Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A11913
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The lamentable tragedie of Oedipus the sonne of Laius Kyng of Thebes out of Seneca. By Alexander Neuyle; Oedipus. English
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Seneca, Lucius Annaeus, ca. 4 B.C.-65 A.D.; Neville, Alexander, 1544-1614.
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1563
(1563)
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STC 22225; ESTC S110874
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28,354
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100
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y t sits in Seate on high and all the world dost guide And thou by whose comaundement the starres in skies do glide Thou thou that only ruler arte of seas and fluds and all On the and on thy Godhed great for these requests we call Who so hath slayn kinge Laius Oh Iâ—ue I do the praye Let thousande ils vpon him fall before hys dienge daye Let him no health no comfort haue buâ— al to crusht with cares Consume his wretched yeres in grief and though y t Death him spares A while Yet mischiefes all at once at lengthe vpon him light With all the euils vnder sonne that vglye Monster smight In exile let him lyue a slaue the rated course of life In Shame in Care in penurye in Daunger and in strife Let no man on him pitie take let all men him reuile Let him his mothers sacred Beds incestuouslye defyle Let him his father kill And yet let him do mischifes more what thing more heinous can I wish then that I wisht before Let him do all those illes I say that I haue shund and past All those and more if more maye be oh God vpon him cast Let hym no hope of pardon haue but sue and all in vayn All hellish Furies on him light for to encrease his payn Oh loue powre downe thy fury great thy thundryng thumps out throw Let Boreas boysterous blasts stormie Plages vpon him blow Consume hym quight Fret out his guts with Pockes botches vile Let all Diseases on hym lyght that wretched bodies fyle Let these and more if more may be vpon that Monster fall Let Harpies Pawes gredy paunche deuoure his members all Let no man hym regarde or seeke his lyms in graue to laye But let hym dye ten thousand deaths before his dieng daye By this my kyngdome I do sweare and kyngdom that I left By al my Countrey Gods that ben in Tempels close I keptâ— I sweare I vow I do protest and therto wytnes take The Stars the Seas the Earth all that ere thy hand dyd make Excepte that I my selfe forthwith this bludy Monster finde To wreke the wrath of God some way with solemne Oth I bynde And so my Father Polibuâ— his happy dayes outlyue And so my Mother Mâ—â—â—pâ— no Mariage new contriue As he shall dye that did this dede And none shall hym excuse What soeuer that he be I sweare for that he shortly rues But where this wicked dede was don Creon now tell me playne Boâ—h by what meanes where and how King Laius was slayne Passing through Castalia woods and Mowntayns heapd with Snow Creon Where Gâ—oues of scrubs Busshes thick Brambels sharp do grow A thre pathde crooked waye there is that diuersly doth go Oâ—e vnto Bacâ—hus Citie bends that Phocia doth hyght The other to the Lande of Sisâ—phus forth stretcheth out a ryght The thyrde at thende wherof a lothsom Serpent lyes Tends down vnto the Banck wherby Eleia water plyes The are mynding nought but peas a soden bande oâ— thâ—ues By open force of Armes owtright this mischiefâ— greate contriues But lo aswell as can be coms Tiresiâ—â— with trembling pace I thinke Appollos heauenly might hath brought him to this place Se where he comes and Manâ—o tâ— his wayes directinge goes ¶ The seconde Acte The seconde Sceane Oedypus Tyresias Manto Oedipus COme holye priest to Phebus next these doutfull aunswers lose And whom y e destnies wil to dy Straight wayes to me disclose Tyresias Renowmed Prince though stil I stand in silence dom dismayd And though by inward feare of mynd my lingringe tonge is staied â—et pardon me O â—oble Prince and giue me leue a while From â—aâ—k of sight â—prings Ignorance whiche power hath to exyle Unspotâ—â—d Truâ—h froÌ„ doutfull brâ—sts This thing full wel you knoe But whither god Countrie calles with willing mynde I goe Let dedlie fatall destenies be boulted out at lengthe O kinge if I of greener yeres had now my wonted strength This matter soone discust should be and I wold take in hande My selfe in presence of the Gods in temple for to stande A mighty Oxe all coulourd white vp on the Aultars reare Which