University of Virginia Library

Actus quartus.

The order and signification of the dōme shewe before the fourth Acte.

First the Musick of Howeboies began to plaie, duringe whiche there came forth from vnder the Stage, as thoughe out of Hell three Furies. Alecto, Megera & Ctisiphone clad in blacke garments sprinkled with bloud & flames, their bodies girt with snakes, their heds spread with Serpents in steade of heare, the one bearinge in her hande a Snake, the other a whip, & the thirde a burning Firebrande: eche driuynge before them a kynge and a Queene, whiche moued by Furies vnnaturallye had slaine their owne Children. The names of the kings & Queenes were these. Tantalus, Medea, Athamas, Ino, Cambises, Althea, after that the Furies and these had passed aboute the Stage thrise, they departed & than the Musicke ceased: hereby was signified the vnnaturall Murders to followe, that is to saie. Porrex slaine by his owne Mother. And of king Gorboduc and Queene Viden, killed by their owne Subiectes.

Scena prima.

Viden sola.
Viden.
VUhy should I lyue and lynger forth my time
In longer liefe to double my distresse?
O me most wofull wight whome no mishap
Longe ere this daie could haue bereued hence.
Mought not these handes by fortune or by fate,
Haue perst this brest and life with Iron reft,
Or in this Pallaice here where I so longe
Haue spent my daies, could not that happie houre
Ones, ones haue hapt ī which these hugie frames
With death by fall might haue oppressed me
Or should not this most hard and cruell soile,
So oft where I haue prest my wretched steps
Somtyme had ruthe of myne accursed liefe,
To rende in twaine and swallowe me therin.
So had my bones possessed nowe in peace
Their happie graue within the closed grounde
And greadie wormes had gnawen this pyned hart
Without my feelynge paine: So shulde not nowe
This lyuynge brest remayne the ruthefull tombe
Wherin my hart yelden to death is graued:
Nor driery thoughts with panges of pining griefe
My dolefull minde had not afflicted thus.
O my beloued sonne: O my swete childe,
My deare Ferrex, my Ioye, my lyues delyght.
Is my welbeloued sonne, is my sweete childe,
My deare Ferrex, my Ioye, my lyues delight
Murdered with cruell death? O hatefull wretche,
O heynous Traytour bothe to heauen and earth,
Thou Porrex, thou this damned dede hast wrought
Thou Porrex, thou shalt dearely abye the same,
Traitour to kinne and kinde, to Sire and me,
To thyne owne flesshe, and Traitour to thy selfe
The Gods on the in hell shall wreke their wrath,
And here in earth this hand shall take reuenge
On the Porrrex, thou false and caytife wighte,
If after blode, so eigre were thy thirst
And Murderous minde had so possessed thee,
If suche hard hart of Rocke and stonie Flint
Lyued in thy brest, that nothing elles could like
Thy cruell Tyrantes thought but death & bloode
Wild sauage beasts mought not ye slaughter serue
To fede thy gredie will, and in the myddest
Of their entrailes to staine thy deadlie handes
With blode deserued, and drinke therof thy fyll:
Or if nought els but death and bloud of man
Mought please thy lust, could none in Bryttain land
Whose hart be torne out of his louyng brest
With thine owne hand, or work what death thou woldest
Suffice to make a Sacrifice to appeaze
That deadlie minde & murderous thought in the?
But he who in the self same wombe was wrapped
Where thou in dismall hower receiuedst life?
Or if nedes, nedes thie hand must slaughter make
Moughtst thou not haue reached a mortall wound
And wt thy sworde haue persed this cursed womb?
That the accursed Porrex brought to lyght?
And geuen me a iust rewarde therfore.
So Ferrex, if swete life mought haue enioyed
And to his aged father comfort brought,
wt some yong sonne in whom thei both might liue
But wherevnto wast I this ruthefull speche?
To the that hast thy brothers bloud thus shed
Shall I stil think yt from this womb thou sprong?
That I thee bare? or take thee for my sonne?
No Traytour, no: I the refuse for mine,
Murderer I thee renounce, thou art not mine:
Neuer, O wretche, this wombe conceued thee,
Nor neuer bode I painefull throwes for thee:
Changeling to me thou art, and not my childe
Nor to no wight, that sparke of pytie knewe,
Rutheles, vnkind, Monster of Natures worke.
Thou neuer suckte the milke of womans breaste
But from thy birth the cruell Tigres teates
Haue nursed, nor yet of flesshe and bloud
Formed is thy hart, but of hard Iron wrought.
And wilde and desert woods breade thee to lyfe:
But canst thou hope to scape my iust reuenge?
Or that these handes will not be wrooke on thee?
Doest thou not knowe that Ferrex mother lyues
That loued him more dearelie then her selfe?
And doth she lyue, and is not venged on thee?

