University of Virginia Library

The first Act.

Enter Hecuba alone.
Who trusts in Kingdomes, and who puissant bears
Rule over mighty Monarchies; nor fears
Th'inconstant Gods: Who on Prosperitie
Relies too much; Let him consider me,
And thee ô Troy. For Fortune never bore
Of great mens slip'ry state such Proofs before.
The Head of Pollent Asia: The great work
O' th' Gods above doth in its ruines Lurk:

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2

To whose assistance came both those that drink
At seven mouth'd Tanais frigid brink:
And those that nere first see the springing day
In the warm East: Those too where, with the Sea
Tigris doth mixe. And she that neighboured
To the wandring Scythes, her band of Widdowes led
Unto the Pontick bank. Destroyed thus
In her own ashes lyeth Pergamus.
See the Walls pride, her lofty Turrets lie
Huddl'd in their burnt ruines; flames on high
Compasse the Pallace round. All Ilium
Smoaks; yet the Victors greedy hands the flame
Prohibits not. The prey from flames is took;
Nor may the Heav'n be seen for waving Smoak.
The dark day wrapped in a thick'ned cloud
Doth in Troys ashes as in mourning shroud
Itself. The proud, and greedy victor stays
And wrath; bow'd Ilium with his eyes surveys:
At length he holds excus'd his ten years wars,
And Troy's sad affliction abhors.
Although he sees she's overcome, yet he
His eyes scarce credits; knows not how't may be.
The robber though Dardanian spoyls, away
Snatches: A thousand ships w'ont hold the prey.
The power of the Gods adverse to me,
My Country's ashes, Phrygian King, O thee
Whom Troy hides, with the whole Kingdome; and
Thy Manes Hector, by whom Troy did stand
Whilst that thou stood'st: And ye great flocks of my
Own Children, and the lesser Umbræ, I
Call all to witnesse, what somever ill
Hath hap'ned to us; I beleived still
What ever ills Cassandra prophised
In her mad sits; though God prohibited.
With-child I this first saw, a Prophetesse
I unbeleiv'd before Cassandra was.
Crafty Ulisses, nor Diomedes
His night Companion; nor false Sinon, these
Fires hath sown: No, no, this fire is mine,
'Tis by my Firebrand that ye now do shine,
Ah sad old woman! why thus long do'st thou mourn
The Cities downfal? O unhappy! Turn
Thine eyes to fresher griefs: Troy's downfalls old,
That execrable fact I did behold
The murther of the King: yet greater harm,
'Twas at Jove's Altar; and by Pyrrhus arm
I saw when that fierce man, with fatal hand
In Priamus's curled locks entwin'd
Forceing his head down, hid his horrid sword
In a mortal wound; who willingly was gor'd:
Which done, he from the old man's throat again
Drew forth the blood-wet blade. Whom he amain
Pressing th'extremest point of age; at all
Could not appease but by his cruel fall.
The Gods are witnesse of this mischeif; and
The Altar sometimes of this ruin'd land.
Priam parent of so many Kings e'rewhile
Wants now a Sepulchre; a fun'ral Pile
In flaming Troy. But this sufficeth not
The Gods. See I a Master now by lot
Must choose with th'Daughters of King Priamus,
And his Sons Wives. Whom shall I follow thus
Poor prey? Pyrrhus may joyn with Andromach
Another with Hellenus Wife may match.
Another doth Antenors Grave: And thou
Cassandra wants not one to wed thee too:
My lot is fear'd: 'Tis I alone the Greeks
Despise. Why fellow Pris'ners cease your shreeks
Strike, strike your breasts, send forth sad groans & sighs
Cause to be done Troys fun'ral obsequies.
Forthwith without delay make for to ring
The fatal house of Ida's direful King.

Chorus.
Thou bid'st to mourn, those who in tears
Are perfect: for these many years
This we have done; Since Paris went
T'Amyclas, and the rough Sea rent
With Mother Sybil's sacred Pine.
Since which Mount Ida's top hath been
Twice five times periwigg'd with Snow:
And spoyl'd of Trees which there did grow,
To make our funeral Piles. The mower
In fear has twice five times told o're
In the Sigean fields the wheat
Cut down. Alas no day as yet
Our tears did want: New cause of woe
Renu'd our Griefe. To tears we goe.
O Queen lift up thy hand, and we
Well taught to weep will follow thee.

Hecuba.
Faithful Mates of our Misery
As it behoves, your hair unty;
Your locks spread on your backs you must,
Defil'd with Trojan bloody dust.
Shew your bare stretcht-out arms, and put
Your slackned coats ty'd with a knot
About your wast: and even unto
Your belly, all your bare Limbs shew.
For what Husbands should we I trough
Hiding our Breasts our pudor show?
Let upper coats your under tie,
So that your hands at Libertie
May be, with furious strokes your breasts
To wound, this habit likes me best.
Your company I do agnize;
Let now return your wanted cries,
Exceed your wanted manner too,
'Tis Hector now lament we do.

Chorus.
Our rent and much decayed hair
We all have loos'd; and now we wear
It hanging down unty'd: we spurt
In our own faces Troy's hot durt.

Hecuba.
Fill your hands full of it, we may
For all Troy's spoils this bear away,
Button'd about your sides now wear
Your Gowns, and shew your Shoulders bare.
Your naked breasts your hands invite
To strokes; let grief draw forth your might
Make all the Rhætian shores resound
With your laments. The Eccho found
In Mounts and Caves, let her repeat
Not as she us'd last words; Compleat
Let her return the Trojan Cries.
Harken O all you Seas, and Skies!
Now let your hands the Tyrants play,
And with vast strokes your breasts repay;
With wonted Cries I'm not content,
'Tis Hector now we do lament.

Chorus.
O Hector! thus for thee our bare
Arms, and our bloody shoulders tare
Our right hands do: our heads for thee
We beat; our breasts extended be
Torn with maternal hands. And now
Our former wounds for thee, do flow
With blood fresh torn. Thou wast the stay,
And Wall of Troy the Fates delay,
A Sconce for tyred Trojans, and
Ten years stood Troy propp'd by thy hand,
With thee it fell. Hector's last day
The last was also unto Troy.

Hecuba.
Enough for Hector; change your plaint;
And now King Priamus lament.

Chorus.
Accept our tears twice lost old man:
Thou living but one ill sustain
Did Troy. 'Twice has the Dardan Towers
Sustain'd the force of Grecian powers:
And twice abode th'Herculean Shaft.
The Sons of Hecuba aloft
On Princely Piles, were reared all;
The last part of the funerall
Thou their father dost conclude,
At Great Joves Altar murthered:
Thy trunk lyes on the Trojan shore.

Hecuba.
Iliades, O weep no more
For Priam's death; But rather thus
Cry all, O HAPPY PRIAMUS!
He free went to the Ghosts below;
Nor shall his neck to Greeks yoak bow:
Neither Atrides shall he see,
Nor false Ulysses, nor shall be
A prey for Gretian Triumphs. Nor
Shall his neck be subjected for
Their Pomps. Nor's hands accustomed
To Scepters be behinde him ty'd:
Nor bound in Golden Fetters trot
Behinde Atrides Chariot;
Nor be a sight to Mycene thus.

Chorus.

Exiunt.