University of Virginia Library

THE FOVRTH ACTE

Hercules, Chorus.
Ch.
O sonne of thunder thumping Ioue no shadowes do thee fray,
Now Ossa mount of Thessalie shal Pelion hill downe crush
And Athos pilde on Pindus toppe his bushy hed shall push
Among the starry skes therby aboue the craggy rockes.
Typhoëus vp shal clyme, and thumpe with store of battryng knockes
Iuarmen stone in Tyrren sea from thence eake shall be beat
The smoaky forge of Ætna mount, that glowes with stewing heate
Enceladus not ouerthrowne yet with the thundercracke
Shal hew the mountayne syde in twayne, and trusse it on his backe
The signes of heauen shal follow thee and goe with thee to wracke

Her.
I that returnde from dennes of death, and Stigian streame defyed
And ferryed ouer Lethes lake, and dragd vp, chaind, and tyde
The tryple headded mastiffe hownd, when Tytans teeme did start
So at the ougly sight that he fel almost from his cart.
Euen I whose pith the kingdomes three of Gods ful wel haue knowne
Lo yet myne end I daunted am by death and ouerthrowne
But yet no bloudy blade agaynst my riued rybbes doth crash
It is no rock that vnto death my brused bones doth pash
Nor as it were with Osir hill that clouen were in twayne,
Nor with the sway of all the mountayne falling am I slayne.
The glaring eyed giant grym doth not now squeaze my coarse
With paise of Pindus roch and thus not feling enmyes force
I conquerd am and yet alas this coarsie frets me more
O feeble force of man: he whom no might could match before
Withouten any conquest made doth end his latter day,
Without exployt or feat of armes my selfe I passe away.
O mighty vmpier of the world and all ye Ghostes aboue
That witnes how in quarell good my right hand euer stroue
O all ye landes, O earth alas, may it your mercy please
To spoyle the spiteful sting of death that dauntes your Hercules
Fy, fye, what shame is it to vs what filthy fate we haue?
A woman prowde shall boast her bane brought Hercles to his graue
Then what are they whose mortall mayme Alcides weapon gaue
If thus with sway inuincible my fatal wheele do run
And neede must on this shameful rocke my fatall twist be spunne:
As by a womans cursed hand my bloud should thus be shed
Yet Iunoes mallice migh haue powrd this vengeance on my head,
So might a womans deadly hand haue brought me to my beere:
But yet a woman weilding sway amid the welkin cleare
But this seemde ouerprowde attempt for Gods to take in hand
The paples dame in Scithia borne where pight on hie doth stand
The Apeltree whereon the vnderpropped poales do sway.
It might as wel haue bene her hap to take my breath away,
What womans might may maister me Queene Iunoes hatefull foe
Fye stepdame fye the fowler shame by this to thee doth grow.
Why dost thou triumph in this day? why did dame Tellus breede
Such parlous bugges thy humour ranck of colour hoate to feede?
A mortall womans peauishe spight doth passe thy rancour rough,
Thou sayst thou cannot haue reuenge on Hercules inough
Then are wee twayne yt passe thy power the Gods may blushe for shame
To see their mallice ouermacht by such a mortall dame.
Would God the ramping Lyons pawe that noyed Neme woode,
Had fillde his greedy mounching Iawes with plenty of my bloude:
Or while the twining snakes had hembde mee in by hundreds thick,
Why might not Hydra swallow vp my wrinched body quick?
Why was it not the centaures hap my silly flesh to gnawe?
Or that I bounde on Tantalls rocke shoulde gape with greedy Iawe?
In vayne to catch the fleeting foode when deepe from Tartar soyle,
Where at the Gods aggrized were, I did purloyne the spoyle.
And from the darck infernall Styx I gat agayne to light,
Of Ditis dungeon all the stops and slayes I conquerde quight.
Death shranke from mee in euery place that I a noble knight
At length might ende my dayes in shame, and in dishonour spoylde
Oh Ioue the creatures terrible thou knowst that I haue foylde
The threefoldeshapen mastiffe curre whom vp I draggde in chayne,
Hee starring from the sunnewarde coulde not hale mee back agayne.
The sheepherdes churlishe rabble that aloofe in Iber bee
Under the Spanishe feruent clyme coulde neuer maister mee.
Nor serpents twayne that vnto mee in tender cradell creapt.
Aye woe is mee that valiant death so oft I ouerleapt:
What honour shall I dye withall?

