vnto the right hand taking the crownes from the kings heads she crowned therwith the ij slaues casting the vyle clothes of the slaues vpon the kings she despoyled the kings of their robes and therwith apparelled the slaues This done she was drawen eftsones about the stage in this order and then departed leauing vnto vs a plaine Type or figure of vnstable fortune who dothe oftentimes raise to heighte of dignitie the vile and vnnoble and in like manner throweth downe frō the place of promotiō euen those whō before she hir selfe had thither aduaunced after hir departure came in Duke Creon with foure gentlemen wayting vpon him and lamented the death of Meneceus his sonne in this maner Actus .iij. Scena .1 CREON. CHORVS ALas what shall I do bemone my selfe Or rue the ruine of my Natiue lande About the which such cloudes I sée enclosde As darker cannot couer dreadfull hell With mine own eyes I saw my own deare sonne All gorde with bloud of his too bloudy brest Which he hath shed full like a friend too deare To his countrey and yet a cruell foe To me that was his friend and father both Thus to him selfe he gaynde a famous name And glory great to me redoubled payne Whose haplesse death in my afflicted house Hath put suche playnt as I ne can espie What comfort might acquiet their distresse I hither come my sister for to séeke Iocasta she that might in wofull wise Amid hir high and ouer pining cares Prepare the baynes for his so wretched corps And eke for him that nowe is not in life May pay the due that to the dead pertaynes And for the honor he did well deserue To giue some giftes vnto infernall Gods. Cho. My Lorde your sister is gone forth long since Into the campe and with hir Antigone Hir daughter deare Cre. Into the campe alas and what to do Cho. She vnderstoode that for this realme foorthwith Hir sonnes were gréed in combate for to ioyne Cre. Alas the funerals of my deare sonne Dismayed me so that I ne did receiue Ne séeke to knowe these newe vnwelcome newes But loe beholde a playne apparant signe Of further feares the furious troubled lookes Of him that commeth heere so hastilye Scena 2. NVNCIVS CREON. CHORVS ALas alas what shall I doe alas What shriching voyce may serue my wofull wordes O wretched I ten thousande times a wretch The messanger of dread and cruell death Cre. Yet more mishap and what vnhappie newes Nun. My Lord your nephues both haue lost their liues Cre. Out and alas to me and to this towne Thou doest accompt great ruine and decay You royall familie of Oedipus And heare you this your liege and soueraigne Lordes The brethren both are slayne and done to death Cho. O cruell newes most cruell that can come O newes that might these stony walles prouoke For tender ruthe to brust in bitter teares And so they would had they the sense of man. Cre. O worthy yong Lordes that vnworthy were Of such vnworthy death O me moste wretch Nun. More wretched shall ye déeme your selfe my lord When you shall heare of further miserie Cre. And can there be more miserie than this Nun. With hir deare sonnes the quéene hir self is slaine Cho. Bewayle ladies alas good ladies waile This harde mischaunce this cruell common euill Ne hencefoorth hope for euer to reioyce Cre. O Iocasta miserable mother What haplesse ende thy life alas hath hent Percase the heauens purueyed had the same Moued therto by the wicked wedlocke Of Oedipus thy sonne yet might thy scuse But iustly made that knewe not of the crime But tell me messanger oh tell me yet The death of these two brethren driuen therto Not thus all onely by their drearie fate But by the banning and the bitter cursse Of their cruell sire borne for our annoy And here on earth the onely soursse of euill Nun. Then know my Lorde the battell that begonne Vnder the walles was brought to luckie ende Eteocles had made his fotemen flée Within their trenches to their foule reproche But herewithall the brethren both straightway Eche other chalenge foorth into the fielde By combate so to stinte their cruell strife Who armed thus amid the fielde appeard First Polynice turning toward Gréece His louely lookes gan Iuno thus beséeche O heauenly quéene thou séest that since the day I first did wedde Adrastus daughter deare And stayde in Gréece thy seruaunt haue I bene Then be it not for mine vnworthinesse Graunt me this grace the victorie to winne Graunt me that I with high triumphant hande May bathe this blade within my brothers brest I know I craue vnworthy victorie Vnworthy triumphes and vnworthy spoyles Lo he the cause my cruell enimie The people wept to beare the wofull wordes Of Polynice foreséeing eke the ende Of this outrage and cruell combate tane Eche man gan looke vpon his drouping mate With mindes amazed and trembling hearts for dread Whom pitie perced for these youthfull knightes Eteocles with eyes vp cast to heauen Thus sayde O mightie loue his daughter graunt to me That this right hande with this sharpe armed launce Passing amid my brothers cankred brest It may eke pierce that cowarde hart of his And so him slea that thus vnworthily Disturbes the quiet of our common weale So sayde Eteocles and trumpets blowne To sende the summons of their bloudy fighte That one the other fiercely did encounter Like Lions two yfraught with boyling wrath Bothe coucht their launces full agaynst the face But heauen it nolde that there they should them teinte Vpon the battred shields the mightie speares Are bothe ybroke and in a thousande shiuers Amid the ayre flowne vp into the heauens Beholde agayne with naked sworde in hande Eche one the other furiously assaultes Here they of Thebes there stoode the Greekes in doubt Of whom doth eche man féele more chilling dread Least any of the twayne should lose his life Than any of the twayne did féele in fight Their angry