Scena secunda.

Gorboduc. Arostus Eubulus. Porrex. Marcella.
Gorboduc.
We marueyle muche wherto this lingeryng staie
Falles out so longe: Porrex vnto our Courte
By order of our Letters is retourned
And Eubulus receyued from vs by hest
At his arriuale here to geue him charge
Before our presence streight to make repaire
And yet we haue no worde wherof he staies.

Arostus
Loe where he cōmes and Eubulus with hym.

Eubulus.
Accordynge to your highnes hest to me
Here haue I Porrex brought euen in suche sort
As from his weried Horse he did alighte,
For that your Grace did will suche haste therein.

Gorboduc.
We like and praise this spedie wyll in you
To worke the thing that to your charge we gaue
Porrex, if we so farre shulde swarue from kinde,
And frō these bounds which lawes of Nature sets
As thou hast done by vile and wretched deede
In cruell murder of thy Brothers life,
Our present hande coulde staie no lenger tyme,
But streight shuld bathe this blade in bloud of the
As iust reuenge of thy detested cryme.
No we shuld not offende the lawe of kinde,
If nowe this sworde of ours did slaie thee here:
For thou hast murdered him whose heinous death
Euen Natures force doth moue vs to reuenge
By bloud againe: But Iustice forceth vs
To measure Death for Death, thy due deserte,
Yet sithens thou art our childe, and sithe as yet
In this harde case what worde thou canst alledge
For thy defence, by vs hath not ben harde
We are content to staie our wyll for that
Whiche Iustice biddes vs presently to worke:
And geue the leaue to vse thie speache at full
If ought thou haue to laye for thine excuse.

Porrex.
Neither O kyng, I can or wyll denie
But that this hande from Ferrex lyfe hath reft:
Which fact how much my doleful hart doth waile
Oh would it mought as full appeare to sight
As inwarde griefe doth powre it forth to me,
So yet perhappes if euer ruthefull hart
Melting in teares within a manlie breast
Throughe depe repentaunce of his bloudie facte
If euer griefe, if euer wofull man
Might moue regreite with sorowe of his fault,
I thinke the torment of my mournefull case
Knowen to your grace, as I do feele the same,
Woulde force euen wrath her selfe to pytie mee.
But as the water troubled with the mudde
Shewes not the face whiche els the eye shulde see,
Euen so your Irefull minde with stirred thought,
Can not so perfectly discerne my cause.
But this vnhappe, emongst so many heapes
I must content me with, most wretched man,
That to my selfe I must referre my woe
In pynynge thoughts of myne accursed facte:
Sithens I may not shewe here my smallest griefe
Suche as it is, and as my breast endures,
Whiche I esteme the greatest myserie
Of all mishappes that Fortune nowe can sende,
Not that I rest in hope with plaints and teares
Should purchase life: for to the Goddes I clepe
For true recorde of this my faithfull speache,
Neuer this harte shall haue the thoughtfull dreade
To die the death that by your Graces dome
By iust desarte, shalbe pronounced to mee:
Nor neuer shal this tongue ones spend this speche
Pardon to craue, or seeke by sute to lyue:
I meane not this as though I were not touchde
With care of dreadfull death, or that I helde
Lyfe in contempt: but that I knowe, the mynde
Stoupes to no dreade, although the flesh be fraile,
And for my gilt, I yelde the same so great
As in my selfe I finde a feare to sue
For graunte of lyfe.

Gorboduc.
In vayne, O wretche thou shewed
A wofull harte, Ferrex nowe lyes in graue,
Slaine by thy hande.

