Hector and Helen shew that cannot be Why do they then such mightie buildings reare Making in clay their liues aeternitie Knowing not when they can no longer last Fame dies with them and honour all doth wast Then let him liue for euer and in honour Riding triumphant in fames golden Carre That holdes the pen and sword so high in fauour And by his bounty guerdons both so farre As when the pen hath regestred his fame The sword hath sworne for ay to guard the same O let that man for euer be adornd Build him a temple on Pernassus hill Sing of him muses whom he neuer scornd Sound war like trumpets with his glory fill The empty aire together blase his fame That loues you both O euer praise his name But now is Helen weeping all this while No worlds delight can make hir leaue lamenting Hir hart of griefe is now become an Anuile Sorrow doth bed and sighs are still tormenting Then in plunges of a pained sprite She sayd to Hector thus and bad me write Ay me sweete Hector how am I tormented The fulnes of wrath is powrd downe on me If euer womans state was yet lamented Mine may be waild that now bevvaileth thee O might I die I should heauens ire fulfill But now they make me liue to plague me still They make me liue to see sweet Hector dead This is the torment wherewithall they greeue me A greater plague could not hang ore my head And that they knew for nothing can releeue me Vnlesse they will restore thy life againe Whom they in anger haue vntimely slaine But ah they did it for my lasting paine Framing a torture to endure for euer This was procurde by Iunos iel`ous braine Who works my woe by strength of great endeuour Only bycause she went without the ball That Venus got thus doth she plague vs all And now thou dearling of the world most deare By thee it is she works hir high despight Stopping the passage of those beamys cleare By which thy life did lend thine eies their light Then giuing out in hir hate most enuious That Helen was cause to make me odious Thus doe I liue of all the world despisde The Troyans harts doe inwardlie repine And though their formes be outwardlie misguisde Their thoughts perswade them that the fault was mine That this our flower our piller and our staie Did fade did fall through death did flit away But Hector now I doe appeale to thee And vnto witnesse doe I call thy ghost If thou vvert not as dearelie lou'de of me As of the wight that could affect thee most While thou didst liue I lou'd thy vertues euer And since thy death my hart al ioyes doth seuer O speake Andromach and Hecuba speake How did my soule it selfe to sorrow yeeld When we with him in weeping tearmes did breake Touching the dreame diswading him the field How did poore Helen his life then beg with you As with your selues his death she vvaileth now For who alasse hath greater cause to mourne And in continuall teares lament his death Streaming a tide that neuer doth returne Then she to whom his life vvas liuing breath For though through Troy a deadly smart be found Yet mine is most who neerlie seeks the wound The Gods conspirde it vvas not Helens fault That Hector dies or if that Troy shall burne Iuno from heauen poore Ilion doth assault And all hir force against it doth she turne Who warres vvith Gods and comes not to the worst Then Iunos cause that Troy decayeth first Venus besides commaunded me to come And sent hir Cupid to prepare the vvay Then how vniustlie am I blamde by some Saying Helen the vvhore wrought Troys decay For if the Gods decreed it thus before It vvas their vvils and Helen is no whore But vvho vvould think that heauens should malice bear That their perfection should admit of anger An ouglie forme ingendring gastlie feare A monster foule presaging nought but danger Who vvould suppose so huge vile a beast To lie and harbour in a Goddesse brest Yet this did Iuno foster in hir lap Iuno vniust both vnto Troy and me And in hir mallice hath she laid a trap How Troy should perish and I torturde be Which both are done by cutting Hector short Troys onlie Castle Helens chiefest fort With that she vveeping wrung hir hands and cride Hector O Hector this was all she said Then did she seat hir by hir sisters side Where still she vveepes but then hir speech was staide Sorrovve forst silence griefe ore-came hir hart And thus a saint did act an hellish part The Troyan Nobles all lamented there In sable garments fitting to their woe Deiphobus and Troylus with a heauie cheere For Hectors death doe wander to and fro The people too doe make a dolefull noise And call on Hector iointly in one voice Hector O Hector from a troubled spirit They crie amaine as if they would him pull From death to life and bring his eies to light Which now was sunke into his hollovv scul Hector O Hector Hector thus they crie Who being dead they all do seeme to die Then doe they vvalke all mal-content about From place to place not knovving where to rest