lookes their deadly daunting blowes Might witnesse well that in their heartes remaynde As cankred hate disdayne and furious moode As euer bred in beare or tygers brest The first that hapt to hurt was Polinice Who smote the righte thighe of Eteocles But as we déeme the blow was nothing déepe Then cryed the Gréekes and lepte with lightned harts But streight agayne they helde their peace for why Eteocles gan thrust his wicked sworde In the lefte arme of vnarmed Pollinice And let the bloud from bare vnfenced fleshe With falling drops distill vpon the ground Ne long he stayes but with an other thrust His brothers belly boweld with his blade Then wretched he with bridle left at large From of his horsse fell pale vpon the ground Ne long it was but downe our duke dismountes From of his startling steede and runnes in hast His brothers haplesse helme for to vnlace And with such hungry minde desired spoyle As one that thought the fielde already woonne
call out of this darkesome denne The lustleste lodge of my lamenting yeres O daughter deare thy fathers blinded eyes Into the light I was not worthy of Or what suche sight O cruell destenie Without tormenting cares might I beholde That image am of deathe and not of man Anti. O father mine I bring vnluckie newes Vnto your eares your sonnes are nowe both slayne Ne doth your wife that wonted was to guyde So piteously your staylesse stumbling steppes Now sée this light alas and welaway Oed. O heape of infinite calamities And canst thou yet encrease when I thought least That any griefe more great could grow in thée But tell me yet what kinde of cruell death Had these thrée sory soules Anti. Without offence to speake deare father mine The lucklesse lotte the frowarde frowning fate That gaue you life to ende your fathers life Haue ledde your sonnes to reaue eche others life Oed. Of them I thought no lesse but tell me yet What causelesse death hath caught from me my deare What shall I call hir mother or my wife Anti. When as my mother sawe hir deare sonnes dead As pensiue pangs had prest hir tender heart With bloudlesse chéekes and gastly lookes she fell Drawing the dagger from Eteocles side She gorde hirselfe with wide recurelesse wounde And thus without mo words gaue vp the ghost Embracing both hir sonnes with both hir armes In these affrightes this frosen heart of mine By feare of death maynteines my dying life Cho. This drearie day is cause of many euils Poore Oedipus vnto thy progenie The Gods yet graunt it may become the cause Of better happe to this afflicted realme Scena 5. CREON. OEDIPVS ANTIGONE GOod Ladies leaue your bootelesse vayne complaynt Leaue to lament cut off your wofull cryes High time it is as now for to prouide The funerals for the renowmed king And thou Oedipus hearken to my wordes And know thus muche that for thy daughters dower Antigone with Hemone shall be wedde Thy sonne our king not long before his death Assigned hath the kingdome should descende To me that am his mothers brother borne And so the same might to my sonne succéede Now I that am the lorde and king of Thebes Will not permit that thou abide therein Ne maruell yet of this my heady will Ne blame thou me for why the heauens aboue Which onely rule the rolling life of man Haue so ordeynde and that my words be true Tyresias he that knoweth things to come By trustie tokens hath foretolde the towne That while thou didst within the walles remayne It should be plagned still with penurie Wherfore departe and thinke not that I speake These wofull wordes for hate I beare to thée But for the weale of this afflicted realme Oedipus O foule accursed fate that hast me bredde To beare the burthen of the miserie Of this colde death which we accompt for life Before my birth my father vnderstoode I should him slea and scarcely was I borne When he me made a pray for sauage beastes But what I slew him yet then caught the crowne And last of all defilde my mothers bedde By whom I haue this wicked ofspring got And to this heinous crime and filthy facte The heauens haue from highe enforced me Agaynst whose doome no counsell can preuayle Thus hate I now my life and last of all Lo by the newes of this so cruell death Of bothe my sonnes and deare beloued wife Mine angrie constellation me commaundes Withouten eyes to wander in mine age When these my wéery weake and crooked limme Haue greatest néede to craue their quiet rest O cruell Creon wilt thou slea me so For cruelly thou doste but murther me Out of my kingdome now to chase me thus Yet can I not with humble minde beséeche Thy curtesie ne fall before thy féete Let fortune take from me these worldly giftes She can not conquere this courageous heart That neuer yet could well be ouercome To force me yéelde for feare to villanie Do what thou canst I will be Oedipus Cre. So hast thou reason Oedipus to say And for my parte I would thée counsell eke Still to maynteine the high and hawtie minde That hath bene euer in thy noble heart For this be sure if thou wouldst kisse these knées And practise eke by prayer to preuayle No pitie coulde persuade me to consent That thou remayne one onely houre in Thebes And nowe prepare you worthie Citizens The funeralls that duely doe pertayne Vnto the Quéene and to Eteocles And eke for them prouide their stately tombes But Pollynice as common enimie Vnto his countrey carrie foorth his corps Out of the walles ne none so hardie be On peine of death his bodie to engraue But in the fieldes let him vnburied lye Without his honour and without complaynte An open praie for sauage beastes to spoyle And thou Antigone drie vp thy teares Plucke vp thy sprites and chéere thy harmelesse hearte To mariage for ere these two dayes passe Thou shalt espouse Hemone myne onely heire Antig. Father I sée vs wrapt in endlesse woe