verse in other tongue then I was woont to wright A young man well I wotte there is in thyle of Brytannie That from the rest of all the worldâ—… aloofe in seas doth lie That once this labour tooke in hande him wolde I meete full sayne To câ—…ue that in the rest of all my woorkê he wolde take payne To toyle as he in 〈◊〉 did is that your wyll quoth I I blusht and sayd the same you seeke loe here I stande you by If thou quam he be whome I seeke if glorie ought thee moue Of myne to come in after age if Sencâ—…s name thou loue Aliue to keepe I thee beseechâ—… agayne to take thy pen In miter of thy mother tonguâ—… to geue to sight of men My other 〈◊〉 wherby thou 〈◊〉 deserue of them and 〈◊〉 No litle thancks When they them selues my Tragedies shall see In Englishe verse that neuer yet coulde latine vnderstande With my renowne perhapps thy name shall flie throughout this lande And those that yet 〈◊〉 neuer knewâ—… shall thee bothe loue and prayse And say God graunt this yong man well to lyue full many dayes And many happy houres to see in life and after graue Rest ioy and blisse eternally aboue the skies to haue That so translated hath these bookes to him quoth I agayne If any be that so with thanks accepts a yong mans payne I wishe great good but well I 〈◊〉 the hatefull cursed broode Fâ—…rre greater is that are long syns sproong vp of Zoylus bloode That Red heard black mouthd squint eyed wretche hath cowâ—…hed euery wheare In corner close some Impe of his that siâ—… to see and heâ—… What eche man dothe and eche man blames nor onâ—…e we may him sâ—… Come face to face but we once gone then stoutly stepps out hee And all he carpeâ—… that there he fyndes â—…re halfe he reade to ende And what he vnderstandes not 〈◊〉 though nought he can amende But were it so that suchâ—… were none how may these youthfull dayes Of mine in thyng so hard as this deâ—…rue of other prayse A labour long quoth I it is that riper age doothe â—…aue And who shall trauaile in thy bookes more iudgement ought to hâ—… Then I whose greener yeares therby no thanks may hope to wynne Thou seest dame Nature yet hath sette No heares vppon my chynne Craue this therfore of grauer age and men of greater skill Full many be that better can and come perhapps that will But yf thy will be rather benâ—… a yong mans 〈◊〉 to proue And thinkst that elder lerned men perhaps it shall behoue In woorks of waight to spende theyr tyme goe where Minervaes men And finest witts doe swarme whome she hath taught to passe with pen. In Lyncolnes Inne and Temples twayne Grayes Inne and othe mo Thou shalt them fynde whose paynfull pen thy verse shall florishe so That Melpomen thou wouldst well weene had taught them for to wright And all their woorks with stately style and goodly grace t'endight There shalt thou se the selfe same Northe whose woorke his witte displayes And Dyall dothe of Princes paynte and preache abroade his prayse There Sackuyldes Sonettê sweetely 〈◊〉 and featly fyned bee There Nortons ditties do delight there Yeluertons doo flee Well pewrde with pen suche yong men three as weene thou mightst agayne To be begotte as Pallas was of myghtie Ioue his brayne There heare thou shalt a great reporte of Baldwyns worthie name Whose Myrrour dothe of Magistrates proclayme eternall fame And there the gentle Blunduille is by name and eke by kynde Of whome we learne by Plutarches lore what frute by Foes to fynde There Bauande bydes that turnde his toyle a Common welthe to frame And greater grace in Englyshe geues to woorthy authors name There Gouge a gratefull gaynes hath gotte reporte that runneth ryfe Who crooked Compasse dothe describe and Zodiake of lyfe And yet great nombre more whose names yf I shoulde now resight A ten tymes greater woorke then thine I should be forste to wright A pryncely place in Parnasse hill for these there is preparde Where crowne of glittryng glorie hangs for them a ryght rewarde Wheras the lappes of Ladies nyne shall dewly them defende That haue preparde the Lawrell leafe about theyr heddê to bende And where theyr Pennê shall hang full hie and fame that erst was hyd Abrode in Brutus realme shall flie as late theyr volumes dyd These are the wiâ—… that can display thy Tragedies all ten 〈◊〉 with sugâ—…d sentence sweete and practise of the pen. My selfe I must confesse I haue to muche alreadie doon â—…boue my â—…che when â—…shly once with 〈◊〉 I begoon And more presumde to take in hâ—…nd then well I