Sometime they stand and giue a monstrous shout Like to the yell of a many-headed beast And then returne to Hector vvhere he lies The men in grones the Women in outcries Like to the kinde and louing naturde Bees That swarme togither if but one be greeued Which leaues his hiue and seeketh hollovv trees They fly with him and looke he be releeued Humming they mourne as if they felt his greefe So they can sorrow but lend no releefe Then as a Ram that doeth retire back To make returne with greater violent force So wil these folks their cries outragious slacke And go lamenting still from Hectors corse Till by and by they will returne againe Shriking in teares like thunderclaps in raine Or like the billovv beating on the shore That fals off gentlie making little noise But when he comes againe doth rage so sore As men far off may heare his raging voice Swelling vvith fome through Aeolus puffing pride So do they yell when they 're by Hectors side They vveep they waile they mourn they fret with anger They sweare they vow reuenge for Hectors sake Their harts are boldned through their present danger Although for greefe they driery wailings make Thus al amasde they wander to and fro His life did please his death did irke them so They curse Achilles in this bitter rage They frowne they grin their teeth they sternly whet Like desperate men they say nought shal asswage Their ire but bloud on bloud they al are set But why do we Achilles name They say Which heauens pollutes darks the brightsom day Alas poore Troy what wight can ere bewaile And not lacke words to write thy great lamentings To tell thy vvoes euen Ieremie might faile That writ so well Ierusalems wamentings For who can
puts not on a veluet skin Neither in silke is the Borin They may grow rich but they keepe theyr place And this to Ireland is a great grace Which though some call it vnciuill and rude Yet they say they are with this vertue indude The Kerne low borne shal neuer come a floate He shall not step into a gentlemans coate As God and nature make them base So shall they keepe still in their place But this now to Albion is high disgrace For here the Clowne riseth and Gentilitie put downe Only by olde custome and vnkind fashion We do not with the Danes vphold gentilitie But with the Swishers we cut off their dignitie As now but list and I shall thee tell For after all this hap that now me befell That my husband was dead and my louing sonne After my foefment was by law away don Being now left in all this mesery My sonne Medalgo went into another country In which place for what should I tarry He lou'd a yong-woman and did hir marry By whom God blest him with children many For blessings they be though wealth he had not any And ofte it falleth that the poore When rich go without haue children store Who wisheth ofte wanteth who cares not to haue Shall neuer neede of fortune to craue She is so blind she cannot well see She lets the wise vnprouided be And giueth to fooles with a liberall hand Fortune fauours fooles a prouerb often scand And too too true may a number say But now is Medalgo at a weake stay Wealth he hath none and charge doth arise Wherefore he`s forst of force to deuise To maintaine his children himselfe and his wife By taking vpon him a labourers life Where with his neighbours he is called good man Now lost is the title of a Gentleman Se now the fruit of this faire blossome Se the end of this custome Now pouerty so hath shadowed his name As men in true view cannot see the same Alas the commons cannot giue men their due They cal him maister that makes a faire show In riches wealth they know no difference But who hath most gold him doe they reuerence And this is the fruit of that custome fond Which now is installed in this lond Eyther to make a begger of a yonger sonne Or else vntimely to his death to be done For novv as Medalgo is to low estate brought So hath Iunio for preferment sought Trying what Fortune vvould for him doe Bicause sometimes she doth fauour shevv To yonger brothers and for she doth aduance Men by the svvord and also by the launce Speciallie those that are of noble spright In whom there is by Natures light A kind of Nobles raisd from the common sort An high yet mild mind stil garding good report And yet stil aspiring to higher honour And yet not rising but by the step of fauour Purchased by vvorth vvinning mens harts To aduance him more high for his vertuous parts Such a one hath Fortune novv vp raised And vvith renovvme his name blased Giuing guerdon to due desart Who in euerie spring so plaies his part As they saie through his valour and manlinesse Through his wisdome forecast and worthines That himselfe is now the hight the spring Of honour for this his braue doing They call him ver which as I haue heard say Signifies the time that when Winter is avvay Delighteth the earth and creatures all With his pleasant countnance