Hippolytus, Medea, Agamemnon, Herculas Oetaeus

O Father wyth thy heauenly Eyes, Beholde my wretched plight,
For neuer HERCVLES till nowe did craue thy hande of might,
Not when as Hydraës fruictfull heads about my Lyms were wounde,
Nor when I lockt in Lakes alow fought with th'inferdall hownde,
These hideous fiends I foylde, with kings, & tyraunts prowde like wise.
Yet in these broyles I neuer lookt for succour to the skyes.
This hand did still auouch the vowe, no thunder for my sake
Did glitter in the holy heauens, this day hath bid mee make
Some suite to thee, and of my boones yet heeres the first and last,
One onely Thunder boult I craue at mee O Ioue to cast.
Count mee a Giaunt of my selfe, I can no lesse deuise,
While Ioue I thought of promise true, I spaarde the starry skies.
Bee thou eyther a cruell sier, or pity if thou haue,
Yet lend thy sonne thy help, and get the glory of my graue:
Preuenting this my dreary death, of this if thou doe skorne,
Or that thy hand abhorre the guilt, from Sicill cliue suborne
The soultring Giaunts that in hand high Pindus mount can weilde,
Or Ossa that it hurlde on mee I may therewith bequeilde,
Brast vp hell Gates, and let Bellone scourge mee with Iron rod,
And let in armes encounter mee the mighty Martiall God,
My brother I acknowledge him but by my stepdames side,
And Pallas thou my sister take, let at thy brother slide
A thirling Darte. O stepdame myne with humble suite I craue
A wounde of thee that womans hand may bring mee to my graue:
Why dost thou feede thy fury nowe as one whose wrath were ende
And satisfied? what seeke yee more? I stoupe, I yeelde, I bende.
Thou seest Alcides humbly layde, where as vnto this day
That euer I entreated thee, no Land, no Beast can say,
Now doe I neede thy deadly wrath to rid mee of my payne,
And now thy rankour is appeasde, thy hate is quencht agayne,
And thus thou sparest mee my life, when as I wishe to dye:
O Earth will none make mee the fier wherein my bones may fry?
Nor reach a blade to Hercules, conuay yee all from mee?
So let no country Monsters breede when I shall buried be,

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And let none wayle the losse of mee if monsters more aryse,
God send another Hercules to succour Earth and skyes.
But as for mee on euery side ding out my broosed brayne,
And crash with sturdy stroke of stones my cursed Scull in twayne
And rid my torments: wilt thou not? O worlde to mee vnkynde,
And are so soone our benefits forgotten in thy mynde.
Een to this bower with bugs and beasts thou had bin ouer layde
Had not I bin: good people cause his torments to be stayde
That succored you: time giues you leaue to recompence my payne,
If yee with death will guerden mee, I aske none other gayne.

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?

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(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

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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.

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