Porrex.
Yet this, O father, heare:
And than I ende: Your Maiestie well knowes,
That whan my Brother Ferrex and my selfe
By your owne hest were ioyned in gouernaunce
Of this your Graces Realme of Brittayne Lande
I neuer sought nor trauaylled for the same,
Nor by my selfe, or by no frende I wrought,
But from your highnes will alone it spronge,
Of your most gracious goodnes bent to me,
But howe my Brothers hart euen than repined
With swollen disdaine against mine egall rule
Seing that Realme, which by discent shuld grow
Whollie to him, allotted halfe to me?
Euen in your highnes Court he nowe remaynes,
And with my Brother than in nearest place
Who can recorde, what proofe therof was shewde
And how my brothers enuious hart appearde
Yet I that iudged it my parte to seeke
His fauour and good will, and lothe to make
Your highnes knowe, the thing which shuld haue brought
Grief to your grace, & your offēce to him
Hopyng by earnest suite shuld soone haue wonne
A louynge hart within a Brothers brest
Wrought in that sorte that for a pleadge of loue
And faithfull hart, he gaue to me his hande.
This made me thinke, that he had banisshed quite
All rancour from his thought and bare to me
Suche hartie loue, as I did owe to him:
But after once we left your Graces Court
And from your highnes presence liued aparte
This egall rule still, still did grudge him so
That nowe those Enuious sparkes which erst lay raked
In lyuing cinders of dissemblynge brest,
Kindled so farre within his hartes disdaine
That longer could he not refraine from proofe
Of secrete practise to depriue me life
By Poysons force, and had bereft me so,
If myne owne Seruaunt hired to this fact
And moued by trouthe wt hate to worke the same,
In time had not bewraied it vnto mee:
Whan thus I sawe the knot of loue vnknitte
All honest League and faithfull promise broke
The Lawe of kind and trothe thus rent in twaine
His hart on mischiefe set, and in his brest
Blacke treason hid then, then did I dispaier
That euer tyme coulde wynne him frende to me
Than sawe I howe he smyled with slaying knife
Wrapped vnder cloke, then sawe I depe deceite
Lurke in his face and death prepared for mee:
Euen nature moued me than to holde my lyfe
More deare to me than his, and bad this hande
Since by his lyfe my death must nedes ensue,
And by his death my lyfe to be preserued:
To shed his bloud, and seeke my safetie so,
And wisdome willed me without protracte
In spedie wise to put the same in vre.
Thus haue I tolde the cause that moued me
To worke my Brothers death and so I yelde
My lyfe, my death to iudgement of your grace.

Gorboduc.
Oh cruell wight, shulde any cause preuaile
To make the staine thy hands with brothers blod
But what of thee we will resolue to doe
Shal yet remaine vnknowen: Thou in the meane
Shalt from our royall presence banyshed be
Untill our Princely pleasure furder shall
To the be shewed, departe therfore our sight
Accursed childe. What cruell destenie
What frowarde fate hath sorted vs this chaunce
That euen in those, where we shuld comfort find
Where our delight nowe in our aged daies
Shulde rest and be, euen there our onelie griefe
And depest sorrowes to abridge our liefe,
Most pynyng cares and deadlie thoughts do graue.

Arostus.
Your Grace shuld now in these graue yeres of yours
Haue founde ere this the price of mortall Ioyes,
Howe shorte they be, howe fadyng heare in earth
Howe full of chaunge, howe Brittle our estate,
Of nothynge sure, saue onely of the Death,
To whome both man and all the worlde doth owe
Their ende at last, neither shall natures power
In other sorte against your harte preuayle,
Than as the naked hande whose stroke assayes
The Armed breast where force doth light in vaine

Gorboduc.
Many can yelde right graue and sage aduise
Of pacient sprite to others wrapped in woe,
And can in speache both rule and conquere kinde,
Who if by proofe, they might feele natures force,
Wold shewe them selues men as thei are in dede,
which now wil nedes be gods: but what doth meane
The sory chere of her that here doth come?

Marcella.
Oh where is ruthe? or where is pytie nowe?
Whether is gentle harte and mercie fled?
Are they exiled out of our stony breasts
Neuer to make retourne? is all the worlde
Drowned in bloode, and soncke in crueltie?
If not in women mercie maye be founde
If not (alas) within the mothers brest
To her owne childe, to her owne flesshe and blood
If ruthe be banisshed thence, if pytie there
Maye haue no place, if there no gentle harte
Do lyue and dwell, where shuld we seeke it than?

