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A08360 The tragedie of Gorboduc, whereof three actes were wrytten by Thomas Nortone, and the two laste by Thomas Sackuyle. Sett forthe as the same was shewed before the Quenes most excellent Maiestie, in her highnes court of Whitehall, the. xviij. day of Ianuary, anno Domini. 1561. By the Gentlemen of thynner Temple in London; Gorboduc Norton, Thomas, 1532-1584.; Dorset, Thomas Sackville, Earl of, 1536-1608. aut 1565 (1565) STC 18684; ESTC S111262 31,622 75

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of your forefather Brute So your two sonnes it maye also suffice The moe the stronger if thei gree in one The smaller compasse that the Realme doth holde The easier is the swey therof to welde The nearer Iustice to the wronged poore The smaller charge and yet ynoughe for one And whan the Region is deuided so That Brethrene be the Lordes of either parte Such strength doth nature knit betwene the both In sondrie bodies by conioyned loue That not as two but one of doubled force Eche is to other as a sure defence The Noblenes and glorie of the one Doth sharpe the courage of the others mynde With vertuous enuie to contende for praise And suche an egalnes hath nature made Betwene the Brethren of one Fathers seede As an vnkindlie wronge it seemes to bee To throwe the other Subiect vnder feete Of him whose Peere he is by course of kinde And nature that did make this egalnes Ofte so repineth at so great a wronge That ofte she rayseth vp a grudgynge griefe In yonger Brethren at the elders state Wherby both townes kingdomes haue be rased And famous stockes of Royall blood distroied The Brother that should be the Brothers aide And haue a wakefull care for his defence Gapes for his death blames the lyngering yeres That brings not forth his ende with faster course And oft impacient of so longe delayes With hatefull slaughter he presentes the fates And keepes a iust rewarde for Brothers bloode With endles vengeaunce on his stocke for aye Suche mischiefes here are wisely mette withall If egall state maye nourishe egall loue Where none hath cause to grudge at others good But nowe the head to stoupe beneth them bothe Ne kinde ne reason ne good ordre beares And oft it hath ben seene that where Nature Hath ben preuerted in disordered wise When Fathers cease to know that thei shuld rule And Children cease to knowe they should obey And often our vnkindly tendrenes As Mother of vnkindly Stubbornes I speake not this in enuie or reproche As if I grudged the glorie of your sonnes Whose honour I beseche the Goddes to encrease Nor yet as if I thought there did remaine So filthie Cankers in their noble brestes Whome I esteme whiche is their greatest praise Vndoubted children of so good a kynge Onelie I meane to shewe my certeine Rules Whiche kinde hath graft within the mind of man That Nature hath her ordre and her course Whiche being broken doth corrupt the state Of myndes and thinges euen in the best of all My Lordes your sonnes may learne to rule of you Your owne example in your noble Courte Is fittest Guyder of their youthfull yeares If you desire to seeke some present Ioye By sight of their well rulynge in your lyfe See them obey so shall you see them rule Who so obeyeth not with humblenes Will rule without rage and with insolence Longe maye they rule I do beseche the Goddes But longe may they learne ere they begyn to rule If kinde and fates woulde suffre I would wisshe Them aged Princes and immortall kinges Wherfore most noble kynge I well assent Betwene your sonnes that you deuide your Realme And as in kinde so matche them in degree But while the Goddes prolongue your Royal life Prolongue your reigne for therto lyue you here And therfore haue the Goddes so longe forborne To ioyne you to them selues that still you might Be Prince and father of our cōmon weale They when they se your children ripe to rule Will make them roume will remoue you hence That yours in right ensuynge of your life Maye rightlie honour your mortall name Eubulus Your wonted true regarde of faithfull hartes Makes me O kinge the bolder to presume To speake what I conceiue within my brest Althoughe the same do not agree at all With that whiche other here my Lords haue said Nor whiche your selfe haue seemed best to lyke Pardon I craue and that my wordes be deemde To flowe from hartie zeale vnto your Grace And to the safetie of your cōmon weale To parte your Realme vnto my Lords your sōnes I thinke not good for you ne yet for them But worste of all for this our Natiue Lande For with