brought to ende And litle volume with mo fautes then lynes abrode to sende And of that woorke what men reporte In faythe I neuer wist But well I wotte it may be thought so yll that litle lyst I haue to dooe the like Wherof though myne be all the blame And all to me imputed is that passeth in my name Yet as of some I will confesse that I the author was And fawtâ—… to many made my selâ—… when I that booke letâ—…e pas Out of my handes so must I me excuse of other some For when to sygne of Hande and Staâ—… I châ—…ced â—…yrst to come To Printers hands I gaue the worke by whome I had suche wrong That though my selfe perusde their prooueâ—… the fyrst tyme yet ere long When I was gone they wolde agayâ—… the print therof renewe Corrupted all in suche a sorte that scant a sentence â—…rewe Now flythe abroade as I it wrote which thyng when I had tryde And fowrescore greater fautes then mynâ—… in fortie leaues espyde Small thanks quam I for suche a woorke wolde Senec geue to me If he were yet a lyue and shoulde perhapps it chaunce to see And to the printer thus I sayde within these doores of thyne I make a vowe shall neuer more come any worke of myne My frende quam Senec therwithall no meruayle therof 〈◊〉 They haue my selfe so wronged ofte And many things amys Are doon by them in all my woorkâ—… suche fautes in euery booke Of myne they make as well he maâ—… it fynde that lyst to looke That sense and latin verse and all they violate and breake And ofte what I yet neuer ment they me enforce to speake It is the negligence of them and partly lacke of skill That dooth the woorks with paynes well pend full ofte disgrace and spill But as for that be nought abasht the wise will well it waye And learned men shall soone discerne thy fautes from his and saye Loe here the Printer dooth him wrong as easy is to trye And slaunder dooth the authors name and lewdly him belye But where thy yeares thou sayst lacke skyll myâ—…doute thou not quoâ—…h he I wil my selfe in these affayres a helper be to thee â—…he 〈◊〉 tale I will expounde and other places harde Thou shalt nodoubte fynde some that will thy labour
THE SECONDE TRAGEDIE OF Seneca entituled Thyestes faithfully Englished by Iasper Heywood fellowe of Alsolne College in Oxforde IMPRINTED AT London in Fletestrete in the hous late Thomas Berthelettes Anno. 1560. 26. die Martii 1534 To the right honorable syr Iohn Mason knight one of the Queenes Maiestieâ—… prâ—…uie counsâ—…ile his daily orator Iasper Heywood 〈◊〉 health with encrease oâ—… honour and vertue AS bounden brest dothe beare the poorest wyghâ—… that dutie dothe in tryflyng token sende As he that dothe with plenteous present quyght Of prouder pryce and glyttryng golde his frâ—…de Who so repaythe with moneys mightie masse the good that he at others hands hath founde Remembraunce of the benefyte dothe passe he thynks him selfe to hym no longer bounde The poore whose powre may not with pryce repayâ—… the great good gyâ—… that he receyude before With thankfull thought yet gogyn gyfte dothe swaye aboue the payse of pearle and golde great store If puisaunt prynce at poore mans hande onse tooke I radiâ—…e roote and was therwith content Your honor then I pray this little booke to take in woorthe that I to you present Whiche though it selfe a volume be but small yet greater gyft it geues then weene ye myght Though it a barrayne booke be throughout all full fruteles yet not faythles sygne in syght It showes of him that for your honour prayes as deedes of yours of him deserued haue That god aboue prolong your happie dayes and make the shyes your seate soone afâ—…er graue ¶ The translatour to the booke THou lytle booke my messenger must be That must from me to wight of honour goâ—… Behaue thee humbly bende to him thy knee and thee to hym in lowly maner showe But dooe thou not thy selfe to him present When with affayres thou shalt him troubled see Thou shalt perhapps so woorâ—…hely be shent and with reproofe he thus will say to thee So prowdly thus presume how darest thou at suche a tyme so rashely to appeare With thyngê of waight thou seest me burdned nowe I maie not yet to tryfles geue myne care Spie well thy tyme when thou him seest alone an ydle houre for the shal be moste meete Then steppe thou foorth in sight of him anone and as behoues his honor humbly greete But now take heede what I to the shall tell and all by roate this lesson take with thee In euery thyng thy selfe to order