HORESTES (A newe enterlude of vice)
by John Pikeryng 1567
Original spelling version (modified punctuation) --- Transcribed by Barboura Flues
Edited for the web by Robert Brazil All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2007 B. Flues, R. Brazil, and elizabethanauthors.com
A NEWE |
The Players Names
Vyce Rusticus Hodge Horestes Idumeus Councell |
Clytemnestra Haultersycke Hempstryng Nestor Menelaus A woman |
Sodyer Nobelles Nature Provisyon Harrauld Sodyer |
Truthe Fame Hermione Dewty Messenger Egistus Commons |
The names devided for six to playe
1. Vyce, Nature, Dewtey
2. Rusticus, Idumeus, Sodyer, Menelaus, Nobulles
3. Hodge, Counsell, Messenger, Nestor, Commons
4. Horestes, a woman, Prologue
5. Haulltersicke, Sodyer, Egistus, Harrauld, Fame, Truth, Idleness
6. Hempstrynge, Clytemnestra, Provision, Hermione
Imprinted at London : In Fletestrete, at the
signe of the Falcon by Wylliam Gryffith, and
are to be solde at his shope in S. Dunstons
Churcheyearde, Anno. 1567.
HORESTES
[Enter the Vyce.]
VYCE: A, syrra! nay, soft! What? let me see --
God morrowe to you, syr, how do you fare?
Sante amen! I thincke it wyll be
The next day in the morning, before I com thear.
Well, forwarde I wyll, for to prepare
Some weapons and armour the catives to quell:
Ille teache the hurchetes agayne to rebell.
Rebell? ye, syr, how saye you there to?
What? you had not beste their partes to take;
Houlde the content, foole, and do as I do, [10]
Or elles me chaunce your pate for to ake.
Ye, and thats more, for feare thou shalt quake
Before Horestes, when in good sooth he
Shall arryve in this lande, revenged to bee.
Well, forwarde I wyll, thynges to pourvaye
In good south for the wares as I shall thincke good.
Farre well, good man dotterell, and marke what I saye
Or eles it may chaunce you to seke a new houd.
You would eat no more cakbread, I thinke then, by the roud.
If that that same poulle from your shoulderes were hent; [20]
You would think you were yll if so you were shent.
[Here entryth Rustycus and Hodge.]
RUSTICUS: Chyll never, nabore Hodge, have a glade harte
Tyll Egistous the kynge hath for his desarte
Received dew punnyshment, for this well I knowe:
Horrestes to Crete with Idumeous dyd go
When his father was slayne by his mother most yll:
And therefore I thincke that com heather he wyll,
And revenge the injurey of his mother most dyare,
Wastinge our land with zworde and with vyare.
HODGE: Jesu, nabor, with vyar and zworde? zaye you zo? [30]
By Gys, nabor, chyll zave one, I tro,
For iche have small good, by Gise, for to lose,
And therefore iche care not how ever it gose.
But chyll not be zlayne -- chyll love nothinge worse;
Chyll never be bournt for the mony in my purse.
Iche have small rouddockes, and sodyers, I kno
Wyll robbe the riche chorles and let the poore knaves go.
VICE: A, syrre, nowe steye and pause their a whyle!
Be not to hastye, but take all the daye.
Be God, I am wearey with comming this myle, [40]
And having no money my horse heyare to paye.
Who! how! I rode on my fete all the waye.
Jesu, what ground since yesterday at none
Have I gut thorow with this pare of shoune.
RUSTICUS: Nabor Hodge, be Goge, hatche none! I veare
That this lyttell hourchet the devayaunce doth beare.
Come let us go and of him, in good south,
We woll conquear out the verey truth.
VYCE: Hurchyt! Goges oundes, gyppe with a wanyon!
Are you so loustey in fayth, good man clound? [50]
Oundes, hart, and nayles, this is a franion!
Ille teache you to floute me -- I hould you a pounde --
O, that it were not, in fayth, for my gound!
[Yet] wyll I be knoc um yet for all that. [Fight.]
HODGE: Hould, good master, you mare my new hat.
VYCE: Ha, ha, he! mar his hat, quoth he! Thear was all his thought!
Tout, tout, for the blose he set not a pyn!
That garment is dyer that with blose is bought.
Well, sieres, to intreat me, syth you begyn,
I am contentyd; my blade now shaull in. [60]
But tell me, syeres, tell me [now]: wherefore of me,
The cause on this sort, your taullkynge should be?
RUSTICUS: By Gis, and iche chyll, master, for all my great payne,
Of this matter to you to tell the very playne:
My naybor Hodge and I, in good south,
Mot hear in the veldes -- I tell you the truth;
Now as we wear talkinge -- marke what I zaye --
You came in straight and of us crost the waye;
Which thinge for zartyn when I dyd espye,
This fancy ylouncht in my head by and by [70]
And to Hodge I zayde, that by Gys I dyd veare
That your masshyp, good master, the devyaunce doth beare;
And be cause you weare lyttell and of stature but smaull,
Your person a hourchet, in fayth, I dyd caull.
But, by Gis, be contentyd, vor chyll neaver more
Ofvend you a gaine, but cham zorey thearvore.
VYCE: Yf they weare not twayne, I cared not a poynt,
But two is to meyney, the proverbe douth tell;
Elles, be his oundes, I would jobard this joynt
And teache them agaynste me againe to rebell. [80]
O that I weare abull the knaves vor to quell.
Then would I tryomphe passinge all measure.
HODGE: Zentyll man, zentyll man, at your owne pleasure
In fayth we be, and thearvore we praye,
What they name is to us vor to saye.
VYCE: My name would ye kno? Marrey, you shaull,
Harke, frynde, fourst to the I wyll it declare:
Master Pacience, Master Pacience, many on doth me caull.
But com heather, nabor Hodge, thou must have a share.
By Gys, unto the I wyll not spare [90]
The same for to showe, whearfore, my frend,
My name is Pacience, if thou it perpend.
HODGE: Past Shame? Godes gee, naybor? Past Shame?
By Godes de, naybor, thates a tryccom name.
VYCE: Tell a mare a tal and shyell gerd out a fart.
Se how the [ass] my wordes douth mystake!
Would it not anger a saynt at the hart
To se what a scoffe of my name he douth make?
Ooundes of me, as still as a stake
He standith, nought caring what of him maye be tyde. [100]
Be his woundes, I wod have a arme or a syde!
Sought! Let me se -- it is best to be styll:
'Good slepinge in a hole skynne,' ould foulkes do saye.
Not withstanding, iwis, Ill have myne owne wyll.
Naye, I wyll be revenged, by his oundes, and I maye
Syrra, you good man Rustycus, marke what I saye;
Harke in thine eare, man, this dyd I see
A hoge of thyne wearyed to be.
RUSTICUS: Godes gee, Maister Pacience, I praye you me tell,
What horsen chorles doge my hogge so dyd quell? [110]
Iche zware by Gise and holye Zaynt Blyve
Chyll bezwinge him and ich be a lyve!
By Godes de, cham angry and not well content.
Chould ha wear hear -- could make him repent!
Ich had rather gyven vore stryke of corne
Then to had my hogge on this wyse forlorne.
But if I knewe whous dogge, chould be
Revenged well inough, iche warrent the!