for vvhich men do call And birds with their musicke for ioy entertaine It is the time that puts life in the graine Sap in the tree iuice in the grasse Smel to the flower beautie to the earths face Such is his glorie and renowne Whereof I ne may make relatiown An olde womans toong is farre too weake For if it be as I haue heard some speake His fame is like to such a spring As neuer dies alas it is a thing For a sweeter Organ and a better song Then to be told by an olde Womans tong Let him liue euer with honour and fame But novv I returne from whence I came Iunio my third and yongest sonne Is now to the wars for preferment gone Wars the great worth which if Fortune fauour Ennoble men with the richest honour But alas she fauours well but few As thou shalt heare by that doth ensew For there had he beene but a while Alas my deere sonne alas my good child But death hath bereaued him of his life Vntimelie did the sister cut with hir knife which Poets saien hath the twining of the thred Making as she list men aliue or dead Alas I need not tel thee my woe Thou seest what greefe I conceiued tho That euer since fate these crosses did giue I tooke this Cell where I in sorrovv liue Then did the teares run dovvne hir cheeks Along through the furrowes like water through creeks Alas me-thought it was a pitious sight That she that whilome was so faire a wight Shining like Titan in his gorgeous shew Should now in colour looke so wan and blew Coughing she sits halfe choakt with teares Alasse now me thinks who so this heares Should in discretion and sound wisedome Vtterlie condemne the foule custome Of Albion for that causd hir woe When it hir yonger sons did both ouerthrow By want that great worker of confusion To many braue minds in conclusion For when a man that is well borne I meane of linage whom nature doth adorne Eyther with Noblesse or Gentilitie Doth see himselfe through Fortunes crueltie For Fortune it is of custome proceeding That men are driuen thus to be needing Like to incur pouertie or want By reason that liuing is verie scant What danger doth not he vnder-goe What perillous attempt doth he shrinke fro Where hope of credit or golde doth remain Chusing rather so to be slaine Then to liue in miserie And yet God knowes it is of certaintie That little here at home is their estimation Though they venter nere so for reputation Peac-nuslings so little esteeme of valiancie And this is the fruit of that antiquitie VVhich men in custome now receiue That is when to the eldest they al giue Leauing the yonger little or nought That many to their ends vntimelie are brought For now did Iunio asvvell aspire As could Maximio thogh in wealth he was hyer Yet must their minds be equal in desire Being begotten both by one sire VVhose vertue in both had equal operation Seeing they vvere equall both by generation And Anima ex traduce some do hold Then if the father were magnanimous or bold VVhy should Iunio hauing that father Be of a lovv conceit rather Then Maximio why should his mind be any whit lesse Or why should his thoughts be of more basenes Why should not ambition in him dwel Seing he was a Gentleman aswell As Maximio Why should not a yonger sonne Beare as worthie a mind as he that hath won The wealth from them al Alas it is not golde That nobleth the mind though the
THE Lamentation of Troy for the death of Hector Wherevnto is annexed an Olde womans Tale in hir solitarie Cell Omne gerendum leue est LONDON Printed by Peter Short for William Mattes 1594 To the Right Honorable Sir Peregrin Bartue knight Lord of Willoughby and Earsby al increase of Honor and true happinesse I Haue presumed Right honourable vpon these three reasons to present this vnworthy pamphlet vnto your honors courteous view and fauourable protection The first is from your own noble worthinesse for that you are and are so thought the onely Hector of Albion and therfore most worthy to protect Hector The second for that it was the wil and desire of the Ghost of the woful Ghost of Ilion that in hir teares you might behold the sorrows of your owne countrey whensoeuer iniurious fates shoulde cause you miscarrie The third and last is my good Lord mine owne priuate affection wherein I haue long honoured you and hauing no place to make it knowne haue long desired to finde some opportunitie to shew the same I hope your Lordship will pardon me for that affection is a most veniall offence And if heerein I doe not honour your Lordship so much as you are worthy and I earnestlie wish yet please it you to fauour and pardon this first and as time and yeares shall enable me with a more experienced iudgement and knowledge I will studie and endeuour that which shal be more worthy your honours fauourable protection Please it you accept and I am graced and my labour richly rewarded I cease to trouble your Lordship further at this time I vow my selfe to your Lordships seruice