Agamemnon

THE Eyght Tragedie of Seneca. Entituled AGAMEMNON. Tranſlated out of Latin in to Engliſh, by Iohn ſtudley, ſtudent in Trinitie Colledge in Cambridge.

IMPRINTED AT LONDON in Fleteſtreat, beneath the Conduit, at the ſigne of s. Iohn Euangelyſt, by Thomas Colwell. Anno Domini. M. D. LXVI.

In Agamemnona Senecae Thomae Newcei.

Non ſecus aeroſtro crudelis vultur, obunco,

Caucaſeirodit iecur immortale promethei,

Inuida mens ſtolidi, vitio contorta perenni,

Derogat aſſidue famam nomenq’ merentis.

Cum legis hanc igitur, ſi quicquā verſio ridet,

Non quid verba velint, ſed quid res ipſa, videto.

Sanguine ſpumantes pateras, cum mente reuoluit,

Saeuit in Atridem mens impia ſaenit adultii.

Et Deus Atream patris de crimine, prolem

Perdit: et iniuſtae tollunt Agamemnona, parcae.

Debuit exemplum quoſuis terrere ſuperbos:

Et, cuiuis, opus hoc iuuenis, laudare moleſtum.

Sed ſiturbaruant in quaeuis aequora praeceps,

Flumine paemerum iuſto, Deus obruet illos.

Uppon the ſame, to the ſame, the verſes of the ſame.

Si/th frends to frends do frēdly graūt in frednly caſes muche,

And I perceaued that hys cauſe, and hys requeſt was ſuche:

How that, to paynfull laboured ſtuffe my mynd I wolde annex:

And do but as his watched worke, whych he doth here contex

Deſerues: when as the Poets crabbed ſtyle I wayd aryght:

And ſaw how well, and ſaw how apt and feetly he dyd wryte:

How hydden ſtoryes oft he ſhowes, to make his poet playne:

(So as in double offyce he might ſeeme for to remayne)

As ſometyme barely to expound, to cōment ſometyme eke,

So that to vnderſtand this booke, ye neede no farther ſeeke:)

This well deſerued worke of hys, when as I weyed well,

And partly knew hys fyled frame, as other men can tell,

And wholly knew his ſpringing youth, and yeares for age yet greene,

So that dame Natures graue aray, on face was ſcarcely ſeene,

I could not chuſe, but when I ſawe his labour to be ſore,

And eke hys wery webbe, then this for to deſerue much more,

Furthwith at hys requeſt, both to refrſh hys watchyng eeys,

And prayſed paynes to others prayſe, thys litle worke deuyſe,

Leaſt haply he ſhould meete with ſuch, as wolde ſcarce ſpeke the beſt,

Nor halfe that it deſerues, but vnto nippyng wordes be preſt.

And though I know this painfull wight can not hys carpers want,

Whych often tymes diſcorage men, and make ſuch ſtudyes ſkant,

Yet be not thou diſmaid, go on, and bolden well thy ſelfe,

The worthyeſt wyght that euer wrote, did neuer want hys Elfe.

Such Emules, &ſuch fyendly freaks, if E thou take away,

Playn Mules they be, y^t mump &mow, and nothyng els can ſay.

Who if in ranckours poyſoned ſincke, they lurke and wallow ſtyll,

Nor yet with cancred venome bolne, do leaue theyr waſpyſh wyll,

But ſlothfull ſluggerds ſtill vpbraid, that paynfull heads deuyſe,

And with their tryple forked tongs, anoy thys enterpryſe:

Diſcorage him from other worke, and further fruytes of wit,

And other towarde paynes dyſgrace, if they ſuch poyſon ſpit.

Take heede: if tongs far worſe do bite, then double edged ſwerd:

If bytyng tongs be ſtinging ills, why mauger then thy berd,

Thou canſt not ſhun Ioues ruddy wrath, that ſuch deſeruers haue,

Which willingly, though wofully, them ſelues they do it craue.

In whom it is, if that they will, much better to deſerue:

And ceaſe, theyr wytleſſe appetyte for any more to ſerue.

This wofull worke that Senec here depayntes before thy face,

The bloody yre of myghty Ioue, propounds in ruthfull caſe.

To ſuch as by their deuilyſh deedes, and harts with rancour mixt,

Alreddy be, although they lyue, in ſnakyſh dongeon fixt.

The crumpled browes of lofty lord, in cloudy throne that ſytts,

His ſore dyſpleaſed mynd portend to euill vſed wytts.

Who in hys fomyng wrath, can turne the worlds well letled ſeat:

And make an indigeſted thing, and mingle mangle great.

Beware therfore: of Tantalus that ſtem, and lynage vyle

May cauſe the wel, with vertues toole, thy vycious lyfe to fyle.

For deadly deede whych Atreus dyd vnto Thyeſtes chylde,

(Although Thyeſt hys brother, then his ſpouſall bed defyld)

Hys gryeſly ghoaſt comes back againe from deepe infernall pyt,

To make reuenge in Aegiſts harte, hys onely ſonne to ſyt.

That fylthy great adulter, ſtreyght to ſtryfe and blood ypreſt,

Thyeſtiall tables to reuendg, doth ſcarcely take hys reſt.

Firſt Atreus lyfe he ſeekes, then, while that Agamemnon laye

In Caſtrall campe, by Troyan towne for countreys cauſe, ſtreight waye

Thys drouſie ſwynehead fylthy he in brutyſh pleaſures wrapt,

Hath Agamemnons louyng wyfe, in Cupids ſnares entrapt.

Wherby, of ſacred Hymeneus the bonds, he makes her flye.

And, Agamemnons pryuate bed, through pleaſure to denye.

And, which is greatter greefe then this, and vyllany moſte vyle,

with deadly thought he makes the wife vppon her huſband ſmyle,

When as tryumphantly he came a conquerour from Troy:

To thend he, ſhould ſuſpecte the leſſe, and haue the greater ioy,

And thinking nought, but mening wel: myght take a curſed coat,

Which doing on, they eaſly myght the ſoner cut hys throte.

Thys deede was done: by Talyon lawe here blood dyd blood requyer:

And now Thyeſt hath that reuenge, that he dyd longe deſyer.

Wherby thou cheefly mayſt be taught the prouydence of god:

That ſo longe after, Atreus fact Thyeſts reuenge abod.

And to thy ſelfe take better heede, leaſt loytryng ſtyll in ſinne,

In pinching ſlaunders, touching talke (whear greater greefes begyn)

Thy ſelfe alone thou do not plague, which of it ſelfe is muche,

But alſo make thyne after ſtocke to ſmarte, and for thy tuche.

For be thou ſure, though god doth ſpare thee for a ſeaſon here,

And ſuffer thee with poyſoned tonge to frump, and carp thys gere,

That eyther thou thy ſelfe ſhalt feele ſome bytter bytyng greeſe,

Or els ſhall thy poſterytie with payne haue their releefe:

Unluckye chyldren reape, that wycked parents handes haue ſowne:

A warye wyght, by others woes that knowes tauoyde hys owne.

Learne here to lyue a ryght, and know how that thear is a god,

That well deſeruers well rewardes, andd ill, doth ſcurge with rod.

For to thys and is thys compylde thys play thou haſt in hand,

In vertues race to make thee run, and vyce for to withſtand.

Which well deſeruyng worke of his, if thou can well digeſt,

Then ſhalt thou haue hys buddyng pen, to greater matters preſt.

W. R. to the Reader.

IF troublous toyles moſt tragicall,

Or blooddie broyles of enuyous ire,

Diſcrybde with art poetycall

Can moue thye hart or ſett on fyre

Thy wauering mynd, then ſtill procede

With good aduiſe this booke to rede.

For here in is ſett furthe at large,

With ſugred ſopps of lettered tonge,

Thun ſtable ſtate of gloryous barge,

Which enuyous harte hath freſhlie ſtonge

For when that hate encreaſeth ire,

Nought els but death can quench y^t fier.

What did avayle the martiall dedes,

Which Agamemnons valyant hand

Did bring to paſſe? they ſowe the ſedeſ

Of enuyous hate in Mycene lande:

For Aegiſt, and his cruell wife,

At length do ridd him of his life.

Of fycle fortunes waueryng wyleſ

Thys booke enſample doth declare,

For when moſt pleaſauntlye ſhe ſmyles,

ſhe doth nought els but plant a ſnare,

To catche at length w^t woefull channce

The ſaine, whom ſhe aloft did vaunce.

I nede not prayſe this goulden booke,

So fullye freyght with lerninges ſore,

The worke enough (if thou doeſt looke)

Doth prayſe it ſelfe, and neads no more:

For woordes auayleth not a ruſhe,

And good wine neads no tauerne bathe.

Therfore ear that thou haſt it redd.

With temerous rancour iudge none ill,

For oft the churlyſhe curyous hedd

Condemneth youth as wantyng ſkyll:

Yet Daniell young ſent Iudithe reſt,

When horye hedds had her oppreſt.

Idem in Zoilum.

Zoile quid frendes? quid mandis ſpumea labra?

Quid vol at horriſono fulmen ab ore tuo?

Euome corrupto tabeſcens gulture virus:

Eructa bullas O furibunde vafras

Faucibus igniuomis minitans et dente lupino:

Proeda tuo denti non opus iſtud erit.

Non potes iſtius calami corrumpere fructus:

Conſeruat famulos magna Minerua ſuos.

Inſulſus nitidum reprehendit ſutor Apellam.

Inuidiam virtus clara praeire ſolet.

Zoile tuq’, furis, iuuenis quum muſa triumphet,

Iratus turges: verbula vana vomis.

Ipſe tamen rigidi peries Acherontis in vrna,

Et Phlegethonteas ante natabis aquas,

Quam tu ſtudlei dimittes carmen in vmbras,

Quam poſſis nomen dilacerare ſuum.

Perpetuo viuet res inuictiſſima virtus,

Non abolent enſes, vnda, necignis eam.

H. C. To the reader.

Be not to raſh in iudgyng ought, but waye well in thy mynde

The pleaſure, and commoditie, that thou herein ſhall fynde.

And deme him not preſumtious, whom muſes moued ryght,

The ſtatlye ſtyle of Senec. ſage in vulgar verſe to wryght,

For though the worke of grauer age, the connyng ſeme to craue,

Sumtyme we ſe yet younger yeares, a ryper witt to haue.

Accept it therfore, as it is, (of grener yeres in deede)

And as his paynes deſerueth prayſe, ſo paye him for his meede.

To the Reader. Thomas Delapeend in the Tranſlatours behalfe.

In volume ſmall. a preſent great a worthy gyfte to thee

Good reader here is offered, if thou ſo thankfull bee.

Accordyng to the valew full, the ſame for to receue:

Uouchſaufyng for the wryters paines, deſerued paynes to geue.

He bouldly hath preſented here vnto thy gaſyng eyes,

The wiſdome great, &worthy thinges whych erſt by Tragedyes

Sage Senec ſhewyng, ſo ſometyme in latyn verſe dyd wryte.

The ſame, in perfect englyſh ryme thys Author doth endyte.

Which, though thy ſkilful iudgment maye dyſcerne of prayſe to be

Well worthy. Yet by thys, I do cōmend the ſame to thee,

Becauſe that vertue prayſed ſtyll, increaſeth euery wheare:

And that, eche readers rygour hard, the lerned ſhould not feare.

Syth fame and vertue, euermore pale Enuy doth purſue,

Nor Homer great hym ſelfe could ſtynge of ſlaunderous wordes eſchewe:

Contented better, men may take the lot, whych vnto all

That euer wrote, (tyll thys time) doth a lyke in commen fall.

Though curious cerping Zoili, breade rancour blacke within

Theyr poyſened breaſtes, of infamie the ſpytefull thred to ſpyn,

Let folye feede theyr frenſye ſtyll, vnto theyr owne dyſpyte:

For men dyſcrete and learned will read thinges with iudgement right.

W. Parkar to the Reader.

To beat y^e brain about ſuch trifling toyes

whoſe vaine delights by fickle fāſie fed,

Enforce y^e mind tembrace ſuch fadyng ioyes,

Doth argue playne a fond vnſtedfaſt head,

As to inuey, enraged with rancours bile,

&raile on thē, whoſe works deſerueth praiſe,

Or els to gloſe, and paint with colourd ſtyle

Their cloked craft, when reaſons groūd decayes:

Or as the proude enflamed with deſyer

Of prayſe, and gape for glorious renoume,

Haue vtter ſhame (theyr due reward &hyer)

Wheras they hopte of an immortal crowne.

And ſome there be, that pining pangs of loue

Deſcribe at large, &ſhew their frantick fits,

(Cupidoes thrals) whom fond affections moue,

plain to bewray their wantō wauering wits.

But Studley prict with feruent harty zeale,

And vertues force preuailing in his mynd,

Regarding laude and honour neuer a deale,

Not raunging wide lyke harebraynd rouers blid

attēpted hath, to publiſh this his boke,

This tragedy of worthy Seneca,

whoſe ſawes profoūd (who ſo theron do loke)

To vertues race do ſhew a ready way.

Perſiſt therfore, thy happy yeares to traine

In ſciēce lore, that fame thy brute may blaſe,

And ſoūd thy praiſe, that euer ſhal remayne:

No terme oftyme thy doinges may deface.

T. B. To. the Reader.

WHen Heiwood did in perfect verſe, and dolfull tune ſet out,

And by hys ſmouth and fyled ſtyle declared had aboute,

What roughe reproche the Troyans of the hardy Grekes receyued,

When they of towne, of goods, & lyues togyther were depryued.