VYCE: He, ha, he! by God, Rusticus, I maye saye in no game,
I knowe the person whose dogge so did slaye [120]
Thy hogge. Fye, fye! man, it was a vearey shame
For thy naybor Hodge to let it, by this daye.
Well, I wyll go to him and se if I maye
By aney meanes procure him to make the amendes;
Ille do the best I can to make you both frendes.
RUSTICUS: Chyll be no frendes -- chad rather be hanged --
Tyll iche have that oulde karle wel and thryfteley hanged.
And tweare not your masshyppe dyd me with hould,
To swing the ourchet iche chould be boulde.
VYCE: Ha, ha, he! nay, nay, spare not for me! [130]
Go to it strayght, if thear to ye gre.
RUSTICUS: Hodge, I harde saye thou illy hast wrought,
For my hogge unto death with thi dog thou haste broughgt.
Iche byd the thy vaute to me to amend
Or chyll zwaddell the, iche zweare, in my bat end.
HODGE: Zwaddell me? Godes get! chyll care not a poynte;
Iche have a good bat, thy bones to a noynte.
Thou olde carle, I zaye thy hoge hurtyd me,
And therefore I wyll have a mendes now of the.
My rye and my otes, my beanes and my pease [140]
They have eaten up quight, but small for my ease
And therfore, iche zaye, all thy hogges kepe vaste
Or iche wyll them wearey as longe as they laste.
By Godes get! I can never come in my ground,
But that zame zwyne in my pease iche have founde.
VYCE: Tout, tout, Rusticus, these wordes be but wynd.
To him, man, to him, and swaddell him well!
Ye, neaver leave him as longe as thou can fynd
Him whot, but [teache] him a gaine to rebell.
What nedest thou to care, thou his wordes be so fell? [150]
Tout, tout, tharte unwyse; and followe my mynde
And I warraunt the in end some ease thou shalt finde.
RUSTICUS: Godes gee, hourson Hoge, paye me for my zwine
Or eles larne to kepe that cockescome of thyne.
[Up with thy staf and be readye to smyte; but Hodge smit first.]
HODGE: Godes de, do thy worst -- I care not a poynte!
Chyll paye the none; chyll jobard a joynte.
VYCE: Nay, stand I styll? some what I wyll lend;
[And let the Vise thwacke them both and run out.]
Take this for a reward! Now a waye I must wend. [Exit.]
RUSTICUS: O Godes get, cham zwinged zo zore,
Iche thincke chaul neaver lyve one houre more. [160]
HODGE: O godes ge, I thincke my bewnes will in zonder;
Yf ich get home, by Gis, ittes a wounder.
Farewell Rusticus, for by Gis iche chaull,
When I mete the againe, bezwinge the vor all.
RUSTICUS: Nay letes be frendes, and chyll in good part
Of browne ale at my house give the a whole whart.
What Hodge, shake hondes, mon; be merey and lauffe;
By Godes ge, iche had not the best end of the staffe.
HODGE: Cham contente, naybor Rusticus, shaull be ene so.
Come, to thy house I praye the let us go. [170]
[Go out. Horestes entrith.]
HORESTES: To caull to minde the crabyd rate of mothers ill attempt
Provokes me now all pyttie quight from me to be exempt;
Yet lo, Dame Nature teles me that I must with willing mind
Forgive the faulte and to pytie some what to be inclynd;
But lo, be hould, thadulltres dame on hourdome morder vill
Hath heaped up, not contented her spousaule bed to fyll
With forrayne love, but sought also my fatal thred to share
As, erst before, my fathers fyll in sonder she dyd pare.
O paterne love, why douste thou so of pytey me request,
Syth thou to me wast quit denyed, my mother being prest? [180]
When tender yeres this corps of mine did hould -- alas for wo --
When frend my mother shuld have bin, then was she chefe my fo.
Oh godes, therfore, sith you be just, unto whose poure and wyll
All thing in heaven and earth also obaye and sarve untyll,
Declare to me your gracious mind; shall I revenged be
Of good Kynge Agamemnones death? Ye godes declare to me!
Or shall I let the adulltres dame styll wallow in her sin?
Oh godes of war, gide me a right when I shall war begyn. [Enter Vyce.]
VYCE: Warre, quoth he? I, war in dede! And trye it by the sworde?
God save you, sir! The godes to ye have sent this kind of word: [190]
That in the hast you armour take, your fathers fose to slaye,
And I as gyde with you shall go to gyde you on the way.
By me (thy mind) ther wrathful dome shalbe performd in dede;
Therfore, Horestes, marke me well, and forward do procede
For to revenge thy fathers death, for this they all have ment;
Which thing for to demonstrat, lo, to the they have me sent.
HORESTES: As you, good syr, the messenger of godes, as you do saye?
Wil they in revenging this wrong I make not long delay?
VYCE: What nede you dout? I was in heaven when al the gods did gre
That you of Agamemnons death, for south, revengid should be. [200]
Tout, tout, put of that childish love! Couldst thou with a good wil
Contentyd be that one should so they father seme to kyll?
Why waylst thou, man? Leave of, I say! Plucke corrage unto the!
This lamentation sone shall fade, if thou imbrasydest me.
HORESTES: What is thy name, may I in quear? O sacrid wight, I pray
Declare to me, and with this feare do not my hart dismaye.
VYCE: Amonge the godes celestiall I Courrage called am;
You to assyste in vearey truth from out the heavens I cam;
And not without god Marsis his leave I durst hear show my face,
Which thou shalt fele, if that ther gift thou dost forthwith imbrace. [210]
HORESTES: And sith it is thear gratious will, welcom thou art to me.
O holy wight, for this thear gyft I thanke them hartelley.
My thinkes I fele all feare to fley, all sorrow, griefe and payne.
My thinkes I fele corrage provokes my wil for ward againe
For to revenge my fathers death and infamey so great.
Oh, how my hart doth boyle in dede, with firey perching heate.
Corrage, now welcom by the godes: I find thou art in dede
A messenger of heavenly gostes. Come, let us now procede
And take in hand to bringe to pas revengyd for to be
Of those which have my father slaine -- but soft, now let me se -- [220]
[Enter Idumeus and Councell.]
Idumeus, that worthy kinge, doth come into this place.
What saye you, Corrage, shal I now declare to him my case?
VYCE: Faull to it then and slacke no time, for 'tyme once past away
Doth cause repentence but to late to com,' old foulks do say.
When stede is stolen, to late it is to shyt the stable dore.
Take time, I say, while time doth give a leasure good therfore.
IDUMEUS: What ever he be that sceptar beares or rules in state full hie
Is sonest down through fortunes eyar and brought to myserey;
As of late yeares the worthy kinge, Agamemnon by name,
Whos prais throughout the world is bloun by golden trump of Fame, [230]
His wel won fame in marshall stoure doth reache unto the sky;
Yet, lo! through Fortunes blind attempt he lo in earth doth lie.
He that had past the fate of war, where chaunce was equall set,
Through Fortunes spight is caught, alacke, within olde Meros net;
And he, which somtime did delight in clothed coat of maylle,
Is now constraynd in Carones bote over the brouke to saylle,
That flose upon the fatall bankes of Plutoes kingdome great
And that in shade of silent wodes and valeys greene do beate,
When soules of kinges and other wights a poyntyd are to be
In quiet state, there also is this worthey reall tree. [240]
Of south, I joye for to behold Horestes actyve cheare,
The which in father sometime was, in son doth now apear.
