University of Virginia Library

THE THIRD ACTE.

Euribates,
Clytemnestra
Sore tyred after many yeares with trauayle and wyth toyle
Scant credityng my selfe, the Gods of thys my natyue soyle,
The temple, and the alters of the saincts that rule the skye,
In humble sort wyth reuerence deuoutly worship I.
Now pay your vowes vnto the Gods: returned is agayne
Unto his countrey court, where wont he was to rule, and reigne,
Prynce Agamemnon, victor he, of Grece the great renoume.

Cly.
The tydings of a message good vnto mine eares is blowne.
Where stayes my spouse whō longing for ten yeres I haue out scand?
What doth he yet sayle on the seas, or he is come a land?
Yet hath he fyxt and set his foote back stepping home agayne.
Uppon the sandy shore, that longe he wished to attayne?
And doth he styll enioy his health enhauncte in glory great,
And painted out in pompe of prayes whose fame the sky doth beate?

Eu.
Blesse we with burning sacrifice at length this lucky day

Cli.
And eke the Gods though gracious, yet dealing long delay:
Declare if that my brothers wyfe enioy the vytall ayre
And tel me to what kind of Coast my sister doth repayre.

Euri.
God graunt, & geue vs better newes then this that thou dost craue
The heauy hap of fyghting flouds forbiddes the truth to haue,
Our scattred fleete the swelling seas attemptes in such a plight,
That ship from ship was taken cleane out of each others sight.
Atrides in the waters wyde tormoyld and straying farre
More vyolence by seas sustaynd then by the bloudy warre
And as it were a conquerd man escaping home al weete
Now bringeth in his company of such a mighty fleete,
A sort of brused broken barkes, beshaken, torne, and rent.

Cli.
Shew what vnlucky chaunce it is that hath our nauy spent.
What storme of seas dispersed hath our Captaynes hear and there

Eury.
Thou willest me to make report of heauy woful geare.
Thou biddest me most greeuous newes with tydinges good to part:
For vttring of this woeful hap my feeble mynd doth start.
And horribly appauled is with this so monstruous ill.

Cly,
Speake out and vtter it: himselfe with terrour he doth fill,
Whose hart his owne calamity and carke doth loath to know:
The hart whom doubted domage dulles with greater griefe doth glow