And nowe muche more doe I your state lamente Than these that nowe be dead not that I thinke Theyr greate missehappes too little to bewayle But this that you you onely doe surpasse All wretched wightes that in this worlde remayne But you my Lorde why banishe you with wrong My father thus out of his owne perforce And why will you denye these guiltlesse bones Of Polinice theyr graue in countrey soyle Creon So would not I so woulde Eteocles Anti. He cruel was you fonde to hold his hestes Creon Is then a fault to doe a kings cōmaund Anti. When his cōmaunde is cruell and vniust Creon Is it vniust that he vnburied be Anti. He not deseru'd so cruel punishment Creon He was his countreys cruell enimie Anti. Or else was he that helde him from his right Cre. Bare he not armes against his natiue land Anti. Offendeth he that sekes to winne his owne Cre. In spite of thée he shall vnburied be Anti. In spite of thée these hands shall burie him Cre. And with him eke then will I burie thée Anti. So graunt the gods I get none other graue Then with my Polinices deare to rest Cre. Go sirs lay holde on hir and take hir in Anti. I will not leaue this corps vnburied Cre. Canst thou vndoe the thing that is decréed Anti. A wicked foule decrée to wrong the dead Cre. The ground ne shall ne ought to couer him Anti. Creon yet I beseche thée for the loue Cre. Away I say thy prayers not preuaile Anti. That thou didst beare Iocasta in hir life Cre. Thou dost but waste thy words amid the wind Anti. Yet graunt me leaue to washe his wounded corps Cre. It can not be that I should graunt thée so Anti. O my deare Polinice this tirant yet With all his worongfull force can not fordoe But I will kisse these colde pale lippes of thine And washe thy wounds with my waymenting teares Cre.
vp Thus yere by yere the one succéeding other This royall crowne should vnto bothe remayne Ser. Oh th unbridled mindes of ambicious men Ioca. Etocles thus plast in princely seate Drunke with the sugred taste of kingly raigne Not onely shut his brother from the crowne But also from his natiue country soyle Alas poore Polynice what might he doe Vniustly by his brother thus betrayed To Argos he with sad and heauie cheere Forthwith conuayde him selfe on whom at length With fauning face good fortune smyled so As with Adrastus king of Argiues there He founde such fauour and affinitie As to restore my sonne vnto his raigne He hath besiedge this noble citie Thebes And hence procéedes my most extreme annoye For of my sonnes who euer doe preuaile The victorie will turne vnto my griefe Alas I feare such is the chaunce of warre That one or both shall purchase death therby Wherfore to shunne the worst that may befall Thoughe comfortlesse yet as a pitifull mother Whom nature binds to loue hir louing sonnes And to prouide the best for their auaile I haue thought good by prayers to entreate The two brethren nay rather cruel foes A while to staie their fierce and furious fight Till I haue tried by meanes for to apease The swelling wrath of their outraging willes And so with much to doe at my request They haue forborne vnto this onely houre Ser. Small space good wot to stint so great a strife Ioca. And euen right now a trustie man of mine Returned from the campe enforming me That Polynice will straight to Thebes come Thus of my woe this is the wailefull sūme And for bycause in vaine and bootelesse plainte I haue small néede to spend this litle time Here will I cease in wordes more to be wray The restlesse state of my afflicted minde Desiring thée thou goe to Eteocles Hartly on my behalfe beseching him That out of hand according to his promise He will vouchsafe to come vnto my courte I know he loues thée well and to thy wordes I thinke thou knowst he will giue willing eare Ser. O noble Quéene sith vnto such affayres My spedie diligence is requisite I will applie effectually to doe What so your highnesse hath commaunded me Ioca. I will goe in and pray the Gods therwhile With tender pitie to appease my griefe Iocasta goeth off the stage into hir pallace hir foure handmaides follow hir the foure Chorus also follow hir to the gates of hir pallace after comming on the stage take their place where they cōtinue to the end of the Tragedie SERVVS SOLVS THe simple man whose meruaile is so great At stately courts and princes regall seate With gasing eye but onely doth regarde The golden glosse that outwardly appeares The crownes bedeckt with pearle and precious stones The riche attire imbost with beaten golde The glittering mace the pompe of swarming traine The mightie halles heapt full of flattering frendes The chambers huge the goodly gorgeous beddes The gilted roofes embowde with curious worke The faces swéete of fine disdayning dames The vaine suppose of wanton raigne at luste But neuer viewes with eye of inward thought The painefull toile the great and greuous cares The troubles still the newe increasing feares That princes nourish in their iealous brestes He wayeth not the charge that Ioue hath laid On princes how for themselues they raigne not He wéenes the law must stoope to princely will But princes frame their noble wills to lawe He knoweth not that as the boystrous winde Doth shake the toppes of highest reared towres So doth the force of frowarde fortune strike The wight that highest sits in haughtie state Lo Oedipus that sometime raigned king Of Thebane soyle that wonted to suppresse The mightest Prince and kepe him vnder checke That fearefull was vnto his forraine foes Now like a poore afflicted prisoner In dungeon darke shut vp from chéerefull light In euery part so plagued with annoy As he abhorrs to leade a longer life By meanes wherof the one against the other His wrathfull sonnes haue planted all their force And Thebes here this auncient