But where is he, that all this day I neaver sawe his face?
HORESTES: [Knell downe.] hand, O kynge, thy sarvant is, which wisheth to thy grace
All hayl with happey fate certayne, with pleasures many fould.
But yet my leege, a sute I have if I might be so bold
To crave the same, my soferayn lord, wherby I might aspyer
Unto the thing [which] very much, O kynge, I do requier.
IDUMEUS: What thing is that? If we suppose it laufull for to be,
On prynces faith without delaye it shall be given the. [250]
VYCE: Tout, let him alone now we may, in good south,
I was not so lustey my pourpose to get,
But now of my honestey, I tell you of truth,
In revenging the wronge his mynd he hath set.
It is not Idumeus that hath poure to let
Horestes fro sekinge his mother to kyll
Tout, let hym alone, hele have his owne wyll.
HORESTES: Sith that your grace hath willed me this my desiar to show,
Oh gratious kynge, this thing it is: I let your grace to know
That long I have request to vew my fathers kingley place; [260]
And eke for to revenge the wrong done to my fathers grace
Is myne intent; wherefore, O kynge, graunt that without delaye
My earytage and honor eke atchyve agayne I maye.
IDUMEUS: Stey their a whyle, Horestes mine, tyll Councell do decree
The thing that shall unto your state most honorabell bee.
My counciler, how do you thinke? Let us your councell have.
How think you by this thing the which Horestes now doth crave?
COUNCELL: As I do thinke, my soferayne lord, it should be nothing ill,
A prynce for to revenged be on those which so dyd kyll
His fathers grace; but rather shall it be a feare to those [270]
That to the lyke at anye time their cruell mindes dispose.
And also, as I thinke, it shall an honer be to ye,
To adjuvate and helpe him with some men revenged to be.
This do I thinke most fyttest for your state and his also.
Do as you lyst, sieth that your grace my mind herin doth kno.
IDUMEUS: Sith Councell thinkes it fyt in ded revenged for to be,
That you Horestes, in good south, for to revenge I gree;
And also to mayntaine your war I graunt you with good will
A thousand men of stomake bolde, your enimise to kyll.
Take them forth with and forward go; let slyp no time ne tyd, [280]
For chaunce to leasure to be bound, I tell you, can not byd.
Go, therfore, straight provide your men, and like a manly knight
In place of stouer put forth thy selfe; assay with all thy might
To win the fame, for glorey none in chambering doth rest.
Marke what I saye: to get thy men I take it for [the] best.
VYCE: Com on, Horestes, sith thou hast obtayned thy desier.
Tout, tout, man, seke to dysytroye as doth the flaming fier,
Whose properte, thou knoest, doth gro as long as any thing
Is left wher by the same may seme som suckcor for to bring.
HORESTES: I thanke your grace, I shall sequest your gratius mind herin. [290]
[Go out.]
VYCE: Se, se, I praye you, how he joyse that he must war begin!
[Go out.]
IDUMEUS: My councell, now declare to me, how think you by this wight?
Doth not he seme in south to be in tyme a manley knight?
By all the godes I thinke in south a man may easeley kno
Whose son he was, so right he doth his fathers steppes follow.
COUNCELL: Undoubtedly, my soferaynd lorde, he semeth unto me
Not to sequest his fathers steppes in feates of chevallrey,
But rather for to imitate the floure of Greation land:
I meane Achilles, that same knight, by whose one only hand
The Greacians have obtained at laingth the conquest of old Troy, [300]
For which thei did holl ten yeres space their labor great imploy.
IDUMEUS: Syth he is gon for to purvaye such thinges as shall in dede
Suffise to sarve his tourn in wares, wherof he shal have nede,
Let us depart; and when he shall retourne heather a gayne,
To see the mustor of his men we wyll sure take the payne.
[Go out. (Haultersyke) entrithe and syngeth this song to the tune of 'Have over the water to Floride' or 'Sellengers Round'.]
The Songe
HAULTERSYCKE: Farre well, adew, that courtlycke lyfe,
To warre we tend to gowe,
It is good sport to se the stryfe
Of sodyers on a rowe:
How mereley they forward march [310]
These enemys to slaye,
With hey trym and tryxey to,
Their banners they dysplaye.
Now shaull we have the golden cheates,
When others want the same,
And sodyares have foull maney feates
Their enemyes to tame:
With couckinge heare, and bomynge their,
They breake thear fose araye,
And loustey lades, amid the feldes, [320]
Thear ensines do dysplaye.
The droum and flute playe lousteley.
The troumpet blose a mayne,
And ventrous knightes corragiousley
Do march before thear trayne:
With speare in reste, so lyvely drest,
In armour bryghte and gaye,
With hey trym and tryxey to,
Thear banners they dysplaye.
[Hempstring commeth in and speaketh.]
HEMPSTRINGE: Goges oundes, Haultersycke, what makes thou heare? [330]
HAULTERSYCKE: What? Jacke Hempstringe! Welcom, draw neare.
HEMPSTRINGE: By his oundes! I have soughte the, some newse to tell.
HAULTERSYCKE: Godes bloud, what newse? Ist the devell in hell?
HEMPSTRINGE: In faythe, thou art mearey; but this is the matter:
Doust thou hear, Haltersicke, each man doth clatter
Of warres, ye of warres, for Horestes wyll go
His erytage to wyn. Boye, the truth is so.
HAULTERSYCKE: Nay, but Jacke Hempstringe, sease of this prate:
Yf thou caull me boye, then beware thy pate!
HEMPSTRINGE: What? Hould thy peace! As far as I se, [340]
We be boyse both -- thearfor let us gree.
HAULTERSYCKE: Boye? Naye, be God! though I be but smaull,
Yet, Jacke Hempstringe, a hart is worth all;
And have not I an hart that to warres dare go?
Yes, Hempstringe, I warrant the, and that thou shouldest know,
If Dycke Haltersyckes mynde thou move unto eyar,
Colles neaver bourne tyll they be set one fyare.
HEMPSTRINGE: Ye, but if they bourne so that they flame,
Yet water, Dycke Halltersycke, the bourning cane tame.
But, harke thee, my master will venter a joynt, [350]
And me to wayte on him he all readye doth poynt.
But, hearste thou? Thou knowest my master loves well
Now and then to be snappinge at some dayntye mossell;
But, by Goges bloud, Halltersycke, if thou love me,
Take some prytey wenche our laundrar to be,
And, be Goges bloud, I am contentyd to beare
Halfe of her chargis, when that she comes thear.
HAULTERSYCKE: As fyt for the warre, Jacke Hempstringe, thou art,
In fayth, as a be is to drawe a carte.
He is lyke to be manned, that hath such a knight [360]
Under his banner, I sweare, for to fight,
When Horestes in fight moste busiest shalbe,
Then with thy gynney we must seke the.
HEMPSTRINGE: Goges oundes, hart and nayles, you are a franion!
Come of, with a myschiefe, my gentell companion!
By your sleve, sire Haultersicke, I thine [think] that a be
As good a sodyer as ever was ye.
HAULTERSYCKE: He hath learned his lesson, but of south I feare
He hath quight forgotten the waye for to sweare.
Oundes, hart, and nayles! Marey, hes no lad; [370]
And he be not hanged, he wyll be starke mad.
HEMPSTRINGE: Hange me no hanginge; yf ye be so quicke,
Roube not to hard, lest Hempstringe do kycke!