well in syght of hym geeue eate and learne of mee Fyrst what or whence thou art if he woulde wyt then see that thou thy tytle to him showe Tell hym thy name is in thy forhed wrâ—…t by whiche he shall bothe thee and me well knowe â—…hen when he hath once lookte vpon thy name yf yet he shall neglect to reade the reâ—…t Or if he â—…hyde and say thou arte to blame with 〈◊〉 suche to haue him so opprest â—…eseche him yet theâ—…of to pardon thâ—…e syns thou 〈◊〉 vut thy masters messengeâ—…e Excuse thy selfe and 〈◊〉 the faute in mee at whose commaundment thus thou romste in 〈◊〉 If my presumpâ—…ion then accuse he do if deede so â—…asshe of myne he do reproue That I thee dare attempt to send him to beware thou speake nothyng for my behoue Nor do thou not excuse my 〈◊〉 in ought but â—…ather yet confesse to him the same And 〈◊〉 there maie a fawte in me be thought whiche to excuse it doubleth but the blame Yet with my boldenes him beseche to beare and pardon geue to this my enterpryse 〈◊〉 woorthy thyng in wight of honour wâ—…are 〈◊〉 present poore to take in thankfull wyse For tell him though thou slender volume be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 for state of honour guest Yet dooste thou signe of dutie bringe with the and pledge thou arte of truly bounden breâ—…t â—…nd thou for him 〈◊〉 come for to confesse his beadman bounde to be for his desart â—…nd how to him he grauntâ—… he owthe no lesse nor geeueâ—… no more but note of thankfull harâ—… In all the rest that he to thee shall say thy wyt shall serue an answere well to make Thou hast thyne errande get thee hens away the gods thee speede to them I thee betake The preface IT was the fowre and twentith date of latest monthe saue one Of all the yere when flowre and frute from fielde and tree were gone And sadder season suche ensewde as dulls the dolefull sprightê And Muse of men that woonted were to wander in delightê And weather suche there was as well became the peâ—ue pen With sory style of woes to wryte and eke of mischiefe when Aurora blusht with ruddie cheekes to waile the death agayne Of Phoebus soon whom thunderbolt of mightie Ioue had slayne And cloudes from highe began to throwe their dreary teares adowne And Uenus from the skyes aboue on fryday fowle to frowne Wâ—en as at booke with mased Muse I satte and pensiue thought Deepe drownde in dumps of drousines 〈◊〉 chaunge of weather wrought I felt howe Morpheus bound my browes and eke my Temples strooke That downe I soonke my heauy head and sleapt vppon my booke Then dreamde I thus that by my syde me thought I sawe one stande That downe to grounde in scarlet gowne was dight and in his hande A booke he bare and on his head of Bayes a Gatland greene Full graue he was well stept in yeres and comly to be seene His eyes like Christâ—…ll shiende his breathe full sweete his face full fyne It seemde he had byn lodged long among the Muses nyne Good syr quam I I you beseche since that ye seeme to me By your attyre some worthie wight it may your pleasure be To tell me what and whenâ—… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 wherat a whyle he stayde Beholdyng me an one he spake and thus me thought he sayde Spayne was quam he my natiue soyle a man of woorthie fame Sometime I was in former age and Seneâ—… my name The name of Senâ—… when I hearde then scantly could I speake I was so gladde that from mine eyes the teares began to breake For ioy and with what wordes I shoulde saâ—… him I ne wyst I him enbrast his handes his feete and faâ—…e full ofte I kyst And as at lengthe my trickiyng teares me thought I might 〈◊〉 O blisfull daye quam I wherin returned is agayne So worthie wight O happie houre that liefer 〈◊〉 to me Then life wherin 〈◊〉 happâ—… me so that I should Senâ—… see Arte thou the same that whilom dydst thy Tragedies endight With woondrous wit and regall stile O long desyred sight And lyuste thou yet quam I in dâ—…ede and arte thou come agayne To talke and dwell as thou wert wonâ—… with men and to remayne In this ouâ—… age I lyue quam he and neuer shall I die The woorks I wrote shall still preserâ—… my name in memorie From age to age and nowe agayne I will reuiue the same And here I come to seeke some one that might renewe my name And make me speake in straunger speeche and sette my woorks to sight And skanne my