Eu.
When Troyan buildings blasing bright did burne away and broyle,
Enkindled first by Grekish brand, they fall to part the spoyle:
Repayring fast vnto the seas agayne we come aboord,
And now the souldiers weary loynes were eased of his sword,
Their bucklers cast aside, vppon the hatches lie aboue.
Their warlike handes in practise put, and Oers learne to moue:
Ech litle hindraunce seemes to much to them in hasty plight,
When of recourse the Admirall gaue watchword by his light,
And trumpet blast beganne to cal our army from delay.
The paynted Pup with gilded snowt did first guyde on the way:
And cut the course, which following on a thousand shippes did ryue,
Then first a wynd with pipling puffes our launcing ships did dryue,
Watch glyded downe vpon our sayles the water beyng calme
With breath of westerne wynd so myld scant moued any walme.
The shyning seas bespred about with shippes doth glister bright,
And also couerd with the same lay hid from Phœbus syght:
It doth vs good to gase vppon the naked shore of Troy:
The desart Phrygian plots so bare to vew wee hop for ioye:
The yeuth each one besturres themselues, and striking altogeather,
They tough their oers & with their toyle they helpe the wynd & weather
They tug and chearely row by course, the spirting seas vp dash,
Agaynst the tatling ribs of ships the flapping floods do flash
The hory froth of wrestling waues which ores aloft doth rayse,
Do draw and trace a furrow through the marblefaced seas.
When stronger blast with belly swolne our hoysted sayles did fil,
They row no more, but let the Pup to goe with wynd at wil,
Their sheryng oers layd assyde our Pilot doth espye,
How farre from any land aloofe our sayles reculing flye.
Or bloudy battels doth display the threats of Hector stout,
Or of his ratling waggings tels, wherein he rode about.
Or how his gashed carkas slayne and traynd about the field
To funeral flames and obit rightes for coyne agayne was yeld.
How Iupiter embathed was al in his royall bloud.
The frolicke fish disposed was to mirth in Tyrren floud,
And fetching friskes both in and out playes on the waters brim,
And on his broade and fynny backe about the seas doth swim,
With gambals quicke in ringes around and side to side enclynd,
Erwhyle he sportes afront the pup, and whips agayne behynd,
Now fidling on the snout before the dalying wanton route
With iocundary ioly tryckes doth skip the fleete about.
Sometyme he standeth gasing on and eyes the vessels bright,
Now euery shore is couered cleane, and land is out of sight,
The parlous poynt of Ida rocke in sight doth open lye,
And that alone espie we could with fyrmly fixed eye,
A duskye clowde of stifling smoake from Troy did smolter blacke,
When Titan from the weary neckes the heauy yokes did slacke.
The fading light did groueling bend, and downe the day did shrowd,
Agaynst the Starres amounting vp a litle misty clowde
Came belching out in yrksome lompe, and Phœbus galland beams
He spewd vppon, bestayning them duct downe in Westerne streams.
The Sunne set swaruing in such sort with diuers chaunge of face,
Did geue vs cause to haue mistrust of Neptunes doubted grace,
The euening first did burnish bright, and paynt with starres the sky.
The wyndes were layed, and cleane forsooke our sayles that quiet lie.
When cracking, ratling, rumbling noyse, rusht down wt thundring sway
From top of hills, which greatter sturre doth threaten and bewraye.
With bellowinges, and yellinges lowde, the shores do grunt & grone,
The craggy clyues and roaring rocks do howle in hollow stone.
The bubling waters swelles vpreard before the wrastling wynd,
When sodaynly the lowring light of Mone is hid and blynd.
The glymsing starres do goe to glade, the surging seas are tost
Euen to the skyes among the clowdes the light of heauen is lost.
More nightes in one compacted are with shadow dim and blacke,
One shadow vpon another doth more darknes heape and packe,
And euery sparke of light consum'd the waues and skyes do meete,
The ruffling windes range on the seas, through euery coast they fitt.