HAULTERSYCKE: Had better be styll, and a sleepe in his head;
Yf a kycke me, me chaunce to breake his head!
[(Haultersycke) flort him.]
HEMPSTRINGE: Goges bloud, good man Haltersycke, begine you to flout me?
HAULTERSYCKE: No, not at all; he douth but lout ye.
What, Hempstringe, I saye, are you angred at jeste?
In fayth, Goodman Lobcocke, your handsomley drest!
[Flort him on the lipes.]
HEMPSTRINGE: Goges bloud, so to flout me, thou art muche to blame! [380]
HAULTERSYCKE: Why, all that I do, man, is but in game.
HEMPSTRINGE: Take thou that for they jeste, and flout me no more.
[Give him a box on the eare.]
HAULTERSYCKE: For that same on blowe, thou shalt have a score.
Drawe thy sword, vylyne, yf thou be a man,
And then do the worst that ever thou can.
HEMPSTRINGE: Naye, set sword a syde, and at boffetes well trey,
Wheather of us both shal have the masterey.
HAULTERSYCKE: Goges oundes! thou art bygger, yet I care not a poynt,
Yf to be revenged I jobard a joynt.
HEMPSTRINGE: I have coylyd the well, but I holde the a grote, [390]
Yf thou meddell with me, I wyll swinge thye cote.
[Fyght at bofites with fystes.]
HAULTERSYCKE: Indede, I must saye, I have cought the worst,
but I wyll be revengd, or eles I shall bourste.
Yf tyme did not call me from hence to depart,
I should anger the, Hempstring, even at the hart.
Therefore farwell tyll an other daye,
But, hearste thou, take this to spend by the waye.
[Give him a box on the eare and go out.]
HEMPSTRINGE: Goges oundes, is he gon? Naye, after I wyll,
And of the slave, by his oundes, I wyll have my fyll.
[Go out.]
[Let the drum playe and Horestes enter with his men and
lette him kneele downe and speake.]
HORESTES: Oh godes, be prosperous, I praye, and eke preserve my band [400]
Show now that ye be gods in ded, stretch out your mighty hand
And give us hartes and willes also, where by we may prevayl,
And suffer not you godes, I praye, our courragis to fayll.
But let our hartes addytyd be for aye as we pretend,
And of that vile adulltres dame, oh gods, now make an end.
My hands do thryst her blod to have, nought can my mind content
Tyll that on her I have perfourmed, oh gods, your just judgment.
[(Enter Nature. Horestes) stand up.]
NATURE: Nay, stey, my child! From mothers bloud withdraw thy bloudy hand!
HORESTES: No, nought at all, oh Nature, can my purpose now withstand.
Shall I for give my fathers death? My hart can not agre, [410]
My father slayne in such a sorte and unrevengyd to be.
NATURE: Consider first, Horestes myne, what payne for the she toke.
HORESTES: And of my fathers death againe, O Nature, do thou louke.
NATURE: I do confesse, a wycked facte it was; this is most playne;
Not withstanding, from mothers bloud thou must thy hands refrain.
Canst thou (a lacke, unhappey wight!) consent revenged to be
On her whose pappes, before this time, hath given foud to the?
In whom I, Nature, formyd the, as best I thought it good.
Oh now requight her for her pain; withdraw thy hands from bloud.
HORESTES: Who offendith the love of God, and eke mans love with willing hart, [420]
Must by [that] love have punnishment as dutey due for his desart.
For me therfor to punish hear, as law of gods and man doth wil,
Is not a crime, though that I do, as thou dost saie, my mother kil.
NATURE: The cruel beasts that raung in feldes, whose jause to blod ar whet,
Do not consent their mothers paunch in cruell wise to eate:
The tyger fierse doth not desire the ruine of his kinde;
And shall Dame Nature now in the such tyraney once finde
As not the cruell bestes voutsafe to do in aney case?
Leve now, I say, Horestes myne, and to my wordes give place,
Lest that of men this facte of thine may judged for to be [430]
Ne lawe, in south, ne justys eke, but cruell tyraney.
HORESTES: Pythagoras doth thincke it, lo, no tyraney to be,
When that justyse is mynestryd as lawe and godes decree.
If that the law doth her condemne as worthy death to have,
Oh Nature, woulst thou wil that I her life should seme to save?
To save her lyfe whom law doth slay, is not justise to do;
Therefore, I saye, I wyll not yeld they hestes to com unto.
NATURE: Yf Nature cannot brydell the, remember the decaye
Of those which hereto fore, in south, their parents sought to slay:
Oedippus fate caull thou to minde, that slew his father so, [440]
And eke remember now what fame of him a brode doth go.
HORESTES: What fame doth blowe I forse not, I, ne yet what fame I have,
For this is true: that bloud for bloud my fathers deth doth crave,
And lawe of godes and lawe of man doth eke request the same.
Therefore, oh Nature, sease to praye; I forse not of my name.
NATURE: For to lament this heavey fate, I cannot other do.
A lacke, a lacke! that once my chyld should now consent unto
His mothers death; wherefore farewell -- I can no longer stey. [Go out.]
HORESTES: Farwel, Dame Nature. To my men I straight wil take my way.
[Go out. Enter Idumeus and Councell.]
IDUMEUS: To se this mouster let us go, for I suppose it tyme. [450]
Where is Horestes? Why stease he? The truth to me define.
[Let the drum playe.]
COUNCELL: Oh soferayne lord, me thinkes I here him for to be at hand.
Yft please your grace, he is in sight even now with al his band.
[Let the drum play and enter Horestis with his band;a bout the stage.]
IDUMEUS: Com on, Horestes; we have stayd your mouster for to se.
HORESTES: And now at hand my men and I all redy armed be.
Lo, mighty kynge, this champions here agre with me to wende;
Oh gracious kynge, that they shall so, wylt please you condissend?
IDUMEUS: I do agree; and now awhyle give eare your king unto.
It doth behoufe corragious knightes on this wyse for to do:
That is to stryve for to obtayne the victorey and prayse. [460]
That lasts for aye, when death shal end the [fine] of these our dais.
Wherefore be bold and feare no fate; the gods for you shall fight,
For they be just and will not se that you in case of right
Shall be desstrest; wherefore attend, and do your busey payne,
The crabyd rage of enymyse by forse for to restrayne.
And, as to me your trusteynes hath here to fore be knowne,
So now to this Horestes here let eke the same be showne.
Be to his heastes obaydient; be stoute to take in hand
Such enterpryse which he shal thinke most for his state to stand;
Which if you do, the fame is youres; the glorey and renoune, [470]
That shal arise of this your facts, throughout the world shal sound;
The which you may, I pray the godes your gydes here in to be.
And now farwell, but [note] that well that I have sayde to ye.
SODYERS: The godes preserve your grace for aye, and you defend from wo;
That we have don as you commaund, ful wel your grace shal kno.
IDUMEUS: Now harke, Horestes, sith thou must of men the gyder be,
And that the wyll of godes it is thou must now part from me,
Take yet my last commaundement, and beare it in thy minde:
Let now they men courragiousnes in the, their captayne, finde;
And as thou art courragious, so lyke wyse let their be [480]
For safegard of thy men, a brayne well fraught with pollicye;
For over rashe in doinge ought doth often damage bringe;
Therfore take councell first, before thou dost anye thinge.