one Lande one single rule is best Deuided Reignes do make deuided hartes But Peace preserues the Countrey the Prince Suche is in man the gredie minde to reigne So great is his desire to climbe alofte In worldly Stage the stateliest partes to beare That faith and Iustice and all kindly loue Do yelde vnto desire of Soueraigntie Where egall state doth raise an egall hope To winne the thing that either wold attaine Your grace remembreth howe in passed yeres The mightie Brute first Prince of all this Lande Possessed the same and ruled it well in one He thinking that the compasse did suffice For his three sonnes three kingdoms eke to make Cut it in three as you would nowe in twaine But how much Brutish blod hath sithence bē spilt To ioyne againe the sondred vnitie What Princes slaine before their timely honour What wast of townes and people in the Lande What Treasons heaped on murders on spoiles Whose iust reuenge euen yet is scarcely ceased Ruthefull remembraunce is yet had in minde The Gods forbyd the like to chaunce againe And you O king geue not the cause therof My Lorde Ferrex your elder sonne perhappes Whome kinde and custome geues a rightfull hope To be your Heire and to succede your Reigne Shall thinke that he doth suffre greater wronge Than he perchaunce will beare if power serue Porrex the younger so vnpaised in state Perhappes in courage will be raised also If Flatterie then whiche sayles not to assaile The tendre mindes of yet vnskilfull Youthe In one shall kindle and encrease disdaine And Enuie in the others harte enflame This fire shall waste their loue their liues their land And rutheful ruine shal destroy them both A wisshe not this O kyng so to befall But feare the thing that I do most abhorre Geue no beginning to so dreadfull ende Kepe them in order and obedience And let them both by nowe obeyinge you Learne suche behauiour as beseemes their state The Older myldenes in his gouernaunce The younger a yeldyng contentednes And kepe them neare vnto your presence still That they restreined by the awe of you Maye liue in compasse of well tempred staie And passe the perilles of their youthfull yeares Your aged life drawes on to febler tyme Wherin you shall lesse able be to beare The trauailes that in youth you haue susteined Both in your persons and your Realmes defence If planting nowe your sonnes in furder partes You sende them furder from your present reache Lesse shal you know how they thē selues demaund Traiterous corrupters of their pliant youthe Shall haue vnspied a muche more free accesse And of ambition and inflamed disdaine Shall arme the one the other or them bothe To ryuill warre or to vsurpinge pride Late shall you rue that you
right Which time perhaps might end your time before Ferrex Is this no wrong saie you to reaue from me My natiue right to halfe so great a realme And thus to matche his yonger sonne with me In egall power and in as great degree Yea what sonne the sonne whose swellyng pryde Woulde neuer yelde one poinct of reuerence Whan I the Elder and apparaunt heire Stoode in the likelyhode to possesse the whole Yea and that sonne whiche from his childishe age Enuieth myne honour and doth hate my life What will he nowe do when his pride his rage The mindefull malice of his grudging harte Is armed with force with wealth and kingly state Hermon Was this not wrong yea yll aduised wrong To giue so mad a man so sharpe a sworde To so great perill of so great mishappe Wide open thus to set so large a waye Dordan Alas my Lorde what griefull thing is this That of your brother you can thinke so ill I neuer sawe him vtter likelie signe Whereby a man might see or once misdeme Suche hate of you ne suche vnyeldinge pride Ill is their counsell shamefull be their ende That raising suche mistrustfull feare in you Sowing the seede of suche vnkindly hate Trauaile by reason to destroy you both Wise is your brother and of noble hope Worthie to welde a large and mightie Realme So muche a stronger frende haue you therby Whose strēgth is your strēgth if you gree in one Hermon If nature and the Goddes had pinched so Their flowing bountie and their noble giftes Of Princelie qualyties from you my Lorde And powrde them all at ones in wastfull wise Vpon your fathers younger sonne alone Perhappes there be that in your preiudice Would saie that birth shuld yeld to worthines But sithe in eche good gift and Princelie Acte Ye are his matche and in the chiefe of all In mildenes and in sobre gouernauce Ye farre surmount And sithe there is in you Sufficing skill and hopefull towardnes To weld the