and so most humbly take my leaue Your Honours humbly at command I. O. The Prologue WHilom to him whom Morpheus God of sleepe Made slumbring dreames his sences al to keepe Lockt in the prison of the darke some night When eares were deafe and eyes could see no light When men are made the liuely forme of death Saue onely that they softly draw a breath Did come a Ghost a ghost most gastly crying Helpe me to death that haue so long beene dying With that he wakened and with feare beholding Saw hir lament her armes togither folding A pale-wan thing and yet with wounds fresh bleeding Sodden in teares in teares that were exceeding He much afright began to shrinke for feare She bad him feare not but my story heare I am Troys ghost that now appeares to thee And well I know that thou hast heard of me But now I come not what I was to tell For what I was alas each one knowes wel I come to thee to craue thy gentle ayde To further her that hath so long beene staide From blissefull rest because I haue not told My woes for Hector which I must vnfold But that alasse am I not able euer To shew alone without the kind endeuor Of some good wight that can bewaile with me And tell my tale while I shall weeping be The churlish Charon thwarts my passage ouer Saying my soule shal neuer blisse recouer Till I haue doone this weary taske imposed Neuer my ghost shal be in rest reposed O helpe me then to tell my doleful story That I at last may cease to be so sory First will I speake and to the world declare For Hectors death mine euerlasting care So long til teares doe stop my faltring tong And when I cease I pray thee tell along He then accorded to hir pitteous sute Granting to speake when teares did make hir mute So that she would lay open to his eies The cause and manner of hir wofull cries Then forth with causde she vnto him appeare The forme of Troy the persons that were there Chiefest mourners for worthy Hectors death As they then wailde when fates new stopt his breath He then emboldende stoutly veiwd them all And tels her tale when she from speach doth fall Writing their words vnto the world to shew them It was her will that he might so renew them Yet had she rather Spencer would haue told them For him she calde that he would helpe t' vnfold them But when she saw he came not at hir call She kept hir first man that doth shew them all All that he could but all can no man shew But first she spake as after doth ensew Troys Lamentation for the death of Hector LO here the teares and sad complaint of her Within whose gates all ioyes were once abounding Faire Ilions teares whose deepe laments may stir A flintie hart vnto a sigh-resounding Yet for hir selfe doth Ilion not mone But for hir Hector which is dead and gone Sweet sacred Muses you whose gentle eares Are wont to listen to the humble praier Of plaining Poets and to lend your teares From your faire eies vnto a woes-displayer Now rest your selues your ayde I not implore For in my selfe I finde aboundant store Nor can I craue vpon your blubbered cheeks That you for me more showers should be raining Though you are kind to euery one that seekes Yet haue you matter for your owne complaining I saw your teares and pittifull wamentings But they are few that list to your lamentings Good naturde Nymphs you are too milde for me Troy tels of horror and of driery things Let your faire ayde in Loue and Musick be Or in his tongue which pleasant Poems sings Furies and Frensies are fit companie To helpe to blase my wofull tragedie The damned Soules that liue in lasting paine Whose endlesse torments force them to be yelling Sounds euer balefull and whose bane againe Is that in torture they are euer dwelling Their sighes and shrikes accompanie full well My trembling toong this greeuous tale to tell Snake-wreath'd Alecto and Megaera railing Howling Tisiphon euermore lamenting With all that vgly is or else still wailing Their cursed haps and are deepe hell frequenting Such as breath sulphur in eternal groning They are companions fitting to my moning Stone rowling Sisiphus in his wearie taske And thirstie Tantalus in his riuer biding And wofull Yxyon al these might I aske To be with shrikes my drery penne a guiding But I my selfe suffice without assistance If soules effusion be sufficient greeuance Hector thou knowst or else thy soule doth know For thou alas art Hector now no more Haue Troy ten thousand soules she will bestow Them all on thee and powre them out before The throne of Ioue for mercy euer calling For ah thy ruine was our vtter falling But why alas must thou needs die so soone Troys cheefe-supporter and the worlds great-wonder O let the man that thee to death hath doone From deaths fel torments neare be seene asunder O let him euer die yet not be slaine But when he would be dead reuiue againe Heape on him torments and ore-whelme with woes Hels Queene Proserpina this I begge of thee And if there be some wights thou countst thy foes O with those plagude ones let him placed be Or if there be a place that 's worse than hel Grant
