Abraham did greeue In sacrifice to offer vppe his sonne Vnto I am and but he did beleeue His flesh and bloud would such a murther shun If flesh and bloud to loose a sonne be loth Then needes must Priam who was meerely both Great was the gall vnto Harpagus hart When king Astiages gaue to him his sonne Whom he had slaine before O cruell part Then gaue his father him to banquet on But this nor those were halfe so much as his For Priam lost the piller of his blisse Alasse good king that thou whose hap was such As neuer any might compared be That Fortune now at thy good hap should grutch Alas I say that thou shouldst liue to see The Wheele so turne euen now to vieu thy fal Who wert but euen now on the top of all Next him sat wailing in most pitious wise Hectors fayre mother Hecuba the Queene Hir outward lookes hir inward smart descries And by hir sighing was hir sorrowe seene A mothers loue vnto hir childe exceedes And death of him hir endlesse torment breedes Aye me she cries as women wont to doe That ere I did conceiue thee in my wombe Thy life was mine thy death is now my woe Aye that my bellie had beene stil thy tombe Rather I had I neuer had thee borne Then thus in thee to see all Troy forlorne When I thy brother Paris did conceiue I dreamt my wombe was all on burning fire And true it was he doth me not deceiue I feare we burne all by his hot desire Yet hadst thou liu'd thy selfe had beene a spring To quench these flames that now are kindleing For when I bred thee few doe know so much I dreamt a Sea was in my body flowing And that the rage of Aeolus was such That blasts of winde the waues thereof were blowing I tolde it none so was the sence nere found But now I both do finde and feele the ground These Seas of teares which heere about thee flow Are those same seas which I supposde to be These stormes of sighs the winds with them did blow Thus is my vision verified in thee Now that a signe of these Seas may be seene I will be called of sadde seas the Queene The Troyan Queene is Hecuba no more Aye me me thinkes I see it now decaying Hector is dead the Greekes do dance therefore And they giue thanks while we for ayde are praying Frowne not O Neptune that I am Queene of Seas For Queene on earth great Ioue it doth not please With that she weeping tore hir haire and said See see they come to take away my crowne Like one halfe frantike or with feare dismaide Looke looke she cries they 'r burning of the towne O Hector helpe vs she alowd him cals He cannot heare hir she to weeping fals Elkanah thy Hannah neuer sight so sore Nor begd with teares that she by thee might beare A sonne although she powred out before Hir makers throne her soule who did hir heare With tithe of teares I say did she not craue him As losse of hirs she mournd yet could not saue him Thomyris thy teares for Spargapises slaine By Cyrus hand the butcher of thy sonne Were not a few which from thy cloudie brain Thou didst let fal to heare what he had donne But O the drops which Hecuba did shoure For thee to shed was neuer in thy powre She lost hir stay hir piller and a sonne Thou lost a sonne but neyther staie nor piller In Hectors death Hecubaes life was done Thou hadst the head of Spargapises killer And victresse wert liuing in ioy long after She euer mournde and neuer moued laughter Thus sat the mother of that worthy man Weeping vpon him in aboundant raine Clasping his body strongly as she can Into hir armes and then she weepes againe Hugging him hard as thogh she would then take him Into the place where great Ioue first did make him By hir I sawe a goodly Lady bright A stately dame as one shal lightly see But that some drooping clouds then dimnd hir sight I askt Troys ghost what might that Lady be This is quoth she Andromache his wife Whom she did loue more dearely then hir life She wept and wailde and wroong hir hands and tare Hir clothes hir haire hir flesh from off hir face A babie too within hir armes she bare Aye me me thought it was a pitious case To see the babe vppon hir breast to lie And both to weepe the childe not knowing why O heare my Lord O heare thy handmaid speake I am Andromache thy louing wife Through thy dead senses let my words now breake Thou that refusde to heare me in thy life Ah hadst thou listned when thou liuing wert This greefe had neuer come so nigh my hart Thou madste no reckoning of my vision strange Braue men are wont to be too credulous My dreame did tell me that thy life must change If thou this day with Greekes wert venturous I tolde it thee But Womens words are toyes When men most wilfull seeke their owne annoies I tolde the King our Father and the Queene We all did pray thee All could not preuaile For valiant men will haue their valure seene Hector that day must needes the Greekes assaile That day that one day couldst thou not forbeare But men resolued perswasions will nor heare Then flouds of teares ran downe hir christall