CH.
Beholde how death and hell
Cannot appaule the verteous mynde that of deseruing well.
By guiltlesse conscience warrant hath the death that doth him spoyle,
Irkes not as thus of such an one to take this filthy foyle.
If with this torment life were lost, his mynde should much be easde,
As with vnweildy Gyauntes sway hee had his body squeasde.
Or Titans burden with his monsters all he woulde abyde.
Or wishe of raging Gyants rent in pieces to haue dyde,
And if thy dolefull death because that monster none is left.
Who may be worthy thought by whom Alcides life bee reft?
But thine owne hand to doe the deede.

HE.
Aye me and wellaway,
What Scorpion scrapes within my Mawe? what cralling Crab I say
With crooking cleaze to comber mee, from scorching zone returnes,
And hoat within my boyling bones the seathing Marowe burnes.
My Riuer whilom ranke of bloude my rotting Lunges it tawes,
And teareth them in shattered gubs, and filthy withered flawes.
And now my Gall is dryed vp my burning Lyuer glowes.
The stewing heate hath stilde away the bloude, and Ioue hee knowes
My vpper skin is scorcht away and thus the Cankar stronge
Doth eate an hole that get it may my wretched Limmes amonge,
And from my frying Ribs (alas) my Lyuer quite is rent.
It gnawes my flesh, deuowers all, my Carkas quite is spent,
It soakes into the empty bones, and out the iuyce it suckes
The bones by lumps drop of while it the ioyntes a sunder pluckes
My corpulent Carkas is consumde of Hercules euery lim
Yet stauncheth not the festring rot that feedeth fast on him
O what a tingling ache it is that makes mee thus to smart,
O bitter plague, O pestilence that gripeth to the heart.
Loe Cittes, loe what now remaynes of Hercules the great.
Are these the armes that did with stripes the roaring Lyon beate?
And in Nemea wood did teare him from his hary case
Might this hand bend ye bow from cloudes the Stimphall foule to chase?
Are these the shankes that coapt the heart who shifting pace full oft?
Did beare his braunched head ypranckt with garlond gay aloft?
Was Calpe craggy cliue of these my feeble clowches broake?
To rayse a dam in feas that did their foamy channell choake.
Had these armes pith the breath of Kings, of Beastes, and bugs to stop?
Or might these shoulders tough the payse of heauen vnderprop?
Are these the lusty Lims and Neck that shrank not at the payse?
Are these the hands that I agaynst the weltring heauens did rayse?
Alas whose handes shall now perforce from hence hell Iaylour leade?
Alas the noble courage earst that now in mee is deade.
Why call I Ioue my Father great of whom my stock should ryse?
Why by the Thunderer make I my challenge to the skyes?
Now, now Ampitrio is my sier all men may it auouch.
Come out thou murreyn fowle that dost within my bowells couch.
Why dost thou thus with priuy wound my carefull Carkas foyle?
What gulph vnder the frozen Clyme in saluage Scithian soyle
Engendred thee? what water Hag did spawne thee on the shore?
Or stony Colpe Rock in Spayne that borders on the Moare:
O yrksome ill, and art thou not the Serpent that doth sting
With crest on ougly head, or els some other lothly thing,
Or spronge of Hydraës bloude, or left heere by the hellick hound.
Art thou no plague? and yet a plague in whom all plagues abound?
What gastly countnaunce cariest thou (alas) yet let me know?
What kinde of mischiefe may thou be that dost torment mee so?
What saluage sore, or murreyn straunge, or vncouth plague thou bee?
With open combat face to face thou should encounter mee.
And not thus ranckle in my flesh, nor soake into the sap,
By sowltring heate within my bones thy boyling bane to wrap,
And in the mid thereof to fry the Maroe that doth melt.
My iagged skin is ript, and out my smoaky Bowells swelt.
From bursten Paunch my selfe doe flea the skin with grasping pawse,
And from the naked boanes doe teare the mangled flesh by flawes,
I searched for thee through my Mawe, yet further dost thou creepe,
And festring farther in my flesh hast gnawne an hole more deepe.
O mischiefe match to Hercules, what griefe coulde make mee greete?
Whēce flow these streames of trillīg teares ye down my cheekes do fleete
The time hath bin no plunging pangues could cause our courage quaile,
That neuer vse with cristall teares our anguish to bewayle.
Ah, fy, I am ashamde that I should learne these teares to shed:
That Hercules in weeping wise his griefe hath languished:
Who euer saw at any day in any time or place?
All bitter brunts I bare with dry, and eake vnreky face
The manhoode that so many ills hath maistred heretofore,
Hath yeelded onely vnto thee, to thee thou Cankar sore,
Thou first of all hast straynde the teares out of my weeping eyes
Thy gargle face thy visage wan that doth mee sore aggrise.
More towgh then mossy Rockes, more hard then Gads of sturdy steeke,
Or roaming streame of Simplegade, whereby this smart I feele
Hath crusht my cracking Iawes, & wronge the streaming teares frō me.
O wielder of the Welkin swifte, loe, loe the Earth doth see
How Hercules doth weepe and wayle, and to my greater payne
My Stepdame Iuno sees the same, beholde, beholde agayne
My Lunges doe fry, the scorching heate preuayleth more, and more.
Whence fell this thunder Boult on mee that burnes in mee so sore?