whole and match you Elders praise I see no cause whie ye should loose the halfe Ne wold I wisshe you yelde to suche a losse Lest your milde sufferaunce of so great a wronge Be deemed cowardishe and simple dreade Whiche shall geue courage to the fierie head Of your yonge Brother to inuade the whole Whiles yet therfore stickes in the peoples mynde The lothed wronge of your disheritaunce And ere your Brother haue by settled power By guyle full cloke of an allurynge showe Got him some force and fauour in this Realme And while the noble Queene your mother lyues To worke and practice all for your auaile Attempt redresse by Armes and wreake your selfe Vpon his life that gaineth by your losse Who nowe to shame of you and griefe of vs In your owne kingdome triumphes ouer you Shew now your courage meete for kingly estate That thei which haue auowed to spēd their goods Their landes their liues honours in your cause Maye be the bolder to mainteine your parte Iohan thei do see that cowarde feare in you Shall not betraye ne saile their faithfull hartes If ones the death of Porrex ende the strife And paie the price of his vsurped Reigne Your Mother shall perswade the angry kynge The Lords your frends eke shall appease his rage For thei be wise and well thei can forsee That ere longe time your aged fathers death will brynge a time when you shall well requite Their frendlie fauour or their hatefull spite Yea or their slackenes to auaunce your cause Wise men do not so hange on passyng state Of present Princes chiefely in their age But they will further cast their reachinge eye To viewe and weigh the times reignes to come Ne is it lykely thoughe the kinge be wrothe That he yet will or that the Realme will beare Extreme reuenge vpon his onelye sonne Or if he woulde what one is he that dare Be ministre to suche an enterprise And here you be nowe placed in your owne Amyd your frendes your vassalles your strength We shall defende and kepe your person safe Tyll either counsell turne his tender minde Or age or sorowe ende his werie daies But if the feare of Goddes and secrete grudge Of Natures Lawe repynynge at the facte Withholde your courage from so great attempt Knowe ye that lust of kingdomes hath no Lawe The Goddes do beare and well allowe in kinges The thinges they abhorre in rascall routes When kinges on sclender quarrels ron to warres And than in cruell and vnkindely wise Cōmaunde theftes rapes murder of Innocentes To spoile of townes reignes of mighty realmes Thinke you such Princes do suppresse them selues Subiect to Lawes of kinde and feare of Gods Yet none offence but decked with glorious name Of noble Conquestes in the handes of kinges Murders and violent theftes in priuate men Are heynous crymes and full of foule reproche But if you like not yet so hote deuise Ne list to take suche vauntage of the time But thoughe with great perill of your state You wil not be the first that shall inuade Assemble yet your force for your defence And for your safetie stande vpon your garde Dordan O heauen was there euer harde or knowen So wicked Counsell to a noble Prince Let me my Lorde disclose vnto your grace This heynous tale what mischiefe it conteynes Your fathers death your brothers and your owns your present murder and eternall shame Heare me O king and suffre not to sinke So highe a treason in your Princelie brest Ferrex The mightie Goddes forbyd that euer I Shuld once conceiue suche mischiefe in my harte Althoughe my Brother hath bereft my Realme And beare perhappes to me and hatefull minde Shall I reuenge it with his death therfore Or shall I so destroy my fathers lyfe That gaue me life the Gods forbyd I saye Cease you to speake so any more to me Ne you my friende with Aunswere once repeate So foule a tale in scilence let in die What Lorde or Subiect shall haue hope at all That vnder me they safely shall enioye Their goods their honours landes and liberties With whome neither one onely brother deare Ne father dearer coulde enioye their lyues But sithe I feare my younger brothers rage And sithe perhappes some other man may gyue Some like aduise to moue his grudging head At mine estate whiche counsell may perchaunce Take greater force with him than this with me I will in secrete so prepare my selfe As if his malice or his lust to reigne Breake forth with Armes or sodeine violence I may withstande his rage and kepe myne owne Dordan I feare the fatall time now draweth on When ciuyll hate shall ende the noble lyne Of famouse Brute and of his Royall seede Great Ioue defende the mischiefes nowe at hande O that the Secretaries wise aduise Had erst ben harde whan he besought the kynge Not to deuide his lande nor sende his sonnes To further partes from presence of his Courte Ne yet to yelde to
