HEL ¶ Would god ther pounder of the gods would geue his dome so right That I also on poynt of sworde myght leese the lothsome light Or at Actulles tombe with stroke of Pyrrhus hand be sâ—ayne And beare a part of all thy fates O wretched Polyxeyne Whom yet Achilles wooth to wed and where his asshes lieâ— Requireth that thy blood be shed and at his tombe to die AN. ¶ Beholde loe how her noble minds of death doth gladly heare She decks her selfe her regall weede in semely wise to weare And to her hed she settes her hande the broyded heare to layâ— To wed she thought it death to dye she thinkes a wedding day But helpe alas my mother sowndes to heare her daughters death Arise plucke vp your hart and take againe the panting breath Black good mother how slender stayâ— that doth thy life sustaine A little thing shall happye thee thou arte almost past thy payne Her brethe returnes she doth reuiue her limmes their life do take So se when wretches faine would dieâ— how death doth them forsake HEC. ¶ Doth yet Achilles liue alas to worke the Troians spight Doth he rebell agaynst vs yet O hande of Parys light The very tombe and asshes loâ— yet thirsteth for our blood A happy heape of childern â—ateâ— on euery side me stood It weried me to deale the moâ— thers kisse among them all The rest are lost and this alonâ— now doth me mother call Thou only childe of Hecuba a comfort left to mee A stayer of my sory state and shall I now leese thee Departe O wretched soule and from this carefull carcas flye And case me of such ruthfull fates to se my daughter dye My weping wettes alas my eyesâ— and staines them ouer all And down my cheekes the sodein streames and showres of teares do fall But thou dere doughter mayst be gladde Cassandra woulde reioyce Or Hectors wife thus wed to bee if they might haue theyr choyce AN. ¶ We are the wretchis Hecuba in cursed case we stande Whom strayght the shippe shall tosse by seus into a foreine lande But as for Heleyns grieues be gone and turned to the best She shall agayne her natiue contrey see and liue at rest HELE ¶ Ye woulde the more enuy my state if ye might knowe your owne AN. ¶ And grouthe there yet more griefe to me that erâ—te I haue not knowne HELE ¶ Such maâ—â—ters must ye serue as doth by chaunce of lotts befall ANDR. ¶ Whose seruant am I then become whome shall I maister call HELE ¶ By lotte ye fall to Pyrrhus hands you are hys prysoner ANDR. ¶ Cassandra is happye fury saues perhaps and Phebus her HELE ¶ These king of Greekes Cassandra keepes and hys captiue is shee HEC. ¶ Is any one among them all that prysoner woulde haue me HELE ¶ You chaunsed to Ulysses are hys pray ye are become HEC. ¶ Alas what cruell dyre and yrefull dealet of the dome What god vniust doth so deuide the captiues to their lordes What greuous arbiter is he that to such choyse accordes What cruell hand to wretched folke so euill fates hath caste Who hath among Achilles armour Hectors mother plaste Now am I captiue and beset with all calamitee My bondage greeues me not but him to serue it shameth mee He that Achilles spoyles hath woon shall Hectors also haue Shall barraine lande enclosde with seas receyue my boanes in graue Leade me Ulysses where thou wilt leade me I make no stay My maister I and me my fates shall follow euery way Let neuer calme come to the seas but let them rage with windt Come fire and sword myne own mischafice and Priames let me finde In meane time haps this deepe distres my cares can know no calme I ran the race with Priamus but he hath woon the Palme But Pyrthus comes with swiftened pace and thretning browes doth wrest What stayest thou Pyrthus strike thy sworde now through this wofull brest And both at ones the parents of thy fathers wyfe now slay Murderer of age lykes thee her blood he drawth my daughter awaye Defile the gods and staine the sprighteâ—â— of hell with slaughtred blood To aske your mercye what auayles our praiers do no good The vengeance aske I on your ships that it the gods may pleas According to this sacrifice to guide you on the seas This wishe I to your thousand sayles Gods wrath light on them all Euen to the ship that beareth me what euer may befall Chorus A Comfort is to mans calamitie A dolefull flocke of felowes in distres And swete to him that morurnes in miseriâ— To heare them wayle whom sorowes like opprâ—â— In depest care his griefe him bytes the les That his estate bewailes not all alone But seeth with him the teares of many one For still it is the chefe delight in woe And ioy of them that sonke in sorowes are To see lyke fates byfall to many moe That may take parte of all their wofull fare And not alone to be opprest with care Ther is no wight of woe that doth complaynâ— when al the rest do like mischaunce sustaine In all this world if happy man were none None though he were would thinke hymself a wretche Let once the rytche with heapes of gold be gone whose hundred hed his pastours ouerretche Then would the poore mans hart begyn to stretche There is no wretche whose lyfe him doth displease But in respect of those that liue at ease Swete is to hym that standes in depe distres To see no man in ioyfull plight to be Whose only vessell wynd and waue oppres Full sore hys chaunce bewayles and wepeth he That with his owne none others wracke doth se When he alone makthe shipwrak on the sande And naked falles to long desyred lande A thousand sayle who seeth to drenche in seas with better will the storme hath ouerpast His heauy hap doth him the lesse displease When broken boardes abrode be many cast And shypwrackt shyppes to shore they flit full fast With doubled waues when stopped is the flood With heape of them that there haue lost theyr good Full sore dyd Phryxus Hellens losse complayne What tyme the leader of hys flocke of shepe Upon hys backe alone he bare them twayne And wet hys golden lockes amyd the depe In piteous playnt alas he gan to wepe The death of her it dyd hym depe displease That shypwrak made amyd the drenchyng seas And piteous was the playnt and heauy moode Of wofull Pyrâ—ha and eke Deucalion That nought behelde about them but the floode When they of all mankynde were left alone Amyd the seas full sore they made theyr mone To see themselues thus left alyue in woe When neyther land they saw nor fellowes moe A non these playnts and Troianes teares shall quasie And here and there the shyppe thâ—m tosse by seas When trompets sounde shâ—ll warne to hoyse vp sayle And through the waues with wynd to seke theyr wayâ—â— Then shall these captiues goe to