How wel did then hys freindes requite his trauayle and hys payne,

When vnto hym they haue (as due) ten thouſand thankes agayne?

What greater prayſe might Virgill get? what more renoume then this,

Could haue ben gyuen vnto hym, for wrytyng verſe of hys?

Did Virgill ought requeſt but thys, in labouryng to excell?

Or what did fame gyue to him more, then prayſe to beare the bell?

May Heywood this alone get prayſe, and Phaer be cleane forgott.

Whoſe verſe &ſtyle doth far ſurmount and gotten hath the lot?

Or may not Googe haue parte with hym, whoſe trauayle and whoſe payne,

Whoſe verſe alſo is full as good, or better of the twaine?

A Neuyle alſo one there is, in verſe that gyues no place

To Heiwood (though he be full good) in vſyng of his grace.

Nor Goldinge can haue leſſe renome, whych Ouid dyd tranſlate:

And by the thondryng of hys verſe hath ſet in chayre of ſtate.

With him alſo (as ſemeth me) our Edwardes may compare,

Who nothing gyuyng place to hym doth ſyt in egall chayre.

A great ſorte more I recken myght, with Heiwood to compare,

And this our Aucthor one of them to compte I will not ſpare.

Whoſe paynes is egall with the reſt in thys he hath begun,

And leſſer prayſe deſerueth not then Heiwoods worke hath done.

Gyue therfore ſtudley parte of prayſe, to recompence hys payne:

For egall labour euermore, deſerueth egall gayne.

Readear thou iudge, then iudge thy fill.

But iudge the beſt, and mend the ill

Vale.

Faultes eſcaped in the verſes.

Firſt in the engliſh meter, of Thomas Nuce, in the .iii. page, the ſeconde line for refrſh read refreſh, in the .viii. line of y^t verſes of Thomas Delapeēd for paynes read prayſe. In the .xii. line of the verſes of T. B. for agayne read for gayne.

To the right honorable ſir William Secill, knight. One of the moſt honorable priuy Counſell, Maiſter of the Wardes and Liueries, ſecretarie to the Queenes hyghnes, &Chancelour of y^e Uniuerſitie of Cambridge.

Iohn ſtudley, wiſheth longe lyfe, with increſe of honour.

When as I had (right honorable ſyr) at the requeſt of my frendes, both performed and minded to publyſh thys my ſymple tranſlation of ſo notable a Tragedie, written by the prudent, and ſage Seneca: I thought it good for diuers conſideracions to beſtowe this the fyrſt frutes of my good will, &trauaile, rather vpō your honour, thē vpon any other perſon: firſt in y^t I cōſidered your honours aucthorie, wiſedome, &learning, (takyng the tuicion of it vpon you) might be a terrour, and abaſhment, to ſuch ſlaunderous tonges, who by my ſymple &ſlender ſkill, eyther in this or any other lyke facultie, myght take courage rather of maliciouſnes (then of ryght) to reprehend my doings, furthermore hauing vnderſtanding partlye by the report of men, and partlie perceauyng when I was ſomtyme ſcholler in the Queenes maieſtties Grammer ſchole at Weſtminſter, the hartye goodwill, and frendlie affection, that your honour bare towardes all ſtudentes, I conceiued this hope, that you would accept my good wyll and doynges the better, in that I profeſſe my ſelfe to be a ſtudent, &that in the vnyuerſytye of Cambrydge, wherin ſomtyme your honour were trained vp in learnyng, and now being moſt worthelie Chaunceler ther of, do greatly tender the commodytye of the ſtudentes in the ſame, wyth the aduauncement & encreaſe of learnynge, furtheraunce of vertue, and abolyſhment of vice. Thus therfore truſtyng your honours courteſie will haue me excuſed for my rude boldenes. and except my good wyll herein ſygnyfyed, I leaue you to the turſſyon of allmyghtye god, who encreaſe you wyth honour, graunt you longe lyfe with eternall felycytye.

Your honours to commaund, Iohn Studley.

The Preface to the Reader.

Beholde gentle Reader, howe SENECA in this preſent Tragedie hath moſt liuelie painted out vnto thee, the vnſtabilytie of fortune, who when ſhe hath aduaunced to the hyeſt hym, with whom (as the cat with the mouſe) it liketh her to daly, ſodeinly ſhe turning her wheele, doth let hym fall to greater myſery, then was his former felicitie: wherof AGAMEMNON may be a perfect paterne, as is at large ſhewed in the Tragedie it ſelfe: whyche although it be but groſlye, &after a rude maner tranſlated, contemne it not for the baſenes of the phraſe, but embrace it for the excellencie of the matter therin conteyned. And althoughe that the other Tragedies which are ſet furthe by Iaſper Hetwood and Alexander Neuyle, are ſo excellently well done (that in reading of them it ſemeth to me no tranſlation, but euen SENECA hym ſelfe to ſpeke in englyſh) take no offence that I (beinge one of the moſte that can do leaſt) haue thus raſhly attempted ſo great an enterpriſe, to mingle my barbaruſnes w^t others eloquencie: for when I had at the erneſt requeſte of certaine my familiar frendes, thus rudelye perfurmed the ſame, they yet not ſatyſfyed herewith willed me, not to hyde &kepe to my ſelfe that ſmall talent which god hath lente vnto me to ſerue my countrey w^t all, but rather to applye it to the vſe of ſuche yonge ſtudentes as therby myght take ſome cōmoditie, therwith I conſideringe, that keping it cloſe it could profyte nothinge, and againe being publiſhed it could do no hurte, truſting of thy gentlenes that thou wilt eſteine this my good will, I haue preſumed to ſet it furth thus ſimply and rudely: ſubmitting it to the freindly correction of the learned. Thus deſiringe thee to beare with my boldnes, &pardon my ignoraūce,

I leaue thee to God.

Farewell.

The names of the ſpeakers of this Tragedie.

Thyeſtes.
Chorus.
Clytemneſtra.
Nutrix.
Aegiſthus.
Eurybates.
A companie of Grekes.
Caſſandra.
Agamemnon.
Electra.
Strophilus.

The fyrſte Acte.

Thyeſtes.

SEparting from y^e darkned dens whiche Ditis low doth kepe,

Loe here I am ſent out again from Tartar dungeon depe,

Thyeſtes I, that whether coaſt to ſhun do ſtand in doubt,

Thinfernall feendes I flye, the foalke of yearth I chaſe about.

My conſcience lo abhors, that I ſhuld hether paſſage make,

Appauled ſore with feare and dread my tremblyng ſine we ſhake:

My fathers houſe, or rather yet my brothers I eſpye,

This is the ould and antique porchs of Pelops progenye.

Here firſt the Grekes on princes hedds do place the royall crowne,

And here in throne aloft they lye, that letteth vp and downe,

With ſtatelye ſcepter in theyr hand, eake here theyr courtes do lye,

This is theyr place of banquetyng, returne therfore will I.

Naye: beter were it not to haunt the lothſome Limbo lakes,

Wher as the ſtygion porter doth aduaunce with luſtye crakes

His tryple gorge be hong with mane ſhagg hearye, ruſtie, blacke:

Wher Ixions carkas linked faſt, the whyrlyng whele doth racke,

And rowleth ſtyll vppon him ſelfe: whear as full oft in vayne

Much toyle is loſt, (the tottryng ſtone down tomblyng backe agayne)

Whear growing guts the gredie gripe do gnaw with rauenyng bitts.

Wher parched vp with burning thurſt amydd the waues he ſytts,

And gapes to catche the fletyng flood with hungry chapps beguylde,

That paies his painefull punyſhment, whoſe feaſt the gods defylde:

Yet that olde man ſo ſtept in yeares at length by tract of tyme,

How great a parte belonges to me and porcion of his cryme?

Account we all the gryſly ghoſtes, whom gyltie found of ill,

The Gnoſian iudge in plutoes pytts doth toſſe in tormentes ſtyll:

Thyeſtes I in dryrye dedes wyll far ſurmount the reſt,

Yet to my brother yeld I, (though I gorged my blooddye breſt,

And ſtuffed haue my pawmpred panche euen wyth my chyldren three,

That crammedly with in my rybbes, and haue theyr tombe in mee,

The bowels of my ſwalowed babes, deuowred vp I haue,

Nor fyckle fortune me alone the father doth depraue,

But enterpryſyng greater gylt then that is put in vre,

To fyle my daughters bawdye bed, my luſt ſhee doth alure.

To ſpeake theſe words I do not ſpare, I wrought the haynous dede,

That therfore I through all my ſtocke, myght parent ſtyll procead.

My doughter driuen by force of fates and deſtenyes deuyne,

Doth brede younge bones, &lades her womb, w^t ſynfull ſeede of mine.

Lo nature chaunged vpſyde down, and out of order turnde

This myngle mangle hath ſhe made, (O fact to be forlornde.)

A father and a grandſyre loe, confuſedlye I am,

My doughters huſband both become, and father to the ſame.

Thoſe babes y^t ſhould my nephewes be, when nature ryghtlye runns,

ſhe beinge iumbled doth confounde, and myngle with my ſonns.

The chryſtall clearenes of the daye, and Phoebus beames ſo bryght,

Ar myxed with the foggye cloudes, and darkenes dym of nyght.

When wyckednes had weryed vs, to late truce taken was,

Euen when our deteſtable dedes were done and brought to paſſe.

But valyant Agamemnon he graund captayne of the oſte

Who bare the ſway among the kinges, and ruled all the roſte,

Whoſe flanting flagg, & banner braue, diſplayed in royall ſorte,

A thouſand ſayle of ſowſyng ſhypps did gard to Phrygian porte,

And with their ſwelling ſhatling ſailes: the ſurging ſeas dyd hyde,

That heateth on the bankes of Troye, and floweth y her ſyde:

When Phoebus cart the Zodiack ten tymes had ouer runne,

And wakte the battred walles do lye of Troye deſtroyde and woon,

Retournd he is to yeld his throte vnto his traytreſſe wyfe,

That ſhall with force of blooddie blade beryue him of hys lyfe.

The glytering ſwerd, the hewing axe, and woundyng weapons mo,

With blood for blood new ſet a broche ſhall make the floore to flow.

With ſturdy ſtroke, &boyſteous blow, of pythye Pollar geuen

His beaten braynes are paſht abroad, his cracked ſkull is reuen.

Now myſchiefe marcheth on a pace, Now falſhod doth appeare,

Now butchers ſlaughter doth approch, and murther draweth neare.

In honowr of thye natyue daye Aegiſthus they prepare

The ſollemne feaſt with iuncketyng, and dayntie tothſom fare.

Fye, what doth ſhame abaſhe thee ſo, and cauſe thy courage quayle?

Why doubts thy right hand what to do? to ſmyte why doth it fayle?

What he forecaſtyng myght ſuſpect, why ſhouldſt thou take aduyſe?

Why fretteſt thou, demaundyng if thou may it enterpryſe?

Naye: yf amother it beſeme, thou rather mayſt ſurmyſe.

What now? how hapneth it that thus the ſmylyng ſommers nyght,

When Phaebus from Thantipodes ſhould render ſone the lyght,

On ſudden chaūg their turns w^t nights that laſt and lynger longe,

When wynters bore as bitter blaſtes, doth puff the trees among?

Or what doth cauſe the glydyng ſtarrs to ſtay ſtyll in the ſkye?

We wayght for Phaebus: to the worlde bryng daye now by and by.

Chorus.

O Fortune, that doſt fayle

the great eſtate of kynges,

on ſlyppery ſlydyng ſeat

thou placeſt loftie thynges

And ſytſt on tottring ſort,

where peryls do abounde

yet neuer kyngdome calme,

nor quyet could be founde:

No day to ſcepters ſure,

doth ſhyne, that they myght ſaye,

To morow ſhall we rule,

as we haue don to daye.

One clod of croked care

another bryngeth in,

One hurlye burlye done,

another doth begin:

Not ſo the ragyng ſea

doth boyle vpon the ſand,

Whear as the ſouthern wynd

that blowes in Affryck lande,

One waue vppon another

doth heap wyth ſturdye blaſt:

Not ſo doth Euxine ſea,

his ſwellyng waues vp caſt:

Nor ſo his belchyng ſtreame

from ſhallow bottom roll,

That borders hard vppon

the yſye froſen poall:

Whear as Bootes bryght

doth twyne hys wayne about,

And of the marble ſeaſ

doth nothyng ſtand in doubt.

O how doth fortune toſſe

and tomble in her whele

The ſtaggring ſtates of kynges,

that reddye be to rele?

Fayue wold they dreded be,

and yet not ſetled ſo

When as they feared are,

they feare and lyue in woe.

The ſylent Ladye nyght

ſo ſweete to man and beaſt,

Can not beſtow on them

her ſafe and quyet reſt:

Slepe that doth ouercom

and breake the bondes of greefe,

I cannot eaſe theyr hartes,

nor myniſter releefe:

What caſtell ſtronglye buylt,

what Bulwark, tower, or towne,

Is not by miſchyfes meanes,

brought topſye turuey downe?

What ramperd walls are not

made weake by wicked war?

From ſtatelye courtes of kynges

doth iuſtice flye afar:

In pryncelye pallacies,

of honeſtie the lore,

And wedlock now deuoute,

is ſet by lytle ſtore.

The bloodye Bellon thoſe

doth haunt with gorye hand,

Whoſe lyght and vayne conceit

in paynted pomp doth ſtand.