worthy towne With threatning siege girt in on euerie side In daunger lyes to be subuerted quite If helpe of heuenly Ioue vpholde it not But as darke night succedes the shining day So lowring griefe comes after pleasant ioy Well now the charge hir highnesse did commaund I must fulfill though haply all in vaine Seruus goeth off the stage by the gates called Electrae Antygone attended with .iij. gentlewomen and hir gouernour commeth out of the Queene hir mothers Pallace BAILO ANTIGONE O Gentle daughter of King Oedipus O sister deare to that vnhappie wight Whom brothers rage hath reaued of his right To whom thou knowst in yong and tender yeares I was a friend and faithfull gouenour Come forth sith that hir grace hath graunted leaue And let me knowe what cause hath moued nowe So chaste a maide to set hir daintie foote Ouer the thresholde of hir secrete lodge Since that the towne is furnishte euery where With men of armes and warlike instrumentes Vnto our eares there cōmes no other noyse But sounde of trumpe and neigh of trampling stedes Which running vp and downe from place to place With hideous cries betoken bloude and death The blasing sunne ne shineth halfe so brighte As it was wont to doe at dawne of day The wretched dames throughout the wofull towne Together clustring to the temples goe Beseching Ioue by way of humble plainte With tender ruthe to pitie their distresse An. The loue I beare to my swéete Polynice My deare brother is onely cause hereof Bai. Why daughter knowst thou any remedie How to defend thy fathers citie here From that outrage and fierce repyning wrathe Which he against it iustly hath conceiued An. Oh gouernour might this my faultlesse bloude Suffise to stay my brethrens dyre debate With glad content I coulde afford my life Betwixte them both to plant a perfect peace But since alas I cannot as I woulde A hote desire enflames my feruent mind To haue a sight of my swéete Polynice Wherfore good guide vouchsafe to guide me vp Into some tower about this hugie court From whence I may behold our enemies campe Therby at least to féede my hungry eyes But with the sight of my beloued brother Then if I die contented shall I die Bai. O princly dame the tender care thou takste Of thy deare brother deserueth double praise Yet crau'st thou that which cannot be obtainde By reason of the distance from the towne Vnto the plaine where th armie lies incampte And furthermore besemeth not a maide To shew hir selfe in such vnséemly place Whereas among such yong and lustie troupes Of harebrainde souldiers marching to and fro Both honest name and honour is empairde But yet reioyce sith this thy great desire Without long let or yet without thy paine At wishe and will shortly may be fulfillde For Polynice forthwith will hither come Euen I my selfe was lately at
the more How much the wished conquest at the first Fell happily vnto the towne of Thebes But wise men ought with patience to sustaine The sundrie haps that slipperie fortune frames Nuncius commeth in by the gates Electrae Nun. Alas who can direct my hastie steppes Vnto the brother of our wofull Quéene But loe where carefully he standeth here Cre. If so the minde may dread his owne mishap Then dread I much this man that séekes me thus Hath brought the death of my beloued sonne Nun. My Lorde the thing you feare is very true Your sonne Meneceus no longer liues Cre. Alas who can withstand the heauenly powers Well it beséemes not me ne yet my yeares In bootelesse plaint to wast my wailefull teares Do thou recount to me his lucklesse deathe The order forme and manner of the same Nun. Your sonne my Lorde came to Eteocles And tolde him this in presence of the rest Renoumed King neither your victorie Ne yet the safetie of this princely Realme In armour doth consist but in the death Of me of me O most victorious King So heauenly dome of mightie Ioue commaunds I knowing what auayle my death should yéeld Vnto your grace and vnto natiue land Might well be déemde a most vngratefull sonne Vnto this worthy towne if I would shunne The sharpest death to do my countrie good In mourning wéede now let the vestall Nimphes With fainyng tunes commend my faultlesse ghost To highest heauens while I despoyle my selfe That afterwarde sith Ioue will haue it so To saue your liues I may receyue my death Of you I craue O curteous Citizens To shrine my corps in tombe of marble stone Whereon graue this Meneceus here doth lie For countries cause that was content to die This saide alas he made no more a doe But drewe his sword and sheathde it in his brest Cre. No more I haue inough returne ye nowe From whence ye came Nuncius returneth by the gates Electrae Well since the bloud of my beloued sonne Must serue to slake the wrath of angrie Ioue And since his onely death must bring to Thebes A quiet ende of hir vnquiet state Me thinkes good reason would that I henceforth Of Thebane soyle should beare the kingly swaye Yea sure and so I will ere it belong Either by right or else by force of armes Of al mishap loe here the wicked broode My sister first espoused hath hir sonne That slewe his fire of whose accursed séede Two brethren sprang whose raging hatefull hearts By force of boyling yre are bolne so sore As each do thyrst to sucke the others bloude But why do I sustaine the smart hereof Why should my bloud be spilt for others gilte Oh welcome were that messenger to me That brought me word of both my nephewes deathes Then should it soone be sene in euery eye Twixt prince and prince what difference would appeare Then should experience shewe what griefe it is To serue the humours of vnbridled youth Now will I goe for to prepare with spéede The funerals of my yong giltlesse sonne The which perhaps may be accompanyed With th' obsequies of proude Eteocles Creon goeth