They heaue it vp with violence, oreturnde from bottom low,
The westerne wynd flat in the face of Easterne wynd doth blow.
With hurley burley Boreas set ope his blasting mouth,
And girdeth out his boysteous breth agaynst the stormy south,
Each wynd with al his might doth blow, and worketh daungers deepe,
They shake the floods, a sturdy blast along the seas do sweepe.
That rolles and tumbles waue on waue, a northren tempest stronge,
Aboundance great of flacky snow doth hurle our shippes amonge.
The southwynd out of Libia, doth rage vppon a shold,
And with the puissant force therof the quicksandes vp be rold,
Nor bydeth in the south which doth with tempest lumpe and lower,
And force the flowing floods to rise by powring out a shower.
The stubberne Eurus, Earthquakes made, and shoke the coūtries East,
And Eos cost where Phœbus first aryseth from his rest.
How violent Corus stretcht and tare his yawning breast ful wyde?
A man would sure haue thought the world did from his center slyde,
And that the frames of Heauen broke vp the Gods adowne would fall
And Chaos darke confused heape would shade and couer all.
The streame straue with the wynd, the wynd dyd beate it downe againe
The springing sea within his bankes can not it selfe contayne,
The raging showre his trilling droppes doth mingle with the seas,
And yet in all this misery the fynd not so much ease,
To see and know what ill it is, that worketh theyr decay.
The darknes dim oppresseth still and keepes the light away:
The blackfacst night with Hellicke hue was clad of Stygian lake
And yet ful oft with glimsing beames the sparkling fyre out brake,
The clowde doth cracke, and beyng rent the lightning leapeth out,
The wretches like the same so well it shyning them about,
That stil they wish such light to haue (although God wot but yll)
The nauy swaying downe it selfe doth cast away, and spill.
One side with other side is crackt, and helme is rent with helme,
The ship it selfe the gulping seas do headlong ouerwhelme.
Erwhyle a greedy gaping gulph doth sup it vp amayne,
Then by and by tost vp aloft it spewes it out againe,
She with her swagging full of sea to bottome lowe doth sinke
And drencheth deepe asyde in floods her totring broken brinke.
That vnderneath a dosen waues lay drowned out of sight,
Her broken plankes swim vp and downe, spoyld is her tackle quight,
Both sayle and Oers cleane are lost, the mayne mast eke is gone.
That wonted was to beare vpright the sayle yard thereuppon,
The limber and the broken bordes lye on the waters brim,
When cold and shiuering feare in vs doth strike through euery lim,
The wysest wits entocksicate dare nothing enterprise,
And cunning practise naught auayles when feareful stormes aryse,
The mareners letting duty slip stand staring all agast,
Their scoping ores sodaynly out of their handes are wrast.
To prayer then apace we fall, when other hope is none,
The Greekes and Troyans to the Gods alyke do make their mone.
Alacke what succour of the fates may wee poore wretches fynd?
Agaynst his father Pyrrhus beares a spyteful cankred mynd,
At Ayax grudge Vlisses doth, king Menela doth hate
Great Hector: Agamemnon is with Priam at debate.
O happy man is he that doth lye slayne in Troyan ground,
And hath deserude by handy stroake to take his fatall wound,
Whom same preserueth, taking vp his tombe in conquerd land
Those momes whose melting cowardes hart durst neuer take in hand
Or enterprise no noble acte, those force of floods shall drowne
But fate forbearing long, wil take stoute Brutes of high renoume,
Ful wel we may ashamed be, in such a sort to dye,
If any man his spyteful mynd yet can not satisfye,
With these outragious plunging plagues that downe frō Gods are sēt,
Appease at length thy wrathful God agayne and eake relent.
Euen Troy for pity would haue wept, to see our woefull case,
But if that in thy boyling breast black rancour still haue place,
And that the Greekes to ruin run, it bee thy purpose bent,
Why doe these Troyans goe to wrack? for whom thus are wee spent?