neuer yet on weried necke the Croked yoke dyd beare And Manto thou O daughter myne myne onely prop and staye The secret hidden misteries and sacred signes out saye Manto The beste before the Aultare standes Tyresias To Gods a solemne praier make And on the holye Aultars to some pleasaunte odoures shake Manto Tis don And all the fiers fierce with incence bright do flame Tyresias O Manto now what signes seest thou how do thy matters frame What doth the fyre the Sacrifice encompas rounde about Manto Not so But first it mownts aloft and streight it flasheth out Tire Well Yet how doth the sacred flame all shining bright and cleare Hyt self on highe vnto the skies with sparkeling flakes vprâ—are Or doth it oft râ—bounding backe hit self from skies vnfould Or all with rumbling roring noise about the place ist rould Or miâ—t with smoke ist tost froÌ„ place to place now here now theare Manto Not all one but mingled colours the flame doth with it beare Much lyke vnto the Raynbow which hauing soundry hues Doth shew vnto the husbandmen the wether that ensues What colour it wants or what it hath to me is like vncertayn Now is it black now blue now red and euen now agayn Quight out it is Yet once again all fierce it flashing flames But lo yet miâ—chiefs more then this vnluckely it frames The fier quight asounder parts and flame with flame doth fight O father I abhorre to see this vglye lothesâ—m sight The wine to blud is turned quight and all the Prynces hed With thicke black clouds encoÌ„past is with smoke all ouer spred O father tel what this portends Tyresias What shuld I tell alas My mynde for feare astonied stands and trembling cold doth pas Through all my lims What shall I say or wher shal I begin O cruel Plages O wrekfull Gods O vengeaunce due for synne Som horrible mischief great alas these fearfull signes declare O Iupiter whats that y â— Gods wold haue reueld and yet do bid beware To vtter it They are ashamed I know not what Come hether quickely bring Som salte with the. Goe it vpon the wounded heâ—fer fling Howe now Dost once resistaunce make or doâ—th it gentlye bide The touchyng of thy sacred handes Manto His hed on highe he liftes And torning tâ— the East by course from thence he often shiftes Still lothinge as he semes to me Of heauen to see the light Oft scouling with his blearing eyes with gastely ruthefull sight Tire What Doth one blowe them driue to grouÌ„d or more then one they haue Manto The heifer as it seemd enflamd with couâ—age stoute and braue Upon the mortall Blade dyd rush and there himself destroyes When out the blud it foming spoutes and mounts vnto the Skies The bull twise stroke or thrise with groueling groning
wheele doth turne by course of kynde Thes greuâ—us Plags froÌ„ priuat hous to Princely Thrones do flow And oft theyr minds w t â—ares thei fous and thick vpon them strow Whole heapes of grief dyre debate A wofull thyng to see A Princely lyfe to mysers state conuerted for to bee O Oedipus thy fatall fall thy dredfull mischiefs ryght Thy dolfull state thy mysery thy thrise vnhappy plyght These thyngs shal blase through all y e world what hart may theÌ„ reioyce At thy dystresse I can no more my teares do stop my voyce But what is he that yonder stamps and ragyng puffs and blowes And often shakes his vexed head some mischief great he knowes What newes good syr with you ¶ The fyft Acte The fyrst Sceane Nuntius WHen Oedipus accursed wretche his fatall fals had spied And mischiefs great To Hell he damnd his wretched soule and on the Gods he cried For vengeaunce due And posting fast with frantik moode griesly hue Unto his dolfull Court he went his thoughts for to pursue Muche lyke a Lion rampyng wyld his furious head that shakes And roors w t thundring mouth alowd And often gnashing makes None otherwise this miser fared A lothsom syght to see Besydes hymself for very rage he styll desyres to die And rouling round his wretched eies with visage pale and wan Ten thousand Curses out he powres Hymself the vnhappiest man Of all that lyue he doth accownt As iustly he may doe A wretche A slaue A Caytyfe vyle The cause of all his woe And in this case enflamd with spite he cries he stamps he raues And boylyng in his secret thoughts he styll desyres to haue All torments vnder Son that may his Cares conceyued encreas O wretched wyght what shuld he do What man may hym releas Thus foming all for rage at mouth with syghs and sobs and grones His damned hed ten thousand tymes as oft his weryed bones He beats And often puffing makes and roors and swels and sweats And on the