cheekes Like streames that follow along the siluer sandes A troubled soule in teares hir comfort seekes O heauy comfort that in mourning standes Yet woman say in weeping there is glory Which mede this Lady so exceeding sory The sweete young Infant that lay all this while Vppon the Downe-bed of his mothers brest One while would crie another while did smile Alas it knew no cause of such vnrest Vnles that this did make the babie weepe To heare what howling they about him keepe Sometimes it would the tender hand vp lay And spread the fingers on the mothers face Stroking hir cheekes as Infantes vse to play But she that now for sporting had no place Weeping did wet the childe as it did lie With brinish teares which made the babe to cry Then with a napkin doth she drie his face Peace peace sweet hart thus she hir yonglinge stills He to his plaieng falles againe apace She with hir teares againe his bosome filles And with hir sobs she beates him as he lies That now the childe with ceaseles shriking cryes Alacke the tormentes that she now endueres The cruell plunges in hir hart so sore Hir husbandes death hir endles woe insures The childes fell crieng makes hir tormentes more Thus she sweete Lady is of all accurst Who sittes and sighs as if hir hart should burst The faithfull Porcia neuer sorrowed so Although hir selfe for Brutus she did kill The louing Phillis neuer felt the woe Though for Demophoon she hir selfe did spill As did Andromach for hir Hector slayne Their Death cut off hir life prolonges hir paine Panthea deplord
THE Lamentation of Troy for the death of Hector Wherevnto is annexed an Olde womans Tale in hir solitarie Cell Omne gerendum leue est LONDON Printed by Peter Short for William Mattes 1594 To the Right Honorable Sir Peregrin Bartue knight Lord of Willoughby and Earsby al increase of Honor and true happinesse I Haue presumed Right honourable vpon these three reasons to present this vnworthy pamphlet vnto your honors courteous view and fauourable protection The first is from your own noble worthinesse for that you are and are so thought the onely Hector of Albion and therfore most worthy to protect Hector The second for that it was the wil and desire of the Ghost of the woful Ghost of Ilion that in hir teares you might behold the sorrows of your owne countrey whensoeuer iniurious fates shoulde cause you miscarrie The third and last is my good Lord mine owne priuate affection wherein I haue long honoured you and hauing no place to make it knowne haue long desired to finde some opportunitie to shew the same I hope your Lordship will pardon me for that affection is a most veniall offence And if heerein I doe not honour your Lordship so much as you are worthy and I earnestlie wish yet please it you to fauour and pardon this first and as time and yeares shall enable me with a more experienced iudgement and knowledge I will studie and endeuour that which shal be more worthy your honours fauourable protection Please it you accept and I am graced and my labour richly rewarded I cease to trouble your Lordship further at this time I vow my selfe to your Lordships seruice and so most humbly take my leaue Your Honours humbly at command I. O. The Prologue WHilom to him whom Morpheus God of sleepe Made slumbring dreames his sences al to keepe Lockt in the prison of the darke some night When eares were deafe and eyes could see no light When men are made the liuely forme of death Saue onely that they softly draw a breath Did come a Ghost a ghost most gastly crying Helpe me to death that haue so long beene dying With that he wakened and with feare beholding Saw hir lament her armes togither folding A pale-wan thing and yet with wounds fresh bleeding Sodden in teares in teares that were exceeding He much afright began to shrinke for feare She bad him feare not but my story heare I am Troys ghost that now appeares to thee And well I know that thou hast heard of me But now I come not what I was to tell For what I was alas each one knowes wel I come to thee to craue thy gentle ayde To further her that hath so long beene staide From blissefull rest because I haue not told My woes for Hector which I must vnfold But that alasse am I not able euer To shew alone without the kind endeuor Of some good wight that can bewaile with me And tell my tale while I shall weeping be The churlish Charon thwarts my passage ouer Saying my soule shal neuer blisse recouer Till I haue doone this weary taske imposed Neuer my ghost shal be in rest reposed O helpe me then to tell my doleful story That I at last may cease to be so sory First will I speake and to the world declare For Hectors death mine euerlasting care So long til teares doe stop my faltring tong And when I cease I pray thee tell along He then accorded to hir pitteous sute Granting to speake when teares did make hir mute So that she would lay open to his eies The cause and manner of