And thoſe Erinnys wood

turmoyles with frenſyes fitts,

That euer more in proud

and hautie howſes ſitts,

Which fycle fortunes hand

in twynklyng of an eye,

From hygh and proud degre

dryues down in duſt to lye.

Although that ſkyrmiſh feace,

no banners be diſplayed

And though no wyles be wrought

and pollecye be ſtayd,

Down payſed with theyr wayght

the maſſy thynges do ſynke,

And from her burden doth

vnſtable fortune ſhrynke.

The ſwelling ſayles puſt vp

with gale of weſtern wynde,

Do yet myſtruſt therof

a tempeſt in theyr mynd:

The threatnyng tops (that touche

the clowdes) of loftye towers

Be ſoneſt payd and bett

with ſouth wynd raynye ſhowres:

The darkſome wood doth ſee

his tough and ſturdye Oke,

Well waynd in yeares to be

clean ouerthrown and broke:

The lyghtnyngs flaſhyng flame

out breakyng in the ſkye,

Fyrſt lyghteth on the mountes,

and hylls that are moſt hye.

The bodies corpulent

and of the largeſt ſyeſe

Are ryfeſt ſtyll to catch

deſeaſes when they ryſe.

When as the flocke to graſe,

in paſture fat is putt,

Whoſe necke is larded beſt,

hys throte ſhall fyrſt be cutt:

What fortune doth aduaunce,

and hoyſteth vp on hye,

She ſetes it vpp to fall

agayne more greuouſlye.

The thynges of myddle ſorte,

and of a meane degree,

Endure aboue the reſt

and longeſt dayes do ſee:

The man of meane eſtate

moſt happye is of all,

Who pleaſed with the lott

that doth to him befall,

Doth ſayle on ſylent ſhore.

wyth calme and quyet tyde,

And dreads wyth bruſed barge

on ſwellyng ſeas to ryde:

Nor lawncyng to the depe

where bottom none is founde,

may with his rudder ſearch,

and reach the ſhallow grownd.

The ſecond Act.

Clytemneſtra. Nutrix.

O Drowſie dreaming dotyng ſoule, what commeth in thy brayne,

To ſeke about for thy defence what waye thou mayeſt attayne?

What aiels thy ſkittiſh waiward wits, to wauer vp and down?

The fytteſt ſhyft preuented is, the beſt path ouergrown:

Thou myghteſt ons mayntayned haue thy wedlock chamber chaſt,

And eak haue rulde with maieſtie, by fayth conioyned faſt:

Now nurtures lore neglected is, all ryght doth clean decay,

Relygion and dygnitie with fayth are worne awaye:

And ruddy ſhame with bluſhing cheeks ſo farre god wot is paſt,

That when it would it cannot now com home agayn at laſt.

O let me now at randon run with brydle at my wyll:

The ſafeſt path to myſchyfe is by myſchef open ſtyll.

Now put in practyſſe, ſeke about, ſearch out and learne to fynd

The wylie traynes, and craftye guyles of wicked woman kynd:

What anye dyuelyſh trayterous dame durſt do in workyng woe,

Or anye wounded in her wittes by ſhott of Cupids bowe:

What euer rygorous ſtepdame could committ with deſperate hand,

Or as the wenche who flaming faſte by Venus poyſonyng brand,

Was dreuen by lewd vnceſteous loue in ſhypp of theſſail land,

To flytt away from Cholchos Ile, where Phuſis channell depe

With ſiluer ſtreame down from y^t hils of Armenie doth ſwepe.

Get weapons good, get bylbow blades, or temper poyſon ſtrong,

Or with ſom yonker trudge frō Grece by thefte the ſeas along:

Why doſt thou faynt to talke of theft, exile, or priuie flyght?

Theſe came by hap: thou therfore muſt on greater myſchife lyght.

Nu. (O worthy queene) among y^e Grekes that beares the ſwinging ſwaye

And borne of Ledas royall blood, what muthryng doſt thou ſaye?

What furye fell enforceth the, bereued of thy wyttes,

To rage &raue wyth bedlam braynes, to frett with franticke fitts?

Though madam thou do counſell kepe, and not complayne thy caſe,

Thyne anguyſh playne appeareth in thy pale and wanny face:

Reueal therfore what is thy grefe, take leyſure good and ſtaye,

What reaſon could not remedye, oft eured hath delaye.

Cly. So greuous is my carefull caſe which plungeth me ſo ſore.

That deale I cannot with delaye, nor lynger anye more.

The flaſhing flames, and furyous force of fyrye feruent heat,

Outragyng in my boylyng breſt, my burnyng bones doth beat:

It ſuckes the ſappye marowe out, the ioyce it doth conuaye,

It frets, it teares, it rents, it gnawes, my guttes and gall away.

Now feble feare ſtill eggs me on (wyth dolor beyng preſt)

And cancred hate w^t thwacking thumps doth bounce vppon my breſt:

The blynded boy that louers hartes doth reue wyth deadly ſtroke,

Entangled hath my lynked mynd with lewd and wanton yoke:

Refuſyng ſtyll to take afoyle, or clean to be confounde,

Among thes broyles, and agonyes my mynd beſegyng rownd,

Loe feble, wery, battred downe, and vnder troden ſhame,

That wreſteth, ſtriueth, ſtrugleth hard, and fyghteth wyth the ſame.

Thus am I dryuen to dyuers ſhores, and beat from bancke to banke,

And toſſed in the fomye floods, that ſtryue wyth corage crancke.

As when here wynd, &there y^e ſtreame when both theyr force wyll trye,

From ſandes alow, doth hoyſt &reare the ſeas with ſurges hye,

The waltryng waue doth ſtaggrynge ſtand, not wetyng what to doe,

But (houeryng) doubts, whoſe furious force he beſt may yeld him to.

My kyngdome therfore I caſt of, my ſcepter I forſake

As anger, ſorow, hope, me lead, that way I meane to take.

At all aduenture to the ſeas I yelde my beten Barge,

At randon careleſſe will I ron, now wyll I roue at large.

Whear as my mynd to fancy fonde doth gad, and ron aſtray,

It is the beſt to chuſe that chaunce, and folow on that waye.

Nu. This deſperate dotage doth declare, and raſhnes rude and blynde,

To chuſe out chaunce to be the guyde and ruler of thy mynde.

Cly. He that is dryuen to vtter pynche, and furtheſt ſhyft of all,

What neade he doubt hys doutful lot, or how hys lucke be fall?

In ſylent ſhore thou ſayleſt yet, thy treſpaſſe we may hyde,

If thou thy ſelfe detect it not, nor cauſe it be dyſcryde.

Cly. Alas it is more blaſd abrode, and further is it blown,

Then any cryme that euer in this pryncelye court was ſown.

Nu Thy former fault with penſiue harte and ſorow thou doſte rew,

And fondly yet thou goeſt about, to ſet abroche anew,

Cly. It is auery folyſhnes to kepe a meane therin,

Nu. The thing he feares he doth augmēt, who heapeth ſyn to ſyn.

Cly. But fyre &ſwerde to cure the ſame, the place of ſalue ſupplye.

Nu. Ther is no man who at the fyrſte extremytie wyll try.

Cly. In workyng myſchyfe men do take the redyeſt waye they fynd.

Nu. The ſacred name of wedlocke once reuoke and haue in mynd,

Cly. Ten yeares haue I bin deſolate, and led a wydowes lyfe.

Yet ſhalt I entertayne anew my huſband as hys wyfe?

Nu. Conſydor yet thy ſon and harte whom he of the begot.

Cly. And eke my doughters wedding blaſé as yet forget I not.

Achilles eke my ſonne in lawe to mynde I do not ſpare,

Howe well he kepte hys vowe that he to me hys mother ſware.

Nu. When as our nauye myght not paſſe by wynd, nor yet by ſtream,

Thy doughters blood in ſacryfyce theyr paſſage did redeme:

She ſturd and brake the ſluggyſh ſeas, whoſe water ſtyll dyd ſtand,

Whoſe feble force myght not hoyſe vp, the veſſells from the land.

Cly. I am aſhamed herewith all, it maketh me repyne,

That Tyndaris (who from the gods doth fetche her noble lygne)

ſhold gyue the ghoſt taſſwage y^e wrath of gods and them appeas,

Wherby the grekyſhe nauye myght haue paſſage free by ſeas.

My grudgyng mynd ſtyll harpes vpon my daughters weddyng daye,

Whom he hath made for Pelops ſtocke the blooddye rawnſam paye.

When as with cruell countenaunce embrewd wyth gorye blood,

As at a weddyng alter ſyde thunpylyfull parent ſtood,

It erked Calchas wofull harte, who dyd abhor the ſame,

His Oracle he rewd, and eake the backe reflyctyng flame.

O wycked and vngracyous ſtocke that winneſt ill with ill,

Tryumphyng in thy fylthy feats, encreaſyng lewdnes ſtyll.

By blood we win y^e wauering windes, By death we purchaſe warr.

Nu. But by this meanes a thouſand ſhips at once releaſed ar:

Cly. With lucky fate attempt the ſeas did not the loſed rowt?

For Aulis Ile, thungracious flete, from port did tumble oute:

As with alewd vnlucky hand the war he did begin,

So fortune fauoured his ſurces to thryue nomore therin.

Her loue as captyue holdeth him whom captyue he did take.

Not moued wyth the erneſt ſute that could Achilles make,

Of Phaebus prelat ſminthicall he did retayne the ſpoyle:

When for the ſacred virgins loue his furious breſt doth boyle:

Achilles rough and thundring threates could not him qualyfye,

Nor he that doth direct the fates aboue the ſtarrye ſkye.

To vs he is an Augur iuſte, and kepes his promys dewe.

But whyle he threats his captiue truls of word he is not trew.

The ſauage people fearce in wrath once myght not moue his ſpright,

Who did purloyne the kyndled tentes with fyer blaſyng bryght:

When ſlaughter great on Grekes was made in moſt extreameſt fyght

Without a foe he conquered. with leanes pynes awaye

In lewd and wanton chamber tricks he ſpendes the idle daye,

And freſhly ſtill he feedes his luſt, leaſt that ſom other whyle

His chamber chaſt ſhuld wāt a ſtewes, that myght the lame defyle.

On Ladye Briſes loue agayn his faneye fond doth ſtand,

Whom he hath got, that wreſted was out of Achilles hand.

And carnal copulacion to haue he doth not ſhame,

Though from her huſbandes boſom he hath ſnacht the wicked dame,

Tuſhe, he that doth at Paris grudge, With wound but newly ſtroke

Eflamd with Phrygian Prophets loue, his boyling breſte doth ſmoke.

Now after Troyan boties braue, and Troy ouerwhelmd he ſaw,

Retournd he is a pryſoners ſpouſe, and Priams ſonne in lawe.

Now hart be bolde, take courage good, of ſtomake now beſtowt,

A fyelde that eaſely is not fought, to pytche thou goeſt about.

In practys myſchife thou muſt put, why hopſte thou for a daye,

While Priams doughter com from Troy in Grece do beare the ſwaye?

But as for the poore ſelye wretche, a wayteth at thy place

Thye wyddow, virgyns, and Oreſt his fatherlyke in face,

Conſyder theyr calamytyes, to com, and eake theyr cares,

Whom all the peryll of the broyle doth threat in thy affayres.

O curſed captyue, wofull wretche, why doeſt thou loyter ſo?

Thy lytle brats a ſtepdame haue, whoſe wrath will worke theyr wo.

With gaſſhing ſwerd (and yf thou can none other way prouyde)

Nor thruſt it through an others ribbes, then launche thy gory ſyde.

So murther twayne w^t brewed blood, let blood immixed be,

And by deſtroyeng of thye ſelfe deſtroy thy ſpouſe wyth thee.

Death is not ſawſt with ſops of ſorowe if ſom man els I haue,

Whoſe breathleſſe corſe I wiſh to paſſe wyth me to deadlye graue.

Nu. Queene, brydle thyne affections, and wyſelye rule my rage,

Thy ſwellyng moode now myttigate, thy chollure eke aſſwage.

Way well the wayghtye enterpryſe that thou doeſt take in hand,

Tryumphant victor be retournes of myghty Aſia lande

Auengyng Europs iniurye, with him he bryngs awaye

The ſpoyles of ſacked Pargamie, a huge and myghtie praye.

In bondage eake he leades the foalke of long aſſaulted Troye,

Yet dareſt thou by pollecye attempt him to annoye?

Whom w^t the dynt of glittryng ſwerd Achilles durſt not harme,

Although his raſh and deſperate dicks The froward knyght did arme,

Nor Aiax yet more hardye man vp yeldyng vitall breth,

Whom frantycke iurye fell enforſte to wound him ſelfe to death:

Nor Hector, he, whoſe onlye lyfe procuerd the Grekes delay,

And long in war for victorye enforced them to ſtaye

Nor Paris ſhaft, whoſe connyng hand with ſhot ſo ſure did ayme:

Nor myghtye Memnon ſwart and black, had power to hurt the ſame:

Nor Xanthus flood, wher to and froe dead carkaſis did ſwyme,

With armour hewd and ther with all ſome maymed broken lyme:

Nor Simois, that purple wawmes with ſlaughter died doth ſteare.

Nor Cygnus Lylly whyght, the ſonne of fenny god ſo deare:

Nor yet the mutteryng Thracian hoſt: nor warlyke Rehſus kynge:

Nor Amazons, who to the wars did painted Quiuers brynge,

And bare their harehets in their hands, with target, and wyth ſheylde,

Yet had no powre with gaſtly wound to foyle hym in the feylde.