What euer then the ryse of some may see And what the weste that setts the sonne doth knowe In all Neptunus raigne what euer bee That restles seas doe washe and ouer flow with purple waues still tombling to and fro Age shall consume eche thing that liuthe shâ—ll die With swifter race then Pegasus doth flie And with what whyrle the twise sixe signes do flie With course as swift as rectoure of the spheares Doth guide those glistring globes eternallie And Hecate her chaunged hornes repeares So drauthe on deathe and life of eche thing weares And neuer may the man retourne to sight That once hath felâ— the stroke of Parcas might For as the fume that from the fire doth pas With tourne of hande doth vanishe out of sight And swifter then the northen boreas With whirling blaste and storme of raging might Driuthe far away and puttes the cloudes to flyght So fleeth the spright that rules our life away And nothing taryeth after dying day Swift is the race we ronne at hand the marke Laye downe your hope that weight here ought to wyâ— And who dredes ought cast of thy carefull carke Wilt thou it wotte what state thou shalt be in When deade thou arte as thou hadst neuer bin For gredy time it doth deuour vs all The worlde it swayes to Chaos heape to fall Death-hurtes the corps and spareth not the spright And as for all the dennes of Tenare deepe With Cerberus kingdome darke that knowes no lyght And streightest gates that he there sits to keepe They fansyes are that followe folke by sleept Such rumours vayne but fayned lies they are And fables lyke the dreames in heauy care These three staues following are added by the translatour O dreadfull day alas the sory time Is come of all the mothers ruthfull wo Istranax alas thy fatall line Of life is worne to death straight shalt thou go The sisters haue decreed it should be so There may no force alas escape their hande The mighty Ioue their will may not withstande To see the mother her tender childe forsake What ientle hart that may from teares reframe Or who so fierce that would not pittie take To see alas the gilties infant slaine For sory hart the teares mine â—yes do staine To thinke what sorowe shall her hart oppresse Her little chylde to leese remedylesse The double cares of Hectors wife to wayle Good Ladies haue your teares in reddines And you with whom should pitie most preuaile Rue on her greefe bewaile her heauines With sobbing hart lament her deepe distres When she with tearesâ— shall take leaue of her soon And now good ladies here what shall be doon The thirde acte Andromacha Senex Vlisses ALas ye carefull company why halâ— ye thus your heares Why beate you so your boyling brâ—stes and staine your iyes with teares The fall of Troy is new to you but vnto me not so I haue foresene this carefull case ere thys time long ago When fierce Achilles Hector slewe and drew the corps abought Then then me thought I wist it well that Troy should come to nought In sorowes sonke I sensles am and wrapt alas in woe But soone except thys babe me helde to Hector would I goe Thys seely soole my stomack tames amyd my miserye And in the houre of heauiest happes permittes me not to dye Thys onely cause constraynth 〈◊〉 yet the Gods for him to pray with trackt of time prolonges my payne delayes my dying daye He takes fro me the lacke of feare the onely frute of yll For while he liues yet haue I lefte wherof to feare me styll No place is left for better chaunce with woorse we are opprest To scare alas and se no hope is worste of all the rest SEN. ¶ What sodaine feare thus moues your minde and vexeth you so sore ANDR. ¶ Still stil alas of one mishap there ryseth more aâ—d more Not yet the dolefull destenyes of Troy become to ende SEN. ¶ And what more grieuous chaunces yet prepare the gods to sende SEN. ¶ The caues and deâ—s of hell be rent for Troians greater feare And from the bottomes of theyr tombes the hidden sprightes appeare May none but Greekes alone from hell returne to lyfe agayne Would god the fates would finishe soone the sorowes I sustaine Death thankfull were a common care The Troians all oppres But me alas amaseth moste the fearefull heauines That all astonied aâ— for dreade and horrour of the sight That in my sleepe appearde to me by dreame this latter night SEN. Declare what sightes your dreame hath showed and tell what doth you feare ANDR. ¶ Two partes of all the silent night almost then passed weare And then the clere seuen clustred beames of starres were fallen to rest And first the slepe so long vnknowne my weried iyes opprest If this be slepe the astonied mase of minde in heauy moode When sodenly before mine iyes the spright of Hector stoode Not like as he the Greekes was wâ—nt to battaile to require Or when amid the Grecians shippes he threw the brandes of fyre Nor such as raging on the Grekes with slaughtring stroke had slaine And bare in dede the spoiles of him that did Achilles fayne His countenance not now so bright Nor of so liuely chere But sad and heauy like to owres and cladde with vglie heare It did me good to se him though when shaking then his hed Shake of thy slepe in hast he sayd and quickly leaue thy bed Conuey into some secret place our sonne O faithfull wife Thys onely hope there is to helpe finde meane to saue his life Leaue of thy piteous teares he sayde doost thou yet waile for Troy Would god it lay on grownde full flatte so ye might saue the boy Up stirre he sayd thy selfe in hast conueye him priuelie Saue if ye may the tender blood of Hectors progenie Then straight in trembling feare I wâ—nte and roulde mine iyes abought Forgetting long my childe pore wreâ—che and after Hector sought But straight alasâ— I wist not how the spright away did passt And me forsoke before I coulde my husbande once embrasse O childe O noble fathers broode and Troians only ioye O worthy seede of thauncient bloode and beaten house of Troye O ymage of thy father loe thou liuely bearst his face Thys countenance 〈◊〉 my Hector â—ad and euen such was his pace The pitche of all his body such his handes thus would he beare His shoulders hygh his thâ—etning 〈◊〉 euen such as thine they weare O sonne begotte to late for Troye but borne to soone for me Shall euer tyme yet come againe and happy day may be That thou mayst once reuenge and builde againe the towres of Troye And to the towne and Troians bothe restore theyr name with ioye But why do I forgetting state of present desteny So great thinges wisheâ— enough for captiues is to liue onely Alas what priuyâ— place is left my little childe to hyde What seate so secret may be founde where thou mayste safely bide
of death would soone vâ—â—ou ANDR. ¶ Ulysses if ye will constrayne Andromacha with feare Threten my lyfe for now to dye my chiefe desyre it weare ULY. ¶ With steppes with fyre tormenting death we will the trueth out wrest And dolour shall thee force to tell the secretes of thy brest And what thy hart hath deepest hyd for payne thou shalt expres Oftymes thextremitie preuayles much more then ientlenes ANDR. ¶ Set me in midst of burning flame with woundes my body rent Use all the meanes of crueltie that ye may all inuent Prouethe with thyrst and hunger both and euery torment trye Pearce through my â—ides with burning yrons in prison let me lye Spare not the woorst ye can deuyse if ought be worse then this Yet neuer geat ye more of me I wot not where he is ULY. ¶ It is but vayne to hyde the thing that straight ye will deteckte No feares may moue the mothers hart she doth them all neglecte This tender loue ye beare your childe wherin ye stande so stoute So muche more circumspectly warâ—the the Greekes to looke aboute Least after ten yeres trachte of time and battaile borne so farre Some one should liue that on our children might renew the warre As for my selfe what Calchas sayeth I would not feare at all But on Telemachus I dreade the smarte of warres woulde faâ— AN. ¶ Now will I make Ulysses gladde and all the Greekes also Needes must thou wofull wretch confesse declare thy hidden wo. Reioyce ye sonnes of Atreus there is no cause of dred Be glad Ullysses tell the Greekes that Hectors sonne is ded ULY. ¶ By what assurance prouest thou thatâ— How shall we credite the AN. ¶ What euer thing the enâ—ies hand may threaten hâ—ppe to me Let spedy fates me slaye forthwith and earth me hide at ones And after death from tombe againe remoue yet Hectors bones Except my soon already now do rest among the ded And that except Astyanax into his tombe be fed ULY. ¶ Then fully â—re the fates 〈◊〉 with Hectors childes