well regarde And therwithall oh lorde he sayde now him I thinke vppone That here but late to litle liude and now from hens is gone Whose vertues rare in age so greenâ—… bewrayde a worthy wight And towardnesse tryde of tender tyme how louely lampe of light He woulde haue byn iâ—… God had spaerdâ—… his dayes tyll suche tyme whan That elder age had abled him by grouthe to grauer man How thankfull thyng thinkst thou quoth he woulde this to him haue beene If geuen to his name he might a woorke of thine haue seene Whome duryng life he fauourde so but that may be For gone he is alas the while thou shalt him neuer see Where breathyng bodyes dwell agayne nor neuer shalt thou more Eftsones with him of learnyng talke as thou werte woont before Yet wayle no more for him he sayde for he farre better is His seate he hath obtayned nowe among the starrê in blis And castyng brighter beames about then Phoebus golden glede â—boue the skies he lyues with Ioue an other Ganymede In better place then Aquarie suche grace did God him gyue But though the sonne be gone yet herâ—… dothe yet the father lyue And long might he this lyfe enioye in helthe and great encrease Of honour and of vertue bothe Tyll God his soule release From corps to skyes with right rewarde to recompense him there For truthe and trusty seruice doon to prince and contrey here His goodnes loe thy selfe hast felte 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and that of late When he tâ—…e fayled not to helpe and suâ—…our thyne estate To him it shall besceme thee well some token for to showe That of thy dutie whiche thou dooste for his deâ—…rts him owe Thou myndfull arte and how thou dooste thy diligence applie To thanke as powre may serue and witâ—… thy pen to sygnifie A gratefull mynde And though to light so litle trifle bee To geue to him that hath so muchâ—…â—…die doone for thee Yet syns thou canst none otherwyse his honour yet requight Nor yet thy yeares doe thee permit more waightie woorkes to wright This Christmas tyme thou mayste doe well a peece therof to ende And many thanks in volume small as thee becomes to sende And tell him how for his estate thou dooste thy praiers make And him in dayly vowes of thine to God aboue betake But for because the Prynters all haue greatly wronged mee To ease thee of thy paynes therin see what I bryng to thee He sayde and therwithall began to ope the gylded booke Whiche erst I tolde he bare in hand and thervpon to looke The leaues within were fyne to feele and fayre to looke vppone As they with syluer had byn fleakte full cleare to see they shone Yet farre the letters did eche one exceede the leaues in sight More glorious then the glittryng golde and in the Iye more bright The featly framed lynes throughouâ—… in meetest maner stande More worthy worke it was then might be made by mortall hande Therwith me thought a sauour sweete I felt so fresshe that was That bedds of purple vyolettê and Roses farre did pas No princes perfume like to it in chamber of estate I wiste it was some thyng diuine did me so 〈◊〉 I feâ—… my selfe refresshed mucke well quickned were my witâ—…ê â—…d often tymes of pleasure great I had so ioyfull fâ—…ê That wakyng now I will 〈◊〉 you may beleeue me well Great hoorde of golde I wolde refuse in suche delights to dwell As in that dreame I had anone me thought I asked him What booke it was he bare in hand that showde and smelde so â—…im These are quam he the Tragedics in deede of Seneca The Muse her selfe them truly writ that hight Melpâ—…mena In Parnase printely palaice highe she garnisshed this booke The Ladies haue of Helicon great â—…oy theron to looke When walkyng in theyr aleys sweetâ—… the flowres so fresshe they treade And in the midst of them me place my Tragedieâ—… to treade These leaues that fyne as veluet feele and parchement like in sight Of feate fyne Fawnes they are the skyns suche as no mortall wight May come vnto but with the which the muses woont to playe In gardens still with grasse full greene that 〈◊〉 are full gaye There fostred are these litle beasts and fed with Muses mylke Their whitest hands and feete they lycke with tongue as softe as sylke Theyr heare not suche as haue the hearde of other common Deare But silken skyns of purple hewe lyke veluet fyne they weare With proper featly framed feete about the arbours greenâ—… They trippe and daunce before these dames full seemely to be seene And then theyr golden hornes adowâ—… in Ladies lappes they lay A greate delight those systers nyne haue with these Fawnes to play Oê skyns of them this