C.
Who stoupeth not whē griefe doth gal? more tough thē Aem of Thrace
Whas whilom hawty Hercules, and did no more giue place
Then doth the marble axelltree, his Lims hee now doth yeelde
To paynefull pangues: and on his Neck his aking heade doth wielde,
And tossing still from side to side, hee bendes with hugy sway,
And oft his noble heart doth force his trilling teares to stay.

Hercules. Alcmena.
AL.
Where shall I wretched mother of Alcides wishe to bee?
Where is my chylde? where is my sonne? If sight deceaue not mee
With gasping mouth, and panting heart loe where hee sprawling lyes.
Where as (alas) in raging heate of bayling fits hee fryes,
Hee grones, all is dispacht, deare childe let mee Alcides myne
Embrace thy pining lims: with kisse enfoulde my armes in thyne
Where are the lims? where is the neck that bare the skies alone?
What thus hath mangled thee that all thy corps is waste and gone?

HE.
I am your Hercles mother deare, whom thus yee see here lost,
Acknowledge mee all though God knowes I seeme but as a ghost.
Why doe you turne your face away and mourning visage mylde.
Are yee ashamde that Hercules should counted bee your chylde?

AL.
What world hath bred this vncouth bug? what land engendred it?
Or els what monstrous mischiefe may on thee triumphing sit?
Who ist that conquers Hercules?

HE.
By treason of his Wyfe
Thou seest how wretched Hercules do leese his lothed Lyfe.

AL.
To ouerthrow my Hercules, what treason hath the might?

HE.
That which a wrathfull Dame doth seeke to ease her of her spight.

AL.
How hath this pestilence gotten to thy Lims and bleeding bones?

HE.
Into a Shyrt the woman had conuayde it for the nonce.

AL.
Where is the Shyrt for nothing but thy naked corps I see?

HE.
The vesture by the poyson ranke deuowred is with mee,

AL.
And can such poyson be contriued?

HE.
I thinke within my guts,
That hideous Hydra hissing Snake his slowghy body puts,
A thousand plagues or Lerna Poole within my Bowelles rampes:
What raging treate is this that driues vp all Sicilia dampes?
What Clime of Hell forbids the day to passe the boyling zone?
O Mates amid the greedy gulphes and pooles let me be throwne.
What Ister can my Carkas coole? no not the Ocean mayne
Of these my stewing vapours may the raging quench agayne?
(Al moysture of my limmes in these my fits are fryde away)
The iuyce wil sone be soaked vp, what president of hel
Let me returne from vnder grounde agayne with Ioue to dwell
He ought to haue retaynd me still, receiue me once agayne
Into thy dungeon darke that hel may in this pickle playne
Behold the man that conquerd yt, no booty bringe I will
Away with me: why dost thou quake for feare of Hercles still.
Set on me death coragiously for now I may be kilde

A.
Now stint thy tender tears that down thy cheekes so long haue trild,
And mayster this thy mallady compell thy sorrowes stoupe.
And shew that in these plunging panges Alcides did not droupe,
And as it hath bene earst thy guyse force death and hel to shrinke.