out by the gates Homoloydes Finis Actus 4. Actus 4. CHORVS O Blisful concord bredde in sacred brest Of him that guides the restlesse rolling sky That to the earth for mans assured rest From heigth of heauens vouchsafest downe to flie In thée alone the mightie power doth lie With swete accorde to kepe the frouning starres And euery planet else from hurtfull warres In thée in thée such noble vertue bydes As may commaund the mightiest Gods to bend From thée alone such sugred frendship slydes As mortall wightes can scarcely comprehend To greatest strife thou setst delightfull ende O holy peace by thée are onely founde The passing ioyes that euery where abound Thou onely thou through thy celestiall might Didst first of al the heauenly pole deuide From th' olde confused heape that Chaos hight Thou madste the Sunne the Moone and starres to glide With ordred course about this world so wide Thou hast ordainde Dan Tytans shining light By dawne of day to chase the darkesome night When tract of time returnes the lustie Ver. By thée alone the buddes and blossomes spring The fieldes with floures be garnisht euery where The blooming trées aboundant fruite do bring The cherefull birds melodiously do sing Thou dost appoint the crop of sommers séede For mans reliefe to serue the winters néede Thou doest inspire the heartes of princely péeres By prouidence procéeding from aboue In flowring youth to choose their worthie féeres With whome they liue in league of lasting loue Till fearefull death doth flitting life remoue And loke how fast to death man payes his due So fast againe doste thou his stocke renue By thée the basest thing aduaunced is Thou euerie where dost graffe such golden peace As filleth man with more than earthly blisse The earth by thée doth yelde hir swete increase At becke of thée all bloudy discords cease And mightiest Realmes in quiet do remaine Wheras thy hand doth holde the royall raine But if thou faile then al things gone to wracke The mother then doth dread hir naturall childe Then euery towne is subiect to the sacke Then spotlesse maids the virgins be defilde Then rigor rules then reason is exilde And this thou wofull Thebes to our great paine With present spoile art likely to sustaine Me thinke I heare the wailfull wéeping cries Of wretched dames in euerie coast resound Me thinkes I sée how vp to heauenly skies From battred walls the thundring clappes rebound Me thinke I heare how all things go to ground Me thinke I sée how souldiers wounded lye With gasping breath and yet they can not dye By meanes wherof oh swete Meneceus he That giues for countries cause his guiltlesse life Of others all most happy shall he be His ghost shall flit from broiles of bloudy strife To heauenly blisse where pleasing ioyes be rife And would to God that this his fatall ende From further plagues our citie might defend O sacred God giue eare vnto thy thrall That humbly here vpon thy name doth call O let not now our faultlesse bloud be spilt For hote reuenge of any others gilt Finis Actus quarti Done by F. Kinwelmarshe The order of the laste dumbe shevve FIrst the Stillpipes sounded a very mournful melody in which time came vpon the Stage a womā clothed in a white garment on hir head a piller double faced the formost face fair smiling the other behinde blacke louring muffled with a white laune about hir eyes hir lap ful of Iewelles sitting in a charyot hir legges naked hir fete set vpō a great roūd bal beyng drawē in by .iiij. noble personages she led in a string on hir right hand .ij. kings crowned and in hir lefte hand .ij. poore slaues very meanly attyred After she was drawen about the stage she stayed a little changing the kings vnto the left hande the slaues
That at vnwares his brothers dagger drawne And griped fast within the dying hand Vnder his side he recklesse doth receiue That made the way to his wyde open hart Thus falles Eteocles his brother by From both whose breasts the bloud fast bubling gaue A sory shewe to Greekes and Thebanes both Cho. Oh wretched ende of our vnhappie Lordes Cre. Oh Oedipus I must bewaile the death Of thy deare sonnes that were my nephewes both But of these blowes thou oughtest féele the smarte That with thy wonted prayers thus hast brought Such noble blouds to this vnnoble end But now tell on what followed of the Quéene Nun. Whē thus with piecced harts by their owne hands The brothers fell and wallowed in their bloud That one still tumbling on the others gore Came their afflicted mother then to late And eke with hir chast childe Antygone Who saw no sooner how their fates had falne But with the doubled echo of alas She dymmde the ayre with loude complaints and cryes Oh sonnes quod she too late came all my helpe And all to late haue I my succour sent And with these wordes vpon their carcas colde She shriched so as might haue stayed the Sunne To mourne with hir the wofull sister eke That both hir chekes did bathe in flowing teares Out from the depth of hir tormented brest With scalding sighes gan draw thefe weary words O my deare brethren why abandon ye Our mother deare when these hir aged yeares That of themselues are weake and growne with griefe Stoode most in neede of your sustaining helpe Why doe you leaue hir thus disconsolate At sounde of such hir wéeping long lament Eteocles our king helde vp his hand And sent from bottome of his wofull brest A doubled sighe deuided with his griefe In faithfull token of his feeble will To recomfort his mother and sister both And in steade of swéete contenting words The trickling teares raynde downe his paled chekes Then claspt his hands and shut his dying eyes But Polynice that turned his rolling eyen Vnto his mother and his sister deare With hollow voyce and fumbling toung thus spake Mother you see how I am now