disceace Now shall I beare the Grecians worde of sure and certaine peace Ulysses why what doost thou now the Greekes will euery chone Beleue thy wordes whom credit she thou the mothers tale alone Thinkst thou for sauegarde of her chylde the mother will not lie And bread the more the worse mischaunce to gyue her sonne to dye Her faith she bindes with bonde of othe the trueth to verifie What thing is more of weight to feare then so to sweare and lye Now call thy craftes togither all bestirre thy wits and minde And show thy selfe Ulysses now the truthe herin to finde Searche well the mothers minde beholde she weepes and waileth out And here and there with doutfull pace she rangeth all about Her careful eares she doth applie to harken what I say More fraide she seemes then sorowfull Now worke some wilye way For 〈…〉 there is and crafty pollecie Yet once againe by other 〈◊〉 I will the mother triâ— Thou wretched woman mayst reioyeâ— that dead he is alas More dolefull death by desteny for him decreed ther was From Turrets top to haue been cast and cruelly been slayne Which only towre of all the rest doth yet in Troy remayne ANDR. ¶ My spright faâ—â—th me my limmes do quaâ—e feare doth my wittes confound And as the yâ—e congeales with frost my blood with colde is bound ULYS. ¶ â—he trembleth toâ— this way this way I will the trueth out wrest The mothers feare detecteth all the secretes of her brest I will renew her feare goe â—ears bestyrre ye spedely To seke this enmy of the Grekes where euer that he lye Well done he will be found at length go to sâ—ill seke hym out Now shall he dye what dost thou feare why dost thou looke about ANDR. ¶ Would god that any cause ther were yet left that might me fray My hart at last now all is lâ—â—t hath layde all feare away ULYS. ¶ Sins that your chyld now hath ye say already suffred death And with his blood we may not pourge the hostes as Calchas sayth Our flete passe not as well inspired doth Calchas prophecy Tyll Hectors ashes cast abrode The waues may pacify And tombe be rent now sins the boy hath scapt his desteny Nedes must we breake this holy tombe where Hectors ashes lye ANDR. ¶ What shall I do my mynd distracted is with double feare On thone my sonne on thother syde my husbandes ashes deare Alas which part should moue me most the cruell goddes I call To witnes with me in the truth and ghostes that guyde thee all Hector that nothing in my soon is els that pleaseth me But thou aloneâ— god graunt him lyfe he might resemble the Shall Hectors ashes â—rowned be byde I such cruelty To see hys bones cast in the seas yet let Astianax dyeâ— And canst thou wretched mother byde thint owne chyldes death to see And 〈◊〉 from the hyâ— towres top that hedlong throwne he be I can and will take in good part his death and cruell payne So that my Hector 〈◊〉 death â—e not remoued agayne The boye that life and senses hathe may feele hys payne and dye But Hector loe hys deathe hathe plaste at rest in tombe to lye What doost thou stay determyne which thou wilt preserue of twayne Art thou in doubte saue thys loe here thy Hector dothe remayne Dothe Hectors be thone quick of spright and drawing toward hys strengthe And one that may perhaps reuenge hys fathers deathe at lengthe Alas I can not saue them bothe I thinke that best it weare That of the twayne I saued hym that dothe the Grecyans feare ULY. ¶ It shalbe done that Calchas woordes to vs dothe Prophecyeâ— And nowe shall all thys sumpteous woorke be throwne downe vtterlye AN. ¶ That once ye solde UL. ¶ I will it all from toppe to bottom rende ANDR. ¶ The fayth of Godds I call vppon Achilles vs defende And Pyrrhus ayde thy fathers ryght ULY. ¶ Thys tombe abrode shall lye ANDR. ¶ O mischiefe neuer durst the Greekes showe yet suche crueltye Ye strayne the Temples and the Godds that moste haue fauorde you The deade ye spare not on theyr tâ—â—bes your furye rageth now I will theyr weapons all resist my selfe wyth naked hande The yre of harte shall geeue me strength theyr armoure to withstande As fierce as dyd the Amasones beate downe the Greekes in fight And Menas once enspyrde with God in sacryfice dothe smyght With speare in hande and while with furious pace she treades the grounde And woode as one in rage she strikes and feelythe not the wounde So wyll I ronne on midste of them and on theyr weapons dye And in defence of Hectors tombe among hys asshes lye ULY. ¶ Cease ye â— dothe rage and fury vayne of woman moue ye ought Dispatch with speede what I commaunde and plucke downe all to nought ANDR. ¶ Slay me rather here with swoorde ridde me out of the waye Breake vp the deepe
the fautes seing that I haue herein but onely made way to other that can farre better do thys or like desyring them that as they can so they woulde Fare well geÌ„tle reader accept my good will The preface to the tragedye THe ten yeares stege of Troy who list to here And of thaffaires that there befell in fight Reade ye the workes y e long sins written were Of all thassautes and of that latest night When Turrets tops in Troy they blased bright Good clerkes they were that haue it written well As for thys worke no worde therof doth tell But dares Phrygian well can all reporte With dictis eke of Crete in grekishe tong And Momere telles to Troy the Greekes resort In scanned verse and Maro hath it song Eche one in writ hath pend a story long Who doubtes of ought and casteth care to knowe These antique authors shall the story showe The ruines twainâ— of Troy the cause of eche The glittering holmes in fielde the banners spred Achilles yres and Hectors fightes they teache There may the iestes of many a knight be redâ— Patroclus Pyrrhus Aiax Diomed With Troylus Parys many other more That day by day there sought in field full sore And how the Grekes at ende an engine made A hugye horse where many a warlike knight Enclosed was the Troianes to inuade With Synons craft when Greekes had fained flight While close they lay at Tenedos from sight Or how Eneas els as other say â—nd false Antenor did the towne betray But as for me I nought therof endight Mine author hath not all that story â—end My pen hys wordes in englishe must resight Of latest woes that fell on Troy at ende What finall fates the cruell gods could sende And how the Grekes when Troy was burnt gâ—n wreâ—â— Theyr ire on Troians therof shall I speake Not I with speare who pearced was in fielde Whose throte there cut or head yâ—orued was Ne bloodshed blowes that rent both â—arge and shielde Shall I resight all that I ouer pas The worke I wâ—ight more wofull is alas For I the mothers teares must here complaine And blood of babes that giltles haue been slaine And such as yet coulde neuer weapon wrest But on the lappe are woont to dandled be Ne yet forgotten had the mothers brest How greekes them slew alas here shall ye se To make reporte therof ay woe is me My song is mischiefe murder miserye And hereof speakes thys dolfull tragedye Thou fury fell that from thy deepest den Couldest cause thys wrath of hell on Troy to lyght That workest woe guyde thou my hand and pen In weepyng verse of sobbes and sighes to wright As doth mine aucthor them be waile aryght Helpe wofull Muse for me besemeth will Of others teares with wrepyng â—ye to tell When battred were to grounde the towres of Troye In writ as auncient authors do â—esight And Greekes againe repayrde to sens with ioye Up ryseth here from hell â—chilles spright Uengeance he craues with blood his death to quight Whom Parys had in Phebus temple slaine with guile betrapt for