University of Virginia Library

THE FOVRTHE ACTE.

Hercules,
Theseus, Amphitryon, Megara.
With my reuēging right hād slayne now Lycus loe the groūd
With groueling face hath smit: thē who soeuer fellow foūd
Of Tyraunt was, partaker of his paynes did also lye.
Nowe to my father sacrifice and Gods victor will I,
And aulters that deserue it, with slayne offrings reuerence.
Thee, thee O mate of all my toyles I pray and my defence
O warrefull Pallas, in whose left hand thy cleare shielde Ægis shakes
Fierce threats, wt head that eche thing stone that lookes vpon it makes.
Let tamer of Lycurgus nowe, and of red Sea be heare,
That poynct of speare with Iuye greene in hand doth couer'de beare:
And two Gods powre, both Phœbus, and his Syster to I pray
The sister meeter for her shaftes, but hee on th'harpe to play:
And what soeuer brother ells of myne doth dwell in sky,
Not of my stepdame brother, bring yee hyther by and by
Your plentuous flocks, what euer haue all th'Indians fruicts brought out,
And what sweete odours th'Arabickes doe get in trees about,
To th'aulters bring: let vapour fat and fume smoke vp full hye,
Let rounde about the Poplar tree my hayres now beautifye
Let th'oliue bowe thee hyde with braunche accustom'de in our lande
Theseu: for foorthwith reuerence the thundrer, shall my hande,

TH.
O Gods the builders of the towne, and which of Dragon fell,
The wilde woods vens, and noble waues likewise of Dirces well,
And Tyrian house enhabite eke of straunger wandring king.

HE.
Cast into fyres ye frankencense.

AM.
Sonne fyrst thy hands flowing
With bloudy slaughter, and the death of enmy purify.

HE.
Would God the bloud of hatefull head euen vnto Gods on hye
I might out shed, for lycour loe more acceptable none
Myght th'austers stayne: nor sacrifice more ample any one
Nor yet more plentyfull may bee to Ioue aboue downe cast,
Then king vniust.

AM.
Desyre that now thy father ende at last
Thy labours all: let quietnes at length yet gieuen bee,
And rest to weary folke.

HE.
I will thee prayers make, for mee
And Ioue ful meete in this due place let stand the haughty skye,
And land, and ayre, and let the starres dryue forth eternally
Their course vnstayde: let restful peace kepe nations quietly,
Let labour of the hurtles land all yron now occupye,
And swordes lye hyd: let tempest none ful vyolent and dyre
Disturbe the sea: let from the skyes no flash of lightning fyre
Fall downe whyle Ioue ful angry is: nor yet with winter snowe
Encreased flood the ground vpturnde, and field quyte ouerthrowe,
Let poysons cease: and from hensforth let vp from ground aryse
No greeuous hearbe with hurtful sappe: nor fierce and fell lykewyse
Let tyrantes raygne but if to sight some other mischiefe bringe
The ground yet shall, let it make hast: and any monstruous thinge
If it prepare let it be myne, but what meanes this? myd day
The darkenes haue incloas'd aboute lo Phœbus goeth his way
With face obscure without a clowde who dryues the day to flight,
And turnes to east? from whence doth now his dusky hed the night
Unknowne bring forth? whence fil the poale so many rownde about
Of daytyme starres? lo here behold my laboure first ful stout
Not in the lowest parte of heauen the Lyon shyneth bryght,
And feruently doth rage with yre, and byttes prepares to fyght.
Euen now loe he some star wil take, with mouth full wyde to see
He threatning standes, and fires out blowes and mane vp rustleth he
Shaking with necke the haruest sad of shape, what euer thinge,
And what soeuer winter colde in frosen tyme doth bring,
He with one rage wil ouerpasse, of spring tyme bull he will
Both seeke and breake the neckes at once.

Am.
what is this sodayne yll?
Thy cruel count'naunce whether sonne dost thou cast here and there?
And seest with troubled daseld syght false shape of heauen appere

Her.
The land is tam'de the swelling feas their surges did asswage,
The kingdomes lowe of hell lyke wyse haue felt and knowne my rage,
Yet heauen is free, a labour meete for Hercules to proue.
To spaces high I wil be borne of haughty skies aboue
Let th'ayre be skaeld, my father doth me promise starres t'obtayne.
What if he it denyde? all th'earth can Hercles not contayne,
And geeues at length to gods, me calles of one accorde beholde
The whole assembly of the gods, and doth their gates vnfolde,
Whyle one forbyddes, receyu'st thou mee, and openest thou the skye,
Or els the gate of stubburne heauen draw after me do I?
Do I yet doubt? I euen the bondes from Saturne wyll vndoe,
And euen agaynst the kingdome prowde of wicked father loe
My graundsyre loase. let Titans now prepare agayne their fight
With me theyr captaine raging: stones with woods I will down smight
And hye hilles tops with Centaures full in right hande will I take.
With double mountayne now I will a stayre to Gods vp make.
Let Chyron vnder Ossa see his Pelion mountayne gret:
Olympus vp to heauen aboue in thyrd degree then set
Shall come it selfe, or ells be cast.

