much as their, name we maye fynde.
Truth.
He that leadeth his lyfe, as his phansey doth lyke,
Though for a whyle, the same he maye hyde:
Yee Truth, the daughter of Tyme, wyll it seke,
And so in a tyme, it wyll be discryde.
Yet in such tyme as it can not, be denyed?
But receaue dew punnishment as god shall se,
For the faute commytted, most conuenient to be.
As this storye here hath, made open vnto ye,
Which yf it haue byn marked, much prophet may aryse?
For as Truth sayth, nothinges wryten be,
But for our learninge, in anye kynde of wyse.
By which we may learne, the yll to dispyse,
And the truth to imitate, thus Truth doth saye:
The which for to do, I besech God we maye.
Dewtey.
For your gentle pacience, we geue you thankes hartely,
And therefore our dewtey weyed, let vs all praye,
For Elyzabeth our Quene, whose gratious maiestie:
May rayne ouer vs, in helth for aye,
Lyke wyse for her councell, that each of them maye
Haue the spyrytyal grace, their doinges to dyrecte,
Truth.
For all the Nobylytie, and spiritualtie, let vs praye,
For Iudges, and head officers, what euer they be:
According to oure boundaunt dewties, espetially I saye,
For my Lord Mayre, lyfetennaunt of this noble Cytie.
And for all his brytherne, with the cominualtie.
That eache of them, doinge their dewties a ryght,
May after death posses heauen, to their hartes delyght.
Finis.
quoth. I. P.
| A Newe Enterlude of Uice | |