For councell, as Plaato doth tell, is sure a heavenly thinge;
And Socrates, a certaynte, doth say, councell doth brynge
Of thinges in dout; for Lyvy sayes, no man shall him repent
That hath, before he worked ought, his tyme in councell spent;
And be thou lybraull to thy men, and gentell be also,
For that way, at thy wil, thou mayst have them through fire to go;
And he that shall at any tyme deserve ought well of the, [490]
Soffer him not for to depart, tyll well reward he be.
Thus have you hard, Horestes mine; remembar well the same;
In doing thus you shall pourchas to the immortaull fame,
The which I hope you wyll assaye for to atchife in dede.
The gods the blis, when in the war thou forward shalt procede.
HORESTES: I thanke your grace, and now of you my leave I here do take.
IDUMEUS; Farwell, my sonne Horestes, I thy partinge yll shall take;
Yet, eare thou go, let me imbrace the once, I the do praye.
Alacke, alacke, that now from me thou must nedes part away.
[Imbrace him.]
Yet whyell thou art in present place, receave of one this kys. [500]
Farwell, good knight, for now I shal thy swete imbrasings mys. [Kys him.]
HORESTES: The sacred godes presarve and save thy state, oh kynge, I pray;
And send the helth, and after death to rayne with him for aye.
Come on my men, let us depart.
SODYERS: As please your grace, with all our hart. [March about and go out.]
IDUMEUS: Ah, ah, how grevous is his parting now, my Councell, unto me.
The godes him bles and send him helth, I praye them hartele.
Wo worth the time, the day and hour! Now may Horestes wayle,
And Clytemnestra may lament, that so she dyd assayle
His father deare; for now on bloud Horestes mind is set [510]
And to revenge his fathers death, sure, nought their is can let.
In voyding of a mischefe smal they have wrought their decay.
For now nought elles in Horestes but sore reveng bears sway.
COUNCELL: For to causes, my soferayne lord, revengment ought to be.
The on, least others be in fecte with that that they shall se
Their princes do; the other is, that those that now be yll
May be revoked and may be taught for to subdew their wyll.
Plato, a wyse phylosopher, dyd thinke it for to be
A prynceley facte, when as a kynge shall punnishe seriousley
Such persons as dyd trayne their lyfe to follow that was naught, [520]
The which their prince at ani time shal by mischaunce have wroght.
Protegeus, an evell kinge a carrayne lykenes to,
Which all the place about the same to stinke causeth to do.
Therefore, O kynge, if that her faute should unrevengyd be,
A thousand evylles would insu their of, your grace should se.
Her faute is great, and punnyshment it is worthy for to have,
For by that meane the good, in south, from daungers may be saufe.
For lo, the unyversaull scoll of all the world we knowe
Is once the pallace of a kinge, where vyces chefe do flow
And, as to waters from on head and fountayne oft do spring, [530]
So vyce and vertue oft do flo from pallace of a kinge;
Whereby the people, seeing that the kinge adycte to be,
Toprosecute the lyke they all do labor, as we se.
Therfore the gods have wylled thus, Horestes for to take
His jorney, and to recompence for fathers death to make.
IDUMEUS: Sith gods have wild the same to be, good lucke the gods him send,
Com on, my Councell; now from hence we purpose for to wend.
[Go out.]
[Enter Egistus and Clytemnestra singinge this songe to the tune of 'King Salomon.']
EGISTUS: And was it not a worthy sight
Of Venus childe, Kinge Priames sonne,
To steale from Grece a ladye bryght, [540]
For whom the wares of Troye begon?
Naught fearinge daunger that might faull,
Lady, ladie,
From Grece to Troye he went with al,
My deare lady.
CLYTEM: When Paris firste arrived there,
Where as Dame Venus worshyp is,
And bloustringe Fame abroade dyd beare
His lyvely fame, she dyd not mys
To Helena for to repayre, [550]
Her for to tell
Of prayse and shape so trym and fayre
That dyd excell.
EGISTUS: Her beautie caused Paris payne,
And bare chiefe sweye with in his mynde.
No thinge was abell to restraine
His wyl, some waye fourth for to finde,
Whereby he might have his [desyare],
Lady, ladye,
So great in him was Cupids fyare, [560]
My deare ladye.
CLYTEM: And eke as Paris dyd desyear
Fayre Helena for to possesse,
Her hart, inflamid with lyke fyear,
Of Paris love [desyard] no lesse,
And found occasion him to mete
In Cytheron,
Where each of them the other dyd grete
The feast uppon.
EGISTUS: Yf that in Paris Cupides shafte, [570]
O Clytemnestra, toke such place,
That tyme ne waye he never left
Tyll he had gotte her comley grace.
I thinke my chaunce not ill to be,
Ladye, ladye,
That ventryd lyfe to purchase ye,
My dere ladye.
CLYTEMHESTRA: Kynge Priames sonne loved not so sore
The Gretian dame [they brothers wyfe]
But she his person estemed more, [580]
Not for his sake savinge her lyfe,
Which caused her people to be slayne
With him to flye
And he requight her love a gayne
Most faythfullye.
EGISTUS: And as he recompence agayne
The fayre Queen Hellyn for the same,
So whyle I lyve I wyll take payne
My wyll alwayes to yours to frame,
Syth that you have voutsafe to be, [590]
Ladye, ladye,
A queene and ladye unto me,
My deare ladye.
CLYTEM: And as she lovyd him best whyle lyfe
Dyd last, so tend I you to do,
Yf that devoyd of warr and stryfe
The godes shall please to graunt us to;
Syeth you voutsafest me for to take,
O my good knyght,
And me thy ladye for to make, [600]
My heartes delyghte.
EGISTUS: As joyful as the warlyke god is Venus to behoulde;
So is my hart repleate with joye much more a thousand fould,
Oh lady deare, in that I do posses my hartes delyghte.
[Let the trumpete blowe with in.]
What meanes this sound? for very much it doth my hart [afright].
CLYTEM: Feare nought at all, Egistus myne, no hourt it doth pretend.
But, lo, me thinkes a messenger to us heather doth wend.
[Enter (Messenger).]
MESS: The gods presarve your eaquall state and send you of their blys.
CLYTEM: Welcom, good messenger; what newese, I pray the, with the is?
MESS: Yf please your grace even now their is aryved in this land. [610]
The mightey knight, Horestes, with a mightey pewsaunt band,
Who purposith for to invade this Mycoene citie stronge,
And, as he goese, he leyse both tower and castell all alonge.
It boutes no man defence to make, for yf he wyll not yeld,
By sodyeres rage he straight is slayne in mydest of the felde. [Go out.]
CLYTEM: Ah, syr, is he come in dede? He is wellcom by this daye.
Egistus, now in south, with spede from hence take you your way
In to our realme and take up men, our tyghtull to defend.
Tyll your retourne this citie I to kepe do sure intend.
For all his strength he shall not get to enter once here in; [620]
The walles be strong and for his forse I sure set not a pyn.
EGISTUS: Syth you be abell to defend this citie as you saye,
Farwell in south; to get me men I now wyll take my waye
And sone againe I wyll returne, his pamprid pryd to tame.
CLYTEM: Farwell, Egistus, and in south I strayght will do the same.
[Go out Clytemnestra and Egistus.
Enter a woman lyke a beger rounning before (the) sodier,
but let the sodier speke first; but let the woman crye first pitifulley.]