arryued Vnto the heauen of mine vnhappie ende Now nothing doth remaine to me but this That I lament my sisters life and yours Left thus in euerlasting woe and griefe So am I sory for Eteocles Who though he were my cruell enimie He was your sonne and brother yet to me But since these ghostes of ours must néedes go downe With staggring steppes into the Stigian reigne I you besech mother and sister bothe Of pitie yet that you will me procure A royall tombe within my natiue realme And now shut vp with those your tender bandes These grieffull eyes of mine whose dazeled light Shadowes of dreadfull death be come to close Now rest in peace this sayde he yéelded vp His fainting ghost that ready was to part The mother thus beholding both hir sonnes Ydone to death and ouercome with dole Drewe out the dagger of hir Pollinice From brothers brest and gorde therewyth her throt◠Falling bet wéene hir sonnes Then with hir féebled armes she doth vnfolde Their bodies both as if for company Hir vncontented corps were yet content To passe with them in Charons ferrie boate When cruell fate had thus with force bereft The wofull mother and hir two deare sonnes All sodenly allarme allarme they crye And hote conflict began for to aryse Betwene our armie and our enemyes For either part would haue the victorye A while they did with equall force maintaine The bloudy fight at last the Gréekes do flie Of whom could hardly any one escape For in such hugie heapes our men them slew The ground was couerde all with carcases And of our souldiers some gan spoyle the dead Some other were that parted out the pray And some pursuing Antigone toke vp The Queene Iocasta and the brethren both Whom in a chariot hither they will bring Ere long and thus although we gotten haue The victory ouer our enemies Yet haue we lost much more than we haue wonne Creon exit Cho. O hard mishap we doe not onely heare The wearie newes of their vntimely death But eke we must with wayling eyes beholde Their bodies deade for loke where they be brought Scena 3. ANTIGONE CHORVS MOst bitter plaint O ladyes vs behoues Behoueth eke not onely bitter plainte But that our heares dysheuylde from our heades About our shoulders hang and that our brests With bouncing blowes be all be battered Our gastly faces with our nayles defaced Behold your Quéene twixt both hir sonnes lyes slayne The Quéene whom you did loue and honour both The Quéene that did so tenderly bring vp And nourishe you eche one like to hir owne Now hath she left you all O cruell hap With hir too cruell death in dying dreade Pyning with pensifenesse without all helpe O weary life why bydste thou in my breast And I contented be that these mine eyes Should sée hir dye that gaue to me this life And I not venge hir death by losse of life Who can me giue a fountaine made of mone That I may weepe as muche as is my will To sowsse this sorow vp in swelling teares Cho. What stony hart could leaue for to lament Anti. O Polinice now hast thou with thy bloud Bought all too deare the title to this realme That cruell he Eteocles thée refte And now also hath rest thée of thy life Alas what wicked dede can wrath not doe And out alas for mee Whyle thou yet liuedst I had a liuely hope To haue some noble wight to be my phéere By whome I might be crownde a royall Quéene But now thy hastie death hath done to dye This dying hope of mine that hope hencefoorth None other wedlocke but tormenting woe If so these trembling hands for cowarde dread Dare not presume to ende this wretched life Cho. Alas deare dame let not thy raging griefe Heape one mishap vpon anothers head Anti. O dolefull day wherein my sory sire Was borne and yet O more vnhappie houre When he was crowned king of stately Thebes The Hymenei in vnhappie bed And wicked wedlocke wittingly did ioyne The giltlesse mother with hir giltie sonne Out of which roote we be the braunches borne To beare the scourge of their so foule offence And thou O father thou that for this facte Haste torne thine eyes from thy tormented head Giue eare to this come foorth and bende thine eare To bloudie newes that canst not them beholde Happie in that for if thine eyes could sée Thy sonnes bothe slayne and euen betwéene them bothe Thy wife and mother dead bathed and imbrude All in one bloud then wouldst thou dye for dole And so might ende all our vnluckie stocke But most vnhappie nowe that lacke of sighte Shall linger life within thy lucklesse brest And still tormented in suche miserie Shall alwayes dye bicause thou canst not dye Oedipus entreth Scena 4. OEDIPVS ANTIGONE CHORVS WHy dost thou
written to the right honourable the Lorde Grey of Wilton A Straunge conceyte a vayne of newe delight Twixt weale and woe twixte ioy and bitter griefe Hath pricked foorth my hastie penne to write This woorthlesse verse in hazarde of repréefe And to mine Alderlieuest Lorde I must endite A wofull case a chippe of sorie chaunce A tipe of heauen a liuely hew of hell A feare to fall a hope of high aduance A life a death a drearie tale to tell But since I know the pith of my pastaunce Shall most consist in telling of a truth Vouchsafe my Lord en bon gré for to take This trustie tale the storie of my youth This Chronicle which of my selfe I make To shew my Lord what healplesse happe ensewth When heddy youth will gad without a guide And raunge vntide in leas of libertie Or when bare néede a starting hole hath spide To péepe abroade from mother Miserie And buildeth Castels in the Welkin wide In hope thereby to dwell with wealth and ease But he the Lord whome my good Lord doth know Can bind or lose as best to him shall please Can saue or spill rayse vp or ouerthrowe Can gauld with griefe and yet the payne appease Which thing to proue if so my L. take time When greater cares his head shall not