Asswage the rygaur of the sea that threatning hilles vp reares:
This drenched Fleete the Troyan folke and Greekes together beares.
Then from theyr prayers are they put, theyr foultring tonges doe stay,
The roring seas doth drowne their voyce and caryes their cries away.
Then mighty Pallas armed with the lepping lightning fyre,
That teasty loue doth vse to hurle prouokt to swelling yre,
With threatning Iaueling in her hand, her prowesse meanes to try,
And eke her force whose boyling breast with Gorgon fits doth fry,
Or what with Target she can doe, and with her Fathers fyre.
Then from the Skyes another storme begins abroade to spyre,
But Aiax nothing yet dismaide all force withstandeth stout,
Whom when hee spred his swelling sayles with Cable stretched out,
She lighting downe did wryng him hard, and wrapt him in her flame,
And slang another flasshing dint of lightning on the same,
With all her force and violence her hand brought back agayne,
She tost him out, as late that feate her father tought her playne.
Both ouer Aiax and his Pup she flyeth ouerthwart,
And renting man and shyp, of both shee beares away a part,
His corage nought abated yet hee all to singde doth seeme,
Euen like a stubberne ragged Rocke amid the striuing streame,
Hee traynes along the roaring seas and eke the waltring waue
By shouing on his bourly breast in sunder quite he draue,
The Barke with hand he caught, and on it selfe did type it ouer,
Yet Aiax shyneth in the floud which darknesse blinde doth couer.
At length attayning to a rocke his thundring crakes were these,
I conquered haue the force of fyre and rage of fighting seas,
It doth mee good, to mayster thus the anger of the skye,
With Pallas wrath, the lightning flames and floods tumultyng hye.
The terrour of the warlyck god once could not make me flye,
The force of Mars and Hector both at once sustaynd haue I.
Nor Phœbus dartes could me constrayne, from him one foote to shoon,
All these beside the Phrygians subdued we haue, and woon.
When other Mecocks flinges his darts shall I not them withstand?
Yea, what if Phœbus came himselfe, to pytch them with his hand?
When in hys melancholy moode he boasted without meane.
Then father Neptune lyft his heat aboue the waters cleane.
The beaten rocke with forked mace he vndermyning pluckte
From bottom loose, and suncke it downe, when downe himself he duckt.
There Aiax lay, by land, by fyre, and storme of seas destroid
But we by suffering shypwrack, are with greater plagues anoyd.
A subtyle shallow floud there is flowne on a stony shold,
Where crafty Caphar out of syght the lurking rocks doth hold,
Uppon whose sharpe and ragged tops the swelling tide doth flow,
The boyling waues do beat thereon still sweaing to and fro:
A turrret nodding ouer it doth hange with fallyng sway,
From whence on either side from height prospect espy wee may
Two seas: and on this hand the coast where Pelops once did raygne,
And Isthmus floud in narrow creeke, reculing back agayne,
Doth stop Ionian sea, least into Hellespont it run,
On th'other part is Lemnon floud that fame by bloudshed woon.
On th'other side Calcedon towne doth stand agaynst this forte,
And Aulis Ile that stayde our ships that thyther did resorte.
This Castell heere inhabyte doth our Palimedes sier,
Whose cursed hand helde in the top a brand of flaming fier.
That did alure our fleete, to turne on lurking rockes a ryght,
Entysing them with wily blaze to come vnto the lyght.
All into fitters shaken are the vessels on the sholde,
But other some doe swym, and some vpon the rockes are roulde,
And other slipping backe agayne so to eschew the Rocks,
His brused Rybs, and ratling sides agaynst eche other knocks,
Whereby the other hee doth breake, and broken is himselfe,
Then woulde they launce into the deepe, for now they dread the shelfe,
This peck of troubles chaunct to hap in dawning of the day.
But when the Gods (besought of vs) began the rage to stay,
And Phœbus golden beames began a freshe to render lyght,
The dolefull day diserted all the domage done by nyght.