SODYER: Yeld the, I saye, and that by and bye,
Or with this sword, in fayth, thou shalt dye.
WOMAN: Oh with a good wyll I yeld me to the,
Good master sodier, have mercye on me!
My husband thou hast slayne in most cruell wyse, [630]
Yet this my prayer do now not dyspyse.
SODYER: Come on then in hast; my prysoner thou art,
Come, followe me, I saye, we must nedes depart.
[Go a fore her and let her fal downe upon the (sodier)al to be beate him.]
WOMAN: A, horson slave, I wyl teach the in faye
To handle a woman on an other waye!
To put me in feare with out my dezarte --
I wyll teache the, in faye, to playe such a parte!
SODYER: Be contentyd, good woman, and thou shalt be
Neaver heare after molysted for me.
WOMAN: Naye, vyllyn, slave! A mendes thou shalt make, [640]
In that thou, be fore, me as prysinor dydest take.
Now I have cought the, and my prysoner thou art;
By his oundes, horson slave, this gose to they harte!
[Take his weapons and let him ryse up and then go out both.]
SODYER: Naye, save my lyfe, for I wyll be
Thy prysoner and, lo, I yelde me to the.
WOMAN: Come, wend thou with me, and they wepon thou shalt have,
Syth that thou voutsafyste my lyfe for to save.
[Enter the Vyce synginge this song to the tune of 'The Paynter'.]
VYCE: Stand backe, ye slepinge jackes at home,
And let me go.
You lye, syr knave, am I a mome? [650]
Why saye you so?
Tout, tout, you dare not come in felde
For feare you shoulde the goste up yelde.
With blose he gose, the gunne shot flye,
It feares, it seares, and their doth lye.
A houndreth in a moment be
Disstroyed quight.
Syr sause, in fayth, yf you shoulde se
The gonne shot lyght,
To quake for feare you would not stynte, [660]
When as by forse of gounshotes dynte
the rankes in raye are tooke awaye,
As pleaseth fortune oft to playe.
But in this stower who beares the fame
But onely I?
Revenge, Revenge, wyll have the name,
Or he wyll dye.
I spare no wight, I feare none yll,
But with this blade I wyll them kyll,
For when myne eayre is set on fyare [670]
I rap them, I snap them -- that is my desyare.
Farwell, a dew, to wares I muste
In all the hast.
My cosen Cutpurse wyll, I truste,
Your pursse well tast.
But to it, man, and feare for nought;
Me saye to the, it is well fraught
Wyth ruddockes red. Be at a becke!
Beware the arse! breake not thy necke!
[Go out. Horestes entrith with his bande and marcheth about the stage.]
HORESTES: Come on my sodyers, for at home aryved their we be, [680]
Where as we must have our desyare or els dye manfulley.
The walles be hye, yet I intend uppon them first to go
And, as I hope, you sodiers will your captayne eke follow.
Yf I for sake to go before, then sley you eke be hynde,
And as I am, so eke I trust my sodyers for to finde.
Come hether harauld; go proclame this mine intent straightway.
To yonder [citie] say that I am come to their decaye.
Unlesse they yeld, I will destroye both man, woman and childe,
And eke their towers that for the war so strongly they do bylde.
Byd them in hast to yeld to me, for nough I do a byde [690]
But for their aunswear; or elles fourthwith for them and theres provid.
HARRAULD: Your gratious minde straight shalbe don. Cum, trompet, let us go.
That I have don your message wel, your grace ful wel shal kno.
[Let the trumpet go towarde the citie and blowe.]
HORESTES: Hye the apase and let me have agayne an aunsweare sone,
And then a non thou shalt well se what quickely shalbe done.
[Let the trumpet leave soundyng and let Harrauld speake, and speake over the wal.]
HARRAULD: How! [who] is their that kepes the gate? Give eare my words unto!
CLYTEM: What wouldst thou have? Harald, declare, what has thou her to do?
HARRAULD: My master bydes the, yeld to him this citie out of hande,
Or elles he will not leave on stone on other for to stand;
And all things elles within this towne he wil have at his wil, [700]
As pleaseth him by any meanes to save or elles to spyll.
What you will now therfore declare, and aunswere to him send.
CLYTEM: This citie here against him and his I wyll defende.
HARRAULD: Then in his name I do defye both the and all with in.
CLYTEM: By him and his, tell him in south, we do not set a pyn.
HARRAULD: Yf it please your grace, this word she sends: she wil not yeld to ye.
But yf you com, unto your harme she sayes that it shalbe.
[Let the Haraulde go out here.]
HORESTES: Sith that my grace and eke good wil they on such sort dispise,
For to destroye both man and chyld I surely do devyse.
Com on, my men, bend now your forse this citie for to wyn; [710]
Save no mans lyfe that once should make rysistaunce there within,
And when you shall posses the towne and have all things at wil,
Loke out my mother, but to her do ye no kynde of yll.
Let her not die, though that she would desiar the death to have,
For other wyse my fathers death revengement doth crave.
SODYER: We shall your hestes obaye with spede. Oh captayne, we desiar
That we were there, for to revenge our hartes are set on fyar.
[Enter Vyce.]
VYCE: Lyke men, by God I sweare, well sayd! Horestes, let us gow.
Nowe to thy men lyke manley hart I praye the for to showe,
And, as thou seiste, be firste the man that shall the citie wyn. [720]
How, how, now for to flye all ready they begynne!
HORESTES: With lyvely hartes, my troumpeters, exault your tubal sound,
And now, my sodyers, in your harts let courrage eke be found.
Com, let us go! The godes for us shall make an easey waye;
Spare none a lyve, for I am bent to seke their great decaye.
[Go and make your lively battel, and let it be longe eare youwin the citie, and when you have won it, let Horestes bringehis mother by the arme and let the droum sease playing andtrumpet also. When she is taken, let her knele downe and speake.]
CLYTEM: A lack, what heaps of myschefes great me, selly wight, torment!
Now is the tyme falune me upon which I thought to prevent.
Yet, best I seke my lyfe to save; perhappes he will me here.
A lacke, revengement he dothe crave, for slaying his father dere.
Yf aney sparke of mothers bloud remaynd within thy breste, [730]
Oh gratious child, let nowe thine eares unto my words be prest.
Pardon I crave, Horestes myne, save now my corpes from death;
Let no man saye that thou wast cause I yeldyd up my breath.
I have offendyd, I do confesse; yet save my lyfe, I praye,
And do they mother this request, O knight, do not denaye.
HORESTES: For to repent this facte of thyne, now that it is to late,
Can not be thought a recompence for kylling of thy mate.
Go, have [her] hence therfore with spede, and se her sureley kepte,
And, for that fact a fore thou dydest, thou surley shouldst have wept.
[Clytemnestra go out with on of the sodiares.]
VICE: Nay, far you wel. In fayth you have an aunswer: get you hence! [740]
Oundes of me, I would not be in her cote for forty pence.
Nay, nay, a way, far well, a dew! now, now, it is to late
When stede is stollen, for you in south to shut the stable gate.
She should have wept when first she went the kynge about to slay.
It makes no matter; she foull well dyd brede her owne decaye.
[Let Horestes syth hard.]
Ounds of me, what meane you, man? Begyn you now to faynt?
Jesu, God! how styll he syttes; I thinke he be a saynt.
O, oo, oo! you care not for me. Nay, sone I have don, I warrant ye.