Syth he ſuch ſcourynges hath eſcapte, and plunge of peryls paſte,

Entendeſt thou to murther hym, returning home at laſte?

And ſacred alters to prophane with ſlaughter ſo vupure?

ſhall Grece thaduenger, let this wroug longe vnreuengd endure?

The geym and fearce coragious horſe, the battails ſhoutes and cries,

The ſwelling ſeas which bruſed barks do dread, when ſtormes aryſe,

Behold the feildes w^t ſtreames of blood ouerflowne and depely dround,

And all the Cheualrie of Troy in ſeruile bondage bounde,

Which Grekes haue writ in regiſters. thy ſtubburne ſtomacke binde,

Subdue thy fonde affections, and pacyfie thy mynde.

The. ii. Acte. The. ii. Sceane.

Aegiſthus. Clytemneſtra.

The curſſed tyme that euermore my mynd dyd moſt deteſt,

The dais that I abhorred haue and hated in my breſt,

Are come, are come, that myne eſtate wyll brynge to vtter wracke:

Alas my harte, why doeſt thou fayle, and fayntyng flyeſt backe?

What doeſt thou meane at fyrſt aſſalte from armour thus to flye?

Truſt thys, the cruell gods intende thy dolfull deſtinie,

To wrap thee in wyth peryls round, and catche thee in a bande:

Endeuer drudge with all thy powre theyr plagues for to wythſtand:

Wyth ſtomake ſtoute rebellious, to fyre and ſwerd appeal.

Cly. It is no plague, if ſuch a death thy natyue deſtnies deal.

Aeg. (O partners of my peryls all, begot of Leda thou)

Direct thy doinges after myne, and vnto thee I vowe,

This droſell, fluggyſh ryngleader, thys ſtoute ſtronge harted iyre,

Shall pay the ſo much bloud agayne as ſhed he hath in fyre.

How haps it that hys trēbling cheekes to be ſo pale and whyght,

Lyenge agaſt, as in a traunce, wyth fayntyng face vpryght?

Cly. His cōſciēce wedlock vow doth prick and brynges hym home agayne.

Let vs returne the ſelfe ſame trade a newe for to retayne,

To which at firſt we ſhould haue ſtuck and ought not to forſake,

To couenaunt contynent a newe let vs our ſelues betake:

To take the trade of honeſtie at no tyme is to late:

He purged is from punyſhment whoſe harte the cryme doth hate.

Aeg. Why whether wilt thou gad (o raſhe and vnaduyſed dame?)

What doeſt thou erneſtly beleue, and fyrmly truſt the ſame,

That Agamemnons ſpouſall bed wyll loyall be to thee,

That nought doth vnderprop thy mind whych myght thy terrour bee?

Hys proud ſucceſſe pufte vp to hyghe with lucky blaſt of wynde,

Myght make ſo cranke, and ſet alofte hys hawty ſwellyng mynde:

Amonge hys peares he ſtately was, er Troian turrets torne,

How thynk ye then hys ſtomack ſtout by nature gyuen to ſcorne,

In haughtynes agmented is more in hym ſelfe to ioye,

Through thys tryumphant vyctorye and conqueſt got of Troye?

Before hys voyage miceane kynge moſte myldly dyd he reygne,

But now a Tyrant truculent returnd he is agayne.

Good lucke and proud proſperytie do make hys harte ſo ryſe.

With what great preparacion prepared ſolemne wyſe,

A rablement of ſtrumpets come that clonge about hym all?

But yet the propheteſſe of Phaebe, (whom god of trueth we call)

Appeares aboue the reſt: ſhe kepes the kynge, ſhe doth hym guyde:

Wylt thou in wedlock haue a mate and not for it prouyde?

So wolde not ſhe, the greateſt greefe this is vnto a wyte,

Her huſbandes minion in her houſe to leade an open lyfe.

A queenes eſtate can not abyde her peare with her to reygne,

And Ielous wedlock will not her companyon ſuſtayne.

Cly. Aegiſt in deſprat mode agayne why ſeeſt thou me a flote?

Why kyndleſt thou the ſparkes of ire in imbers couered hote?

If that the vyctors owne free will releas his captyues care,

Why may not I hys lady ſpouſe haue hope as well to fare?

One lawe doth rule in royall throne, and pompous pryncely towers,

Amonge the vulgar ſorte, another in pryuate ſymple bowers.

what though my grudgyng fanſy force that at my huſbandes hande,

Sharpe execution of the lawe I ſtubbernly withſtande?

Recordyng thys that haynouſlye offended hym I haue:

He gently wyll me pardon graunt who nede the ſame to craue?

Aeg. Euen ſo? on thys condicion thou mayſt wyth hym compounde,

To pardon hym, if he agayne to pardon thee be bounde.

The ſubtle ſcyence of the lawe, The ſtatutes of our lande,

(That longe ago decreed were) thou doeſt not vnderſtande.

The Iudges be malicious men, they ſpyghte and enuye vs,

But he ſhall haue them parciall hys cauſes to dyſcns.

Thys is the chiefeſt pryuiledge that doth to kynges belonge,

What lawes forbyddeth other men they do, and do no wronge.

Cly. He pardned Helen, ſhe is wedd to Menela agayne,

Whych Europ all, wyth Aſia dyd plonge alyke in payne.

Aeg. No Ladyes luſte hath rauyſhte yet Atrides in hys lyfe,

Nor pryuelie purloynd hys harte, betrothed to hys wyfe.

To picke a quarell he begyns, and matter thee to blame,

Suppoſe thou nothyng haſt cōmyte that worthy is of ſhame?

What boteth hym whom prynces hate an honeſt lyfe to frame?

He neuer doth complayne his wronge, but euer beares the blame.

Wylt thou repayre to ſpart, and to thy countrey trudge aryght?

Wylt thou becom a ronagate, from ſuch a worthy wyght?

Deuorcement made from kynges, wil not ſo let the matter ſcape,

Thou eaſeſt fear, by fyckle hope, that falſly thou doeſt ſhape:

Cly. My treſpas is dyſcloſd to none, but to a truſtye wyght.

Aeg. At prynces gates fydelytye yet neuer enter myght.

Cly. I wyll corrupt and feede him ſo with ſyluer and wyth gould,

That I by brybyng binde hym ſhall no ſecrets to vnfould:

Aeg. The truſt that hyred is and bought by brybes and moneys fee,

Thy counſell to bewray a gayne with brybes entyſte wyll bee,

Cly. The remnaunt left of ſhamfadnes of thoſe vngracyous tryckes,

Wherin of late I dyd delyght, my concience freſhly prycks.

Why kepeſt thou ſuch a buſy ſtur, and wyth thy flattryng ſpeache

Enſt ructyng me wyth lewd aduiſe doſt wicked counſell preache?

Shall I forſooth of royall blood with all the ſpeede I can,

Refuſe the kynge of kynges, and wed an outcaſt banyſht man?

Aeg. Why ſhould you thinke in that Thyeſt was father vnto mee,

And Agamemnon Atreus ſonne he ſhould my better be?

Cly. If that be but a tryfle ſmall Ad Nephew to the ſame,

Aeg. I am of Phaebus linage borne, wherof I do not ſhame.

Why makſte thou Phaebus aucthor of thy wycked pedagrew,

Whom out of heauen ye forſte to fly when brydle backe he drew?

When lady nyght with mantell black dyd ſpred her ſudden ſhade,

Why makeſt thou the gods til ſuche reproche fulnes to wade?

Whoſe father hath thee conning made by fleyght and ſubtle guyle

To make thy kynſman Cockold, while hys wyfe thou do defyle.

What man is he whom we do know to be thy fathers mate,

Abuſyng luſte of lecherye in ſuche vnlawfull rate?

Auaunt, go packe the hence in haſte, diſpatche, out of my ſyght

This infamie, whoſe blemyſh ſtaynes this blood of worthy wyght.

Aeg. Thys is no newe exile to me that wyckednes do haunt,

But if that thou (o worthy queene) cammaund me to adaunt

I wyll not onely ſtrayght auoyde the houſe, the towne, and feild,

My lyfe on ſwerd at thy requeſt I redy am to yeild.

Cly. Thys haynous dede permit ſhall I (moſt churleſh cruell drab)

Agaynſt my wyll though I offende, he fault I ſhould not blab:

Nay, rather come aparte wyth me, and let vs ioyne our wyts,

To wrap our ſelues out of thys wo, and parlous threatnyng fyts.

Chorus.

Now chaunt it luſtye laddes.

Apollos prayſe ſuborne,

To thee the frolyke flock

theyr crowned heads adorne.

To thee kynge Inachs ſtocke

of wedlock chamber voyd,

Braid out their virgyns lockes

and theron haue employd,

Theyr ſauorie garlandes greene

It wyſt of Lawrell bow.

Draw nere wyth vs o Thebes,

our daunſyng folow thou.

Come alſo ye, that dryncke

of Iſmen bublyng flood,

Wheras the Laurell tree

full thycke on bankes doth bood.

Eke ye whom Man do mild,

the Propheteſſe diuyne,

(Foreſeenge fate) and borne

of hyghe Tireſias lygne,

Hath ſtyrd to celebrate

with ſacred vſe and ryght

Appollo and Dian

borne of Latona bryght.

O victor Phaebe vnbend

thy nocked howe agayne,

Syth quyetnes and peace

anew we do retayne.

And let thy twāckling harpe

make melodie ſo ſhtyll,

Whyle that thy nymble hande

ſtryke quauers with thy quill.

No curious deſcant I

nor luſtie muſick craue,

No ioly rumbling note,

nor trowlyng tune to haue.

But on thy treble Lute

(accordyng to thy vſe)

Stryke vp a playne ſong note,

as when thy learned Muſe

Thy leſſons do record,

though yet on baſer ſtrynge

It lyketh thee to play

the ſonge that thou did ſynge:

As when from fyry heauen

the dynt of lyghtnyng flew,

ſent downe by wrath of gods,

the Titans ouerthrew.

Or els when moūtains were

on mountaynes heaped hye

That raiſe for Grauntes fell

theyr ſteppes into the ſkye,

The mountaine Oſſa ſtood

on top of Pelion layde,

Olymp (wheron the Pynes

theyr buddyng braunches brayd)

Downe paiſed both: draw nere

o Iuno noble dame,

Both ſpouſe of myghty Ioue

and ſyſter to the ſame:

Thou that doeſt rule w^t hym

made ioynter of his mace,

Thy people we of Greece

gyue honour to thy grace:

Thou onely doſt protect

from peryls Argos land,

That euer carefull was

to haue thine honour ſtand,

(Moſt ſupplient ther vnto)

thou alſo with thy myght

Doſt order ioyfull peace

and battels fearce of fight,

Accept o conquering queene

theſe braunches of the bays,

That Agamemnon here

doth yeild vnto thy prayſe:

The holow boxen pype

(that doth with holes abound)

In ſyngyng vnto thee

doth gyue a ſolemne ſound:

To thee the damſels eke

that play vpon the ſtrynges,

With connyng harmonie

melodious muſick ſynges.

The matrons eke of Grece

by ryper yeares more graue,

To thee the taper paye,

that vowed oft they haue,

The beyferd yonge & whits

companyon of the Full

Unſkilfull, yet by proofe

the paynful plain to pull,

whoſe neck was neuer worne

nor gald wyth prynt of yoake,

Is in thy temple ſlayne

receyuing deadly ſtroake.

O layde Pallas thou

of moſt renoumned hap

Bred of the brayne of Ioue

that ſmytes with thonder clap.

Thou loftie Troian towres

of craggy knotty flynt

Haſt bet with battryng blade,

and ſtrooke with iauelyng dynt:

The elder matrons with

the dames that yonger be

Together in myngled heapes

do honour due to thee.

when thou approching nighe

thy commyng is eſpyde,

The preiſte vnbarrs the gate

and opes the Temple wide:

By cluſtring thronges the flocks

thyne altars haunt apace,

Bedecte with twyſted crownes

ſo trym wyth comely grace.

The olde and auncyent men

well ſtept and growne in yeares,

Whoſe feble tremblyng age

precureth horye heares,

Obteyning theyr requeſt

craued of thy grace deuyne,

Do offer vp to thee

theyr ſacryficed wine,

O bryght Dian whoſe blaſe

ſheds lyght three ſundry wayes,

We myndfull are of thee,

and render thankfull prayſe,

Delon thy natyue ſoyle

thou dyddeſt fyrmly bynde,

That to and fro was wont

to wander with the wynde:

Which with foundacion ſure

mayn ground for byds to paſſe:

For Nauies (after whych

to ſwim it wonted was)

It is become a Road

defyenge force of wynde,

The mothers funerals

of Tantalus his kinde.

The doughters ſeuen by death

thou victreſſe doeſt accompte,

Whoſe mother Niobe

abydes on ſipill mounte

A lamentable rocke,

and yet vnto this howre

Her teares newe guſſhyng, out

the marble olde doth powre.

The godhead of the twins

in ſumpteous ſolemne wiſe,

Both man and wife adore

with ſauory ſacryfyſe.

But thee aboue the reſt,

o father great and guide,

Whoſe myghty force is by

the burning lightning tryde?

Who whē thou gaueſt a beek

and didſt thy head but ſhake,

At once th extremeſt poales

of heauen and earth did quake.

O Iupiter the rote

that of our lynage arte,

Accept theſe offered giftes

and take them in good parte:

And thou o graundſire great

to thy poſteritie

Haue ſome remors, that do

not ſwarne in chyualrye.