Gods for death he calles for Death he styll entreats Three tymes he dyd begyn to speake and thryse his tong dyd stay At length he cried out alowd O wretche Away away Away thou monstrous Beast he sayd Wilt thou prolong thy lyfâ— Nay rather som man stryke this brest with stroke of bludy knyfe Or all you Gods aboue on me your flamyng fyers outcast And dints of Thunderbolts down â—hrow This is my Prayer last What gredy vile deuouring Gâ—â—pe vpon my guts wyll gnaw What Tigre fierce my hatefull limâ— wyll quight asundre draw Loe here I am you Gods Loe here wreke now on me your wyllâ— Now now you fyry feends of Hell of vengeaunce take your fyll Send out som wild outrageous beast send Dogs me to deuoure Or els all yls you can deuyse at once vpon me powre O wofull soule O synfull wretche Why dost thou feare to dye Death only rids froÌ„ woes y u knowst Than stoutly Death defye With that his bluddy fatall Blade from out his sheath he drawes And lowd he cryes What now thou beast Why dost thou pawes Thy father y u hast slayn Thou thou Thou Cayteyf vyle Thou wretch y u Slaue y u Beast y u dost thy Mothers Bed defyle And Brothers y u hast got Nay Sons Sons Thou liest thy brothers all Thei ar Thus for thy monstrouâ— lust thy Countrey downe doth fall And thynkst thou than for al these yls enough so short a payne Thynkst y u the Gods wyll be apeasde yf thou forthwith be slayne So many mischiefs don And ist enough one stroke to byde Accownst â—hou it sufficient payne that once thy Blade shulde glyde Quight thrugh thy gilty guts for all Why then dispatche and dye So maist thou recoÌ„pence thy Fathers death sufficiently Let it be so What mends vnto thy Mother wylt thou makâ— Unto thy children what These plags how wylt thou slakâ— That al for theâ— thy Couâ—trey wasts One push shall ende them all A propre fetche A fyne deuyse For thee a worthy fall Inuent thou Monstrous Beast A fall ene worthy for The selfe inuent whom al mâ—n hate and loth and do abhor And as Dame Natures lawful cours is brooke thou wretche by thee So let to suche a mischiefe great thy Death agrâ—yng bee O that I might a thousand tymes my wretched lyfe renewe O that I myght reuyue and dye by Course in ordre dewe Ten hundred thousand tymes more Than shuld I vengeaunce take Upon this wretched pate Than I perhaps in part shuld make A meete amends outright for this my fowle and lothsom Syn. Than shuld y e proofe of payn reproue the lyfe that I lyue in The choyse is in thy hand y u wretche than vse thyne owne discretion And fynde a means wherby y u mayst com to extreme confusion And that y t oft thou mayst not doo let it prolonged bee Thus thus maist y u procure at length an endles Death to thee Serche out a death wherby y u mayst perpetuall shame obtayne And yet not dye But styll to lyue in euerlastyng payne Why stayst thou man Go to I say What meane these blubbring tears Why weepst thou thus Alas to late Leaue of thy foolysh feares And ist enough to weepe thinkst thou shall teares and waylyng serue No wretche it shall not be Thou dost ten thousand deaths deserue Myne eyes do dally with me I see and teares do styll out powre Shall gushyng teares suffice Not so I shall them better scowre Out w t thyne eyes he sayd And than with Fury fierce inflamd Lyke to a bludy ragyng Feend and Monstrous Beast vntamd With fyery flamyng spotted cheekes his brest he often beats And scratch and teare his face he doth and Skyn asundre freats That scarse his eies in hed could stand so sore he them besets With furyous fierce outrageous mynd he stamps cries alowd And roors rayls w t rampyng rage Thus in this case he stood Perplext and vexed sore in mynd with deadly sighs and teares When sodenly all franticklyke hymself from ground he rears And rooteth out his wretched eyes And syght asundre tears Than gnasheth he his bludy teeth and bites and gnawes champs His eiâ—s all bathd and brued in blood for fury fierce he stamps And ragyng more than nedes alas his eyes quight rooted out The very holes in vayn he scrapes so sore the wretche doth dâ—ut Least syght shuld chaunce for to remayn he rents mangls quight His face his eyes his nose his mouth And all wheron his hands do lyght He rygs ryues Thus fowly rayd alas in pyteous plyght At length his head aloft he lyfts and therwith gyues a shright And whan he sees that all is gone both lyght and syght and all Than schriching owt he thus begyns vpon the Gods to call Now spare you Gods spare now my Countrey prest to fall I haue done that you dyd coÌ„maund Your wraths reuenged bee This wretched looke this mangled