AM.
Put farre away from thee
The thoughts that ought not to be spoake: of mynde vnsounde to see,
But yet full great, the furious rage asswage and lay away.

HE.
What meaneth this? the Gyauntes doe pestiferous armes assay,
And Tityus from the sprights is fled, and bearing torne to see
And empty bosome, loe howe neere to heauen it selfe stoode hee?
Cythæron falles, the mountayne hie Pallene shakes for feare,
And torne are Tempe. he the tops of Pindus caught hath here,
And Oethen he, some dredfull thing threatning doth rage about
Erynnis bringing flames: with stripes she soundes nowe shaken out,
And burned brandes in funeralles, loe yet more neare and neare
Throwes in my face: fearce Tisyphone with head and vgly heare
With serpentes set, nowe after dogge fet out with Hercles hand,
That empty gate shee hath shut vp, with bolte of fyry brande,
But loe the stocke of enmious king doth hidden yet remayne,
The wicked Lycus seede: but to your hatefull father slayne
Euen now this right hande shall you sende let nowe his arrowes light
My bowe out shoote: it seemes the shaftes to goe with such a flight
Of Hercles.

AM.
Whether doth the rage and fury blinde yet goe?
His mighty Bowe he drewe with hornes together driuen loe,
And quiuer loaste: great noyese makes with violence sent out
The shaft, and quight the weapon flewe his middle necke throughout,
The wound yet left.

HE.
His other broode I ouerthrow will quight,
And corners all. What stay I yet? to me a greater fyght
Remaynes then all Mycenes loe, that rockye stones should all
Of Cyclops being ouerturn'de with hande of myne, downe fall.
Let shake both here, and there the house, with all stayes ouerthrowne,
Let breake the poasts: and quight let shrinke the shaken piller downe:
Let all the Pallace fall at once. I here yet hidden see
The sonne of wycked father.

AM.
Loe his flattring handes to thee
Applying to thy knees dooth craue his lyfe with piteous mone.
O wicked gylt, full sad, and eke abhorde to looke vpone,
His humble right hand caught he hath, and raging rounde about
Him rolled twyse, or thryse hath cast. his head resoundeth out,
The sprinkled houses with the brayne of him throwne out are wet.
But shee poore wretch her little sonne in bosome hyding yet
Loe Megara, like one in rage doth from the corners flee.

HE.
Though runagate in bosome of the thundrer hid thou bee,
This right hand shall from euery where thee seeke, and bring to sight.

AM.
Wher goest thou wretch? what lurking dens, seekst thou to take, or flight?
No place of sauegarde is if once bee Hercles styrde with yre:
But doe thou rather him embrace, and with thy meeke desyre
Assay t'asswage him.

ME.
Husband spare vs I beseech thee nowe,
And knowe thy Megara, this sonne thy countenaunce doth showe,
And bodyes pytche: behould'st thou howe his hands vp lyfteth hee?

HE.
I holde my stepdame: followe on due penaunce paye to mee,
And bounden Ioue from fylthy bonde deliuer free away:
But I before the mother will this litle monster slay.

ME.
Thou mad man whither goest thou? wylt thou thine owne bloude sheade?

AM.
Th'infant with fathers fyry face astonnied all for dread,
Died euen before the wounde: his feare hath tooke away his lyfe.
And now likewise his heauy club is shaken towarde his wyfe:
He broaken hath the bones, her head from blocklyke body gone
Is quight, nor any where it stayes. dar'ste thou this looke vpone
To long lyu'de age? if mourning doe the greeue, thou hast then loe
The death preparde. Doe thou thy breast vppon his weapons throe,
Or ells this club with slaughter stayn'de of monsters slayne that bee,
Nowe hyther turne. thy parent false, vnfit for name of thee
Ryd hence away, least he should be to thy renowne a let.

TH.
Which way the father toward thy death dost thou thy selfe cast yet?
Or whyther goest thou mad man? flee and lye thou cloasely hid,
And yet from handes of Hercules this onely myschiefe rid.

HE.
T'is well, the house of shameful king is now quight ouerthrowne.
To thee O spouse of greattest Ioue I haue loe beaten downe
This offred flocke: I gladly haue fulfill'de my wyshes all
Full meete for thee, and Argos now geue other offrings shall.