But yonder lo w^t ſtiuing ſteps

the ſoldier comes a mayne

In all poſt haſt, with token that

good newes declareth playne

A lawrel braunche, that hangeth on

hys ſpeare head he doth brynge:

Eurybates is come, who hath

ben truſtye to the kynge.

The thyrd Acte.

Eurybates. Clytemneſtra.

Sore tyred after many yeares with trauaile & with toyle

Scant credityng my ſelfe, the Gods of thys my natyue ſoyle,

The temple, and the alters of the ſainctes that rule the ſkye,

In humble ſorte with reuerence deuoutly worſhyp I.

Now pay your vowes vnto the Gods: returned is agayne

Unto hys countrey court, where wont he was to rule, and reygne,

Prince Agamemnon, victor he, of Grece the great renoume.

Cly. The tydynges of a meſſage good vnto myne eares is blowne.

Where ſtaies my ſpouſe whō longing for ten yeares I haue out ſcand?

What doth he yet ſayle on the ſeas, or is he come a land?

Yet hath he fyxt and ſet hys fote back ſtepping home againe

Uppon the ſandy ſhore, that longe he wiſſhed to artayne?

And doth he ſtyl enioy his health enhauncte in glory great,

And paynted out in pomp of prayes whoſe fame the ſkye doth beate?

Eury. Bleſſe we with burnyng ſacryfyce, at lengthe this luckye daye.

Cly. And eke the gods though gracious Yet dealyng long delaye:

Declare if that my brothers wyfe enioy the vitall ayre,

And tel me, to what kynd of Coaſt my ſyſter doth repayre.

Eury. God graunt &gyue vs better newes then thys that thou doeſt craue:

The heuy hap of fyghtyng floods forbyddes the trueth to haue.

Our ſcattred fleete the ſwelling ſeas attemptes in ſuch a plyght,

That ſhyp from ſhip was taken cleane out of eche others ſyght.

Atrides in the waters wyde turmoyld and ſtrayeng far,

More vyolence by ſeas ſuſtaind then by the blooddy war.

And as it were a conquerd man eſcaping home all weete

Now bringeth in his companie of ſuch a myghty fleete,

A ſorte of bruſed broken barkes, beſhaken, torne, and rent.

Cly. ſhew what vnluckie chaunce it is that hath our Nauye ſpent,

What ſtorme of ſeas diſperſed hath our Captaines heare and theare?

Eury. Thou willeſt me to make reporte of heauy wofull geare.

Thou biddeſt me moſt greuous newes with tydynges good to parte:

For vttryng of thys wofull hap my feble mynde doth ſtarte.

And horrybly appauled is with thys ſo monſtrous ill.

Cly. Speke out, and vtter it: hym ſelfe with terrour he doth fyll,

Whoſe harte hys owne calamytie and carke, doth lothe to know:

The harte whom doubted domage duls with greater greefe doth glow.

Eury. Whē Troian buyldings blaſing bright did burne away, and broyle,

Enkindled firſte by Grekiſh brand, they fall to parte the ſpoyle:

Repairing faſt vnto the ſeas agayne we come a boorde,

And now the ſoldiers wery loynes were eaſed of hys ſworde,

Their bucklers caſt aſide vpon the hatches lie aboue:

Their warlike handes in practiſe put, and Oers learne to moue:

Eche lytle hyndraunce ſemes to much to them in haſty plyght,

When of recours the Admirall, gaue watchword by his lyght,

And trumpet blaſt began to call our army from delaye,

The painted Pup with gilded ſnowt did firſte guyde on the waye:

And cut the courſe, which foloing on a thouſand ſhippes did ryue,

Then firſt a winde with pipling puffes our launcing ſhips did dryue:

Which glyded downe vpon our ſailes: the water being calme

With breath of weſterne wind ſo mild ſcant moued any walme.

The ſhynyng ſeas beſpred aboute with ſhyppes, doth glyſter bryght,

And alſo couerd with the ſame, lay hyd fro Phaebus lyght:

It doth vs good, to gaſe vpon the naked ſhore of Troy:

The deſarte Phrygian plots ſo bare to vewe, we hopp for ioye:

The youth echone beſturrs thē ſelues, and ſtrykyng altogether

They tough theyr ores, & w^t their toyle they help the winde and weather.

They tug, and chearly row by courſe, the ſpyrtyng ſeas vp daſh,

Agaynſt the ratlyng rybs of ſhippes The flapping floods do flaſh

The hory froth of wreſtlyng waues which ores aloft doth rayſe,

Do drawe and trace a furrow through the marble faced ſeas.

When ſtrōger blaſt with belly ſwolne our hoyſted ſayles dyd fill,

They row no more, but let the Pup to go with wynde at will,

Their ſheryng Ores layd aſyde our Pilot doth eſpye,

How far from anye land aloofe our ſayles reculyng flye.

Or bloody batells doth diſplaye, the threates of Hector ſtoute,

Or of his ratlyng Waggins tells, wherin he rode about:

Or how his gaſſhed carckas ſlayne and traynd about the fylde,

To funerall flames, and obit ryghtes for coyne agayne was yeld.

How Iupiter embathed was all in his royall blood.

The frolyck fyſhe deſpoſed was to myrth in Tyrren flood,

And fetchyng fryſkes both in and out playes on the waters brym,

And on his broad and fynny backe about the ſeas doth ſwym,

With gamballs quick in rings aroūd,and ſyde to ſyde enclynd,

Erwhyle he ſportes afront the pup, and whyps agayn behynd,

Now fydlyng on the ſnout before, the dalyeng wanton rowt

With iocundarye ioly tryckes doth ſkyp the flete about.

ſomtyme he ſtandeth gaſyng on and eyes the veſſells bryght,

Now euery ſhore is couered clean, and land is out of ſyght,

The parlous poynct of Ida rocke in ſyght doth open lye,

And that alone eſpye we coulde with fyrmely fyxed eye,

A duſky clowd of ſtiflyng ſmoke from Troy did ſmolter blacke,

When Titan from the werye neckes the heauy yokes did ſlacke.

The fading light did grouelyng bend, and down the day did ſhrowd,

Agaynſt the ſtars amountyng vp a lytle myſtie clowd,

Came belchyng out in irkſom lompe, and Phaebus galland beames

He ſpewd vpon, beſtayning them duet down in weſterne ſtreames.

The ſun ſet ſwaruyng in ſuch ſorte with diuers change of face

Did gyue vs cauſe, to haue miſtruſte of Neptunes doubted grace.

The euening firſt did bunx/rniſh bright, and paynt with ſtars the ſkye,

The wynds were layd, & clean forſoke our ſayles, that quiet lye.

whē cracking, ratling, rumbling noiſe, ruſht down with thundryng ſwaye

From top of hyls, which greater ſtur doth threaten and bewray.

With belowinges, &yellynges lowd, the ſhores do grunt and grone,

The craggye clyues, &roryng rockes, do howle in hollow ſtone.

The bublyng waters ſwelles vpreard before the wraſtling winde,

When ſuddenlye the lowryng lyght of moone is hid and blynde.

The glymſyng ſtarres do go to glade, the ſurgyng ſeas are toſt

Euen to the ſkyes, among the clowdes the lyght of heauen is loſt.

More nyghtes in one compacted are, wyth ſhadow dym and blacke,

One ſhade vppon another doth more darknes heape and packe,

And euery ſparke of lyght conſumd the waues and ſkyes do mete.

The ruflyng wynds range on the ſeas. through euerye coaſt they flytt.

They heaue it vp wyth vyolence. ouerturnd from bottom low,

The weſterne wynde flat in the face of eaſterne wynd doth blow.

With hurley burley Boreas ſet ope his blaſtyng mouth,

And gyroeth out his boyſteous breth, agaynſt the ſtormy ſouth,

Eache wind w^t all his might doth blow, and worketh daungers depe,

They ſhake the floods, a ſturdye blaſt along the ſeas doth ſwepe.

That rowles, & tūbles waue on waue, a northern tempeſt ſtronge

Aboundaunce great of flackye ſnowe doth hurle our ſhipps among.

The ſouth winde out of Lybia doth rage vppon a ſhold,

And with the puyſſaunt force therof the quycke ſandes vp be rould,

Nor bydeth in the ſouth, which doth with tempeſt lump and lower,

And force the flowyng floods to ryſe by powryng out a ſhower.

The ſtubbern Eurus erthquakes made, and ſhoke the countryes eaſr,

And Eos coſt, where Phaebus fyrſt aryſeth from his teſt.

How violent Corus ſtrecht and tare his yawnyng mouth full wyde?

A man wold ſure haue thought y^t world did from his center flyde,

And that the frames of heuen broke vp the gods adown wold fall,

And Chaos darke confuſed heape wold ſhade and couer all.

The ſtream ſtraue w^t the wind, y^t wynd dyd beat it backe agayne,

The ſpringyng ſea within his bankes can not it ſelfe contayne,

The ragyng ſhowr hys tryllyng drops doth myngle with the ſeas,

And yet in all this miſerye they fynd not ſo much eas,

To ſee and know what ill it is, that worketh theyr decaye.

The darknes dim oppreſſeth ſtyll and kepes the lyght awaye:

The blacke facſt nyght w^t hellicke hew was clad of ſtygian lake

And yet full oft with glimſyng beames the ſparklyng fyre out brake.

The cloud doth crack, and beyng rent the lyghtnyng leapeth out,

The wretches lyke the ſame ſo well it ſhinyng them about,

That ſtill they wyſh ſuch light to haue. (although god wot but ill)

The nauy ſwaying down it ſelfe doth caſt awaye, and ſpyll.

One ſyde with other ſyde is crackt, and helme is rent with helme,

The ſhypp it ſelfe the gulpyng ſeas do hedlong ouer whelme.

Erwhyle a grydie gapyng gulphe doth ſup it vp amayne,

Then by an by toſt vp aloft it ſpewes it out agayne,

ſhe with her ſwaggyng full of ſea to bottom low doth ſinke,

And drencheth depe aſyde in floodes her tottryng broken brynke.

That vnderneath a doſen waues lay drowned out of ſyght,

Her broken plankes ſwym 'vp &down, ſpoyld is her tacle quyght,

Both ſayle and Ores clean are leſt, the mayn maſt cake is gon.

That wonted was to beare vpryght the ſayle yard therupon,

The tymber and the broken bordes lye on the waters brym,

When cold &ſhiueryng feare in vs doth ſtryke through euery lym

The wyſeſt wytts entockſycate dare nothyng enterpryſe,

And conning practiſe nought auayles, When fearfull ſtormes aryſe,

The mareners lettyng dutie ſlyppe ſtand ſtaryng al agaſt,

Theyr ſcoopyng ores ſodainly out of theyr handes are wraſt.

To prayer then apace we fall, when others hope is none,

The Grekes &Troyans to the Gods alyke do make theyr mone.

Alack what ſuccour of the fates may we poore wretches fynde?

Agaynſt hys father Pyrrhus beares a ſpytefull cancred mynde,

At Aiax grudge Vlyſſes doth, kynge Menela doth hate

Great Hector: Agamemnon is with Priam at debate.

O happy man is he, that doth lye ſlaine in Troyan ground,

And hath deſerued by handy ſtroke, to take hys fatall wounde,

Whom fame preſerueth, taking vp hys tombe in conquered land.

Thoſe momes whoſe melting cowards hart durſt neuer take in hand,

Or enterpryſe no noble acte, thoſe force of floods ſhall drowne,

But fate forbearyng long, will take ſtoute brutes of hyghe renoume,

Full well we may aſhamed be, in ſuch a ſorte to dye,

If any man hys ſpytefull mynd yet can not ſatyſfie,

With theſe outragious plūging plages That downe from gods are ſent,

Appeace at length thy wrathfull god agayne, and eke relent.

Euen Troy for pitie wold haue wept, to ſee our wofull caſe,

But if that in thy boylyng breſt black rancour ſtyll haue place,

And that the Grekes to ruin run, it be thy purpoſe bent,

Why do theſe Troyans go to wrack? for whom thus are we ſpent?

Aſſwage the rygour of the ſea that threatnyng hyls vp reares:

This drenched fleete the Troyan folke and Grekes together beares.

Then from theyr prayers ar they put, theyr foultryng tonges do ſtay,

the roring ſeas doth drown their voyce and cares their cries awaye.

Then myghty Pallas armed with the leppyng lyghtning fyre,

That teſty Ioue doth vſe to hurle prouokte to ſwellyng ire,

With thretning Iaueling in her hand, her prowess meanes to trye,

And eke her force whoes boyling breſt with Gorgon fyts doth frye,

Or what with target ſhe can do, and with her fathers fyre.

Then from the ſkyes another ſtorme begynnes abrode to ſpyre,

But Aiax nothyng yet dyſmayd all force withſtandeth ſtout,

whō when he ſpred his ſwelling ſailes with cable ſtretched out,

ſhe lyghtyng downe did wryng hym hard, &wrapt him in her flame,

And flange another flaſſhyng dint of lyghtnyng on the ſame,

With all her force and violence her hand brought back agayne,

ſhe toſt hym out, as late that feate her father tought her playne.

Both ouer Aiax and hys Pup ſhe ſlyeth ouerthwart,

And rentyng man and ſhyp, of both ſhe beares away a parte,

Hys corage nought abated yet he al to ſyngde doth ſeme,

Euen lyke a ſtubberne ragged rock amid the ſtriuing ſtreame,

He traynes along the roaryng ſeas and eke the waltryng waue

By ſhouyng on hys bourly breſt in ſonder quyte he draue,

The Barke with hand he caught, &on it ſelfe dyd type it ouer,

Yet Aiax ſhyneth in the flood which darknes blynd doth couer.