hir wofull cries Then forth with causde she vnto him appeare The forme of Troy the persons that were there Chiefest mourners for worthy Hectors death As they then wailde when fates new stopt his breath He then emboldende stoutly veiwd them all And tels her tale when she from speach doth fall Writing their words vnto the world to shew them It was her will that he might so renew them Yet had she rather Spencer would haue told them For him she calde that he would helpe t' vnfold them But when she saw he came not at hir call She kept hir first man that doth shew them all All that he could but all can no man shew But first she spake as after doth ensew Troys Lamentation for the death of Hector LO here the teares and sad complaint of her Within whose gates all ioyes were once abounding Faire Ilions teares whose deepe laments may stir A flintie hart vnto a sigh-resounding Yet for hir selfe doth Ilion not mone But for hir Hector which is dead and gone Sweet sacred Muses you whose gentle eares Are wont to listen to the humble praier Of plaining Poets and to lend your teares From your faire eies vnto a woes-displayer Now rest your selues your ayde I not implore For in my selfe I finde aboundant store Nor can I craue vpon your blubbered cheeks That you for me more showers should be raining Though you are kind to euery one that seekes Yet haue you matter for your owne complaining I saw your teares and pittifull wamentings But they are few that list to your lamentings Good naturde Nymphs you are too milde for me Troy tels of horror and of driery things Let your faire ayde in Loue and Musick be Or in his tongue which pleasant Poems sings Furies and Frensies are fit companie To helpe to blase my wofull tragedie The damned Soules that liue in lasting paine Whose endlesse torments force them to be yelling Sounds euer balefull and whose bane againe Is that in torture they are euer dwelling Their sighes and shrikes accompanie full well My trembling toong this greeuous tale to tell Snake-wreath'd Alecto and Megaera railing Howling Tisiphon euermore lamenting With all that vgly is or else still wailing Their cursed haps and are deepe hell frequenting Such as breath sulphur in eternal groning They are companions fitting to my moning Stone rowling Sisiphus in his wearie taske And thirstie Tantalus in his riuer biding And wofull Yxyon al these might I aske To be with shrikes my drery penne a guiding But I my selfe suffice without assistance If soules effusion be sufficient greeuance Hector thou knowst or else thy soule doth know For thou alas art Hector now no more Haue Troy ten thousand soules she will bestow Them all on thee and powre them out before The throne of Ioue for mercy euer calling For ah thy ruine was our vtter falling But why alas must thou needs die so soone Troys cheefe-supporter and the worlds great-wonder O let the man that thee to death hath doone From deaths fel torments neare be seene asunder O let him euer die yet not be slaine But when he would be dead reuiue againe Heape on him torments and ore-whelme with woes Hels Queene Proserpina this I begge of thee And if there be some wights thou countst thy foes O with those plagude ones let him placed be Or if there be a place that 's worse than hel Grant
that pleasure is not euer biding But like an herbe that buddeth with a shower Should with a frost againe away be gliding Why haue the gods Loues-queen immortal made And yet hir ioyes like withered grasse do fade But now he mournes and pleasure must not dure Hector is dead and therefore doth it perish While Hector liu'de they thought themselues secure But since his death none can the Troyans cherish Ech man can mourne but none can comfort make Al Troy doth greeue so much for Hectors sake Poore Paris he is in a world of woes Legions of sorrowes do possesse his heart And as a man al mal-content he goes Or like an actor in a tragike part In muttering words vnto himselfe he talkes And then he stands and sighes and then he walkes Stopping his pace as doth a troubled wight That goes then stands and then turnes backe againe Hiding his face he hates to see the light For darkenesse fits a melancholy braine Only he wil sometime lift vp his eies And gastly looke at Hector as he lies Thus doth he walke like one that is amased Biting his lip impaling so his griefe For men do scorne to haue their sorrowes blased By shrikes and teares which women giues reliefe But greatest windes are when there is no raine And so in sighs thus Paris doth complaine O heauens quoth he why are you so vniust To heape on me more woes than I can beare Why did you lay my glorie in the dust And yet torment me with a greater feare Did you me vppe into your bosome take To throw me thence into the Stygian lake Was Paris borne to be his Countreys bane Were Goddesses conspiring therevnto Did Venus therefore into Greece me traine That I should be the instrument of woe Why