possesse To sitte and reade this raunging ragged rime I doubt not then but that he will confesse What falles I found when last I leapt to clime In March it was that cannot I forget In this last March vpon the nintenth day When from Grauesend in boate I gan to iette To boorde our shippe in Quinborough that lay From whence the very twentith day we set Our sayles abrode to slice the Salt sea fome And ancors weyde gan trust the trustlesse floud That day and night amid the waues we rome To seeke the coast of Holland where it stoode And on the next when we were farre from home And neare the hauen whereto we sought to sayle A fearly chaunce whereon alone to thinke My hande now quakes and all my senses fayle Gan vs befall the Pylot gan to shrinke And all agaste his courage séemde to quayle Whereat amazed the Maister and his mate Gan aske the cause of his so sodeyne chaunge And from alofte the Stewarde of our state The sounding plumbe in haste poste hast must raunge To trye the depth and goodnesse of our gate Mée thinkes euen yet I heare his heauie voyce Fadome thrée foure foote more foote lesse that cride Mée thinkes I heare the fearefull whispring noyse Of such as sayde full softely me beside God graunte this iourney cause vs to reioyce When I poore soule which close in caban laye And there had reacht till gaule was welneare burst With giddie head my stumbling steppes must stay To looke abroade as boldly as I durst And whyles I hearken what the Saylers saye The sownder sings fadame two full no more Aloofe aloofe then cried the Maister out The Stearesmate striues to sende vs from the shore And trustes the streame whereof wée earst had doubt Twéene two extréeme thus were we tossed sore And went to Hull vntill we leyzure had To talke at large and eke to know the cause What moode had made our Pylot looke so sad At last the Dutche with butterbitten iawes For so he was a Dutche a Deuill a swadde A foole a drunkarde or a traytour tone Gan aunswere thus Ghy zijt te vroegh here come Tuniet goet tijt and standing all alone Gan preache to vs which fooles were all and some To trust him foole in whom there skill was none Or what knew wee if Albaes subtill brayne So to preuent our enterpryse by treazon Had him subornde to tice vs to this trayne And so him selfe per Companye and seazon For spite for hate or else for hope of gayne This must we thinke that Alba would not spare To giue out gold for such a sinfull déede And glistring gold can oftentimes ensnare More perfect wits than Holland soyle doth bréede But let that passe and let vs now compare Our owne fond fact with this his foule offence We knew him not nor where he wond that time Nor if he had Pylots experience Or Pylats crafte to cleare him selfe from crime Yea more than that how voyde were we of sense We had small smacke of any tale he tolde He powrde out Dutch to drowne vs all in drinke And we wise men vppon his words were bolde To runne on head but let me now bethinke The masters spéech and let me so vnfold The depth of all this foolish ouersight The master spake euen like a skilfull man And sayde I sayle the Seas both day and night I know the tides as well as other can From pole to pole I can the courses plight I know France Spaine Gréece Denmarke Dasisk all Frize Flaunders Holland euery coast I know But truth to tell it seldome doth befall That English merchants euer bend their bowe To shoote at Breyll where now our flight should fall They send their shafts farder for greater gayne So that this hauen is yet quoth he vnkouth And God graunt now that England may attayne Such gaines by Breyll a gospell on that mouth As is desired thus spake the master playne And since saide he my selfe knew not the sowne How could I well a better Pylot fynde Than this which first did saye he dwelt in towne And knew the way where euer sat the wynde While we thus talke all sayles are taken downe And we to Hull as earst I sayd gan wend Till full two houres and somewhat more were past Our guyde then spake in Dutch and bad vs bend All sayles againe for now quod he at last Die tijt is goet dat heb ick weell bekend Why staye I long to ende a wofull tale We trust his Dutch and vp the foresayle goes We fall on knées amyd the happy gale Which by Gods will full kynd and calmely blowes And vnto him we there vnfolde our bale Whereon to thinke I wryte and wéepe for ioye That pleasant song the hundreth and seuenth Psalme There dyd we reade to comfort our annoye Which to my soule me thought was swéete as balme Yea farre more swéete than any worldly ioye And when he had with prayers praysd the Lord Our Edell Bloetts gan fall to eate and drinke And for their sauce at takyng vp the borde The shippe so strake as all we thought to sinke Against the ground Then all with one accorde We fell againe on knées to pray apace And therewithall euen at the second blowe The number cannot from my minde outpace Our helme strake of and we must fléete and flowe Where winde and waues would guide vs by their grace The winde waxt calme as I haue sayde before O mightie God so didst thou swage our woes The selly shippe was sowst and smitten sore With counter buffetts blowes and double blowes At last the kéele