At length attaynyng to a rock hys thundryng crakes were thes,

I conquered haue the force of fyre and rage of fyghtyng ſeas,

It doth me good, to mayſter thus the anger of the ſkye,

with Pallas wrath, the lightnyng 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 Phaebus dartes could me cōſtrayne, from hym one foote to ſhoon,

All theſe beſyde the Phrygians ſubdued we haue, and woon:

when other Mecocks flings his dartes ſhall I not them withſtand?

Yea, what if Phaebus came him ſelfe, to pytche them with hys hand?

When in hys melancholy moode He boaſted without meane.

Then father Neptune lyft hys head aboue the waters cleane.

The beaten rocke with forked mace he vndermynyng pluckte

From bottom looſe, &ſuncke it doune, when doune hym ſelfe he duckte.

Theare Aiax lay, by land, by ſyre, and ſtorme of ſeas deſtroyd,

But we by ſufferyng ſhypwrack, are with greater plagues anoyd.

A ſubtyle ſhallow flood thear is flowne on a ſtony ſhold,

Where crafty Caphar out of ſyght the lurkyng rocks doth hould,

Uppon whoſe ſharpe and ragged tops the ſwellyng tide doth flow,

The boylyng waues do beat theron ſtyll ſweaing to and fro:

A turret noddyng ouer it doth hange with fallyng ſwaye,

From whence on either ſide frō height proſpect eſpye we maye

Two ſeas: and on thys hand the coaſt where Pelops ons did reygne,

And Iſtmus flood in narrow creeke, reculyng back agayne,

Doth ſtop Ionian ſea, leſt in to Helleſpont it run,

On thother part is Lemnon flood that fame by blodſhed woon.

On thother ſyde Calcedon towne doth ſtand agaynſt thys forte,

And Aulis Ile that ſtayd our ſhyps that thyther dyd reſorte.

Thys Caſtell here inhabyte doth our Palimedes ſier,

Whoſe curſed hand held in the top a brand of flamyng fier,

That dyd alure oure fleete, to turne on lurkyng rocks a ryght,

Entyſyng them with wily blaſe to come vnto the lyght.

All into fitters ſhaken are the veſſels on the ſhold,

But other ſome do ſwym, and ſome vppon the rocks are roulde.

And other ſlyppyng back agayne ſo to eſchew the rocks,

Hys bruſed rybbes and ratlyng ſydes agaynſt ech other knocks,

Wherby the other he doth breake, and broken is hym ſelfe,

Then wolde they launce into the depe, for now they dread the ſhelfe,

Thys peck of troubles chaunct to hap in dawning of the daye.

But when the Gods (beſought of vs) began the rage to ſtaye,

And Phaebus golden beames began a freſh to render lyght,

The dolfull day dyſcryed all the domage done by nyght.

Cly. O whether may I now lament, and wepe with waylyng ſad,

Or ſhall I els in that my ſpous returned is be glad?

I do reioyce, and yet I am compelled to bewayle

My countreys great calamytie that doth the ſame aſſayle.

O father great whoſe maieſtye doth thundryng ſepters ſhake,

The lowryng Gods vnto the Greekes now fauourable make,

With garlands greene let euerye head reioyſyng now be cround.

To to thee the pype in ſacryfice melodiouſly doth ſound,

And on thyne alter lyeth ſlayne an Heyferdlyly whyte,

Before the ſame do preſent ſtand with hangyng lockes vndyght,

A carefull Troyan companye in heuy wofull plyght,

On whom frō heygh the Lawrell tree with ſpredding branche doth ſhyne,

Whoſe vertue hath inſpired them with Phaebus grace diuine,

Chorus. Caſſandra.

ALas the cruell ſtynge of loue how ſwetely doth it taſte,

A myſerye to mortall man annext whyle lyfe doth laſt?

The path of myſcheife for to flye, now ſyth there is a gap,

And wretched ſoules be franckly calde from euery wofull hap

By death, a pleaſant port, for aye in reſt them ſelues to ſhroude,

Where dredfull tumultes neuer dwell nor ſtormes of Fortune proude:

Nor yet the burning fyry flakes of Ioue the ſame doth doubt,

whē wrongfully with twacking thūpes he rappes hys thunder out:

Hear lady peace thinhabitours doth neuer put in flyght,

Nor yet the victors threatnyng wrath approchyng nyght to fyght,

No whyrling weſtern wynd doth vrge the rampyng ſeas to praunce,

No duſtye cloud that rayſed is by ſauage Dimilaunce,

On horſeback riding rancke by ranck, no ferſe and cruell hoſt,

No people ſlaughtred, w^t their townes clean topſie turvey toſt:

Whyle that the foe with flamyng fyre doth ſpoyle and waſt the wall,

Untamed and vnbridled Mars deſtroys and batters all:

That man alone who forceth not the ficle fates a ſtrawe,

The vyſage grym of Acheront whoſe eyes yet neuer ſawe,

Who neuer vewd with heauy cheare the vgſome Limbo lake,

And puttynge lyfe in haſarde dare to death hym ſelfe betake.

That parſon is a prynces peare, and lyke the gods in myght,

Who knoweth not what death dothe mean is in a pitious plight

The ruthfull ruin of our natyue countrey we beheld:

That woful nyght, in which the roofes of howſes ouerqueld,

In Dardans Cytie blaſing bryght with flaſſhyng fiery flames.

when as the Grekes w^t burning brands enkindle did the frames,

That Troy whō war &dedes of armes myght not ſubdue and take,

As ons 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 glyteryng bright in fild he ware falſe armour on hys back,

And counterfayting fearſe Achill the Troyans draue to wrack.

Nor when Achilles he hym ſelfe hys mynd from ſorow wraſt,

And Troyan women to the walles dyd 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 dyd 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 own ryght hand haue haled in,

That fatall gyft of Grekes: what tyme at entrye of the gap

The hugye hors did ſhyueringe ſtand, wher in them ſelues did wrap

The captaynes cloſe, in holow vautes with bloody war yfreight.

When lawfully we myght haue tryde, and ſerched theyr deceight:

ſo by theyr owne contryned ſnares the grekes had byn confound:

The braſeen buclers being ſhoke did gyue a clattryng ſound.

A pryuie whyſperyng often tymes came tycklyng in our ear.

And Pyrrhus (in a murreynes name ſo redye for to heate.

The craftye councell picked out of falſe Vliſſes brayne,)

Did iangle in the holow vautes, that rang therof agayne.

But fearyng and ſuſpectyng nought the heddy youth of Troy

Layd handes vpon the ſacred ropes, to hale and pull with ioye,

On this ſyde young Aſtyanax came garded with his trayne,

On thother part Pollixena diſponſed to be ſlayne

Upoon Achilles tombe, ſhe coms with maydes, and he with men,

A ioly flocke with equall yeares as young as they were then.

Theyr vowd oblations to the gods in holyday attyre,

The matrons bryng and ſo to churche repayreth euery ſyre.

And all the cytie did alyke, yea Hecuba our queene

(That ſynce the wofull Hectors death or now was neuer ſene)

She mery is: o grefe accurſt, of all thy ſorowes depe

For which that fyrſt, or laſt befell, entendeſt thou to wepe?

Our battred walls which heuenly handes erected haue and framd?

Or els the burnyng temples which vpon their Idolls flamd?

Lamentyng theſe calamyties we haue not tyme and ſpace,

O myghtye parent Priam we poore Troyans wayle thy caſe.

The old mans thratlyng throt I ſawe, (alas) I ſaw yborde

With cruell Pirrhus blade, that ſcante with any blood was gord.

Caſs. Refrayne your teares y^• down your chekes ſhould tricle euermore

Wyth wofull waylynges piteouſly your pryuate frendes deplore

My myſeries refuſe a mate, ſo much accurſt as I:

To rewe my carefull caſe, refrayn your lamentable crye.

As for myne owne diſtreſſe to murne, I ſhall ſuffyce alone.

Cho. To mingle teares w^t other teares it doth vs good to mone:

In thoſe the burnyng teary ſtreames more ardently do boyle,

Whō ſecret thoughts of lurking cares in pryuy breſt turmoyle:

Though that thou were a goſſop ſtout, that brooke much ſorow may

I warraunt the, thou myghteſt well, lament this ſore decay.

Not ſad and ſolemne Aedon that in the woodes doth ſynge

Her ſugred ditties fynelye tunde on ſweete and pleaſaunt ſtryng:

Recordyng Itys wofull hap in dyuers kynde of note,

whom Progne though he were her chyld and of her wombe begot,

For to reuenge his fathers fault, ſhe did not ſpare to kyll:

And gaue his fleſh and blood for food the fathers maw to fyll.

Nor Progne who in ſwallows ſhape: vpon the rydges hye,

Of houſes ſitts in Biſton town bewaylyng peteouſlye,

With chatteryng throte, of Tereus her ſpouſe the cruell act,

(Who did by ſtrength &force of arms a ſhamfull brutyſhe fact.

Defyle the ſyſter of his wyfe, fayre Philomel by name,

And take cut out her tonge, leaſt ſhee ſhould blab it to his ſhame)

Though Progne this her huſbandes rape lamentyng very ſore

Do waile, and wepe w^t piteous plaint, yet can ſhe not deplore

ſufycientlye, though that ſhe would our contreys petious plyght:

Though he him ſelfe among the ſwans ſyr Cygnus lyllye whight.

who dwelles in ſtreame of Iſter flood, and Tanais channell could,

His weping voyce moſt erneſtlye though vtter out he would:

Although the mornyng Halcyons with dolefull ſyghes do wayle,

At ſuch tyme as the fyghtyng floodes their Cyex did aſſayle,

Or raſhly weryng bould attempt the ſeas now layd at reſt,

Or beyng verye fearefull fede their broode in tottryng neſt,

Although as ſqeimyſh harted men thoſe preiſtes in bedlem rage,

Whom mother Cyble beyng borne on hyghe in lofty ſtage,

Doth moue, ſo 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 ther is, no meſure to refrayne,

Thoſe miſeryes all meſure paſſe, that plunged vs in payne.

The ſacred fillets from thy heds, why doeſt thou hale and pull?

They chyflye ought to worſhyp god, whoſe hartes with grefe be dull.

Caſs. My feare by this aflyction is cleane abated al,

Nor prayeng to the heauenly ghoſtes for mercye will I call.

Although they wer diſpoſd to chafe and fret in fuſtien fumes:

They nothyng haue me to diſpleaſe, fortune her force conſumes.

Her ſpyte is worne vnto the ſtumpes, what contrey haue I lefte?

Wher is my ſyre? am I of all my ſyſters quyt bereft.

The ſacred tombes and alter ſtones our blood haue dronke and ſwyld,

Where are my bretherne bleſſed knot? deſtroyed in the fylde.

All wyddow wyues of Priams ſonnes may eaſly now behould,

The pallace voyd and caſt of court of ſyllye Priam ould.

And by ſo manye marriages ſo many wyddows ar,

But onlye Hellen commyng from the coaſt of Lacon far.

That Hecuba the mother of ſo many a pryncelye wyght,

whoſe frutful womb did breed y^e brand, of fyer blaſyng bryght:

Who alſo bare the ſwinge in Troy, by practis now doth learne,

New lawes and guyſe of deſtynie in bondage to diſcerne.

On her ſhe taketh hart of grace with lookes ſo ſterne and wylde,

And barketh as a bedlem bitche aboute her ſtrangled chyld

Dear Polidor, the remnaunt left, and onely hope of Troy,

Hector and Priam to reuenge, and to reſtore her ioy.

Cho. The ſacred Phaebus prophet is with ſodaine ſylence huſht:

A quakyng tremblyng ſhiueryng fear throughout her lymbs hath ruſht:

Her face as pale as aſſhes is, her fillits ſtand vpryght,

The ſoft and gentle goldilocks ſtarte vp of her affrigyt.

Her panting breathing breſt ſtuft vp within doth grunt and grone.

Her glaring bryght and ſteaming eies are hether and thyther throwne.

Now glaūcyng vp &downe they roll: now ſtandyng ſtyffe they ſtare.

ſhe ſtretcheth vp her head more ſtreight then commenly ſhe bare,

Bolt vp ſhe goes, her wraſtling iawes that faſt together clinge,

ſhe doth attempt by dyuers meanes, on ſonder how to wringe.

Her mōbling words in gabling mouth ſhut vp ſhe doth aſſwage,

As Menas mad that Bacchus ares doth ſerue in furious rage.

Caſs. How doth it hap (o ſacred tops of hyghe Parnaſſus hyll)

That me be rapt of ſens, with pricks of fury freſh ye fill?

Why do you me with ghoſt inſpyre, that am beſyde my wits?

O Phaebus none of thyne I am, releas me from the fyts:

Infixed in my burnyng breſtes the flames extinguyſh out,

Who forceth me with fury fell to gad and trot about?

Or for whoſe ſake inſpird with ſpryte mad momblyng make muſt I?

Why play I now the prophet cold, ſyth Troy in duſt doth lye?

The day doth ſhrinke for dread of war, the nyght doth dym myne eyes.

With mantell black of darknes depe cleane couerd is the ſkyes:

But loe two ſhynyng ſunnes at once in heauen appereth bryght,

Two Grecian howſes muſter do their armies twaine to fyght.