loue of Polyxeyne And wrathe of hell there is none other price That may asswage but blood of her alonâ— Polyxena he craues for sacrifice With threatninges on the grecians many one Except they shed her blood before they gone The sprightes the hell and depest pittes byneathe O virgin dere alas do thrust thy deathe And Hectors sonne Astyanax alas Pore seely foole hys mothers onely ioye Is iudge to die by sentense of Calchas Alas the while to death is led the boye And tumbled downe from Turrets â—ops in Troy What ruthfull teares may serue to wayle the woe Of Hectors wife that doth her childe forgot Her pinching pang of harte who may expresse But such as of like woes haue borne a parteâ— Or who bewayle her ruthfull heuinesse That neuer yet hath felt therof the smart Full well they wote the wâ—â—s of heauy hart What is to leese a babe from mothers brest They know that are in such a case distrest Fyrst how the Quene lamentes the fall of Troy As hath myne author done I shall it wright Next how from Hectors wife they led the boy To dye and her complaintes I shall resight The Maydens death then must I last endyght Now who that list the Quenes complaint to heare In following verse it shall forthwith appeare The speakers in this tragedie Hecuba Queene of Troy A company of women The spright of Achilles Talthybius a Grecian Agamemnon Kyng of Grekes Calchas Pyrrhus Chorus â—ndromacha An olde man Troian Ulysses Astyanax Helena The messenger TRO AS OF SFNECA The first acte Hecuba WHo so in pompe of prowde estate or kingdome sets delight Or who that ioyes in princes court to beare the sway of might Ne dredes the fates which from aboue the wauering gods downe flinges But fast affiaunce fixed hath in fraile and fickle thinges Let him in me both see the face of fortunes flattring ioye And eke respect the ruthfull ende of the O rumons Troye For neuer gaue she plainer proofe then thys ye present se How fraile and brittle is thestate of pride and high degre The flowre of flowring Asia loâ— whose fame the heauens resounde The worthy woorke of gods aboue is batered downe to grounde And whose assautes they sought afarre from west with banners spredde where Tanais colde her branches seuen abrode the worlde doth shedde With hugye host and from the east where springes the newest dea Where Luke warme Tygris chanell runs and metes the ruddy sea And which from wandering lande of Scythe the bande of widowes sought With fire and sworde thus battred be her turrets downe to nought The walles but late of high renowne lot here their rumous fall The buildings burne and flashing flame swepes through the palays all Thus euery house full hye it smokes of olde â—ssaraâ—lls lande Ne yet the â—â—ame witholdes from spoyle the gredo victours hande The surging smoke the asure skye and light hath hid away And as with clowde beset troyes asshes staynes the dusky day Through pearst with ire and gredy of hart the victor from a farre Doth vewe the long assauted Troy the gayne or ten yeres warre And eke the miseries therof abhorres to looke vpon An though he see it yet scant himselfeâ— beleues it might be won The spoyles therof wyth gredy hand they snatche and beare away A thousand shippes would not receiue a boorde so huge a pray The prefull might I doe protest of goddes aduerse to me My contries dust and Troiane king I call to witnes thee Whom Troy now hides and vnderneth the stones arte ouer trode With all the gods that guyde thy ghost and Troy that lately stode And you also yt flocking ghostes of all my children dere Ye lesser sprightes what euer ill hath hapned to vs here What euer Phebus waterishe â—ace in fury hath foresayde At raging rise from seas when erste the monstres had him frayde In childbed bandes I saw it
thou be that leadst thy land alone thy life was limite from thy mothers wombe Not purple robe not glorious glittring throne ne crowne of golde redemes the from the tombe A king he was that wayting for the vayle of him that slew the Minotaure in fight Begylde with blackenes of the wonted sayle in seas him sonke and of his name they hight So he that wilde to win the golden spoyle and first with ship by seas to seke renowne In lesser waue at length to death gan boyle and thus the daughters brought their father downeâ— Whose songes the woodes hath drawen and riuers held and byrdes to heare his notes did theyrs forsake In peece meale throwne amid the Thracian feelde without returne hath sought the Stigian lake They sit aboue that hold our life in line and what we suffre downe they fling from hye No carke no care that euer may vntwine the thrids that wouen are aboue the skye As witnest he that somtime kyng of Greece had Iason thought in drenching sees to drowne who scapte both death and gaynde the golden fleece whom sates aduaunce ther may no powre pluck downe The highest god somtime that Saturne hight his fall him taught to credit their decryes The rule of heauens he lost it by their might and Ioue his sonne now turnes the rolling skyes Who weneth here to win eternall welth let him behold this present perfit proofe And learne the secrete steppe of chaunces stelth most nere alas when most it semes aloofe In slipper ioy let no man put his trust let none dispayre that heauy happes hath past The swete with sowre she mingleth as she lust whose doubtfull web pretendeth nought to last Frayltie is the thrid that Clothoes rocke hath sponne now from the distaffe drâ—wne now knapt in twayne With al the world at length his end he wonne whose works haue wrought his name sholl gret remain and he whose trauelles twelue his name display that feared nought the force of worldly huâ—t In fine alas hath found his fatall day and dyed with smart of Dianyraâ—s shurt If prowes might eternitie procure then Pryame yet should liue in lyking lust â—y portly pompe of pride thou art vnsure â—o learne by him o lunges ye are but dust and Hecuba that waileth now in care that was so late of high estate a Queene a mirrour is to teache you what you are your wauering welth o princes here is seene Whom dawne of day hath seen in high estate before sonnes set alas hath had his fall The cradelles rocke apointes the lyfe his date from setled ioy to sodayn funerall The second acte ¶ The sprite of Achilles added to the tragedie by the translatour The first seeane FOrsaking now the places tenebrous and depe dennes of thinfernal regione from all the shadowes of â—listous That wander there the pathes full many onâ— Lo here am I returned all alone The same Achill whose feerce and heauy hand Of all the world no wight might yet withstand What man so stout of all the Grecians host That hath not somtime craued Achilles aide and in the Troians who of prowes most That hath not fearde to see my banners splayde Achilles lo hath made them all afrayde and in the Grekes hath been a piller post That sturdy stode against ther Toiane host Where I haue lackte the Grecians went to wracke Troy hath proude what Achilles sword could do Where I haue come the Troianes fled a backe Retiring fast from field their walles vnto No man that might Achilles stroke fordo I dealt such stripes amid the Troian route That with their blood I stainde the fieldes about Mighty Memnon that with his Persian bande Would Pryames part with all his might mayntaynâ— Lo now he lythe and knoweth Achilles hand amid the field is Troylus also slayne Ye Hector grâ—at whom Troy accounted playne The flowre of chiualry that might be found all of Achilles had their mortall wound But Paris lo such was his false disceite