which might endure no more Gan rende in twayne and suckt the water in Then might you sée pale lookes and wofull cheare Then might you heare loude cries and deadly dinne Well noble minds in perils best appeare And boldest harts in bale will neuer blinne For there were some of whome I will not say That I was one which neuer changed hew But pumpt apace and labord euery way To saue themselues and all their louely crew Which cast the best fraight ouerboorde away Both corne and cloth and all that was of weight Which halde and pulde at euery helping corde Which prayed to God and made their conscience streight As for my self I here protest my Lorde My words were these O God in heauen on height Behold me not as now a wicked wight A sacke of sinne a wretch ywrapt in wroth Let no fault past O Lord offende thy sight But weye my will which now those faults doth lothe And of thy mercy pittie this our plight Euen thou good God which of thy grace didst saye That for one good thou wouldst all Sodome saue Behold vs all thy shyning beames displaye Some here I trust thy goodnesse shall engraue To be chast vessels vnto thée alwaye And so to liue in honour of thy name Beleue me Lord thus to the Lord I sayde But there were some alas the more their blame Which in the pumpe their onely comfort layde And trusted that to turne our griefe to game Alas quod I our pumpe good God must be Our sayle our sterne our tackling and our trust Some other cried to cleare the shipboate frée To saue the chiefe and leaue the rest in dust Which word once spoke a wondrous thing to sée All hast post hast was made to haue it done And vp it commes in hast much more than spéede There did I see a wofull worke begonne Which now euen now doth make my hart to bléede Some made such hast that in the boate they wonne Before it was aboue the hatches brought Straunge tale to tell what hast some men shall make To find their death before the same be sought Some twixt the boate and shippe their bane do take Both drownd and slayne with braynes for hast crusht out At last the boat halfe fraighted in the aire Is hoyst alofte and on the seas downe set When I that yet in God could not dispaire Still plide the pumpe and patiently did let All such take boate as thither made repaire And herewithall I safely may protest I might haue wonne the boate as wel as one And had that séemed a safetie for the rest I should percase euen with the first haue gone But when I saw the boate was ouer prest And pestred full with moe than it might beare And therwithall with cherefull looke might sée My chiefe companions whome I held most deare Whofe companie had thither trained me Abiding still aboorde our shippe yfeare Nay then quoth I good God thy will be done For with my feeres I will both liue and dye And eare the boate farre from our sight was gon The waue so wrought that they which thought to flée And so to scape with waues were ouer ronne Lo how he striues in vaine that striues with God For there we lost the flowre of the band And of our crew full twentie soules and odde The Sea sucks vp whils we on hatches stand In smarting feare to feele that selfe same rodde Well on as yet our battred barke did passe And brought the rest within a myle of lande Then thought I sure now néede not I to passe For I can swymme and so escape this sande Thus dyd I déeme all carelesse like an Asse When sodaynely the wynde our foresayle tooke And turnd about and brought vs eft to Seas Then cryed we all cast out the ancor hooke And here let byde such helpe as god may please Which ancor cast we soone the same forsooke And cut it off for feare least therevpon Our shippe should bowge then callde we fast for fire And so dischargde our great gunnes euerychone To warne the towne thereby of our desire But all in vayne for succor sent they none At last a Hoy from Sea came flinging fast And towards vs helde course as streight as lyne Then might you sée our hands to heauen vp cast To render thanks vnto the power deuine That so vouchsafte to saue vs yet at last But when this Hoy gan welnéere boorde our barke And might perceiue what peryll we were in It turnd away and left vs still in carke This tale is true for now to lie were sin It lefte vs there in dreade and daungers darke It lefte vs so and that within the sight And hearing both of all the peare at Breyll Now ply thee pen and paint the foule despite Of drunken Dutchmen standing there euen still For whom we came in their cause for to fight For whom we came their state for to defende For whom we came as friends to grieue their foes They now disdaynd in this distresse to lend One helping boate for to asswage our woes They sawe our harmes the which they would not mend And had not bene that God euen then did rayse Some instruments to succor vs at néede We had bene sunk and swallowed all in Seas But Gods will was in way of our good spéede That on the peare lamenting our mysease Some englishe were whose naked swordes did force The drunken dutch the cankred churles to come And so at last not moued by remorce But forst by feare they sent vs succor some Some must I say and for to tell the course They sent vs succor saust with sowre despite They saued our liues and spoylde vs of the rest They stale our goods by day and eke by night They shewed the worst and closely kept the best And in this time this treason must I wryte Our Pylot fled but how not emptie handed He fled from vs and with him did conueye A Hoy full fraught whiles we meane while were landed With pouder shotte and all our best araye This skill he had for all he set vs sanded And now my Lord declare your noble mynde Was this a Pylot or a Pilate iudge Or rather was he not of Iudas kynde Which left vs thus and close away could trudge Well at the Bryell to tell you what we finde The Gouernour was all bedewed with drinke His truls and he were all layde downe to sléepe And we must shift and of our selues must thinke What meane was best and how we best might kéepe That yet remaynd the rest was close in clinke Well on our knées with trickling teares of ioye We gaue God thanks and as we might did learne What might be founde in euery pynke and hoye And thus my Lord your honour may descerne Our perils past and how in our anoye God saued me your Lordshippes bound for euer Who else should not be able now to tell The state wherein this countrey doth perseuer Ne how they séeme