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8
Act the II.
Scene the I.
Enter Talthybius, Greeks, Chorus.What long delayes the Greeks i'th' Haven make
Both to the War and now they homeward take
Their way.
Chor.
we pray you shew the causes that
Put thus long stop unto the Grecian Fleet,
And what God stops their voyage back.
Talth.
My heart
Quakes, and a horrid fear shakes every part.
A greater wonder and true too, none yet
'Ere heard of: I, nay I my self did see't.
It was when Titan first 'gan to display
His early beames; Night new o're come by Day;
When on a sodain th'Earth shoke, a hollow sound
Flew from the bottome of the rending ground.
The lofty Forrest, and the sacred Grove
Rung with the crash; the Woods their tops did move.
Idæan Rocks broke from their Cliffs fell down;
The Earth not onely shoke; but Seas did own
Achilles presence: for their Surges rose.
Immense Denns then the chapt Earth did disclose.
And gaping by the broken sides did show
The pervious way unto the Gods below.
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Sprung the great Ghost of the Thessalian Prince,
Like as when he did Thracian armes annoy,
The Proem to thy fatall fall O Troy!
Or as when he Neptunian Cycnus fought,
Or raging in the battail all about
With a strong courage dam'd the Rivers up
With Carcasses, and did slow Xanthus stop,
Making him wander by new Fords of blood:
Or when he victor in's high Chariot stood,
Great Hector, and Troy drawing on the ground,
Wroth with these words he made the shore resound:
Away away you negligent! and pay
Due honours to my Ghost: Ingrate! away!
Launch out your Ships into our Seas! Greece shall
Appease our anger with no triviall.
A noble prize must do't. Polyxene
Unto our Ashes must betrothed be.
Let her be slain by Pyrhus hand, and her
Hot breathing blood imbrew my Sepulcher.
This said, and night now vanquish'd, down agen
He goes, and mersed in that Hellish den,
The riv'd Earth clos'd againe: the Seas lye still,
VVindes lay their threats aside; soft murmurs fill
The Aire; arising from the still'd profound;
A chore of Tritons th' Hymenæum sound.
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Scene the II.
Enter Pyrrhus, Agamemnon.Now we should spread our merry Sailes at Sea
Home-bound: Achilles is forgotten; he
Whose hand alone Troy with the Earth did lay;
Repensating what ever short delay
He made at Scyros, or at Lesbos where
They doubting neuters stood, till he came there.
Now though thou wouldst obey what he might crave,
Thou giv'st too late: All other Captains have
Already their rewards. What prize is lesse
That may be giv'n to so great worthinesse?
Are his deserts but small who (might have fled
Wars, and in Peace his life continued
Unto an age surpassing Nestors years)
Leaving his mothers guiles, and guise, appears
A man at Armes? when that proud Telephus
Deny'd a passage through his Realm to us,
His hand new practis'd, in Kings blood he dy'd:
The same knew how to wound and heal beside.
Then Thebes fell. Eetian vanquish'd saw
His Kingdome tane, Lyrnessus the same way
With a small force as from a Rock was cast.
Briseis too, both Land and shee at last
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Cast down: and the most famous Tenedos,
In whose fat soyl the Thracian flocks were fed
And sacred Cilla too, subdue he did.
But what? Caycus streams can witnesse these;
Such mighty dread, and so great miseries
Of Nations: so many dismantled townes
As by a suddain whirl-winde, chiefest Crownes
And glory would have been to others, this
Unto Achilles, but his entrance is.
Thus comes my Father, and such Wars he bears,
Whilst he the way but unto War prepares.
Should I in silence other merits smother,
Had not one Hector been enough? my Father
Troy overcame: ye pull'd it down. To tell
His great and noble acts it likes me well.
Hector lay slain before his Fathers eyes;
'Fore's Unkle's Memnon, whose sad Mother dyes
The mournfull day with a pale countenance:
The victor fear'd his own works precidence.