Abraham did greeue In sacrifice to offer vppe his sonne Vnto I am and but he did beleeue His flesh and bloud would such a murther shun If flesh and bloud to loose a sonne be loth Then needes must Priam who was meerely both Great was the gall vnto Harpagus hart When king Astiages gaue to him his sonne Whom he had slaine before O cruell part Then gaue his father him to banquet on But this nor those were halfe so much as his For Priam lost the piller of his blisse Alasse good king that thou whose hap was such As neuer any might compared be That Fortune now at thy good hap should grutch Alas I say that thou shouldst liue to see The Wheele so turne euen now to vieu thy fal Who wert but euen now on the top of all Next him sat wailing in most pitious wise Hectors fayre mother Hecuba the Queene Hir outward lookes hir inward smart descries And by hir sighing was hir sorrowe seene A mothers loue vnto hir childe exceedes And death of him hir endlesse torment breedes Aye me she cries as women wont to doe That ere I did conceiue thee in my wombe Thy life was mine thy death is now my woe Aye that my bellie had beene stil thy tombe Rather I had I neuer had thee borne Then thus in thee to see all Troy forlorne When I thy brother Paris did conceiue I dreamt my wombe was all on burning fire And true it was he doth me not deceiue I feare we burne all by his hot desire Yet hadst thou liu'd thy selfe had beene a spring To quench these flames that now are kindleing For when I bred thee few doe know so much I dreamt a Sea was in my body flowing And that the rage of Aeolus was such That blasts of winde the waues thereof were blowing I tolde it none so was the sence nere found But now I both do finde and feele the ground These Seas of teares which heere about thee flow Are those same seas which I supposde to be These stormes of sighs the winds with them did blow Thus is my vision verified in thee Now that a signe of these Seas may be seene I will be called of sadde seas the Queene The Troyan Queene is Hecuba no more Aye me me thinkes I see it now decaying Hector is dead the Greekes do dance therefore And they giue thanks while we for ayde are praying Frowne not O Neptune that I am Queene of Seas For Queene on earth great Ioue it doth not please With that she weeping tore hir haire and said See see they come to take away my crowne Like one halfe frantike or with feare dismaide Looke looke she cries they 'r burning of the towne O Hector helpe vs she alowd him cals He cannot heare hir she to weeping fals Elkanah thy Hannah neuer sight so sore Nor begd with teares that she by thee might beare A sonne although she powred out before Hir makers throne her soule who did hir heare With tithe of teares I say did she not craue him As losse of hirs she mournd yet could not saue him Thomyris thy teares for Spargapises slaine By Cyrus hand the butcher of thy sonne Were not a few which from thy cloudie brain Thou didst let fal to heare what he had donne But O the drops which Hecuba did shoure For thee to shed was neuer in thy powre She lost hir stay hir piller and a sonne Thou lost a sonne but neyther staie nor piller In Hectors death Hecubaes life was done Thou hadst the head of Spargapises killer And victresse wert liuing in ioy long after She euer mournde and neuer moued laughter Thus sat the mother of that worthy man Weeping vpon him in aboundant raine Clasping his body strongly as she can Into hir armes and then she weepes againe Hugging him hard as thogh she would then take him Into the place where great Ioue first did make him By hir I sawe a goodly Lady bright A stately dame as one shal lightly see But that some drooping clouds then dimnd hir sight I askt Troys ghost what might that Lady be This is quoth she Andromache his wife Whom she did loue more dearely then hir life She wept and wailde and wroong hir hands and tare Hir clothes hir haire hir flesh from off hir face A babie too within hir armes she bare Aye me me thought it was a pitious case To see the babe vppon hir breast to lie And both to weepe the childe not knowing why O heare my Lord O heare thy handmaid speake I am Andromache thy louing wife Through thy dead senses let my words now breake Thou that refusde to heare me in thy life Ah hadst thou listned when thou liuing wert This greefe had neuer come so nigh my hart Thou madste no reckoning of my vision strange Braue men are wont to be too credulous My dreame did tell me that thy life must change If thou this day with Greekes wert venturous I tolde it thee But Womens words are toyes When men most wilfull seeke their owne annoies I tolde the King our Father and the Queene We all did pray thee All could not preuaile For valiant men will haue their valure seene Hector that