Amonge the myghty Goddeſis in Ida woods I ſee,

The fatall ſhepherd in hys throne as vmpier plaſt to bee:

I do aduiſe you to beware, beware (I ſay) of kynges,

(A kyndred in whoſe cancred hartes olde pryuy grudges ſprynges)

That cuntrey clowne Aegiſthus he this ſtock ſhall ouerthrowe,

What doth this foliſh deſpret dame her naked wepons ſhowe?

Whoſe crowne entendeth ſhe to crack in weede of Lacon lande,

With hatchet (by the Amazons inuented fyrſt) in hand?

What face of myghty maieſtie bewitched hath myne eyes?

The conquerour of ſaluage beaſtes Marmarick Lyon lyes,

Whoſe noble necke is wurried with curryſh fange and tooth

The churlyſh ſnappes of eger Lioneſſe abyde he dooth.

Alac ye goſtes of all my frendes why ſhould ye ſay that I,

Among the reſt am onlie ſafe, from perils far to lye?

Fayne father folow thee I wold, Troy beyng layd in duſt.

O brother terrour of the Grekes, O Troyans ayd and truſt.

Our auncient pomp I do not ſee, nor yet thy warmed handes,

(That ferce on grekiſh flaminge flete dyd flyng the fyry brandes)

But māgled mēbers, ſchorched corps, and eake thy valyant armes,

Harde piniond and bound in bandes ſuſtaynyng greuous harmes:

O Troylus, a match vnfit encounteryng with Achill

(That myghtye man of armes) to ſone com vnto the I wyll.

I do delyght, to ſayle with them on ſtynkyng ſtygian flood.

To vew the churlyſhe maſtyfe cut of hell, it doth me good.

And gaping mouthed kyngdome darke of gredy Ditis raygne.

The barge of fylthy Phlegethon this day ſhall entertayne,

Me conqueryng, and conquered, and prynces ſoules with all.

You flyteryng ſhades I you beſeche, and eake on the I call,

O ſtygian poole (wheron the gods theyr ſolemne othes do take

Unbolt a whyle the braſen bars of darkſom lymbo lake.

Wherby the Phrygian folke in hell may Micean ſtate be holde.

Loke vp ye ſellye wretched ſoules, the fates ar backward roulde.

The ſqallye ſiſters do approch, and deal thier bloodye ſtrokes,

Their ſmultring faggots in their hāds halfe burnt to aſſhes ſmokes.

Their viſages ſo pale do burne, with fyrye flamyng eyes:

A garment blacke theyr gnawed gutts doth gyrde in morning guyſe.

Dire dred of night begins to howle, the bones of bodye vaſt

With lieng long do rot corrupt in myrie pudle caſt.

Behold, the werye aged man his burnyng thurſt forgot,

The waters dalyeng at his lypps to catche endeuors not:

But murneth for the funerall, that ſhall enſue anon.

The Troyan prince hys royall robes tryumphant putteth on.

Cho. The furious rage clean ouerpaſt begyns it ſelfe to ſlake,

And flyps away, euen as a Bull that deadly wounde doth take

On gaſſhed neck afront the ares: come let vs eaſe at laſt

Her lymbes, that of the ſpryte of god hath felt the myghty blaſt.

Returning home agayne at lengthe and cround with Lawrell bow

(A ſygne of worthy vyctorye) is Agamemnon now.

The wyte to mete her huſband, doth her ſpedy paſſage plye,

Returning hand in hand, and fote by fote moſt louingly.

The. iiii. Acte.

Agamemnon. Caſſandra.

AT lengthe I do aryue agayne vppon my natyue ſoyle:

God ſaue the o dear loued land, to thee is huge a ſpoyle

So many barbarous people yeilde: the flowre of Aſia Troy

To beare thy yoke ſubmyts her ſelfe, that longe did lyue in ioye.

Why doth thys prophet (on the groūd her ſprawling body layd)

Thus rele and ſtagger on her neck, all tremblynge and diſmaide?

ſirs, take her vp, with lycour warme let her be cheryſhed.

Now peepes ſhe vp agayn, w^t drouping eyes ſonke in her head:

Pluck vp thy ſpryte, here is the porte wiſht for in myſerye:

This day is feſtiuall. Caſs. At Troy ſo was it wont to be.

Aga. Let vs to Chalters worſhyp gyue. Caſs. At Chalters dyed my ſyer:

Aga. Pray we to Ioue. Caſs. To Ioue whoſe grace diuine doth me inſpire?

Aga. Doſt thou ſuppoſe that Troy y^u ſeiſt? Caſs. And Priam eke I ſee.

Aga. Troy is not here. Ca. wher Helen is there take I Troy to bee.

Aga. Fear not as maid to ſerue thy dame. Caſs. Nay fredome draweth nye.

Aga. take thou no thought how y^u ſhalt liue: Caſs. All cares for to defye

Death gyues a corage vnto me. Aga. Yet ſay I once agayne

There is no daunger left, wherby thou myghteſt hurte ſuſtaine.

Caſs. But yet much troublous daūger doth hang ouer thy head I wot.

Aga. What miſcheife may a victor dread? Caſs. Euen that he dreadeth not.

Aga. Ye truſty meny of my men come cary her away,

Tyll of the ſpryte ſhe ryd her ſelfe, leſt fury force her ſay

That may be preiudicall, her tonge ſhe can not frame.

To thee o father flyngyng furth the lyghtninges flaſſhing flame,

That doſt diſperſe the cloudes, &rule the courſe of euery ſtarre,

And guide the Globe of earth, to whom the booties woon by warre

With tryumphe victors dedicate: to thee o Iuno hyght

The ſyſter deare of doughty Ioue, (thy huſband full of myht)

Both I and Greece with fleſh &blood and eke our vowed beaſt

And gorgyous giftes of Arabie gyue worſhyp to thy heſt.

Chorus.

O Grece by noble Gentlemen in honour ſhyning clear,

O Grece to wrathfull Iuno thou that art the darlyng dear,

ſome ioly worthy luſty blood thou foſters euermore,

Thou haſt made euen the gods, y^t were a number od before.

That puyſſant myghtie Hercules a noble impe of thine

Deſerued by hys trauels twelue, rapt vp in heauen to ſhyne.

For whom the heauens did alter cours, and Iupiter with all

Did iterate the howres of nyght, when dampiſh dewe doth fall.

And charged Phaebus charyot ſwyfte, to trot with ſlower pace,

And leaſurely bryght lady moone thy homward wayne to trace,

Bryght Lucifer that yeare by yeare hys name a newe doth chaunge,

Came back againe, to whom the name of Heſper ſemed ſtraunge.

Aurora to her common courſe her reared head addreſt,

And cowchyng bacward down agayn the ſame ſhe did areſt,

Uppon the ſhoulder of her ſpouſe, whoſe yeares with age are worne

The eaſt did fele, ſo felt the weſt, that Hercules was borne.

Dame nature could not clean diſpatch, to vtter in one nyght,

That boyſtous lad: the whyrling world did wayght for ſuch awyght.

O babe whoſe ſholders vnderprop, the ample ſpacious ſkye,

In claſped armes thy prowes dyd the cruſſhed Lion trye.

Who from his fyrye yawnyng throte ſpewes out his broyling brande,

The nimble hynd in Menall mount hath known thy heauy hand.

The Bore hath felt thy fyſt, which did Arcadia deſtroye.

The monſtrous conquerd Bul hath rord that Creta did anoye.

The Dragon dire that bredyng beaſt in Lerna poole he ſlew,

And choppyng of one head forbadd therof to ryſe anewe.

Wtih cloobbed bruſyng battring batte he cranckly did ſubdew.

(The bretherne twins y^• tewd on teat) wherof .iii. monſters grew.

Of tryple formed Gerion the ſpoyle into the eaſt,

A droue of cattell Hercules dyd fetch out of the weſt.

Away from tyrant Diomede the Thracian hors he led

Which nether with the graſſe that grew by ſtyrmon flood he fed,

Nor yet on Heber bankes, but them the vyllayn dyd refreſh

His gredy mounching cramming iades with aliantes blood and fleſh.

Their rawfed iawes imbrewd wer with the carmans blood at laſt,

The ſpoyles and ſhaftes Hipolyte ſaw from her boſom wraſt

As ſone as he with clatryng ſhaft the duſkye cloud did ſmyte,

The ſtymphal byrd that ſhadowed the ſun, did take her flyght.

The fertyll tree that aples beares of gould, did feare him ſore,

Which neuer yet acquayntaunce had with Taſters toth before.

But whipping vp w^t lyuely twygges into the ayre ſhe flyes,

And while the chinking plate doth ſoūd then Argos full of eyes,

The watchman ſhrinking cloſe for cold that ſlepe yet neuer knew,

Doth here the noyſe while Hercules with mettall of yellow hew

Wel loden packs away, and lefte the groue befylched cleane.

The hound of hell dyd holde his tonge drawne vp in triple cheane,

Nor barkt with any boughing throte, nor could abyde the hewe,

Or colour of the heauenly lyght, whoſe beames he neuer knew.

When thou wert captayne generall, and didſt conducte our Hoſte,

(They that) of Dardans lygne, to come theyr ſtock do falſly boaſt,

Were vanquiſhed by force of armes and ſince they felt agayne

thy gray gooſe winge, whoſe bitternes to feare myght them conſtraine.

The. v. Acte.

Caſſandra.

WIthin a reuell rexe is kept, as ſore as euer waſ

Euē at y^e .x. yeres ſeige of Troy: What thing is this? (alas)

Get vp my ſoule, and of the rage auengment worthy craue:

Though Phrygians we be vanquyſhed, the victorie we haue.

The matter well is brought abought: vp Troy thou ryſeſt now,

Thou flat on floore haſte pulde downe Grece, to lye as low as thou.

Thy conqerour doth turne hys face: my propheſeing ſpryght

Did neuer yet diſcloſe to me ſo notable a ſyght:

I ſee the ſame, and am thearat, and buſyed in the broyle,

No viſion fond fantaſticall my ſenſes doth beguile:

ſuch fare as Phrygians feaſted with on laſt vnhappy nyght

At Agamemnons royall court full dayntyly they dight:

With purple hangings al adornd the brodred beds do ſhyne,

In olde Aſſaracks goblets gylt they ſwinck and ſwill the wyne.

The kinge in gorgyous royall robes on chayre of ſtate doth ſyt,

And pranckt with pride of Priams pomp of whom he conquerd it.

Put of this hoſtile wede, to hym (the queene his wyfe gan ſaye)

And of thy louyng lady wrought weare rather thys araye,

This garmēt knit. It makes me lothe, that ſhiuering here Iſland.

O ſhall a kynge be murthered, by a banyſht wretches hand?

Out, ſhall Thadulterer deſtroy the huſbande of the wyfe?

The dreadfull deſtynies approcht. the foode that laſt in lyfe

He taſted of before hys death, theyr mayſters blood ſhall ſee,

The gubs of blood downe dropping on the wynd ſhall powred bee.

By traytrous tryck of trapping wede hys death is brought aboute,

Which being put vppon his head his handes could not get out,

The ſtopped poake with mouth ſet ope hys muffled head doth hyde,

The mankynd dame w^t trembling hand the ſwerde drew from her ſyde,

Nor to the vtmoſt of her myght it in hys fleſh ſhe thraſt,

But in the giuing of the ſtroke ſhe ſtayed all agaſt,

He as it were a bryſtled Bore entangled in the net

Among the brears in buſſhy woods yet tryeth out to get.

w^t ſtrugling much the ſhrinking bands more ſtreyghtly he doth bynd.

He ſtryues in vayne, and wold ſlip of the ſnare that doth hym blynd.

Which catcheth hold on euery ſyde. but yet then tangled wreatch

Doth grope aboute, hys ſubtle foes with grypyng hand to catche.

But furious Tyndaris prepard the pollax in her hande,

And as the preyſt to ſacryfyce at Thalter ſyde doth ſtande,

And vewes with eie the bullocks neck, ear that with axe he ſmyte,

ſo to and fro ſhe heaues her hand to ſtryke and leuell right.

He hath the ſtroke: diſpatcht it is: not quyte chopt of the hed

It hangeth by a lytle crop: here from the carkas ded

The ſpoutyng blood cam guſſhing out: and there the head doth lye,

With waloing bobling mūbling tong: nor they do by and bye

Forſake him ſo: the breathles coors Aegiſt doth all to coyle:

And mangled hath the gaſſhed corpes: whyle thus he doth him ſpoyle,

ſhe putteth to her helpyng hand: by deteſtable dede

They both accord vnto the kynd, whereof they do proceade.

Dame Helens ſyſter ryght ſhee is, and he Thyeſtes ſonne:

Lo doutfull Titan ſtandeth ſtyll the day now being don,

Not knowyng whether beſt to kepe ſtyll on his wonted waye

Or turne his wheles vnto the path of dyre Thieſtes daye.

The .v. Acte. The .ii. ſceane.

Electra

O Thou whom of our fathers death the onely helpe we haue,

Fly, fly, frō force of furious foes, make haſt my ſelfe to ſaue:

Our houſe is topſey turuey toſt, our ſtocke is caſt away,

Our ruthfull realmes to ruin ronne, our kyngdomes do decaye.

Who cometh here in Chariot ſwyft this gallopyng a mayne?

Brother, dyſguyſed in thy wede let me thy perſon fayne.

O buſſard blynde what doſt thou mean from forayn folke to flye?

Whom doſt thou ſhun? it doth behoue to feare thys famylie.