Achilles learn'd by this a Goddesses Son
Might dye. Your great fear ceas'd the Amazon
Being slain. A maid unto Achilles thou
(If his deserts are justly weigh'd by you)
Dost owe, although he should require that she
A Grecian should, or Mycene virgin be.
Art thou in doubt? Can'st not allow this streight?
Thou who thine own to Hellen immolate
Didst, canst thou fear that Pelius Son should have
Priamus Daughter? Accustom'd things I crave.
Agamemnon.
A youthfull vice, 'tis not to guide the rage
Of passion. This most in their youthfull age
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Sometimes have meekly born the fierce and high
Threats of surly Æacides. Bear thou
Meekly more things, the more thou maist it do.
Why would'st thou stain the great Dukes noble Ghost
With a dire slaughter? It behoves us most
To know what Victors ought to do, and what
The Conquer'd suffer can. A cruell state
None long can hold. Firm stands the moderate.
The more that power by Fortune's rais'd, the more
The fortunate ought for to bow; and sore
Afraid be of unconstant chance: and fear
The Gods when they so too much favouring are.
I by my Conquest learned have, that brought
Great things may in a moment be to nought.
Troy has too proud and cruell made us: we
Stand where it did; may fall as well as she.
I grant sometime exalted, and superb
My selfe I bore too high. This thing doth curb
My lofty Spirit, when Fortune's favour might
Have rather been a cause for others height.
Thou mak'st me high and tumid Priamus!
King shall I ought but a vain glorious
Title account? But a false band esteem,
To bind our brows about the Diadem?
A sodain chance may ravish this, without
A thousand Ships, or ten years time to do't.
Bad fortune cometh not so slow to all.
I must confesse (with your leave Greece) the fall
And ruine of Troy I would have helpt, though I
Desired much to have the victory:
But rage, thirst of revenge, Nights conquest let
A Kings command. Revenge did this commit;
And whatsomever cruelty hath pleas'd
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The conq'ring Sword is mad once dy'd with blood.
Let what of ruin'd Troy is left abide.
Enough, and more then enough we'ave punish'd; I
Cannot indure a Princely maid should dye,
A Sacrifice unto a Tombe, or wet
The Ashes with her blood, nor that fell act
Of Murther call a Marriage: Mine be the blame;
Who lets not Sin, and may, commands the same.
Pyrrhus.
Shall then Achilles Ghost have no reward?
Agam.
Yes, all his praise shall sing, strange lands regard
Shall his great Fame. If blood then must be shed
To light his Grave; cut off an Oxes head:
Spill blood for which no mothers weep may. O!
What custom's this, when man's in shades below
That t'him rites must be paid? your sire refraine
T'hare, whom you'd worship'd have with others pain.
Pyrrhus.
How lofty lifted up with secund State
Thou art! How fearfull when that dangers threat!
Tyrant! again inflamed is thy breast
With Sodain heat, now of a new come lust?
Will't alwayes rob us of our spoyles; This hand
The victim shall unto Achilles send.
The which if thou deny'st, a greater shall,
And sitter too, then that of Pyrrhus fall.
My hands from regall blood suffer restraints
Too long: King Priam a companion wants.
Agam.
I don't deny but 'tis thy chiefest fame
I'th Warrs, that Priam by thy Sword lies slain,
Once suppliant to thy Sire.
Pyrrhus.
Suppliant to him,
But I as enemies regarded them,
Priam himselfe petitioned, which thou
Quaking for fear wer'nt bold enough to do,
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Thy suit did'st Ajax, and Ulysses send.
Agam.
I do confesse your sire then did not fear,
When, whilst our Fleet burnt, and Greeks slaughter'd were.
Forgetting Armes and Warre he sloathfull lay,
And did upon his pleasant Viol play.
Pyr.
Great Hector then thy Arms contemn'd: yet fear'd
Achilles Song, Thessalian Ships secur'd,
In all that dread lay quietly at rest.
Agam.
Forsooth your Ships, nor Father, in the least
Had cause of fear, from Hector freed.