Pretending mariage of Polyxeine Behind the aulter lay for me in wayte Where I vnwares haue falne into the trayne And in Appolloes church he hath me slaine Wherof the bell will now iust vengeance haue And here agayne I come my right to craue The depe Auerne my rage may not sustayne Nor beare the angers of Achilles spright From Acheront I rent the soyle in twayne and through the ground I gratâ— again to sight Hell could not hide Achilles from the light Uengeans and blood doth Orcus pit require To quench the furies of Achilles yre The hatefull landâ— that worse then Tartarâ— is and burning thrust excedes of Tantalus I here beholde againe and Troye is this O trauell worse thâ—n slonâ— of Sisyphus and paynes that passe the panges of Tityus To light more lothsome surie hath me sent Then hooked whele that Iâ—ions fleshe doth rent Remembred is alowe where spretes do dwell The wicked slaughter wrought by wyly way Not yet reuenged hath the depest hell Achilles blood on them that did him slay But now of vengeans comes the yrefull day and darkest dennes of Tartare from beneath Conspire the fates of them that wrought my death Now mischief murder wrath of hell drawth nere and dyre Phlegethon flood doth blood require Achilles death shalbe reuenged here With slaughter such as Stygian lakes desyre Her daughters blood shall slake the sprites yre Whose sonne we slew wherof doth yet remayne The wrath beneath and hell shalbe theyr payne From burning lakes the furies wrath I threate and syer that nought but streames of blood may slake The rage of wynde and seas these shippes shal beate and Ditis depe on you shal vengeans take The sprites crye out the earth and seas do quake The poole of Styx vngrateful Grekes it seath With slaughtred blood reuenge Achilles death The soile doth shake to beare my heauy foote and fearth agayn the sceptours of my hand The poales with stroke of thunderclap ring out The doubtful starres amid their course do stand and fearful Phebus hides his blasing brand The trembling lakes agaynst their course do slyte For dreade and terrur of Achilles spryte Great is the raunsom ought of dewe to me Wherwith yt must the sprites and hell appease Polyxena shal sacrifised be Upon my tombe their yreful wrath to please and with her blood ye shal asswage the sease Your ships may not returne to Greece againe Til on my tombe Polyxena be slayne And for that she should then haue been my wyle I will that Pyrrhus render her to me and in such solemne sort byreeue her lyfe as ye are wont the weddinges for to see So shall the wrath of hell appeased be Nought els but this may satisfye our yre Her will I haue and her I you require The second sceane Talthybius Chorus ALas how long the lingring greekes in heauen do make delay When either war by seas they seeke or home to pas their way CHO. ¶ Why shew what cause doth hold your ships and Grecian nauie stayes Declare if
the might of men With fewer then a thousande shippes and yeres in les then ten Not she that guides the slipper whelâ— of fate doth so delaye That she to all possession grauntes of ten yeres setled staye With leaue of Greecâ— I will confesse I would haue woâ—ne the towne But not with ruine thus 〈◊〉 to se it beaten downeâ— But loe the battel made by night and rage of feruent minde Could not abyde the brideling bitte that reason had assinde The happy sword once staynde with blood vnsacyable is And in the darke the feruent rage doth strike the more amis Now are we wreake on Troy to much let all that may remaine A virgin borne of princes blood for offring to be slaine And geuen be to staine the tomâ—e and ashes of the ded And vnder name of wedlocke se the giltles blood be shed I will not graunt for mine should bee therof both faute and blame Who when he may forbiddeth not offence doth will the same PYR. ¶ And shall hys sprightes haue no rewarâ—â— their angers to appayse AG. Yeâ— very great for all the worldâ— shall celebrate hys prayse And landes vnknowne that neuer sâ—w the man so praisde by fame Shall here and keepâ— for many yeres the glory of his name If bloodshed vayle hys ashes ought strike of an oxeâ— hed And let no blood that may be cause of mothers teares be shed What furious franâ—ye may this be that doth your wyll so leade This earnest carefull sute to make in trauaile for the deade Let not such enuy towarde your father in your hart remaine That for hys sacrifice ye woulde procure an others payne PYR. ¶ Proude tyrant while prosperitiâ— thy stomacke doth aduaunce And cowardly wretch that shrinks for ferâ— in case of fearefull chaunce Is yet againe thy brest enflamde with brande of venus might Wilt thou alone so oft depriue A chilles of hys right Thys hand shall giue the sacrifice the which if thou withstande A greater slaughter shall I make and worthy Pyrrhus hande And now to long from princes slaughter doth my hande abide And meete it were that Polyâ—eine were layde by Priames syde AG. I nought deny but Pyrrhus chiefe renowne in warre is this That Priam slaine wyth cruell sworde to your father humbled is PYR. ¶ My fathers foes we haue them knowne submit themselues humblye And Pryam presently ye wotte wâ—s gladdde â—o craue mercyeâ— But thoâ— for feare not stout to rule lyest close from â—oes vp shit While thou to Aiax and vlisses doosâ—e thy will commit AG. ¶ But nedes I must and will confesse your father dyd not feare When burnt our fleete with Hectors brandes and Greekes they slawghtred weate While loytring then a loofe he lay vnmindefull of the â—ight In steade of armes with scratche of quill hys sownding harpe to smight PYR. ¶ Great Hector then despising the Achilles songes dyd feare And thessale shippes in greatest drede in quiet peace yet weare AG. ¶ For why aloofe the thessale fleeteâ— they lay from Troâ—ans handes And well your father might haue rest he felt not Hectors brandes PYR. ¶ Well semes a noble king to giue an other king reliefe AG ¶ Whâ—e hast thou then a worthie king beâ—ieued of hys lyefe PYR. ¶ â— point of mercie sometime is what liueâ— in care to kill AG. ¶ But now your mercie moueth you a virgins death to will PYR. ¶ Account ye cruell now her death whose sacrifice I craue Your own ders daughter once ye know your selfe to thaulters gâ—ue AG. Nought els could saue the Grekeâ— from staâ— but thonâ—â—e blood of her A king before his children ought his countrey to prefer PYR. ¶ The law doth spare no captiues blood nor wilthe their death to staye AG. ¶ That which the law doth not forbid yet shame doth ofte say nay PYR. ¶ The conquerour what thing he lyst may lawfully fulfill AG. ¶ So much the les he ought to lyst that may do what he will PYR. ¶ Thus boast ye these as though in all ye onely dare the stroke When Pyrthus loosed hath the greekes from bondâ— of ten yeres yoke AG. ¶ Hath Sâ—yros yle such stomaks bredâ— PYR. ¶ No bretherns wrath it knowtâ— AG. ¶ Beset about it is with waue PYR. ¶ The seas it do enclose â—hyestes noble stock I knowe and Atreus eke full well And of the bretherns dire debate perpetuall faine doth tell AG. ¶ And thou a bastarde of a mayde deflowred priuely Whom then a boy Achilles gate in filthy letchery PYR. ¶ The same Achill that doth posses the raigne of goddes aboue With â—hetys seas with â—â—cus sprightes the starred heauen with Ioue AG. ¶ The same Achilles that was stâ—ine by stroke of parys â—onde PYR. ¶ The same Achilles whom no god durst euer yet withstande AG ¶ The stoutest man I rather wouldâ— hys chekes he should refraine I could them tame but all your bragges I can full will sustaine For euen the