Her.
If ougly grested Caucasus. In chayne of yrone linke
Should bynd me as agroning pray the greedy grype to feede
Yet from myne eyes it should not strayne a brokē teare indeede
If wandring Symplegads would me with eyther rocke assaile,
To byde the brunt of double wracke my courage would not quayle.
Let Pindus tumbled be on me, houge Aemus let me haue
Or Athos rocke in Thracian seas that breakes the weltring waue,
And bode the boultes of thondring Ioue although thunweildy masse
Of all the world should fal on mee and might be brought to passe
That Phœbus flaming apeltree should burne vppon my graue
No vncouth crye should force the mynd of Hercles thus to raue.
Let meete a thousand sauage beastes and rent me al at once
Let Stymphal soules with houling hoarse lay strokes vppon my bones
Or scrowling bul on thother syde strike on with head and horne
Or els of other serpentes wilde let al my partes be torne
With roring earthquakes, hougy lumpes be puffed vppon me
With griping greefe let all my limmes to nothing pyned bee
Although I be to pouder crusht I wil with pacience peace
In spite of beastes or brusing blowes my sighes and teares shal seace

Alc.
It is not sonne the womans bane that in thy bones doth boile
But festring teares and broosing knockes of thy continual toyle
The wrinches old with aking panges begin to smart anew.

HE.
O where is death where is hee now? of all that I do rew:
Can any witnes what it is? let death now bend his bow
A naked hand is stronge ynough to make mee stowpe ful low
Let any wight in al the worlde attempt to set on mee
I warrant him, approch let him, Ah wretched might I bee
This wayward agony hath take his perfit wits away.
Haue hence his tooles, and eake his shaftes for daunger hence conuay,
His ruddy gills that glow like fier some mischiefe doe pretend.
To shrowde my selfe (alas) into what corner shall I wend?
This mallady a frensy is, this onely is the meane
To conquer Hercules, why then doe I as doting quean?
Thus fall to teares and seeke to shrynke, may bee that hee will haue,
Alcmenas hand to giue the stroke, to bring him to the graue.
But dye he in a Murreynes name, ere I for cowarde will
Such deadly penaunce bee enioynde, that on my doings still,
His haynous hand may vaunt it selfe, loe how the pangues full deepe,
With stuggling ceast, doe binde the purple vaynes with deadly sleepe,
And beating sore lift vp and downe his faynt and panting breast:
If I O Gods of this my noble Childe bee dispossest:
Be gracious yet, and for the worlde some Iusty champion saue.
Rid his annoy and let his limmes agayne theyr courage haue.

Hyllus. Alcmena. Hercules.
AL.
O noble Impe of Hercules, (alas) my Nephew deare,
That dost of wretched Alcmens Sonne the liuely feature beare.
Refrayne my chylde thy wayling woordes, this quiet sleepe perhap
Will ouercome these plonging fits. But loe! loe in my lap.
Hee doth begin to striue agayne, his fits begin a fresh.
Sleepe gieuing vp the feeble ghost to ranckle in the flesh.

HE.
What meaneth Thrachin craggy crest to shew before myne eyes?
Or now forsaking man am I aduaunst aboue the skies.
Why do the heauens prouyde for me? the father Ioue I see,
And eake my stepdame Iuno dire appeased now with me.
What heauenly harmony is this that soundeth in myne eare.
Dame Iuno calles me sonne in law, I se the pallace cleare
(Of christal skies and beaten rakes of Phœbus flaming wheele)
I see the dumpish moary denne of glowming lady night
Here he commaundeth darknes dim to shew it self in sight.
What meaneth this, who is it that the heauens agaynst me sparres?
And am I thus O father myne brought downe againe from starres.
Euen now Apolloës sowltring car did fume about my face
So nie I past the pinch of Death, lo Thrachin top in place
Who brought me backe to ground agayne, beneath me earst it lay
And al the world was vnder me, thou smart wert worne away,
Thou forcest me confesse the same. Ah mercy, mercy now.
In stead of farther vengeance do these humble wordes allow.
Lo Hillus, to thy mothers giftes such presentes shee preparde
Ah, might my trunchion punch her puddinges once as whilom farde
The haughty Ladye Amazon wel trounsed for her pride
On thedge of ysy Caucasus afront the mountayne syde.
O noble lady Megara were thou my wretched wyfe,
When rapt in rage of franticke fittes, I rest thee of thy life
Geue me my batt and bow in hand, my wrestes I wil imbrew.
And force ye all your brages on me with blemish blacke to rue.
Thus let of Hercules exployts a woman be the last.

Hi.
Forbeare O Syre thy hateful threates, she hath it, all is past.
The vengeance that ye seke on her already hath her spedd.
With wound receiued at your hand my mother lieth dead

Her.
(O blynded anguish: dye she should of Hercles furious hand)
Thus Licas hath his marrow lost the heate of burning brest
Wil haue me on the breathlesse coarse for to reuenge the rest
Why doth shee not yet fele her force both let her want a graue
And on her cursed flesh to feede let beastes her carkasse haue.