them his gouernaunce Lo suche are they nowe in the Royall throne As was rashe Phaeton in Phebus Carre Ne then the fiery stedes did drawe the flame With wilder randon through the kindled skies Then traiterous councell now will wherle about The youthfull heads of these vnskilfull kinges But I hereof their father will enforeme The reuerence of him perhappes shall staye The growing mischiefes while thei yet are grene If this helpe not then wo vnto them selues The Prince the people the deuided lande Actus secundus Scena secunda Porrex Tyndar Philander Porrex ANd is it thus And doth he so prepare Against his Brother as his mortall foe And nowe whyle yet his aged father lyues Neither regardes be him nor feares he me Warre would he haue and he shall haue it so Tyndar I sawe my selfe the great prepared store Of Horse of Armours and of weapons there Ne brynge I to my Lorde reported tales Without the ground of seene and serched trouthe Loe secrete quarrelles ronne about his Courte To bringe the name of you my Lorde in hate Eche man almost can nowe debate the cause And aske a reason of so great a wronge While he so noble and so wise a Prince Is as vnworthie rest his Heritage And whie the kinge mislead by craftie meanes Deuided thus his lande from course of right The wiser sorte holde downe their griefull heades Eche man withdrawes from talke and companie Of those that haue ben knowen to fauour you To hide the mischiefe of their meaninge there Rumours are spred of your preparynge here The Rascall nombres of the vnskilfull sorts Are filled with monsterous tales of you and yours In secrete I was counsailed by my friendes To hast me thence and brought you as you know Letters from those that both can truely tell And would not write vnlesse they knewe it well Philander My Lorde yet ere you nowe vnkindely warre Sende to your Brother to demaunde the cause Perhappes some trayterous tales haue filled his eares with false reports against your noble grace Which once disclosed shal ende the growing strife That els not staied with wise foresight in time Shall hazarde both your kingdomes your lyues Sende to your father eke he shall appeale Your kindled mindes and rid you of this feare Porrex Ridde me of feare I feare him not at all Ne will to him ne to my father sende If daunger were for one to tarye there Thinke ye it safely to retourne againe In mischiefes suche as Ferrex nowe intendes The wanted courteous Lawes to Messengeres Are not obserued whiche in iust warre they vse Shall I so hazarde any one of myne Shall I betraie my trustie friende to hym That hath disclosed his treason vnto me Let him entreate that feares I feare him not Or shall I to the kinge my father sende Yea and sende nowe while suche a mother lyues That loues my Brother and that hateth mee Shall I geue leasure by my fonde delayes To Ferrex to oppresse me at vnware I will not but I will inuade his Realme And seeke the Traitour Prince within his Court Mischiefe for mischiefe is a due rewarde His wretched head shall paie the worthie pryce Of this his Treason and his hate to me Shall I abide entreate and sende and praie And holde my yelden throate to Traitours knife While I with valiaunt minde conquering force Might rid my selfe of foes and winne a Realme Yet rather when I haue the wretches head Than to the king my father will I sende The booteles case may yet appease his wrath If not I will defend me as I maye Philander Loe here the ende of these two youthfull kings The fathers deth the reigne of their two realmes O most vnhappy state of Counsellours That light on so vnhappy Lordes and times That neither can their good aduise be harde Yet must thei beare the blames of yll successe But I will to the king their father haste Ere this mischiefe come to that likely ende That if the mindefull wrath of wrekefull Gods Since mightie Ilions fall not yet appeased With these poore remnant of the Troians name Haue not determinedlie vnmoued fate Out of this Realme to rase the Brutish Line By good aduise by awe of fathers name By force of wiser Lordes this kindled hate Maye yet be quentched ere it consume vs all Chorus Whan youth not bridled with a guyding staie fraie Is left to randon of their owne delight And welds whole Realmes by force of soueraigne Great is the daunger of vnmaistred might Lest skilles rage throwe downe with headlong fal Their lands their states their liues