[(Vyce) wepe, but let Horestes ryse and bid him pease.]
HORESTES: By all the godes, my hart dyd fayle, my mother for to se
From hye estate for to be brought to so great mysery, [750]
That all most I had graunted lyfe to her, had not this be
My fathers death, whose death, in south, chefe causer of was she.
VYCE: Even as you saye; but harke, at hand Egistus draweth nye,
Who purposieth the chaunce of war, Horestes for to trye.
[Let Egistus enter and set hys men in araye, and let the dromtyll Horestes speaketh.]
HORESTES: And, by the godes, I purpose eke my honour to defend.
Com on, my men, kepe your araye, for now we do pretend,
Eather to be the conquerer, or elles to dye in felde;
Lyft up your hartes, and let us se how ye your blose can yeld.
EGISTUS: Lyke manley men adresse your selves to get immortall fame.
Yf ye do flye, lo, what doth rest behynde but foull defame? [760]
Strike up your drums, let trumpets sound, your baners eke display,
And I, my selfe, as captayne, to you wyll lead the waye.
HORESTES: Thou, traytor to my father dere, what makest the here in feld?
Repent the of thy wyckednes, and to me strayght do yeld!
EGISTUS: Thou pryncoks boy and bastard slave! Thinks thou me to subdew?
It lyeth not with in thy powre, thou boye, I tell the trew;
But yf I take thy corpes, it shalbe a fode the byrdes to fede.
Stryke up your droums, and forward now, to wars let us prosede!
[Stryke up your drum, and fyght a good whil, and thensum of Egistus men flye, and then take hym and letdrau him vyolentlye, and let the drums sease.]
HORESTES: Oh vyllayne trayghtor! Now the gods ne mortall man shall save
Thy corps from death, for blud for blud my fathers deth doth crave. [770]
Oh tyraunt fyrse, couldest thou voutsafe my father so to slaye?
But now, no forse, for thou hast wrought at last thine one decay.
EGISTUS: A lacke, a lacke, yet spare my lyfe, Horestes, I the praye.
HORESTES: Thy lyfe? Naye, trayghtor vyle, that chefe I do denaye!
For as thou hast deservyd, so I shall thy facte requit,
That once couldst seme to me and mine for to work such dispight
Therfore com forth, and for thy facte receave dew punnishment.
Repent, I say, this former lyfe, for this is my judgment:
That for my fathers death, the which we finde [thee] chefe to be
The cause of, thou shalt be hanged, where we thy death may see; [780]
And, as thou for my fathers death dew punnishment receive,
So shall my mother in lykewise, for that she gave the leave
Him for to slaye, and eke to it with good will condysende.
Therfore com of and some dyspatch, that we had made an end.
EGISTUS: Ah, heavey fate and chaunce most yll! Wo worth this hap of mine!
For give my faute, you sacryd godes, and to my wordes incline
Your gracious eare; for causes furst I was -- this is most plaine --
Of Agamemnons death, wherefore I must receave this paine.
Pardon I crave; voutsafe ye godes the same to graunt it me.
Now sodier worke thy wyll in hast, I praye the harteley! [790]
[Flinb him of the lader, and then let on bringe in his mother,
but let her loke wher Egistus hangeth.]
CLYTEM: Ah heavey fate! Would God I had in tormoyle great byn slayne,
Syth nothing can Horestes hands from sheding bloud restraine.
VYCE: How chaunce you dyd not then lament, his father when you slew?
But now when death doth you prevent to late ites for to rew.
CLYTEM: Yet hope I that he will me graunt my lyfe that I should have.
VYCE: Even as much as thou voutsafest his fathers lyfe to save!
Therfore com of; we must not stey all daye to wayght on thee;
Lo, myghtye prince, for whom ye sent, lo, preasent her is she.
CLYTEM: Have mercy, sonne, and quight remitte this faute of mine, I praye.
Be mercyfull, Horestes myne, and do not me denaye. [800]
Consider that in me thou hadest they hewmayne shape composid;
That thou shouldst slay thy mother, son, let it not be disclosyd.
Spare to perse her harte with sword; call eke unto thy mynd
Edyppus fate, as Nero showe not thy selfe unkynde.
[Take downe Egistus and bear him out.]
HORESTES: Lyke as a braunche, once set a fyare, doth cause the tree to bourne,
As Socrates supposeth, so a wicked wight doth tourne
Those that be good and cause them eke his evell to sequest;
Wherefore the poete Juvenal doth thinke it for the beste,
That those that lyve lycentiousley should brydlyd be with payne,
And so others, that elles would syn, therby they might restraine; [810]
For thus he sayeth, that cities are well governed in dede,
Where punnishment for wycked ones by lawe is so decrede,
And not decrede, but exersyesd in punnyshinge of those
Which law ne pain from waloing still in vice their mind dispose.
And as thou hast byn chiefes cause of yelding up they breath,
So call to minde thou wast the cause of Agamemnons death;
For which, as death is recompence of death, so eke with the:
For kyllinge of my father thou now kylled eke shault be.
This thinge to se accomplyshyd, Revenge with the shall go.
Now have her hence, sieth that you all my judgment here do kno. [820]
CLYTEM: A lacke, a lack, with drawe thy hand, my son, from sheding bloud!
VYCE: Thou art a foule, thus for to prate; this doth Horestes good.
Com on, a way! thou doust no more but him with words molest,
A foulyshe foull, that thou wart ded, he takes it for the best.
[(Clytemnestra) knele downe.]
CLYTEM: Yf ever aney pytie was of mother plante in the,
Let it apeare, Horestes myne, and showe it unto me.
HORESTES: What pyttie thou on father myne dydest cursedley bestowe,
The same to the, at this present, I purpose for to showe,
Therfore, Revenge, have her a way, and as I judgment gave,
So se that she, in order lyke, her punishment dew have. [830]
VYCE: Let me alone! Com on, a way -- that thou weart out of sight!
A pestelaunce on the, crabyd queene! I thinke thou do delyght
Him to molest. Com of, in hast, and troubell me no more.
Com on, com on, ites all in vaine, and get you on a fore.
[Let Clytmnestra wepe and go out, Reveng also.]
HORESTES: Now, syeth we have the conquest got of all our mortall fose,
Let us provide that occasion we do not chaunce to lose.
Stryke up your droummes, for enter now we wyll the citie gate;
For nowe resestaunce none there is, to let us in there at.
[Go out and let all the sodyers folow him in araye. Enter in Fame.]
FAME: As eache man bendes him selfe, so I report his fame in dede:
Yf yll, then yll through iarne trump his fame doth [straight] prosede, [840]
Yf good, then good through golden trump I blo his lyveley fame;
Through heavens, throgh earth and surging sease, I bere abrod the same.
Perhaps, what wind me heather drives, within your minds you muse?
From Crete I com to you, my frends; I bring this kind of newse:
That Agamemnons brother is arivyd in this land,
And eke with him his ladey, fayre Quene Helen, understand;
Whom for to se, a great frequent of people their aryve.
This newse to shew at this present me heather now dyd drive.
[Enter the Vyce singing this songe.]
VYCE: A newe master, a new!
No lenger I maye [850]
A byde: by this daye
Horestes now doth rew.
A new master, a new!
And was it not yll
His mother to kyll?
I pray you, how saye you?
A new master, a new!
