University of Virginia Library

THE FIRST ACTE.

THYESTES.
Departinge from the darkned dens which Ditis low doth keepe,
Loe heere I am sent out agayne from Tartar Dungeon deepe,
Thyestes I, that wheather coast to shun doe stande in doubt,
Th'infernall fiendes I fly, the foalke of earth I chase about.
My conscience lo abhors, that I should heather passage make,
Appauled sore with feare and dread my trembling sinewes shake:
My fathers house, or rather yet my brothers I espy,
This is the olde and antique porche of Pelops progeny.
Here first the Greekes on prynces heads doe place the royall crowne,
And heere in throne aloft they lye, that ietteth vp and downe,
With stately Scepter in theyr hand, eake heere theyr courts doe ly,
This is theyr place of banquetting, returne therefore will I.
Nay: better were it not to haunt the lothsome Limbo lakes,
Where as the Stygion porter doth aduaunce with lusty crakes
His tryple gorge be hong with Mane shag hairy, rusty blacke:
Where Ixions Carkasse linked fast, the whirling wheele doth racke,
And cowleth still vpon him selfe: where as full oft in vayne
Much toyle is lost, (the tottring stone down tumbling backe agayne)
Where growing guts the greedy gripe do gnaw with rauening bits.
Where parched vp with burning thirst amid the waues he sits,
And gapes to catch the fleeting flood with hungry chaps beguilde,
That payes his paynefull punishment, whose feast the Gods defilde:
Yet that olde man so stept in yeares at length by tract of time,
How great a part belonges to mee and portion of his crime?
Account wee all the grisly ghostes, whom guilty founde of ill,
The Gnosian Iudge in Plutoes pyts doth tosse in torments still:
Thyestes I in driery deedes will farre surmount the rest,
Yet to my Brother yelde I, (though I gorgde my bloudy brest)
And stuffed haue my pampred paunche euen with my chyldren three,
That crammed lye within my Rybs and haue theyr Toumbe in mee,
The bowels of my swallowed Babes, deuowred vp I haue,
Nor fickle Fortune mee alone the Father doth depraue,
But enterprysing greater guilte then that is put in vre,
To file my Daughters bawdy Bed, my lust shee doth alure.
To speake these words I doe not spare, I wrought the haynous deede,
That therefore I through all my stocke, might parent still proceede.
My Daughter driuen by force of Fates and destenyes deuyne,
Doth breede younge bones, & lades her wombe, wt sinfull seede of myne.
Loe, nature chaunged vpside downe, and out of order tornde
This myngle mangle hath shee made, (O fact to be forlornde)
A Father and a Grandsyre loe, confusedly I am,
My daughters husband both become, and Father to the same.
Those babes yt should my Nephewes bee, when nature rightly runnes,
She being tumbled doth confounde, and mingle with my sonnes.
The chrystall clearenesse of the day, and Phœbus beames so bryght,
Are myxed with the foggy cloudes, and darkenesse dim of nyght.
When wickednes had wearied vs, to late truce taken was,
Euen when our detestable deedes were done and brought to passe.
But valiaunt Agamemnon hee graund captayne of the Hoste,
Who bare the sway among the Kinges, and ruled all the roste,
Whose flaunting Flag, and Banner braue, displayde in royall sorte,
A thousand sayle of sowsing ships did garde to Phrygian porte,
And with their swelling shatling sayles the surging seas did hide,
That beateth on the bankes of Troy, and floweth by her side:
When Phœbus Carte the Zodiack ten times had ouer runne,
And waste the battred Walles doe lye of Troy destroyde and woonne,
Returnde he is to yeelde his throate vnto his traytresse Wyfe.
That shall with force of bloudy blade bereue him of his lyfe.
The glytering Swerd, the hewing Axe, and wounding weapons moe,
With bloud for bloud new set abroche shall make the floore to flow.
With sturdy stroke, and boystrous blow, of pithy Pollaxe geuen
His beaten braynes are pasht abroade, his cracked Skull is reuen.
Now myschiefe marcheth on a pace, now falshoode doth appeare,
Now Butchers slaughter doth approche, and murther draweth neare.
In honour of thy natyue day Ægisthus they prepare
The sollemne feast with iuncketing, and daynty tothsome fare.
Fy, what doth shame abashe thee so, and cause thy courage quayle?
Why doubts thy righthand what to doe? to smite why doth it fayle?
What he forecasting might suspect, why shouldst thou take aduyse?
Why frettest thou, demaunding if thou may it enterpryse?
Nay: if a mother it beseeme, thou rather mayst furmyse.
What now? how hapneth it that thus the smiling sommers night,
When Phœbus from Th'antipodes shoulde render soone the lyght,
On sudden chaung their turnes with nights that last and lynger longe,
When wynters Boreas bitter blastes, doth puffe the trees amonge?
Or what doth cause the glyding starres to stay still in the sky?
Wee wayght for Phœbus: to the Worlde bryng day now by and by.