do the Gods poore Ilions death conspire And make men say that I set Troy on fire The cause was iust that in the Aegaean seas I launcht my ship and hoisted saile amaine Bending for Greece I did not goe to please Lasciuious wil as some vniustlie faine For though that she my hart did nighly tuch Yet were there reasons that did moue as much Proude Telamon borne in Achaia land With-held by force faire Exion mine Aunt The pride of whom so nigh our harts did stand That Grecians should in Troyan conquests vaunt That sweet Reuenge did bid vs seeke awaie To rid our friend that did in bondage staie My father then for hir his sister deare Did cal a counsell crauing their aduise And euerie one spake Pro contra there In waightie causes so it is the guise Eche man to speake what lieth in his brest And then the king set downe what likes him best Some led by reason thought it very meet Not euery one can future things foresee That we should now erect a mighty fleete And make for Greece in al the hast might be Eyther to lose mine Aunt from out hir tether Or else to rape some Grecian Lady hether Of this aduise was that good Deiphobus My brother deare and eke a worthy knight And vnto him assent did Troylus For well they knew our valure and our might And with their iudgements was my liking seene Hauing my lesson taught me by Loues-queene Besides Reuenge did hammer in our heads And eke a care to ease our fathers woe Our might in men in armes in stately steeds My fathers griefe our right doe al say goe The king himselfe approou`d our counsell well But then some others gan him thus to tel My Lord quoth Hector I that gals my heart My woes redouble when I doe him name I feele my sences from their subiects part And scorching sighes my troubled soule inflame O had his verdict yet beene with the rest Such stormes had neuer beaten in my brest His prudent counsel did dissuade from warre His courage though did manage stil the same Twixt Greekes and vs there was an auncient iar Which euerie man did with reuenge inflame But he whose hart was neuer yet affraid In wisedome wished peace and thus he said My Lord quoth he and eke my father deere Whose sage aduise with reuerence I doe honour Please it your grace benignly me to heare Speaking by support of your high fauour And eke to pardon what be said amisse Touching the voyage this my iudgement is I know right well by force of Natures might Nothing is sweeter than reuenge to man When very beasts of wrongs themselues wil right And render like for like in what they can Then needs your hart must for reuengement long That haue sustainde by Greekes so great a wrong But yet you see their power is very great I speake not this for cowardise or dread For Gods do know my soule dooth inlie fret Til I may reap the proudest Grecians head And in their bloud I bathe my thirstie blade That 's neuer quencht so much am I afraide But this I say the Grecian force is great Europe and Africk doe support their might The men are Warlike and they will intreat A weaker foe with termes of vile despight I wish that therefore you be wel aduised Before your purpose yet be enterprised Asia is rich and we in peace now flourish Presume not though on Fortune for a smile For though that Troy a troope of Gallants nourish And men resolude yet she may al beguile Then trust not hir whose truth was neuer knowne Better sit stil then rise and ouerthrowne And yet so great a wrong done in despite Cannot be brooked by a noble mind Pesants may beare but Kings must needes requite Abuses offred when they doe them finde Wrought in contempt intended to disgrace Whose thoughts are lesse deserue a lower place But yet dread sir forecast what may befal Such high matters deepe iudgement doe require A sudden blast may ouerthrow vs al One little sparke may set al Troy on fire Respect the ende beginnings oft are faire And promise much yet issue in despaire Like to the flattering face of Phoebus bright That in the morne his curteine will vnspread And grace the earth with shine of glittering light Shewing the world his beamy-gorgeous head Then by and by his glory all will shrowd Within the compasse of a gloomy cloude Mine Aunt is dere The wrong not to be borne Hir bondage base Your sorrow full of danger Insulting greekes ech Troian hart doth scorne Yet watch your time wherein to worke your anger And then powre downe your wrath in violls full And crush the braines of each barbarian scull So shall your purpose take his sound effect This sudden complot may repentance breed Then for your selfe and countries weal respect And of their force and malice take good heed Better mine Aunt should yet in bondage tarry Then for hir sake both you and Troy miscarry Thus to your highnes haue I told my mind Wishing too rashly that you not attempt The spitefull Greekes Time will occasion find Whereby you shall repay their high contempt Then shall this hand imbrued in theyr blood Worke