them selues all When growing pride doth fil the swelling brest And gredy lust doth raise the clymbynge minde Oh hardlie maye the perill be represt Ne feare of angrie Goddes ne Lawes kinde Ne Countrie care can fiered hartes restrayne Whan force hath armed Enuie and disdaine VVhan kinges of foreset wyll neglecte the rede Of best aduise and yelde to pleasinge tales That do their fansies noysome humour feede He reason nor regarde of right auailes Succedinge heapes of plagues shall teache to late To learne the mischiefes of misguydinge state Fowle fall the Traitour false that vndermines The loue of Brethrene to destroye them bothe Wo to the Prince that pliant eare enclynes And yeldes his minde to poysonous tale that floweth From flatterynge mouth wo to wretched lande That wasts it selfe with ciuyll sworde in hande Loe thus it is poyson in golde to take And holsome drinke in homely Cuppe forsake ¶ The order and signification of the dōme shewe before the thirde Act ¶ Firste the Musicke of Fluites began to playe during which came in vpon the Stage a companye of Mourners all clad in blacke betokeninge Death and sorowe to ensue vpon the yll aduised misgouernement and discention of Bretherne as befel vpon the Murder of Ferrex by his yonger Brother After the Mourners had passed thryse about the stage thei departed and than the Musicke ceased Actus tertius Scena prima Gorboduc Eubulus Arostus Philander Nuntius Gorboduc O Cruell fates O mindfull wrath of Goddes whose vēgeaūice neither Simois streined streames Flowing with blood of Troian Princes slaine Nor Phrygian fieldes made rancke with Corpses dead Of Asian kynges and Lordes can yet appease He slaughter of vnhappie Pryams race Nor Ilions fall made leuell with the soile Can yet suffice but still continued rage Pursue our lyues and from the farthest Seas Doth chast the issues of distroyed Troye Oh no man happie tyll his ende be seene If any flowyng wealth and seemynge Ioye In present yeres might make a happy wight Happie was Hecuba the wofullest wretche That euer lyued to make a Myrrour of And happie Pryam with his noble sonnes And happie I till nowe Alas I see And feele my most vnhappie wretchednes Beholde my Lordes reade ye this Letter here Loe it conteines the ruyne of our Realme If timelie speede prouide not hastie helpe Yet O ye Goddes if euer wofull kynge Might moue you kings of kinges
they moued With Porrex deathe wherin they falsely charge The giltles kinge without desarte at all And traiterouslie haue murdered him therfore And eke the Queene Gwenard Shall Subiectes dare with force To worke reuenge vpon their Princes facte Admyt the worst that maye as sure in this The dede was fowle the Quene to slaie her sonne Shall yet the Subiecte seeke to take the sworde Arise agaynst his Lorde and slaie his kynge O wretched state where those rebellious hartes Are not rent out euen from their lyuynge breasts And with the bodie throwen vnto the Fowles As Carrion foode for terrour of the rest Fergus There can no punisshement be thought to greate For this so greuous cryme let spede therfore Be vsed therin for it behoueth so Eubulus Ye all my Lordes I see consent in one And I as one consent with ye in all I holde it more than nede with the sharpest Lawe To punisshe the tumultuous bloodie rage For nothynge more maye shake the cōmen state Than sufferaunce of Vproares without redresse Wherby how some kingdomes of mightie power After great Conquestes made and floorishing In fame and wealth haue ben to ruyne brought I praie to Ioue that we may rather wayle Suche happe in them than witnes in our selues Eke fullie with the Duke my minde agrees That no cause serues wherby the Subiect maye Call to accompt the doynges of his Prince Muche lesse in bloode by sworde to worke reuenge No more then maye the hande cut of the heade In Acte nor speache no not in secrete thoughte The Subiect maye rebell against his Lorde Or Iudge of him that sittes in Ceasars Seate With grudging mind do damne those Hemislikes Though kinges forget to gouerne as they ought Yet Subiectes must obey as they are bounde But nowe my Lordes before ye farder wade Or spend your speach what sharp reuenge shal fal By iustice plague on these rebellious wights Me thinkes ye rather should first searche the waye By whiche in time the rage of this vproare Mought be repressed these great tumults ceased Euen yet the life of Brittayne Lande doth hange In Traitours Balaunce of vnegall weight Thinke not my Lords the death of Gorboduc Nor yet Videnaes bloode will cease their rage Euen our owne lyues our wiues and