AM.
Thou hast not sonne yet all perform'de, fill vp the sacrifice.
Loe th'offring doth at th'aultars stande, it waytes thy hand likewyse
With necke full prone: I geue my selfe, I roon, I follow loe.
Mee sacrifice. what meaneth this? his eyes rolle to and froe,
And heauines doth dull his sight. see I of Hercules
The trembling hands? downe falles his face to sleepe and quietnes,
And weary necke with bowed head full fast doth downeward shrynke,
With bended knee: nowe all at once he downe to ground doth sinke,
As in the woods wylde Ashe cut downe, or Bulwarke for to make
A Hauen in Seas. Liu'ste thou? or els to death doth thee betake
The selfe same rage, that hath sent all thy famyly to death?
It is but sleepe, for to and fro doth goe and come his breath.
Let tyme bee had of quietnesse, that thus by sleepe and rest
Great force of his disease subdew'de, may ease his greeued brest.
Remoue his weapons seruants, least he mad get them agayne.

Chorus.
Let th'ayre complayne, and eke the parent great
Of haughty Sky, and fertile land throughout,
And wandring waue of euer mouing freat.
And thou before them all, which lands about
And trayn of Sea thy beames abroade dost throe
With glittring face, and mak'st the night to flee,
O feruent Titan: bothe thy settinges loe
And rysing, hath Alcides seene wyth thee:
And knowne lykewise hee hath thy howsen twayne.
From so great ills release yee nowe hys brest,
O Gods release: to better turne agayne
His ryghter mynde, and thou O tamer best
O sleepe of toyles, the quietnesse of mynde,
Of all the lyfe of man the better parte,
O of thy mother Astrey wynged kynde,
Of hard and pyning death that brother arte,
With truth mingling the false, of after state
The sure, but eke the worste foreteller yet:
O Father of all thynges, of Lyfe the gate,
Of lyght the rest, of nyght and fellowe fyt,
That com'st to Kyng, and seruaunt equally,
And gently cherysshest who weary bee,
All mankynde loe that dreadfull is to dye,
Thou doost constrayne long death to learne by thee.
Keepe him fast bounde wyth heauy sleepe opprest,
Let slomber deepe his Limmes vntamed bynde,
Nor soner leaue his vnright raginge breaste
Then former mynd his course agayne may fynd,
Loe layd on ground with full fierce hart yet still
His cruel sleepes he turnes: and not yet is
The plague subdude of so great raging yll
And on great club the weary head of his
He wont to laye, doth secke the staffe to fynde
VVith empty handes his armes out casting yet
VVith mouing vayne: nor yet all rage of minde
He hath layd downe, but as with Sowthwind greate
The waue once vext yet after kepeth still
His raging long, and though the wind now bee
Asswaged swelles, shake of theis madde and yll
Tossinges of mynde, returne let piety,
And vertue to the man, els let be so
His mynde with mouing mad toste euery waye:
Let errour blynd, where it begun hath, go,
For naught els now but only madnes maye
Thee gyltles make in next estate it standes
To hurtles handes thy mischiefe not to know.
Now stroken let with Hercules his handes
Thy bosome sounde: thyne armes the worlde allow
VVere wonte to beare, let greuous strypes now smyte
VVith conquering hande, and lowde complayning cryes,
Let th'ayre now heare, let of darke pole and nighte
The Queene them hear, and who ful fyercely lyes
That beares his neckes in mighty chaynes fast bounde,
Low lurking Cerberus in deepest caue.
Let Chaos all with clamour sad resound,
And of broad sea wide open wafting waue.
And th'ayre that felt thy weapons beter yet, but felt them though.
The breastes with so great yls as these beset,
VVith litle stroake they must not beaten bee.
Let kingdomes three sound with one playnt and crye,
And thou neckes honour and defence to see,
His arrowe strong longe hanged vp on hye,
And quiuers light the cruell stripes now smyte
On his fierce backe his shouldars strong and stout
Let oken club now strike and poast of might
VVith knots ful hard his brestee load all aboute.
Let euen his weapons so great woes complayne
Not you pore babes mates of your fathers praise,
VVith cruell wound reuenging kinges agayne:
Not you your lims in Argos barriars playes,
Are taught to turne with weapons strong to smite
And strong of hand yet euen now daring loe
The weapons of the Scithian quiuer light
VVith stedy hand to paise set out from bow.
And stags to perce that saue them selues by flight
And backes not yet ful maend of cruel beast.
To Stigian hauens goe ye of shade and night
Goe hurtles soules, whom mischiefe hath opprest
Euen in fyrst porch of lyfe but lately had,
And fathers fury goe vnhappy kind
O litle children, by the way ful sad
Of iourney knowen.
Goe see the angry kynges.