parâ—…hment loe that shynes so fayre they make When ought they woulde with hande of theyrâ—… to written booke betake This gorgeous glyttryng golden Inke so precious thyng to see Geue eare and wherof made it is I shall declare to thee Fayre trees amyd theyr Paradise there are of euery kynde Where euery frute that boughe bryngs foorthe a man may euer fynde And deynties suche as princes wont with proudest price to bie Great plentic therof may be seene hang there on branches hie The Plumme the Peare the Fygge the Date Powngarnet wants not theare The Orynge and the Olyue tree full plenteously doe beare Ye there the golden Apples hang whiche once a thyng muche worthâ—… To ioye the weddyng day of Ioue the soyle it selfe brought forthe There Daphne stands transformde to â—…ret that greene is styll to sight That was sometyme the loued Nymphe so fayre of Phoebus bright Not farre from frute so rytche that once did wakyng dragoâ—… keepe Do the Myrtha stande with wofull teareâ—… that yet dothe wayle and weepe Her teares â—…ongealed hard to gumme that sauour sweete dothe cast It is that makes to leafe so fyne this Inke to cleaue so fast But with what water is this Inke thus made now learne quoth hee The secrets of the sacred mounte I wyll declare to thee Aboue the rest a Cedre hyghe of haughtie toppe there growes With bendyng braunches farre abrodâ—… on soyle that shadowe showes In toppe wherof do hang full hie the pennes of poetts olde And posyes purtred for theyr prayse in letters all of golde In shade wherof a banquet house there stands of great delight For Muses ioyes the walls are made of marble â—…yre in sight Fowre square an Iuery turret stands at euery corner hye The nookes and toppes doth beaten golde and amell ouerlye In fulgent seate dothe â—…leeyng fame there syt full hyghe from grounde And prayse of Pallas poets sends to starres with trumpetts sounde The gate therof so strong and sure it neede no watche nor warde A woondrous woorke it is to see of Adamant full harde With nyne sure locks wherof of one eche ladye kepes the kaye That none of them may come therin when other are awaye The floore within with emrawds greenâ—… ys paued
â—…ayre and feate The boorde and benches rownde about are made of pure blacke geate The lute the harpe the â—…ytheron the shaulme the shagbut 〈◊〉 The vyall and the vyrginall no musyke there to seeke About the walls more woorthy woorke then made by mortall hande The poetts paynted pyctures all in seemely order stande With colours suche so lyuely laydâ—… that at that sight I weene Apelles pensyle woulde beare backe abashed to be seene There Homere Ouide Horace 〈◊〉 full featlye purtred bee And there not in the lowest place they haue described mee There Uirgyle Lucane Palingene and rest of poetts all Do stande and there from this daie foorthe full many other shall For now that house by manye yardes enlarged out they haue Wherby they myght in wyder wall the Images engraue And paynte the pyctures more at large of hundreds englysshe men That geeue theyr tongue a greatter â—…race by pure and paynfull pen. In mydst of all this woorthy woorke there runnâ—… a pleasant spryng That is of all the paradyse the most delycious thyng That rounde about encloased is with wall of Iaspâ—…r stone The ladies let no wight therin but euen them selues â—…lone The water shynes lyke golde in syght and swetest is to smell Full often tymes they bathe them selues within that blysfull well With water thereof they this Inâ—… haue made that wryt this booke And lycenst me to bryng it downe for thee theron to looke Thou maist beleeue it trewly wrote and trust in euery whit For here hathe neuer prynters preâ—… made faute nor neuer yet Came errour here by 〈◊〉 of man in sacred seate on hye They haue it wryt in all whose woorkê theyr pen can make no lye This booke shall greatly thee 〈◊〉 to see how Prynters mys In all my woorkes and all theyr 〈◊〉 thou mayste correcte by thys And more then that this golden spryng with whiche I haue the tolde This ynke so bryght thus made to bee suche propertee dothe holde That who therof the sauouâ—… feeles his wyttê shall quickned bee And spryghts reuâ—…ude in woondrous wyse as now it happs to thee Come on therfore whyle helpe thou 〈◊〉 he sayde and therwithall Euen at Thyâ—…stes chaunced fyrst the leaues abrode to fall Euen here quam he yf it the please begyn now take thy pen Moste dyre debates descrybe of all that euâ—… chaunst to men And