Oreſtes now be bould, and ſet all ſhiuering fear a ſyde,

The certayne ſuccour of a truſtye freinde I haue eſpyde.

The .v. Acte. The .iii. ſceane.

Strophilus. Electra.

WIth ſolemne pompe I ſtrophilus forſakyng Phocis lande,

Bearing a braūche of palme, y^t growes at Elis in my hand,

Returned back I am, the cauſe that wyld me hether wend,

Is with theſe gyftes to gratefie and welcome home my freynd,

Whoſe valiyent armie ſkalde, &ſhooke the tattryd Troyan walles,

Who weryed with the ten years war now flat on floore ſhe falles.

What woful wight is this that ſtaines her mourning face with teares,

And drouned depe in drouſy dumpes oppreſſed is with feares?

I know full well thys damſell iſ of prynces lynage borne.

What cauſe Electra hath thys ioyfull familie to mourne?

Elec. By treaſon that mi mother wrought my father lyeth ſlayne,

And drinkyng of their fathers cup the chyldren do complayne.

Aegiſt engroceth Caſtels got by fornication.

Stro. Alack that of ſo longe a tyme, fylicitie is none.

Elec. I thee requeſt euen for the loue my father thou doeſt owe,

And for the honour of the crowne, whoſe brute abrode doth growe

In euery coaſt: and by the gods that dyuerſly do deal,

Take into thy tuicion, conuey away, and ſteal,

Thys poore Oreſt: ſuch kynd of theft is pietie indede.

Stro. Although that Agamemnons death doth teache me to take hede,

Yet will I vndertake the ſame, and with all diligence

Oreſtes ſhall I go aboute with ſtrengthe to haue thee hence.

Proſperytie requyreth fayth, but troble exacts the ſame,

Haue here a pryce for thoſe that do contende and wage in game.

An ornament with comely grace ordaynd to deck the brow,

And let thy head be couerde with thys greene and pleaſaunt bow.

And cary thys vyctoryous triumphant braunche in hand.

God graunt this palme y^t planted was in fertill Piſa land,

(where ſolemne games wer celebrate Ioues honour to expreſſe)

May both a ſauegard be to to thee and brynge thee good ſucceſſe.

Thou that beſtryds thy fathers ſteeds, as he before hath done,

Go ſtryke a league of amytie with Pylades my ſonne.

Now nimble nagges let Grece hereof recordyng teſtifye,

With headlong ſcouring cours amain this traytrous contrey flye.

Elec. He is eſcapt and gone, and with vnmeſurable myght

The Chariot horſe with rayne at will do ſend out of my ſyght.

Now free from peryll on my foes attendance will I make.

And offer willingly my head the deadly wound to take.

The cruell conquereſs of her ſpouſe is come, whoſe ſpotted wede

With ſprynkels (ſigne of ſlaughter) do beare record of her dede.

Her gory handes new bathed in blood as yet they be not drye,

Her rough &churliſh rigorous lookes the facte do notyfye.

Unto the temple will I trudge. Caſſandra ſuffer mee,

Oppreſt with egall greefe, take parte of ſacryfyce wyth thee.

The .v. Acte. The .iiii, ſceane.

Clytemneſtra. Electra. Aegiſthus. Caſſandra.

O Thou thy mothers enimie, vngracious ſaucy face,

After what ſorte doſt thou a maid appere in publyque place?

Elec. I haue with my vyrgynitie the bowres of baudes forſoke.

Cly. What man is hee, that euer thee to be a vyrgyn tooke?

Elect. what your own doughter? Cl. w^t thy mother more modeſt ſhuld y^u be.

Elec. Do you at length begyn to preache, ſuch godlynes to me.

Cly. A manly ſtomake ſtout thou haſt wyth ſwellyng hawtye hart.

ſubdued with ſorow learne thou ſhall to playe a womans part.

Elect. A ſwerd and buckler verye well a woman doth beſeme

(Except I dote)

Cly: Thy ſelfe doeſt y^u haylefelow with vs eſteme?

Elec. What Agamemnon new is this, whom thou haſt got of late?

Cly. Hereafter ſhall I tame, and teach thy gyrlyſh tong to prate.

And make the know, how to a queene thy tauntyng to forbeare.

Elec The whylſt (y^u widdowe) anſwer me directly to this geare.

Thy huſband is bereued quyght of breath, his lyfe is don.

Cly. Enquier wher thy brother is, ſo ſeke about my ſon.

Elect. He is departed out of Grece. Cly. Go fetch him out of hand.

Elect. Fetche thou my father vnto me. Cly. Gyue me to vnderſtand,

Where doth he lurking hyde his head? where is he ſhrunk awaye?

Elect. All plonge of perills paſt he is, and at a quyet ſtaye.

And in another kyngdom where no harme he doth miſtruſt,

This aunſwere were ſufficient, to pleaſe a parent iuſt.

But one whoſe breſt dothboil in wrath, it cannot ſateſfye.

Cly. To daye by death thou ſhalt receiue thy fatall deſtynye.

Elect. On this condicion am I pleaſd, the Alter to forſake.

If that this hande ſhall do the dead, my death when I ſhall take.

Or els if in my throte to bathe thy blade, thou do delyght,

Moſt willynglye I yeld my throte, and gyue the leue to ſmyte.

Or if thou wyll chop of my head in brutyſh beaſtly guyſe,

My necke a waytyng for the wound out ſtretched redye lies.

Thou haſt committed ſynfully a great and greuous guylt.

Go purge thy hardned handes, y^• which thy huſbandes blood haue ſpilt.

Cly. O thou that of my perylls all doeſt ſuffer part wyth me,

And in my realme doeſt alſo rule with egall dignitie,

Aegiſthus art thou glad at this? (as doth her not behoue,)

With checks &taunts y^• doughter doth her mothers mallyce moue.

ſhe kepes her brothers counſell cloſe Conueyd out of the waye.

Aegiſt. Thou malipert and witles wench thyne eluyſh pratyng ſtaye,

Refrayne thoſe wordes vnfytt thy mothers glowing ears to vex.

Elect. What ſhall the breder of this broyle controll me with his checkes,

Whoſe fathers gilt hath cauſed him to haue a doubtfull name,

Who both is to his ſyſter ſonne, and nephew to the ſame?

Cly. To ſnapp her head of with thy ſwerd Aegiſt doeſt thou refrayne?

Let her gyue vp the ghoſt: or bryng Her brother ſtrayght agayne:

Let her be lockt in dungeon darke, and let her ſpend her dayes,

In Caues &Rocks, w^t painefull pangs, torment her euerye wayes.

I hope him whom ſhe hidden hath, ſhe will agayne diſcrye,

Through being clapt in pryſon ſtrong and ſuffring pouertye

With earkſom and vnſauory ſmells on euery ſyde annoyde,

Enforſt to weare a widdowes wede, er weddinge day enioyde:

Put in exile and banyſhment when eche man doth her hate:

ſo ſhall ſhe be by myſerye compeld to yeld to late,

Prohibyted of holſom ayr fruiſion to haue.

Elec. Graūt me mi dome bi means of death to paſſe vnto my graue.

Cly. I would haue graunted it to the, if thou ſhould it denye.

Unſkilfull is the tyrant, who by ſuffryng wretches dye

Doth end their pains. Ele. what after death doth any thing remayne?

Cly. And if thou do deſyre to dye, the ſame ſe you refrayne.

Lay hāds ſirs on this wōdrous wretch, whom beyng caryed on,

Euen to the furtheſt corner of my iuriſdiction

Far out beyond Mycenas land in bondes let her be bound,

With darknes dym in hiddious hold let her be cloſed round.

This captiue ſpous &wicked queane, the trull of prynces bed

ſhall pay her paynes, and ſuffer death by loſyng of her hed.

Com hale her on, that ſhe may folowe, that way my ſpouſe is gon,

Whoſe loue from me entiſed was. Caſs. Do not thus hale me on.

I will before you take the waye, theſe tydynges fyrſte to tell

Unto my contrey men of Troy beneath in loweſt hell.

How ouerquelmed ſhypps eche where ar ſpred the ſeas vppon.

And Micoene countrey conquerd is brought in ſubiection.

He that of thouſand captaynes was graund captayn generall,

Com to as great calamytie as Troy it ſelfe did fall,

Entrapped was by treaytrus trayn, and whordom of his wife,

And by a gyft receaued of her depreued of his life.

Let vs not linger: on with me, and thankes I do you gyue.

I ioy, that it myght be my hap, thus after Troy to lyue.

Cly. Go to, prepare thy ſelfe to dye thou frantyque ragyng wyght.

Caſs. The franſy fyts of fury fell on you ſhall alſo lyght.

Eurybates. Added to the Tragedie by the tranſlatour.

ALas ye hatefull hellyſh hagges ye furies foule and fell,

Why cauſe ye ruſty rancours rage in noble hartes to dwell?

And cancred hate in boylynge breſtes to grow from age to age?

Cold not the graūdſyres painful pāges the chyldrens wrath aſſwage?

Nor famyne faint of pynyng paunche, with burnyng thurſte of hell,

Amid the blackeſt ſtream of ſtyckes where poyſnyng breathes do well.

Where vapors vyle parbrakyng out from dampyſh myry mud,

Encreaſe the paynes of Tantalus deſerued by gyltles blood.

Could not thyne owne offence ſuffyce Thyeſtes in thy lyfe,

To fyle thy brothers ſpouſall bed, and to abuſe hys wyfe?

But after breath from body fled, and lyfe thy lymbes hath left,

Can not remembraunce of reuenge out of thy breſt be reft?

What, yet haſt thou not layd thy lyps, to caſt of Lethes flood?

Now after death why doſt thou come to moue thy ſonne to blood?

Could cruell Ditis graunt to thee thy paſporte back agayne?

To worke thys wo vpon the world, and make ſuch rygour reygne,

That Clytemneſtra is become the fyfty ſyſter dire

Of Danaus doughters, that did once theyr huſbandes death conſpyre.

Lo here how ficle fortune gyues but brytle fading ioy.

Lo, be who late a Conquerour tryumphed ouer Troy.

Enduring many ſturdy Formes with mighty toyle and payne

To ſowe the ſeede of fame, hath reant ſmall fruite therof againe.

When as hys honour budding furth with flowre began to bloome,

(Alas) the ſtock was hewed downe and ſent to deadly doome.

And they that of hys vyctorie and commyng home were glad,

to ſodain murning change their mirth with heauynes beſtad.

The luſty pompe of royall courte is dead: (O dolfull day)

The people mone theyr prynces death with wo and weal away:

with howling, crieng, wringing hands with ſobs with ſyghes, and teares,

And w^t their fiſts they beat their breſtes they pull and hale theyr heares.

And as the ſhepe amaſed run, and rampe aboute the fyeld,

When as theyr ſhepherd to the wolfe hys gory throte doth yeelde:

Euen ſo as mad they rage and raue throughout Micaenas land,

Depriued of theyr prynce, they feare the blooddy Tyrantes hand.

While thus were woful wailings hard in euery place aboute,

The good Caſſandra (come from Troy) to death is haled out.

Like as the ſwan, who when the time of death approcheth nye,

By nature warned is therof, and pleaſed well to dye,

Doth celebrate her funerall with dirge and ſolemne ſonge:

Euen ſo the noble vyrgyn who in wo hath lyued longe,

Moſt ioyfull goes ſhe to her death wyth mylde and pleaſaunt face,

ſtout boulſt ryng out her bourly breſt with pryncely port &grace.

Nothyng dyſmayde with corage bolde, and chearefull countenaunce,

On ſtage ordeyned for her death ſhe gan her ſelfe aduaunce,

As though ſhe had not thyther come, to leue her lothſome lyfe,

As though ſhe had not come, to taſte the ſtroke of fatall knyfe.

But euen as if in brydale bed her iurney were to meete

Corebus dear, not hauyng mynd of death, nor wyndyng ſheete,

When lookyng round on euery ſyde ſhe toke her leaue of all,

From vapourd eyes of yonge and old the tryclyng teares do fall.

The Grekes them ſelues to greefe are moued to ſee this heuy ſight,

ſo pytie peareſt the headmans hart, that thryſe aboute to ſmyte

He ſtaide the ſmot: w^t ſhiuering hand yet once agayne he tryed.

And frō her ſhoulders ſtroke her head. and thus the vyrgyn dyed.

But now the Grekes another cauſe of murnyng haue in hand:

Oreſtes Agamemnons ſonne, is forſt to flye the lande.

Amonge olde rotten ragged rocks thear lyes an vgly place,

A dongeon depe, as darke as hell, vnknowne to Phaebus face.

An holow huge wyde gapyng hole, with way ſtyll bendyng downe,

whoſe mouth with venomous withred weedes is hid &ouer growne,

where ſtinking ſmels com belching out from filthy durty dyke,

where verment vile do crepe &craule, in bell is not the lyke.

Il fauourd, foule myſſhapen bugges, do lurke aboute thys caue,

With dreadful ſoundſ, & roryng noyſe within the pyt they raue.

Euen hether is Electra ſent, in darkenes depe to lye,

In pouertie, and comfortleſſe without the lyght of ſkye,

Faſt clogd with iron boultes & chaines, thus by her mother layd

In tormentes, tyll by her to death Oreſtes be betrayde:

Who (as Caſſandra telleth) ſhall reuenge his fathers death,

Depryue with ſwerd thadulterour, and mother both of breath.

ſo after all theſe bloody broyles, Greece neuer ſhall be free:

But blood for blood, and death by turnes, the after age ſhall ſee.

FINIS.

Faultes eſcaped in printing.