day must needes the Greekes assaile That day that one day couldst thou not forbeare But men resolued perswasions will nor heare Then flouds of teares ran downe hir christall cheekes Like streames that follow along the siluer sandes A troubled soule in teares hir comfort seekes O heauy comfort that in mourning standes Yet woman say in weeping there is glory Which mede this Lady so exceeding sory The sweete young Infant that lay all this while Vppon the Downe-bed of his mothers brest One while would crie another while did smile Alas it knew no cause of such vnrest Vnles that this did make the babie weepe To heare what howling they about him keepe Sometimes it would the tender hand vp lay And spread the fingers on the mothers face Stroking hir cheekes as Infantes vse to play But she that now for sporting had no place Weeping did wet the childe as it did lie With brinish teares which made the babe to cry Then with a napkin doth she drie his face Peace peace sweet hart thus she hir yonglinge stills He to his plaieng falles againe apace She with hir teares againe his bosome filles And with hir sobs she beates him as he lies That now the childe with ceaseles shriking cryes Alacke the tormentes that she now endueres The cruell plunges in hir hart so sore Hir husbandes death hir endles woe insures The childes fell crieng makes hir tormentes more Thus she sweete Lady is of all accurst Who sittes and sighs as if hir hart should burst The faithfull Porcia neuer sorrowed so Although hir selfe for Brutus she did kill The louing Phillis neuer felt the woe Though for Demophoon she hir selfe did spill As did Andromach for hir Hector slayne Their Death cut off hir life prolonges hir paine Panthea deplord
Abradatas his death With gaulling griefe and bitter percing stings But yet hir sorrow made hir stop hir breath Thus death a period to hir tormente brings But this sweete Lady woe hath so possest That she must liue and death may giue no rest No present rest and so no rest at all Death when he came he came but came too late Sorrow before had wroght hir vtter fall Thus had she cause both death and life to hate Death that did stay and do hir so much wrong To linger life that liu'd in death so long By hir Cassandra with hir lolling locks Dissheuerd all vpon hir shoulders lieng With heauie chere hir thought-sore brest she knocks So hard as Eccho is againe replieng A dolfull thump the Temple so did sound And thus she waits hir brother in that stound Ay me she cries I knew this long before That Paris fire must haue a sea to quench it And now I feare the flames will burne so sore As we in time shall neuer liue to stanche it The only spring wherein the vertue lay To slake the fire is dride and dead this day O Hector thou that wert our spring of life Thy death is now the cause of many a spring Fountaines do flowe in euery corner rife Of blubering teares thers now no other thing In Troy but teares since Hector did depart For ah thy death hath causd our endlesse smart I tolde my brother Paris what would fall And that a flame should follow through the seaes At his returne he gaue no heed at all But hoisted saile his fancy he would please He burnt with loue and we shall burne by loue As by thy death I feare poore Troy shall proue Yet hadst thou liu`d alas what booteth had Thou dost not liue and therefore dies my soule Yet while I liue in sable garments clad For thee my brother will I sitte and howle And now I come to beare them company Who went afore in this thy tragedy Then sat she downe hard by hir Sisters side Andromache that did with teares brine The margine fill of Hectors wound so wide By trickling drops distilling from hir eien There did she weepe with hir the King and Queene And next to mourne came in faire Pollicene Alas that virgines should be so distract To spoile sweete faces that are made so pleasing She tore hir golden haire O rufull acte And on hir forhead was hir nailes a seazing The blood ran downe and teares ore-tooke the same And both gusht afresh when she did Hector name Hir tender limmes did tremble as she stood As did Diana when the huntseman spide hir Vnlucky huntseman ranginge in the wood She being naked hauing nought to hide hir Thus did she quake such is a virgines feare To se him dead whome she did hold so deare Shriking she cries alas what shall I doo Hector is dead that was our only stay Troy shall be burnt and I deflowred to The angry Gods conclude our wrack this day For in the stopping of this one mans breath They plainly shew they minace Ilions death Yet gentle Gods vouchsafe a virgines praier Through Cristall skies to pierce your sacred eares O heare my voice my voice my harts-bewraier My hart and voice that are be-duld with teares O heare now heare a pure virgines mones If euer Gods did heare a virgines grones Here haue we Temples builded to your names And with deuotion we doe them adore Our Altars