CLY.
O whether may I now lament, and weepe with wayling sad?
Or shall I els in that my Spouse returned is bee glad?
I doe reioyce, and yet I am compelled to bewayle
My countreyes great calamity that doth the same assayle.
O Father great whose maiesty doth thundring Scepters shake,
The sowring Gods vnto the Greekes now fauourable make,
With garlands greene let euery head reioysing now be crounde.
To thee the pype in sacryfice melodiously doth sounde,
And on thyne aulter lyeth slayne an Heyferd lilly whight,
Before the same doe present stand with hanging lockes vndight,
A carefull Troyan company in heauy wofull plight,
On whom frō high the Lawrell tree with spredding braunch doth shyne,
Whose vertue hath inspyred them with Phœbus grace diuine,

CHORVS.
CASSANDRA.
Alas the cruell sting of loue how sweetely doth it taste,
A misery to mortall man annext whyle lyfe doth last?
The pathe of mischiefe for to flye, now sith there is a gap,
And wretched soules be franckly calde From euery wofull hap,
By death, a pleasaunt port, for aye in rest them selues to shroude,
Where dreadfull tumultes neuer dwell nor stormes of Fortune proude:
Nor yet the burning firy flakes of Ioue the same doth doubt,
When wrongfully with thwacking thumpes he raps his thunder out:
Heere Lady Peace th'inhabitours doth neuer put in flight,
Nor yet the victors threatning wrath approching nygh to fight,
No whyrling western wynde doth vrge the ramping seas to praunce,
No dusty cloude that raysed is by sauage Dimilaunce,
On horseback riding rancke, by rancke no fearce and cruell host,
No people slaughtred, with their townes cleane topsie turuey tost:
Whyle that the foe with flaming fyre doth spoyle and waste the wall,
Untamed and vnbridled Mars destroyes and batters all:
That man alone who forceth not the fickle fates a strawe,
The vysage grim of Acheront whose eyes yet neuer sawe,
Who neuer vewd with heauy cheare the vgsome Limbo lake,
And putting lyfe in hasarde, dare to death him selfe betake.
That person is a Prynces peare, and lyke the Gods in myght,
Who knoweth not what death doth meane is in a pitious plight
The ruthfull ruin of our natyue countrey wee behelde:
That wofull nyght, in which the roofes of houses ouerquelde,
In Dardans City blasing bryght with flashing fiery flames.
When as the Greekes with burning brandes enkindle did the frames,
That Troy whom war & deedes of armes might not subdue and take.
As once did mighty Hercules, whose Quyuer causde it quake,
Which neither he that Peleus sonne, and sonne to Thetis was,
Nor whom Achilles loued to wel, could euer brynge to passe,
When glytering bright in field he ware false armour on his back,
And counterfayting fearse Achill the Troyans draue to wrack.
Nor when Achilles he hym selfe his minde from sorow wrast,
And Troyan women to the walles did scuddyng leape in hast.
In myserie she lost her proud estate, and last renoume,
By being stoutly ouercome, and hardly pulled downe.
Yeares fyue & fyue did Troy resiste, that yet hereafter must,
In one nyghts space by destenie be layed in the dust.
Theyr fained giftes well haue we tried that huge and fatall gin,
We lyght of credit, with our owne ryght hand haue haled in,
That fatall gyft of Greekes: what tyme at entry of the gap
The hugye hors did shyueryng stand, where in themselues did wrap
The captaynes close, in holow vautes with bloudy war yfreight.
When lawfully we might haue tryde, and serched their deceit:
So by theyr owne contryued snares the grekes had bin confound:
The brasen bucklers being shooke did gyue a clattring sound.
A priuy whyspering often tymes came tyckling in our ear.
And Pyrrhus (in a murreynes name so ready for to heare.
The crafty councell picked out of false Vlisses brayne,)
Did iangle in the holow Uautes, that range thereof agayne.
But fearing and suspecting nought the headdy youth of Troy
Layde handes vpon the sacred ropes, to hale and pull with ioy.
On this syde younge Astyanax came garded with his trayne,
On th'other part Pollixena dispoused to bee slayne
Upon Achilles tombe, she coms with maydes, and hee with men,
A ioly flocke with equall yeares as younge as they were then.
Theyr vowd oblacions to the gods in holy day attyre,
The matrons bryng and so to church repayreth euery syre.
And all the city did alyke, yea Hecuba our queene
(That synce the woful Hectors death or now was neuer sene)
She mery is: O griefe accurst, of all thy sorowes depe
For whych that first, or last befell entendest thou to wepe?
Our battred walles which heauenly hands erected haue and framde?
Or els the burning temples which vpon their Idols flamde?
Lamenting these calamyties wee haue not time and space,
O mighty parent Pryam we poore Troyans wayle thy case.
The olde mans thratling throate I sawe, (alas) I saw yborde
With cruell Pyrrhus blade, that scante with any bloud was gorde.