captiues spares my sworde let Calchas called be If destenies require her blood I wyll therto agre Calchas whose counsell rulde our shippes and nauy hyther brought Unlokst the poâ—le and hast by arte the secretes therof sought To whom the bowelles of the beast to whom the thunder clap And blasâ—ng starre with flaming traine betokeneth what shall haâ— Whose wordes with decrest price I bought now tell vs by what meane The will of Gods agreeth that we returne to Greece againe CAL. ¶ The fates apoint the Grekes to bye theyr waleâ— with wonted price And with what cost ye came to Troy ye shall repayre to Greece With blood ye came with blood ye must from hence returne againe And where Achilles ashes lyeth the virgin shall be slaine In â—â—mely sort of habiteâ— such as maydens wont ye se Of Thessalie or Myeenâ—s els what time they wedded be With Pyrrhus hand she shall be slaine of right it shalbe so And meete it is that he the soâ—ne his fathers right should do But not this only stayeth our shippes our sayles may not be spred Before a worthier blood then thine Polâ—â—ena be shed which thirst the fates for â—riâ—mes nephew Hectors little boye The grekes shall tumble hedlong downe from hyghest towre in Troy Let him there die this only way ye shall the gods appeas Then spread your thousand sayles with ioy ye nede not feare the seas Chorus MAy thys be true or doth the fable fayne When corps is dead the sprite to liue as yetâ— when death our tyes with heauy hand doth straine And fatall day our leames of light hath shet And in the tombe our ashes once be set Hath not the soule likewise his funerall But still alas do wretches liue in thrall Or els doth all at once together dyeâ— And may no part his fatall howre delay But with the breath the soule from hence doth flieâ— Amid the cloudes to vanish quite away As dankye shade fireth from the yonâ—â— by day And may no iote escape from destenie When once the brande hath burnde the bodye
ende theyr dayes In land vnknowne when once with hasty ore The drenching depe they take and shonne the shore What state of mynde shall then in wretches â—e When shore shall synke from syght and seas aryse When I dey hyll to lurke aloofe they see Then poynt with hand from farre where Troia lyse Shall chyld and mother talking in thys wyse Loe yonder Troye where smoke it fumeth hye By this the Troianes shall theyr countrey spye The fifth acte Messenger Andromacha Hecuba ODyre fierce wretched horrible o ciuil fates accutlle Of Matsh 〈…〉 yeres bloodshed blowes the wofulst and the wurste A laâ— which sâ—ould I syrâ—â— bewayle thy cares Andromachaâ— Or els lament the wretched age of wofull â—ecaba HEC What euer â—â—ns calamities yâ— wayle for mine it is I beare the smart of all their woes eche other feeles but hys Who euer he I am the wretche all happes to me at last MES. Slaine is the mayde and from the wâ—lles of Troy the childe is cast But both as them became they toke their death with sâ—omack stout ANDR. Declare the double slaughters thenâ— and tell the whole throughout MES. ¶ One towre of all the rest ye knoweâ— doth yet in Troy remaine Where Pryam wonted was to sit and vewe the armyes twaine His little Nephew the with him to leade and from a farre His fathers â—ightes with fyre and swoordâ— to showe and feates of warre This towre somtime well knowne by fame and Troians honor most Is now with captaines of the Greekes beset on euery coaste With swift recourse and from the shippes in clustred heapes anone Both tagge and â—agge they ronne to gâ—â—â—â— what thing should there be done Some clime the hilles to seeke a placeâ— where they might see it best Some on the rockes a tiptoe standeâ— to ouerlooke the rest Some on theyr temples weare the Pyne some beeche some crownes oâ— baye For garlandes torne is euery tree that standeth in theyr waye Some from the highest mowntaynes top aloofe beholdeth all Some scaâ—e the buyldings halfe yburnte and some the ruynous wall Ye some there weare o mischiefe loe that for the more despyght The tombe of Hector sitts vpon beholders of the sight With pryncely pace Ulysses then past through the preasyd bâ—nde Of Greekes kyng Pryames little Nephew leadyng by the hande The chylde with vnrepining gate past through hys enmyes handes Up toward the walles and as anone in turretts top he standes From thence adowne hys loâ—tye lookes he cast on euery parte The neerer death more free from care he seemde and feare of harte Amyd hys â—oes hys stomake swelles and fierce he was to syght Like Tygers whelye that threats in vaine with toothlesse chap to byght Alas for pittye them eche one 〈◊〉 on hys tender yeares And all the rowte that present were for him they shed theyr teares Yea not Ulysses them restraynde but tricklyng downe they fall And onely he wept not poore foole whome they bewayled all But whyle on Gods Ulysses callde and Calchas woords expounde In midste of Pryames land alas the childe leapte downe to grounde AN. ¶ What crewell Colchus coulde or scythe such slaughter take in hande Or by the shore of Caspyan sea what barbarous lawles lande Busyrides to thaulters yet no infantes bloode hath shed Nor neuer yet were children slayne for feaste of Dyomed Who shall alas in tombe thee laye or hyde thy limmes againe MES. ¶ What lymmes froÌ„ such a hedlong fall coulde in a chylde remayne Hys bodyes payse throwne downe to grounde hathe battred all hys boanes Hys face hys noble fathers markes are spoylde agaynst the stoaâ—es Hys necke vnioynted is hys hed so dashte with flint stone stroake That scattred is the brayne aboute the sculle is all to broake Thus lieth he now dismembred corps deformde and all to rent ANDR. Lot herein doth he yet likewise hys father represent MES. What tyme the chylde had hedlong falne thus from the walles of Troye And all the Greekes them selues bewaylde the slaughter of the boye Yet streyght returne they backe and at Achilles tombe agayne The second mischiefe goe to woorke the deathe of Polyxeyne This tombe the waues of surging seas beset the vtter syde The other parte the feeldes encloase aboute and pastours wyde In vale enuyroned with hilles that rounde aboute do ryse A sloape on heyght erected are the bankes in theater wyse By all the shore then swarme the Greekes and thyck on heapes they prease Some hoape that by her death they shall theyr shippes delay release Some other ioye theyr enmies stocke thus beaten downe to bee A greate parte of the people bothe the slaughter hate and see The Troians eke no lesse frequent theyr owne calamyties And all affrayde behelde the last of all theyr myseryes When fyrste proceedyd torches bryght as guise of wedlock is And author therof led the way the lady Tyndaris Such wedlocke pray the Troians then god send Herinyonaâ— And would god to her husband so restorde wer Helena Feare masde eche parte but Polyxene her bashefull looke downe cast And more then erste her glyttring eyes and beawty shynde at last As swetest semes then Phebus light when downe his beames do sway When starres agayne with night at hand oppresse the doutfull day Astonied much the people were and all they her commende And nowe much more then euer â—arst they praysde her at her ende Some with her beauty moued were some with her tender yeares Some to behold the turnes of chaunce and how eche thyng thus weares But most them mones her valiant mynd and lofty stomake hye So strong so stout so ready of heart and well prepaide to dye Thus passe they furth and bolde before kyng Pyrrhus gothe the mayde They pittie her they meruell her theyr