Hil.
The silly woman was more woe then ye that bide the smart.
Ye wil release some part hereof for pitty in your hart.
For greefe of you with her owne hande, alas her selfe she slew
Thus more then ye do aske of her, she doth her doyng rewe
Yet is it not your Wyfes misdeede that brought you to this plight.
No nor my mothers traytrous hand hath wrought this deepe deceit.
This treason Nessus did contriue whom yee did pay his hire,
With arrow shot into his Ribs for rape of Deianire.
Thus father with the Centaures bloud your shyrt was sore embrewde.
At Nessus hand the vengeaunce of your deede thus haue yee rewde.

HE.
Hee hath his will: all is dispacht, our Fates themselues display.
This is the day of death to mee. Thus earst to mee did say,
A charmed Oake, and all the wood that range with yelling noyse
Of Parnass hill the Temples shooke, and thundred out this voyce.
The dead mans hand whom thou before hast slayne,
O Hercules shall murther thee agayne.
Thou hauing mot the space of gulph and grounde,
And deapth of hell, heare shall thou bee confounde.
I therefore doe bewayle no more, such should our ending bee.
That Hercles conquerde after him no man aliue may see.
Now let mee dye a manly death, a stout and excellent,
And meete for mee: this noble day shall valiauntly bee spent.
Fell all the Timber on the grounde hew down all OEta wood.
Let coales deuower Hercules, set fyer fry his blould.
But ere I dye thou noble Impe of Pëans royall race.
This dolefull duety doe for mee: See that an whole day space,
My funerall fier flaming burne. And now my tender Hill,
The last peticion of my mouth make vnto thee I will.
Among the captiue Ladies, one there is, a noble Dame,
Of royall bloud, Euritus Chylde, Iole is her name:
Accept her to thy spousall Bed, whom victour I vnkinde
Haue trayned from her natiue home and but my heart, and mynde
Poore silly mayde I gaue her nought, and now shee shall mee lose.
Loe thus the wretched woman wailes her still encreasing woes.
But let her foster that she hath conceaued as Ioues ally,
And childe to mee bee't thyne by her that earst begot haue I:
And as for thee deare mother myne your dreary dole forgoe,
Your Hercules shall liue: doe not vayne teares on him bestowe:
My manhoode made a strumpet thought a Stepdame vnto thee,
But if that eyther Hercles byrth shewe her vnsure to bee,
Or be a man my sier or els be falsified my kin.
Now let Ioues iugling cease, and let my mothers slaunder lin,
I haue deserued a father well that haue aduaunst so hye
The glory of the rolling heauens, of nature tramde was I.
To worke the wondrous prayse of Ioue, and Ioue him selfe doth Ioy,
To haue the name of Hercules, begetting such a boy.
But pardon now my strayned teares, but you as Ioue his niece.
Shall as a stately matrone bee among the Dames of Greece.
Though Iuno with the thunderer in spousall chamber lyes
And in her heauenly hand doth weilde the scepter of the skies,
When euer bare shee such a Babe, and yet though heauen she hould
In heart agaynst a mortall man she fosters mallice oulde;
For spighte that borne of womans womb becounted thus I should.
Goe Titan goe, run out thy Race, thee onely I forsake.
I that went with thee foote by foote nowe to th'infernall lake,
And Ghostes, I go yet with this prayse to'th pit down will I passe
That Hercules of open foe yet neuer foyled was.
But hee in open combats brought his conquests all to passe.

Chorus.