CAS.
Refraine your teares yt down your cheekes should tricle euermore
With woefull waylings piteously your pryuate friendes deplore
My myseries refuse a mate, so much accurst as I:
To rewe my carefull case, refrayne your lamentable cry.
As for myne owne distresse to moorne, I shall suffice alone.

CHO.
To mingle teares with other teares it doth vs good to mone:
In those the burning teary streames more ardently doe boyle,
Whom secret thoughts of lurking cares in priuy breast turmoyle:
Though that thou were a Gossop stout, that brooke much sorrow may
I warraunt thee, thou myghtest well, lament this sore decay.
Not sad and solemne Aedon that in the woodes doth singe
Her sugred Ditties finely timde on sweete and pleasaunt stringe:
Recording Itys woefull hap in diuers kynde of note,
Whom Progne though he were her chylde and of her wombe begot,
For to reueng his fathers fault, she did not spare to kill:
And gaue his flesh and bloude for foode the fathers Maw to fill.
Nor Progne who in Swallowes shape: vpon the rydges hye,
Of houses sits in Biston towne bewayling piteously,
With chattering throate, of Tereus her spouse the cruell act,
(Who did by strength and force of armes a shamefull brutishe fact.
Defile the syster of his wyfe, fayre Philomel by name,
And eke cut out her tonge, least shee should blab it to his shame)
Though Progne this her husbandes rape lamenting very sore
Doe wayle, and weepe with piteous plaint, yet can shee not deplore
Sufficiently, though that shee woulde, our countreyes piteous plight:
Though he himselfe among the Swans syr Cygnus lilly whight.
Who dwelles in streame of Ister floud, and Tanais channell coulde,
His weeping voyce most ernestly though vtter out hee woulde:
Although the morninge Halcyons with dolefull sighes doe wayle,
At such time as the fighting floudes their Cyex did assayle,
Or rashly wexing boulde attempt the Seas now layde at rest,
Or being very fearefull feede their broode in tottring nest,
Although as squemishe hearted men those priestes in bedlem rage,
Whom mother Cyble being borne on high in lofty stage,
Doth mooue, to play on shalmes, Atys the Phrygian to lament,
Yet can not they this lot bewayle, though brawn frō armes they rent.
Cassandra, in our teares there is no measure to refrayne,
Those miseryes all measure passe, that plunged vs in payne.
The sacred fillets from thy heads, why dost thou hale and pull?
They chiefly ought to worship God, whose hearts with griefe be dull.

CAS.
My feare by this affliction is cleane abated all,
Nor praying to the heauenly Ghostes for mercy will I call.
Although they were disposde to chafe and fret in fustten fumes,
They nothing haue me to displease, Fortune her force consumes.
Her spyte is worne vnto the stumpes, what countrey haue I left?
Where is my Syre? am I of all my systers quite bereft.
The sacred tombes and alter stones our bloud haue drunke & swylde,
Where are my brethren blessed knot? destroyed in the fylde.
All widdow Weues of Priams sonnes may easly now beholde,
The Pallace voyde and cast of court of silly Priam olde.
And by so many marriages so many Wyddowes are,
But onely Hellen comming from the coast of Lacon farre.
That Hecuba the mother of so many a pryncely wyght,
Whose fruitfull Wombe did breede the brand, of fyer blasing bryght:
Who also bare the swinge in Troy, by practise now doth learne,
New lawes and guise of desteny in bondage to discerne.
On her shee taketh heart of grace with lookes so sterne and wylde,
And barketh as a bedlem bitch about her strangled chylde
Deare Polidor, the remnaunt left, and onely hope of Troy,
Hector, and Priam to reuenge, and to restore her ioy.

CHO.
The sacred Phœbus Prophet is with sodayne silence husht:
A quaking trembling shiuering feare throughout her lims hath rusht:
Her Face as pale as Ashes is, her Fillits stande vpryght,
The soft and gentle goldilockes starte vp of her affright.
Her panting breathing breast stuft vp within doth grunt and grone.
Her glaring bryght and steaming Eyes are hether and thyther throwne.
Now glauncing vp and downe they roll: now standing stiffe they stare.
She stretcheth vp her head more streyght then commonly she bare,
Boult vp she goes, her wrastling Iawes that fast together clinge,
She doth attempt by diuers meanes, on sunder how to wringe.
Her mumbling words in gabling mouth shut vp she doth asswage,
As Menas mad that Bacchus aares doth serue in furious rage.

