 | Octavia (1581) |  |
THE FIRST SCENE.
- Octauia,
- Nutrix,
- Chorus Romanorum,
- Seneca,
- Nuntius,
- Agrippina,
- Poppea,
- Nero.
- Præfectus.
The Speakers names.
Now
that Aurore with glitteryng streames,
The glading starres from skye doth chase,
Syr Phœbus pert, with spouting beames,
From dewy neast doth mount apace:
And with his cheerefull lookes doth yeeld,
Unto the world a gladsome day.
Go to, O wretch, with ample Fielde
Of heauy cares oppressed aye,
Thy grieuous wonted playntes recount:
Do not alone with sighes and howles,
The Seaysh Alcyones surmounte,
But also passe the Pandyon foules:
More yrksome is thy state then theirs.
The glading starres from skye doth chase,
Syr Phœbus pert, with spouting beames,
From dewy neast doth mount apace:
And with his cheerefull lookes doth yeeld,
Unto the world a gladsome day.
Go to, O wretch, with ample Fielde
Of heauy cares oppressed aye,
Thy grieuous wonted playntes recount:
Do not alone with sighes and howles,
The Seaysh Alcyones surmounte,
But also passe the Pandyon foules:
More yrksome is thy state then theirs.
O Mother deare whose death by fits,
I nyll lament but still shed teares.
My ground of griefe in thee it sits.
If that in shade of darksome denne,
Perceiuing sence at al remayne,
Heare out at large, O mother then,
My great complayntes, and grieuous payne
I nyll lament but still shed teares.
My ground of griefe in thee it sits.
If that in shade of darksome denne,
Perceiuing sence at al remayne,
Heare out at large, O mother then,
My great complayntes, and grieuous payne
O that immortall Clothos wrist,
Had torne in twayne my vitall thred:
Ere I vnto my griefe had wist
Thy woundes, and face of sanguine red.
O day which aye doth me annoy:
Since that tyme did I more desyre,
The feareful darknes to enioy,
Than Phœbus fresh with fayre attyre.
I haue abode the bitter hest
Of stepdame dire, in mothers place,
I haue abode her cruell breast,
Hir stomake stout, and fighting face.
She, Shee, for spyte vnto my case,
A doleful, and a graue Eryn,
To Bridegromes chamber spousall space,
The Stygian flashing flames brought in.
And thee, (alas) most piteous Syre,
With traytrous traynes hath shee bereft
Of breathing soule with poysoned myre:
To whom ere whyle, the world all left
Unvanquisht from the Ocean Seas
By martiall feats did freely yeeld:
And didst subdue with wondrous ease,
The Brittayne brutes that fledde the fielde:
Whom liuing at their propre swaye:
No Romayne power did earst inuade.
Now lo (ful wel lament I may)
Thy Spouse deceypte thy prowes hath lade:
And now thy court and child of yore,
With homage serue a Tyrantes lore.
Had torne in twayne my vitall thred:
Ere I vnto my griefe had wist
162
O day which aye doth me annoy:
Since that tyme did I more desyre,
The feareful darknes to enioy,
Than Phœbus fresh with fayre attyre.
I haue abode the bitter hest
Of stepdame dire, in mothers place,
I haue abode her cruell breast,
Hir stomake stout, and fighting face.
She, Shee, for spyte vnto my case,
A doleful, and a graue Eryn,
To Bridegromes chamber spousall space,
The Stygian flashing flames brought in.
And thee, (alas) most piteous Syre,
With traytrous traynes hath shee bereft
Of breathing soule with poysoned myre:
To whom ere whyle, the world all left
Unvanquisht from the Ocean Seas
By martiall feats did freely yeeld:
And didst subdue with wondrous ease,
The Brittayne brutes that fledde the fielde:
Whom liuing at their propre swaye:
No Romayne power did earst inuade.
Now lo (ful wel lament I may)
Thy Spouse deceypte thy prowes hath lade:
And now thy court and child of yore,
With homage serue a Tyrantes lore.
| Octavia (1581) | |