heartes wer all afrayde As soone as then the hard hyll top where dye she should they trode And hye vppon his fathers tombe the youthfull Pyrrhus stode The manly mayde she neuer shronke one foote nor backwarde drewe But boldely turnes to meete the stroke with sloute vnchanged heâ—â—e Her corage moues eche one and â—oe a strange thing monstrouse lyke That Pyrthus euen himself stoode styll for dreade and durst not stryke But as he had his glittering sworde in her to hills vp doon The purple blood at mortall wounde then gusshing out it spoon Ne yet her corage her forsooke when dyeng in that stownde She fell as therthe should her reuenge with Ireful rage to grownde Eche people wept the Troians fyrst with preuye fearefull crye The Grecians â—ke eche one bewaylde her death apparantly This order had the sacrifice her blood the tombe vp droonke No drop remaynth aboue the grounde but downe forthwith it soonâ—e HEC. Now go now go ye Grekes now repayre yt safelâ—e home With careles ships and hoysed sayles Now cut the sallt sea â—ome The childe and virgin both be slaine your battelsâ—â—â—ysht are Alas where shall I end my age or whether beare my care Shall I my dawghter or my nephew or my husband mone My contrey els or all at once or els my selfe alone My wishe is deathe that children doth and virgins fiersly takes Where euer crewell death dothe haste to stryke it me for sakes Amyd the enmies weapons all amyd bothe sworde and fyre All night sought for thou fleeste from me that do thee moste desyre Not flame of fyre not fall of towre nor cruell enmyes hande Hath ryd my life how neere alas coulde death to Pryame stande MES. ¶ Now captiues all with swyft recourse repayre ye to the seayes Now spreade the ships theyr sayles abroade and foorthe they seeke theyr wayes ¶ Imprinted at London in Fletestrete within Temple barre at the signe of the hand and starre by Richard Tottyll Cum priuilegio ad impris mendum solum
yore and wist it should be so And I in vaine before Cassandra tolde it long ago Not false Ulysses kindled hath these fires nor none of his Not yet deceitfull Sinons craft that hath byn cause of thys My fire it is wherwith ye burne and Parys is the brande That smoketh in thy towres O Troy the flowre of Phrygian lande But ay alas vnhappy age why doste thou yet so sore Bewaile thy contries fatall fall thou knewest it long before Beholde thy last calaâ—tteâ— and them bewayle with teares Account as olde Troies ouerturneâ— and past by many yeares I saw the slaughter of the king and how he lost his life By thawlters side more mischief was with stroke of Pyrrhus knife When in his hand he wounde his lockes and drew the king to grounde And hid to hiltes his wicked sworde in depe and dedly wownde Which when the gored king had toke as willing to be slayne Out of the olde mans throte he drew his bloody blade agayne Not pitie of hys yeres alas in mans extremest age From slaughter might hys hand withhold ne yet his yre asswage The gods are witnes of the same and eke the sacrifies That in hys kingdome holden was that flat on grounde now lies The father of so many kinges Pryam of auncient name Untombed lieth and wants in blase of Troy hys funerall flame Ne yet the gods are wreakt but loâ— hys sonnes and daughters all Such lordes they serue as doth by chance of lot to them befall Whom shall I follow now for pray or where shall I be led There is perhaps among the grekes that Hectors wife will wed Some man desyres Helenus spouse some would Antenors haue And in the grekes there wantes not some that would Cassandra craue But I alas most wofull wight whom no man sekes to chuse I am the onely refuge left and me they cleane reâ—use Ye carefull captiue company why stints your wofull crye Beaâ—e on your brestes and piteouslye complayne with voyce so hye As mete may be for Troyes estate let your complaintes rebounde In tops of treese and cause the hils to ring with terible sounde The second sceane The women Hecuba NOt folke vâ—apt nor new to wepe o Queenâ— thou wilst to wayle by practise are we taught For all these yeres in such case haue we bene since first the Troian guest my clas soughtâ— Ana saylde the seas that ledde him on his way with sacred ship to Cibell dedicate From whence he brought his vnrepyning pray the â—â—use alas of all this dyre debate Ten times now hid the hils of Idâ—y bee with snow of siluer hewe all ouer layde And bared is for Troian roges eche tree ten times in feelde the haruest man afrayde The spykes of corne hath reapt since neuer day his wayling wantes new cause renewes our wâ— Lift vp thy hand o Quene crye well away we follow thee we are wel taught therto HEC. Ye faithful fellowes of your casualtie Untye that tyre that on your heades ye weare And as behoueth state of misery let fall about your woful neckes your heare In dust of Troy rub al your armes about in slacker wede and let your brestes â—e tyde Downe to your bellies let your limmes lye out for what wedlocke should you your bosomes hyde Your garmentes loose and haue in readines your furious handes vpon your brestes to knocke This habite wel besemeth our distres it pleaseth me I know the Troian flocke Renew agayn your long accustomed cryes and more then earst lament your miseries We bewayle Hector WO. ¶ Our heare we haue vntide now euery chonâ— All rent for sorowes of our cursed cacâ— our lockes out spreadesâ— the knots we haue vndone And in these ashes slayned is our face HEC. ¶ Fil vp your handes make therof no spareâ— for this yet lawfull is from Troy to take Let downe your garmentes from your shoulders bare and suffre not your clamour so to slake Your naked breastes wait for your handes to smight now dolour depe now sorow shew thy might Make al the coastes that compas Troy about witnesse the sound of all your careful crye Cause from the caues the Eccho to cast out Rebounding voyce of al your misery not as she wontes the latter woord to sound But al your woe from farre let it rebounde Let al the seas it heare and eke the land Spare not your brestes with heauy stroke to stryke beate ye your selues eche one with cruel hand For yet your wonted crye doth me not like We bewayle Hector WO. ¶ Our naked armes thus here we rent for thee and bluddy shoulders Hector thus we teare Thus with our fistes our heades lo beaten be and al for ther behold we hale our heare Our dugges alas with mothers handes be torne and where the fleshe is wounded round about Which for thy sake we rent thy death to morne the flowing streames of blud they spring therout Thy countreys shore and destinied delaye and thou to weeried Troians wast an ayde A wall thou wast and on thy shoulders Troy ten yeres it stode on thee alone it stayde With thee it fell and fatall day alas of Hector both and Troy but one there was HEC. ¶ Enough hath hector turne your plaint mone and shed your teares for Pryame euery chone WO. ¶ Receiue our plaintes O lord of Phrigian land and old twise captiue king receiue our feare Whyle thou wert king Troy hurtles then could stand though shaken twyse with Grecian sword it weare And twyse did shot of Hercles quyuer beare at latter los of Hecubes sonnes all and roges for kinges that high on pyles we reare thou father shuâ—st our latest funerall And beaten downe to Ioue for sacrifies like liueles blocke in Troye thy carkas lies HEC. ¶ Yet turne ye once your treares another way my Pryames death should not lamented be O Troianes all full happy is Pryame say for free from bondage downe descended he To the lowest ghostes and neuer shall sustayne his captiue necke with Greekes to yoked be He neuer shall beholde the Atrides twayne nor false Ulysses euer shall he see Not he a pray for Grekes to tryumphe at his neck shall subiect to their conquestes beare Ne gyue his handes to tye behind his backe that to the rule of scepters wonted weare Nor folowing Agamemnons chart in bande shall he be pompe to proude Mycenas lande WO. ¶ Full happy Pryame is eche one we say that tooke with him his kingdome then that stoode Now safe in shade he sekes the wandring way and treades the pathes of all Elizius woode And in the blessed sprites full happie he againe there sekes to mete with Hectors ghoste Happy Pryame happy who so may see his kingdome all at ones with him be loste ¶ Chorus added the tragedy by the translatour O Ye to whom the lord of land and seas of lyfe and death hath grafited here the powre Lay down your lofty lookes your pryde appâ—as the crowned king fleeth not his fatall howre Who so