Gorboduc.
Madame (alas) what meanes your woful tale?

Marcella.
O sillie woman I, why to this howre,
Haue kinde and fortune thus deferred my breath?
That I shuld lyue to see this dolefull daye
Will euer wight beleue that suche harde harte
Coulde rest within the cruell mothers breaste,
With her owne hande to slaye her onely sonne?
But out (alas) these eyes behelde the same,
They sawe the driery sight, and are become
Most ruthfull recordes of the bloodie facte.
Porrex, (alas) is by his mother slayne,
And with her hand a wofull thynge to tell,
While slomberinge on his carefull bed he restes
His hart stalde in with kniefe is reft of life.

Gorboduc.
O Eubulus, oh drawe this sworde of ours,
And perce this hart with speede, O hatefull light,
O lothsome liefe, O sweete and welcome Death,
Dere Eubulus worke this we thee beseche.

Eubulus.
Patient your Grace, perhappes he liueth yet,
With wounde receued, but not of certayne death.

Gorboduc.
O let vs than repaier, vnto the place,
And see if that Porrex, or thus be slaine.

Marcella.
Alas he liueth not, it is to true,
That with these eies of him a pereles Prince,
Sonne to a King, and in the flower of youth,
Euen with a twinke a censeles stocke I sawe.

Arostus
O dampned deed.

Marcella.
But heare this ruthefull ende.
The noble Prince perst with the sodeine wounde
Out of his wretched slombre hastelie starte
Whose strēgth now failyng streight he ouerthrew
When in the fall his eyes euen newe vnclosed
Behelde the Quene and cryed to her for helpe
We then, alas, the Ladies whiche that tyme
Did there attende, seynge that heynous deede
And hearing him oft call the wretched name
Of mother, and to crie to her for Aide
Whose direfull hand gaue him the mortal wound
Pitieng, (alas, for nought els could we do)
His ruthefull ende, ranne to the wofull bedde
Dispoyled streight his brest, and all we might
wyped in vaine with napkyns next at hande,
The sodeine streames of blood that flusshed fast
Out of the gaping wounde: O what a looke,
O what a ruthefull stedfast eye me thought
He fixed vpon my face, whiche to my deathe
Will neuer parte fro me, when with a braide
A deepe fet sighe he gaue and therewith all
Claspinge his handes, to heauen he cast his sight,
And streight pale death pressyng within his face
The flyinge ghoste his mortall corps forsooke.

Arostus.
Neuer did age bring forth so vile a facte.

Marcella.
O harde and cruell happe, that thus assigned
Unto so worthie a wighte so wretched ende
But most harde cruell harte, that coulde consent
To lende the hatefull destenies that hande
By whiche, alas, so heynous cryme was wrought,
O Queene of Adamante, O Marble breaste
If not the fauour of his comelie face,
If not his Princelie chere and countenaunce,
His valiant Actiue Armes, his manlie breaste.
If not his faier and semelie personage
His noble Lymmes in suche preparacion caste
As would haue wrapped a sillie womans thought
If this mought not haue moued the bloodie harte
And that most cruell hande the wretched weapon
Euen to let fall, and kiste him in the face.
With teares for ruthe to reaue suche one by death
Should nature yet consent to slaye her sonne
O mother, thou to murder thus thie childe
Euen Ioue with Iustice must wt lightening flames
From heauen send down some strange reuenge on thee.
Ah noble Prince, how oft haue I beheld
Thee mounted on thy fierce and traumpling stede
Shyning in Armour bright before the Tylte
And with thy Mistresse Sleaue tied on thy Helme
And charge thy staffe to please thy Ladies eie
That bowed the head peece of thy frendly foe,
Howe oft in Armes on horse to bende the Mace
Howe oft in Armes on foote to breake the sworde,
Whiche neuer nowe these eyes may see againe.

Arostus.
Madame, alas, in vaine these plaints are shed,
Rather with me departe and helpe to asswage,
The thoughtfull griefes that in the aged kinge
Must nedes by nature growe by death of this
His onelie sonne, whome he did holde so deare.

Marcella.
What wight is that whiche sawe that I did see
And could refraine to waile with plainte & teares
Not I, alas, that harte is not in me,
But let vs goe, for I am greued anewe,
To call to minde the wretched fathers woe.

Chorus.