O Titan crownd with blasing bush whose morning moystures make
The Moone her foamy bridell from her tyred teame to take.
Declare to'th Easterlinges whereas the ruddy morne doth ryse.
Declare vnto the Irishmen aloofe at western Skies.
Make knowne vnto the Moores annoyed by flaming axentree.
Those that with the ysy Wayne of Archas pestred bee.
Display to these that Hercules to th'eternall ghostes is gone
And to the bauling mastiffes den from whence returneth none.
With dusky dampe of filthy fog O Titan choake thy blaze,
With lowring light of wanny Globe on wofull wordlings gaze,
And let thy head bee muffled vp with cloudes and darknesse dim.
For Hercles sake, when shall thou finde, or where the like to him?
(O wretched worlde to whom wilt thou henceforth thy woes cōplaine,)
If any scattring pestilence on earth shall be renewde,
By venom ranck, from poyson mouth of scaly Dragon spewde:
If any Bore of Arcadie shall comber all a wood,
And teare the trauelers flesh with tuske embrewed in goary blood:
If any champion rough of Thrace with heart more hard in breast,
Then are the ysy rockes, where as the frozen Beare doth rest,
Shall trample thicke his stables fowle with bloud of slaughterd men,
When people quake for feare of warre, who shall assist them then?
If wrathfull Gods for vengeaunce will some monsters to be bread?
Loe nowe enfebled all of force his Karkasse lyeth dead,
Whom Natures moulde had made a match to thūdring Ioue in strēgth.
Hale out (alas) and let your playnt be hearde to townes at length.
Let women beat their naked armes, and wring their trembling handes,
Untrusse their hayre, and from theyr locks pluck of their binding bands.
Boult vp, and lock the Temple gates of Gods, and gave bee none,
But despret Iunoes Chapple doares. O Hercles thou art gone
To Lethes lake, and streame of Stix, from whence no Keele agayne
Shall bring thee backe: O silly soule thou goest to remayne
Among the grisely goblins grymme: from whence thou whilom came
With triumph sooner daunted death, and conquest of the same.
With gastly face, and karrayne armes, and neck that yeeldes to waight,
Thy ghost returnes, but Carons boate then shall not haue her fraight,
As balased with thy onely payse, and yet shalt thou not byde
Among the rascall sprites, but sit on bench by Eacus side,
And with the Iudges twayne of Creete as Umpier there to bee,
Appoynting paynes to soules that maye to their desartes agree.
Frō slaughter hold your guiltlesse hands, bath not your blades in bloud.
Yee states, that beare high sayle on earth, and floate in worldly good:
It merits prayse a mayden sword vndipt in goare to beare,
And while thou rayne, to keepe thy realme from cruell doings cleare.
But vertue hath a pryuiledge to passe vnto the skies.
To'th top of trosen Apell tree O Hercules wilt thou ryse?
Or where the sunne with scorching blaze his burning beames doth rest?
Or wilt thou bee a shyning starre amid the lukewarme west?
Where Calpe Rocke is heard with roaring noyse of wrastling waue?
What place amid the azur skye entendest thou to haue?
What place shall be in all the heauens from hurley burley free?
When Hercules amid the starres shall entertayned bee?
Let Ioue appoynt thy byding from the ougly Lion farre,
And burning Crab least thou with grysely countnaunce do thē skarre.
And make the trembling starres in heauen for feare to breake aray
And Titan quake: while spring doth prank with flowers ye tender spray,
Then hasty winter strip the trees of all their braunches greene.
Or sudden Summer deckt with leaues in busshy woods be seene.
And from the trees the Apples fall, the haruest being doone:
No age on earth shall wipe away the fame that thou hast woone.
As farre as Sun, or Stars can shyne, thy glorious name shall goe.
Amid the botome of the Sea first Corne shall sprout, and grow,
And brackish Seas his waters salt to water fresh shall chaunge:
And fixed starre of ysy beare from Clime to Clyme shall raunge,
And sink into the frozen poole agaynst his kindly sway,
Ere people cease the honour of thy triumphes to display:
O soueraygne Ioue wee wretched wightes this boone of thee doe craue,
No monstrous beastes, no noysome plagues, hereafter let vs haue:
With bloudy champions let the earth encombred bee no more:
Cast downe the hauty sway of Courtes: if ought annoyaunce sore
Shall cloy the earth, a champion to bee our shylde wee caue,
Whom as an honour of the Crowne his ruefull realme may haue.
(That stil will keepe his swerd from being taint with guiltlesse bloud.)
But loe what meanes this rumbling noyse? loe Hercles ster doth grone,
And sigheth for his sonne: is it the Gods that wayle, and mone.
Or is it Iunoes fearefull shrike, whom Hercles doth aggrise,
That seeing him for teare shee roares, and runneth from the skyes.
Or els did Atlas faltring feete with feeble sturring stumble?
And shrinking from his tottring waight thus force the Gods to rumble?
Or scared he the wauling ghostes, the which to feare he draue?
Or Cerberus brast his gingling Chaynes with buskling in his caue.
It is not so: but loe where Philoctetes doth appeare,
And Hercles famous shaftes to him bequeathed doth hee beare.