smoke with sweet perfumed flames And on our knees your graces we implore Why are you angry then O Gods with vs That in all dutie reuerence you thus But Reason must not reason with the Gods It is their wil what wil then dare say nay They will the Greekes and Troyans be at ods Vntil poore Troy be brought vnto decay Our incense stinks our sacrifice displease No offring may their kindled ire appease Hector is dead in whom they did delight Hector our sacrifice and incense sweet Who while he liu'd we trusted in his might The Gods still laide the Grecians at his feet Til that their wrath was kindled ouer Troy And then displeasde they tooke from vs our ioy O send him backe faire heau`ns for our defence If that the Gods wil part with such a treasure But ah my praier may breed more offense O keepe him then I know it is your pleasure This is the prayer which I humbly craue That I be laide a virgine in my graue I know the Letcher hopes to haue his will Now that my honours chiefest guard is gone But I with Phillis first my selfe wil kill I le be no pray for him to seaz vpon He slew my brother hopes he now of me No bloudy traytor that shal neuer be Thinkst thou a Virgins pure affection can Admit thee loue that passeth thorough bloud Hast thou by treason slaine so braue a man And by that reason hopst thou so much good As that my hart wil euer yeelde to thee No bloudy traitor it shal neuer be I neuer yet did staine my spotlesse hart By taking comfort in a strangers death And doost thou thinke it were a Sisters part To loue the man that stopt hir brothers breath My brother dearer then my life to me No bloudy traitor it shal neuer be My hand this hand which neuer yet did act Where rigour force or violence might be found Shal rather yeeld to worke a bloudy fact Which yet attempt my tender hart would swound Or in my selfe or else in murdring thee Rather then thou shalt euer ioy in me But yet I know that I am deere to thee I and I know that once I lou'd thee deerely But now my hart hath quite forgotten thee And inlie longs to punish thee seuerely My feruent loue shal now he turnde to hate And once my will shal worke against my fate O Hector how shal I lament for thee When Womens teares are not sufficient strong Let heauen and earth for me auenged be While I bewaile thee in a sighing song I can bewaile thee but while life doth last But if I may I wil when life is past Then with an heauy cheere and downe-cast looke She sat hir downe amidst the mourning crew And to her teares hir selfe she hath betooke At whose approch the rest doe al renew Their doleful shrikes which stinted not before But greater number makes their shriking more A loofe from these did stand in sable weedes For mourning garments fit a mourneful mind A man whose hart and very soule now bleedes To see that Hector was to death assignde And this was Paris brocher of their woe But he to Greece by Heauens instinct did go Venus commanded who could hir denie Had she not giuen me thinkes a man should craue it For such a prize who would not Fortune trie And venture life and goods and al to haue it Nor fire nor water should his passage stay To gaine fruition of so sweet a pray Yet now he mourns for euery sweet hath sower Alasse
beautie crauing stood And yet thy hand hath not from murther staid Curst be thy sire thy selfe to death be done Ye kilde a king a Virgin and his sonne Then did she goe to Hector where he lay Weeping vpon him in excessiue raine And with her angels voice she gan to say Hector sweet Hector O reuiue againe With that me thought I saw him heaue his head She shrikt for ioy but he againe was dead Iniurious Parcae huswiues of mans life That spin the threads and cut them off at pleasure O Atropos why did thy fatal knife Cut off from Troy so rich and great a treasure And Lachesis why didst not thou still spin Sweet Hectors life that euer should begin But all iniurious fraught with cruel spight Ye shortned haue this worthy Hectors daies Why doe you not restore his eies to light Now that the voice of such an angell prayes O were you men and had the power to giue At Helens praier Hector needes should liue Could trees and stones in Orpheus tunes reioice Was he so pleasing and dumbe things so witty And shall an heauenlie grace with humble voice Beg at your graces and you shew no pittie But now your power is not life to restore Yet wast your powre t' haue let him liu'd afore But ah the passions that she then indured When false illusion did deceaue hir sight Of Hectors life hir selfe she halfe assured When he God knowes slept in eternal night Then was her greefe far greater than before And hope deluded made hir torment more Like to a Sayler beaten on the seas With boisterous tempests and outragious stormes Long wishing land for his reposed ease That spies by chance some earth-betokning formes And makes amaine to them with speedie course Hoping to find for