children Our Countrey dearest of all in daunger standes Nowe to be spoiled nowe nowe made desolate And by our selues a conquest too ensue For geue ones sweye vnto the peoples lusts To russhe forth on and staye them not in time And as the streame that rowleth downe the hyll So wil thei headlong ronne with raging thoughtes From bloode to bloode from mischiefe vnto moe To ruyne of the Realme them selues and all So giddle are the cōmon peoples mindes So glad of chaunge more waueryng than the Sea Ye see my Lordes what strength these Rebelles haue What hugie nombre is assembled still For though the traiterous fact for which their rose Be wrought and done yet lodge thei still in fielde So that howe farre their furies yet wyll stretche Great cause we haue to dreade that we may seeke By present Battaile to represse their power Speede must we vse to leuie force therfore For either they forthwith will mischiefe worke Or their rebellious roares forthwith will cease These violent thinges may haue no lasting loude Let vs therfore vse this for present helpe Perswade by gentle speache and offre grace With gifte of pardon saue vnto the chiefe And that vpon condicion that forthewith They yelde the Captaines of their enterpryse To beare suche querdon of their traiterous facte As may be both due vengeaunce to them selues And holsome terrour to posteritie This shall I thinke flatter the greatest parte That nowe are holden with desire of home Weried in fielde with could of Winters nightes And some no doubt striken with dread of Lawe Whan this is ones proclaymed it shall make The Captaines to mistruste the multitude Whose safetie biddes them to betraye their heads And so muche more bycause the rascall routes In thinges of great and perillous attemptes Are neuer trustie to the noble race And while we treate scande on termes of grace We shal both staie their furies rage the while And eke gaine time whose onely helpe sufficeth Withouten warre to vanquisshe Rebelles power In the meane while make you in redynes Suche bande of Horsemen as ye maye prepare Horsemen you know are not the Comons strēgth But are the force and store of noble men Wherby the vnchosen and vnarmed sorte Of sk●●●she Rebelles whome none other power But nombre makes to be of dreadfull force With sodeyne brunt maye quickely be oppreste And if this gentle meane of proffered grace With stubborne hartes cannot so farre auayle As to asswage their desperate courages Than do I wisshe suche slaughter to be made As present age and eke posteritie Maye be adrad with horrour of reuenge That iustly than shall on these rebelles fall This is my Lordes the sōme of mine aduise Clotyn Neyther this case admittes debate at large And though it did this speache that hath ben saide Hath wel abridged the tale I would haue tolde Fullie with Eubulus do I consente In all that he hath saide and if the same To you my Lordes may seeme for best aduise I wisshe that it shoulde streight be put in vre Mandud My Lordes than let vs presentlie departe And folowe this that lyketh vs so well Fergus If euer time to gaine a kingdome here Were offred man nowe it is offred mee The Realme is reft bothe of their kyng Quene The ofspringe of the Prince is slaine and dead No issue nowe remaines the Heire vnknowen The people are in Armes and mutynies The Nobles thei are busied howe to cease These great rebellious tumultes and vproars And Brittayne Lande nowe deserte left alone Amyd these broyles vncertaine where to rest Offers her selfe vnto that noble harte That wyll or dare pursue to beare her Crowne Shall I that am the Duke of Albanye Discended from that Lyne of noble bloode Whiche hath so longe floorisshed in worthie fame Of valiaunt hartes suche as in noble Breasts Of right shulde rest aboue the baser sorte Refuse to aduenture liefe to winne a Crowne Whome shall I finde enemies that will with stande My facte herein if I attempte by Armes To seeke the Fame nowe in these times of broyle These Dukes power can hardlie well appease The people that alredie are in Armes But if perhappes my force be ones in fielde Is not my strength in power aboue the best Of all these Lordes nowe left in Brittaine Lande And though they shuld match me with power of men Yet doubtfull is the chaunce of Battailles ioyned If Victors of the fielde we may departe Ours is the Scepter than of great Brittayne If slayne amid the playne this body be Mine enemies yet shall not deny me this But that I died gyuynge the noble charge To hazarde life for conquest of a Crowne Forthwith therfore will I in poste depart To Albanye