whiche tâ—…e goddê abhorde to see The summe of all the stryfe Now harken to Thyestes 〈◊〉 his brother 〈◊〉 wyfe And ramme with golden flâ—…ece but yâ—… doâ—…e Atreus frendship fayne With him tâ—…ll tyme for fathers foode he hathe his children slayne â—…nd dishes drest he sayde and then begun to reade the booke I satte attent and therupon I fyxed fast my looke Fyrst how the furye draue the spryght of Tantalus from hell To styrre the stryfe I harde hym reade and all expounde full well Full many pleasant poetts tales that dyd me please I harde â—…nd euermore to booke so 〈◊〉 I had 〈◊〉 great regarde Wherby I sawe how often tymes the Printers dyd him wrong Now Gryphyus Colineus now and now and then among He Aldus blamde with ali the rest that in his woorâ—…s do mys Ofsence or verse and styll my booke I did cortâ—… by hys The god of sleepe had harde all this when tyme for him it was To denns of slumber whence he came agayne awaie to pas The kercher bounde about my browes dypt all in Lymbo lake He strayght vnknyt away he fleeth and I begoon to wake When rownde I rollde mine eyes about and sawe my selfe alone In vayne I Senec Senec cryde the Poete now was gone For woe wherof I â—…n to weepe O godds quoth I vnkynde Ye are to blame with shapes so vayne our mortall eyes to blynde What goodly gayne get you therby ye shoulde vs so beguyle â—…nd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 with 〈◊〉 that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to lyttle whyle I Morpheus curst a thousande tymes that he had made me sleepe At all or ells that he me wolde in dreame no longer keepe And neuer were my â—…oyes so greate in sleepe so sweete before But now as greeuous was my 〈◊〉 alas and ten tymes more My selfe without the poete there thus lefte alone to see And all delights of former dreame thus vanysshed to bee Somtyme I curst somtyme I cryde lyke wight that waxed woode Or Panther of hir pray depryude or 〈◊〉 of her broode A thousande tymes my colour goes and comes as ofte agayne About I walkte I might no where in quyet rest remayne In woondrous wyse I vered was that neuer man I weene So soone might after late delights in suche a pangue be seene O thou Megaera then I sayde if might or thyne it bee Wherwith thou Tantall droauste from hell that thus dysturbeth mce 〈◊〉 my pen with 〈◊〉 this 〈◊〉 t'endyght And as so dredfull thyng beseemes with dolefull style to wryght This sayde I felte the furies force enflame me more and more And 〈◊〉 tymes more now chafte I was then euer yet before My he are stoode vp I waxed woode my 〈◊〉 all dyd shake And as the furye had me vext my teethe began to ake And thus enflamde with force of hir I sayde it shoulde be doon And downe I sate with pen in hande and thus my verse 〈◊〉 The speakers Tantalus Atreus Thyestes Messenger Megaera Seruant Philistenes Chorus THYESTES OF Seneca The fyrst Acte Tantalus Megaera WHat furye fell enforceth me to flee thunhappie seate That gape and gaspe w t greedy iawe the fleeyng foode to eate What god to Tantalus the bowres where breathyng bodies dwell Doth showe agayne is ought found worse then burning thurst of hell In lakes alowe or yet worse plague then hunger is there one In vayne that euer gapes for foode shall Sisyphus his stone That slypper restles rollyng payse vpon my backe be borne Or shall my lymmê with swyâ—â—er swynge of whirlyng wheele be torne Or shall my paynes be Tityus pangê thencreasyng lyuer styll Whose growyng guttê the gnawyng grypes and fylthie foules doe fyll That sryll by night repayres the panche that was deuowrde by daie And wondrows wombe vnwasted lythe a new prepared praie What yll am I appoynted for O cruell iudge of syrights Who so thou be that torments newe among the soules delights Styll to dyspose adde what thou canst to all my deadly woe That keper euen of dungeon darke wolde sore abhorre to knot Or hell it selfe it quake to see for dreade wheroflykewyse I tremble woulde that plague seeke out Loe nowe there dothe aryse My broode that shall in mischiefe farre the grandsiers gylt out goe And gyltles make that fyrst shall dare vnuentred ylls to doe What euer place remaineth yet of all this wycked lande I will fyll vp and neuer once while Pelops house dothe stande Shall Minos idle be Meg. goe foorth thou deâ—…estable spright And vexe the goddê of wycked house with rage of furies might Let them contende with all oâ—…fence by turnes and one by one Let swoordes be drawen and