The towre that with the walles of gods so valiaunt was of might Through all the worlde so notable so flourishing to sight Is turnde to dust and fiue hath all consumde that was in Tropeâ— Of all the towne not so much now is left to hyde the boye What place were best to choose for guyle the holly tombe is heere That thenmies sworde will spare to spoilâ— where lythe my husbande deare Which costly worke hys father buyltâ— kyng Pryame lyberall And it vp raysde with charges great for Hectors funerall Herein the bones and ashes bothe of Hector loe they lye Best is that I commit the sonne to hys fathers custodye A colde and fearefull swet doth roune through out my membres all Alas I carefull wretche do feare what chaunce may the befall SEN. ¶ Hide him away this onely way hath saued many more To make the enmies to beleue that they were deade before He wilbe sought scant any hope remaineth of fatenesâ— The payse of his nobilitie doth him so sore oppres ANDR. ¶ What way were best to worke that none our doinges might bewray SEN. ¶ Let none beare witnes what ye doe remoue them all away ANDR. ¶ What of the enmies â—ske me where Astianax doth remaine SEN. ¶ â—hen shall ye boldely aunswere make that he in Troy was slaine ANDR. ¶ What shall it helpe to haue him hyd at length they will him findeâ— SEN. ¶ At first the enmies rage is fierce delay doth slake hys minde ANDR. ¶ But what preuailes since free from feare we can him neuer hyde SEN. ¶ Let yet the wretche take hys defence more careles there to byde ANDR. ¶ What lande vnknowne out of the wâ—y what vnfrequented place May kepe thee safe who aydes our feare who shall defende our case Hector Hector that euermore thy frendes didst well defende Now chiefly ayde thy wife and childe and vs some succour sende Take charge to kept and couer close the treasures of thy wife And in thy ashes hyde thy soon preserue in tombe his life Draw nere my childe vnto the tombe why fliest thou backward so Thou takest great scorne to lurke in deus thy noble hart I knowe I see thou art ashamâ—e to feare shake of thy princely minde And beare thy breste as thee behoues as chaunce hath thee assinde Beholde our case and see what flocke remayneth now of Troy The tombe I wofull captiue wretche and thou a sely boye But yelde we must to sory 〈◊〉 thy chaunce must breake thy breste Go to creepe vnderneath thy fathers holy seates to reste I fought the fates may wretches helpâ— thou hast thy sauegarde there If not all ready then pore foole thou hast thy sepulchere SEN. The tombe hym closely hydes but leâ—â— your feare should him detraye Let him here lye and farre from hence goe ye some other waye ANDR. ¶ The les he feares that feares at hâ—â—de and yet if nede be so If ye thinke meete a little hens for safetie let vs go SEN. ¶ A little whyle kepe sylence now refrayne your playnt and crye His cursed foote now hythee moues the lord of Cephalye AN. ¶ Now open earth and thoâ— my spouse from Styx rent vp the grounde Deepe in thy bosome hyde my sonne that he may not be sounde Ullysses comes with doutfull pace and chaunged countenaunce He knittes in hart deceitfull craft for some more greuous chaunce ULY. ¶ Though I be made the 〈◊〉 of heauy newes to youâ— This one thing first I shall desyre that ye take thys for true That though the wordes come from my moâ—th and I my message tell Of trueth yet are they 〈◊〉 of myne ye may beleue me well It is the woorde of all the Greekes and they the authors bee Whom Hectors bloâ—â—◠〈…〉 theyr countreys for to see Our carefull trust of peace vnsure doth styll the Grekes detayne And euermore our doutfull feare yet draweth vs backe agayne And â—uâ—â—reth not our weried handes our weapons to forsake In chylde yet of Andromachâ— Whyle Troianâ— comfort take AN. ¶ And â—â—yth your Augure Calchas so ULYS. ¶ Though Calchas nothyng sayde Yet Hector telles it vs hymselfe Of whose seede are we frayde The woorthy blood of noble men oftimes we see it playne Doth after in theyr heyres succede and quickely sprynges agayne For so the horneles yongâ—ng yet of hygh and sturdy beste With lofty necke and braunched browe doth shortly rule the rest The tender 〈◊〉 that of the lopped stocke doth yet remayne To matche the tree that bare the boughe in tyme startes vp agayne With equall toâ—â—e to former wood the rowme it doth supplye And spreddes on soyle alowe the shade to heauen hys braunches hye Thus of one sparke by chaunce yet leâ—â— it happeneth so full oft The fyre hath quickely caught 〈…〉 and â—â—amthe agayne aloft So feare we yet least Hectors blood might rise ere it be long Feare castes in all thextremitie and oft interprets wrong If ye respeckte our case ye may not blame these olde souldiars Though after yeres monthes twise 〈◊〉 they feare againe the wars And other trauailes dreading Troye not yet to be well woon A great thing doth the Grecians moue the feare of Hectors soon Ryd vs of feare this stayeth our 〈◊〉 and pluckes their â—acke againe And in the hauen our nâ—uâ—e stickes till Hectors bloodâ—â—e slaine Count mee not â—â—erce for that by fates I Hectors sonne require For I as well if chaunce it woulde Orestes should desire But sins that nedes it must be so beare it with pacient hart And suffre that which Agamemnon suffred in good part AN. ¶ Alas my childe would god 〈…〉 yet in thy mothers hande And that I knewe what destenies the helde or in what lande For neuer should the mothers â—â—â—th her tender childe forsake Though through my drest the 〈◊〉 all their cruell weapons strake Nor though the Greekes with pinching bandes of yron my handes had bounde Or els in feruent flame of fyre besette my body rounde But now my little chylde poore wretche alas where might he bee Alas what cruell destenye what chauncâ— hath hapt to thee Art thou yet rangeing in the feeldes and wandrest there abrode Or smothered els in dusty smoke of Troy or ouertrodeâ— Or haue the Greekes thee slayne alas and laught to see thy bloodâ— Or torne art thou with Iawes of beastes or cast to fowles for foâ—de ULY. ¶ Dissemble not hard is for thee Ulysses to disceiue I can full well the mothers craftes and subteltie perceiue The policy of Goddesses Ullysses hath vndoon Set all these fayned woordes asyde tell me where is thy soon ANDR. ¶ Where is Hector where all the rest that had with Troy their fallâ— Where Pryamus you aske for one but I require of all ULY. ¶ Thou shalt constrayned be to tell the thyng thou doost denye AN. ¶ A happy chaunce wer death to â—eâ— that doth desyre to dye ULY. ¶ Who most desyres to dye would â—aynest liue when death drawthe on These noble wordes with present feare