Pyrrhus.
To grant
Life to a King, of a great King's a point.
Agam.
Why then didst thou a King of Life bereave?
Pyrrhus.
The pitifull Death oft for Life doth give.
Agam.
Your pity then the Virgin slayes I guesse.
Pyrrhus.
To slay a maid now think'st it wickednesse?
Agam.
It doth become a King for to prefer
His Countrey t'his Children.
Pyrrhus.
No Law doth spare
The Captive, nor their punishment impede.
Agam.
But shame does, what the Law doth not, forbid.
Pyrrhus.
The Victor may do what he list by Law.
Agam.
He least of all should do, who freely may.
Pyr.
Why brag'st thou thus, when it was Pyrrhus broke
These conquered, the ten years heavy yoak?
Agam.
Scyros such valour breed?
Pyrrhus.
The same which knows
No brothers Villany.
Agam.
Which waves inclose?
Pyrrhus.
Forsooth our Kin. I of the noble breed
Of Atreus, and Thyestus have heard.
Agam.
And I of thee conceiv'd in furtive play
B'a maid; got by Achilles, yet a Boy.
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The same Achilles whose Kin sparsed be
Throughout the worlds. Whose with the Gods. The Sea
With Thetis, Hell with Æacus, and Heaven
With Jove he holds.
Agam.
The same Achilles given.
To Death, by Paris hand.
Pyrrhus.
The same whom hand
To hand, none of the Gods durst yet withstand.
Agam.
I can cease brawling truly, and represse
With punishment, this your audaciousnesse:
But my Sword knows how to spare Captives. Let
Calchas the Gods interpreter be fet.
If Fates require I'le yeild.
Enter Calchas.
Thou who didst set
The Crecian Fleet loose from their bonds, and let
To Wars, who dost the Poles unlock. To whom
Beasts intrails, Comets, Thunder, what to come
Doth shew, whose Oracles hath cost me wide
dammage. O Calchas with thy Councel guide
Us, and what God ordains do thou declare.
Calchas.
With wonted price their way the Grecians are
To buy, so Fates do Grant. A maid must slain
Be on the Tomb of the Thessalian
Prince, drest as the Thessalians when they wed,
Or like a Ionian or a Mycene bride.
Pyrrhus must to his Father give the Maid,
So 'twill be rightly done: Not this hath staid
Alone our Ships, blood's due to blood; 'tis higher
Than thine Polyxena the Fates require.
Astyanax thrown from a Tower shall be,
And lucky dye: Then spread your Sails at Sea.
Exeunt omnes.
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Is't true? Or fools do tales deceive,
That Soules the Bodies buryed live?
When next of kin shall close the eyes,
Last day obstruct the light of Skies,
And Urns sad ashes last enclose;
It boots not Soules to give to those.
Or is't that wretches longer are?
Dye we not all? of us no share
Remains; when with last flying breath
The Soul past into Aire is with
The mixed clouds: and the bare trunk,
Into th' funerall fire sunk?
Whatsoe're the Sun from East to West
Beholds; the Sea with blew waves prest
In's flux or reflux wets, age will
VVith a Pegasian Motion spill.
VVith what pace the twelve Signes do fly,
VVith what course through the year doth hie
The Stars Lord; with what haste in her
Oblique course Hecate doth stir,
To death we run: who once attains
The Stygian Lake no more remaines.
As the black fume which from the fire
Mounts, doth in a short space expire,
As Boreas doth assunder blow,
The rain-big clouds we saw but now;
Just so flies hence, our guide, the breath.
After Death nothing: Nothing's Death,
Of a short life the last end. Let
The Greedy hope, the Sad feare set
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aside.
When dead? where the unborn now are.
Time us, and Chaos doth devour;
Body and Soul yields to Death's power.
The Realm of Dis, and Tænarus
And the three-headed Cerberus,
The black, and Cruel monster, that
Sits Porter at th'unfacil gate
Are idle tailes, vain words, and seem
Like fables in a pensive Dream.
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