CAS.
How doth it hap (O sacred tops of high Parnassus hill)
That me berapt of sence, with prickes of fury fresh yee fill?
Why doe you me with ghost inspyre, that am besyde my wits?
O Phœbus none of thyne I am, releasse me from the fits:
Infixed in my burning breastes the flames extinguish out,
Who forceth me with fury fell to gad and trot about?
Or for whose sake inspyrde with spryte mad mumbling make must I?
Why play I now the Prophet colde, sith Troy in dust doth ly?
The day doth shrynke for dread of warre, the night doth dim mine eyes.
With mantell blacke of darknesse deepe cleane couerd is the skyes:
But loe two shining Sunnes at once in heauen appeareth bryght,
Two Grecian houses muster doe their armies twayne to fight.
Amonge the mighty Goddesis in Ida woodes I see,
The fatall sheepherd in his throne as vmpier plast to bee:
I doe aduise you to beware, beware (I say) of kynges,
(A kindred in whose cancred heartes olde priuy grudges springes)
That countrey clowne Ægisthus he this stocke shall ouerthrowe,
What doth this foolish despret dame her naked weapons showe?
Whose crowne entendeth shee to cracke in weede of Lacon lande,
With Hatchet (by the Amazons inuented first) in hand?
What face of mighty maiesty bewitched hath myne eyes?
The conquerour of saluage beastes Marmarick Lyon lyes,
Whose noble necke is wurried with currish fange and tooth
The churlish snaps of eger Lyonesse abyde hee dooth.
Alacke yee ghostes of all my friendes why should yee say that I,
Among the rest am onely safe, from perils farre to ly?
Fayne father follow thee I would, Troy being layde in dust.
O brother terrour of the Greekes, O Troyans ayde and trust.
Our auncient pomp I doe not see, nor yet thy warmed handes,
(That fearce on Greekish flaming fleete did fling the fyry brandes)
But mangled members, schorched corps, and cake thy valiaunt armes,
Hard piniond and bounde in bands sustayning greeuous harmes:
O Troyolus, a match vnfit encountering with Achill
(That myghty man of armes) to soone come vnto thee I will.
I doe delight, to sayle with them on stinking Stygian flood.
To vew the churlishe mastife our of hell, it doth mee good.
And gaping mouthed Kingdome darke of greedy Ditis raygne.
The Barge of filthy Phlegethon this day shall entertayne,
Mee conquering, and conquered, and Prynces soules with all.
You flitering shades I you beseeche, and eake on thee I call,
O Stygian poole (whereon the Gods theyr solemne othes doe take
Unbolt a whyle the Brasen bars of darksome Lymbo lake.
Whereby the Phrygian folke in hell may Micean state beholde.
Looke vp yee silly wretched soules, the fates are backward roulde.
The sqally sisters doe approch, and deale their bloudy strokes,
Their smultring faggots in their handes halfe brunte to ashes smokes.
Their vysages so pale doe burnt, with fyry flaming eyes:
A garment blacke theyr gnawed guts doth gyrde in mourning guyse.
Dire dread of night begins to howle, the bones of body vast
With lying long doe rot corrupt in miry pudle cast.
Beholde, the wery aged man his burning thyrst forgot,
The waters dalying at his lippes to catch endeuors not:
But mourneth for the funerall, that shall ensue anon.
The Troyan Prynce his royall robes tryumphant putteth on.

CHO.
The furious rage cleane ouerpast begins it selfe to slake,
And slyps away, euen as a Bull that deadly wounde doth take
On gasshed neck afront the aares: come let vs ease at last
Her lymbes, that of the spryte of God hath felt the mighty blast.
Returning home agayne at length and crounde with Lawrell bow
(A signe of worthy victory) is Agamemnon now.
The Wyfe to meete her Husband, doth her speedy passage ply,
Returning hand in hand, and foote by foote most louingly.