Chorus.
O fortune, that dost fayle the great estate of kinges,
On slippery sliding seat thou placest lofty thinges
And setst on tottring sort, where perils do abound
Yet neuer kīgdome calme, nor quiet could be foūd:
No day to Scepters sure doth shine, that they might say,
To morow shall wee rule, as wee haue done to day.
One clod of croked care another bryngeth in,
One hurly burly done, another doth begin:
Not so the raging Sea doth boyle vpon the Sande,
Where as the southern winde that blowes in Afryck Lande,
One Waue vpon another doth heape wyth sturdy blast:
Not so doth Euxine Sea, his swelling waues vp cast:
Nor so his belching streame from shallow bottom roll,
That borders hard vpon the ysy frosen poall:
Where as Bootes bryght doth twyne his Wayne about,
And of the marble seas doth nothing stande in doubt.
O how doth Fortune tosse and tomble in her wheele
The staggring states of Kynges, that readdy bee to reele?
Fayne woulde they dreaded bee, and yet not setled so
When as they feared are, they feare, and lyue in woe.
The silent Lady nyght so sweete to man and beast,
Can not bestow on them her safe and quiet rest:
Sleepe that doth ouercome and breake the bonds of griefe,
It cannot ease theyr heartes, nor mynister reliefe:
What castell strongly buylt, what bulwarke, tower, or towne,
Is not by mischyefes meanes, brought topsy turuye downe?
What ramperd walles are not made weake by wicked warre?
From stately courtes of Kings doth iustice fly afarre:
In pryncely Pallaces, of honesty the lore,
And wedlocke vowe deuout, is set by lytle store.
The bloudy Bellon those doth haunt with gory hand,
Whose light and vaine conceipt in paynted pomp doth stand.
And those Erinnys wood turmoyles with frensyes fits,
That euer more in proud and hauty houses sits,
Which ficle Fortunes hand in twinkling of an eye,
From high and proude degre driues downe in dust to lye.
Although that skyrmishe cease, no banners be displayed
And though no wyles be wroughe, and pollecy be stayed,
Downe paysed with theyr waight the massy things do sinke,
And from her burden doth vnliable Fortune shrynke
The swelling Sayles puft vp with gale of westren wynde,
Doe yet mystrust thereof a tempest in theyr mynde:
The threatning tops (that touch the cloudes) of lofty towres
Bee sonest payde, and bet with south wynde rainy showres:
The darkesome woode doth see his tough and sturdy Oke,
Well waynde in yeares to be cleane ouerthrown and broke:
The lyhhtnings flashing flame out breakiug in the Sky,
First lyghteth on the mounts, and hilles that are most hy.
The bodies corpulent and of the largest syse
Are ryfest styll to catch diseases when they ryse.
When as the flocke to grase, in pasture fat is put,
Whose Necke is larded best, his throate shall first be cut:
What Fortune doth aduaunce and hoysteth vp on hye,
Shee lets it vp to fall agayne more greeuously.
The thinges of midle sort, and of a meane degree,
Endure aboue the rest and longest dayes do see:
The man of meane estate most happy is of all,
Who pleased with the lot that doth to him befall,
Doth sayle on silent shore with calme and quiet tide,
And dreads with bruised barge on swelling Seas to ryde:
Nor launcing to the depe where bottom none is found,
May with his rudder search, and reach the shallow ground.