sorrowe some remorse But when he comes to his desired ken And there doth find nor show nor signe of land O sillie man how is he greeued then That euer hope did beare him so in hand Then fals his hope he vnder hatches goes Leauing his life to Neptune to dispose Thus was she tost the sweetest soule aliue Billoes of water beate within hir breast No Phoebus saire the vapors dark may driue From that sweet Sphere whereon they were possest Sorrow it selfe I thinke did loue hir so That euen for loue t was loth awaie to goe For when she spake at length she gan to speake Things that are violent may not alway last With greefe and dolour did hir silence breake And euerie word of sorrowe had a tast Then in the anguish of an heauie hart To Hector thus hir mind she did impart Hector quoth she O thou that wert our staie More are the cares which I for thee sustaine Then were the woes of faithful Iulia Though for hir Lords loue she hir selfe hath slaine Yet can I neuer be sufficient sorie Seing thee dead that wert our only glorie Glory of Troy and wonder of the World Gem of true Nobles knight-hoods full suffisance Ah why hath Fortune now hir wheele so hurld To throw thee downe that wert our whole assurance While thou didst liue I anchored in thy might Now Hectors dead who shal for Helen fight Woes me alas this day the Fates conspire To worke my ruine and my endlesse vvoe Novv shall the Greekes enioy their full desire And I vvith home-spun Menalay shal goe Eyther to be vvith him a loathed vvife Or else haue iudgement here to lose my life Hard is the Laborinth that I labour in Deadly the drift that I am driuen to If I goe backe al Greece derides my sinne If here I stay I die that 's better tho Better to die a thousand deathes and more Then liue contemnd who honourd was before Yet wil my Paris fight in my defence So hath he vow'd for me and Hectors sake Achilles treason wil he recompence Or else such hurly-burly will he make As wel the Greeks his vengeance great shall know Thus in a furie did my Paris vow But ah my loue leaue off that resolution Troylus and Deiphobus shal fight for thee Worke not at once my whole confusion Stay thou at home and helpe to comfort me For if that thou shouldst eke by chance miscarry What were the greefes that in my hart would tarry The sweet yong Troilus that is yonder mourning To whom thou art and Hector was so deere Shal for you both with puissant hand be turning His hardie foes vnto a daunted feare He shal reuengement for my Paris make Which thou didst vow to doe for Hectors sake Then did she fly to Paris as he went Throwing hir Iuorie armes about his neck Criyng the hower of hir life was spent If vnto hir he had not due respect O stay with me and if thou needs must die We le die togither and togither lie But he whom now both loue and wrath had sworne To be reuenged for his brothers death These faire perswasions seemde to hold in scorne Although she praid him that was as the breath Of life to him his vow he would not misse He thus resolu`d they parted with a kisse A kisse sweete kisse for she did stay so long Hanging vpon him cleauing to his brest Sucking his lippes breathing in amoung His sigh-burnt lunges an aire that made them blest So neuer any had attaind such blisse Had not salt teares been mingled with that kisse Then to hir mourning did she fall anew Weeping for Hector and for Paris praieng This twofolde griefe so chang`d hir rosy hew That glorious beautie seemd to be decaying But that it might not part from such a place No more then`t could from morning Stellaes face Yet was she chang`d whom doth not sorrow breake The sweetest flowers soonest are a fading Beautie is mightie yet hir strength but weake If heauie care do once become hir lading Hir vertue strong triumphing ouer all Hir substance though most subiect vnto fall The meagre palenes of that fretfull worme Sitteth so nere to each true mourners skin That she that whilom was of lusty forme Through sorrowes anger looketh now but thin Thus Helen faire Helen began to fade On whom the Gods the Sunne of beauty laid Sooner doth fall the Rose then doth the Nettle The huswiues cloth out-lasts the silken twine The brier brags when goodly Oakes do settle Phoebus goes downe before that Cinthia shine Thing`s of esteem do fall when worse are stayd So Helen faire Helen began to fade Alas that Hector is not liuing still That Helens beautie might haue florisht euer O if such worthies must death rites fulfill And neither forme nor strength may them deliuer Why do so many men in these daies Horde vp such treasure and such buildings raise They make their houses like to goodly townes Proud stately turrets menacing the starres They do not know that fortune sometime frownes How ancient Citties are defac`d by warres Poore Troy and Verlam can declare of olde That fame doth lie in neither stones nor gould Nor do they thinke they can liue euer here