Now ites to late
To shut the gate;
Horestes gines to rew. [860]
FAME: Denique non parvas animo dati gloria vires
Et foecunda facit pectora laudis amor.
As Ovid sayth, I am in dede the spure to each estate
For by my troumpe I often cause the wicked man to hate
Is fylthey lyfe and eke I stoure the good more good to be,
So much the hart and will of man is lynked unto me.
VYCE: A new master, a new! Naye, I wyll go.
Tout tout! Horestes is be com a newe man
Now he sorroweth -- to bad that it is so
Yet I wyll dresse him, by his oundes, and I can. [870]
Who! Saintie amen! God morrowe, Mystress Nan,
By his oundes, I am glad to se the so trycke;
Nay, may I be so bould at your lyppes to have a lycke?
Jesus, how coye do you make the same!
You neaver knew me afore, I dare saye.
In fayth, in fayth, I was to blame,
That I made no courchey to you by the waye.
Who! berladye, Nan, thou art trym and gaye!
Woundes of me, she hath winges also!
Who, whother with a myschefe doust thou thinke for to go? [880]
To heaven? or to hell? to pourgatorye? or Spayne?
To Venys? to Pourtugaull? or to the eylles Canarey?
Nay, stay a whyle! For a myle or twayne
I wyll go with the, I sweare by Saynt Marey.
Wylt thou have a bote, Nan, over seay the to carey?
For yf it chaunce for to rayne, as the weathers not harde,
It may chaunce this trym geare of thine to be marde.
FAME: Omnia si perdis famam servare memento
Quo semel amissa postia nullus eris
Above eache thinge, kepe well thy fame, what ever that thou lose, [890]
For fame, once gone, thy memory with fame away it gose;
And it once lost, thou shalt in south accomptyd lyke to be
A drope of rayne that faulyth in the bosom of the see.
Me, Fame, therfore, as Ovid thinkes, no man hath powre to hold;
To those with whom I please to dwell, I am more rich then gold.
What causid som for countris soyle them selves to perrell cast,
But that [they] knew that after death [that] fame of thers shall last?
Not on, but all do me desiare, both good and bad lykewyse,
As maye appeare yf we perpend of Nerose enterpryse,
Which first did cause his masters death, and eke wheras he laye, [900]
In mothers wound to se, in south, his mother dyd straight slay.
With this Horestes eke takes place, whose father being slayn
through mothers gile, from mothers blod his hands could not refraine;
But, lyke as he revengyd the death of father in his eyare,
So fathers brother in lyke sort Revenge hath set on fyare,
For he is gon for to request the ayde of prynces great,
So sore his hart is set on fyare through raging rigorus heat.
What to determayne all the kynges of Grece aryved be
At Nestores towne, that Athens highte, their judgment to decre.
VYCE: Oundes, harte and nayles! naye, now I am drest. [910]
Is the Kinge Menalause at Athenes aryved,
And I be hind? To be packinges the best,
Least the matter, in south, to sone be contryved:
Auxilia humilia firma consensus facit, this allwayes provided,
That consent maketh suckers most sure for to be.
Well, I wyl be their strayght wayse, you shall se. [Go out.]
FAME: As Publius doth well declare, we ought chefest to se
Unto our selves, that nought be don after extremite.
Ab alio expectes alteri quod feceris:
For loke, what mesure thou dost meate, the same againe shalbe [920]
At other tyme, at others hand, repayde againe to the.
Therefore I wyshe eache wight to do to others, as he would
That they in lyke occasion unto him offer should.
Wel, forth I must, som newse to heare, for Fame no where can stay;
But what she hears, throughout the world abrod she doth display.
[Go out. Enter Provision.]
PROVISION: Make roume and gyve place! stand backe, there a fore!
For all my speakinge, you presse styll the more!
Gyve rome, I saye, quickeley, and make no dalyaunce!
It is not now tyme to make aney taryaunce.
The kinges here do com, therefore give way, [930]
Or elles, by the godes, I wyll make you, I saye,
[Enter Nestor, Horestes and Menalaus.]
Lo, where my lord Kynge Nestor doth com,
And Horestes with him, Agamemnons sonne,
Menelaus, a kyng lykewyse of great fame,
Make rome,I I saye, before their -- with shame!
NESTOR: Nowe syeth we be here, Kynge Menalaii,
Unto us, we praye you, your matter to saye.
For these prynces here, after they have perpendyd,
If ought be amys, it shall be amendyd.
But, syrra Provision, go in haste and fet [940]
Good Kynge Idumeus; tell him we are set.
PROVISION: As your gracis have wylled, so tend I to do;
I wyll fetche him strayght, and bringe him you to.
[Go out. Pause a while till he be gon out, and then speak tretably.]
HORESTES: If ought be amys, the same sone shall be,
If I have commytted, amendyd of me.
But, lo, Idumeus, the good kyng of Crete,
Is come to this place, us for to mete.
[Enter Idumius, and Provision comming with his cap in hisafore him and making waye.]
IDUMEUS: The gods presarve your gracis all, and send you health for aye.
NESTOR: Well com, sier kinge; the same to ye contynewalley we pray.
MENALAUS: Two things ther is, o kigs, that moves me thus your ayds to pray, [950]
And these be it, the which to you I purpose for to saye:
The one is this, where with I fynde my selfe agrevid to be,
That on such sort my systers slayne as all your gracis se;
The other is that so her sonne without all kind of right
Should to his mother in such case, I say, worke such dispight.
These two be they; wherfore I drave your ayds, to joyn with me
To the intent of such great ylles revengyd I may be.
That thus he dyd, be hould the state of all my brothers land,
And se, I pray you, in what place the same doth present stand.
His crueltie is such, in south, as nether tower ne towne, [960]
That letted once his passage, but is brought unto the ground.
The fatherles he pyttyed not, where as he ever went,
The agyd wight whose yeres before their youthly poure had spent,
The mayd whose parentes at the sege defending of their right
Was slaine, the same this tyrant hath opressyd through his might.
The widow, that through forrayne wars was left now comfortles,
He spared not, but them and theres he cruelly dyd dystres;
Wherfore sith that he thus hath wrought, as far as I can see,
From Mycoene land we should provid him exylyd to be.
HORESTES: Syth that you have accusyd me, I must my aunswere make, [970]
And here, before these kings of Grece, this for my aunswer take:
Oounckel, that I never went revengment for to do
On fathers fose, tyll by the godes I was comaund there to,
Whose heastes no man dare once refuse, but wyllingly obaye;
That I have slayne her wylfully, untruely you do saye.
I dyd but that I could not chuse; ites hard for me to kycke,
Syth the gods commaund, as on would say, in fayth, against the prick.
In that you say I sparyd none, your grace full well may se
That lyttell mercy they supposyd, in south, to show to me,
When as they bad me do my worst, requesting them to yeld. [980]
It is no jest when sodyares joyne to fight within a felde.
Thus, I suppose, sufficiently I aunswerd have to end
Your great complaynt, the which you so mightely did defend.
IDUMEUS: In dede, as Horestes doth declare no man can once estew
The judgment of God most just, that for his fautes is dew.
And as God is most mercyfull, so is he just lyke wyse,
And wyll correcte, most suerley, those that his heastes dispyse.
NESTOR: As you, good Kyng Idumeus, have sayd, so lykewise I
Do thinke it trew, therefore as nowe I do him here defye:
That one dare say that he hath wrought the thing that is not right, [990]
Lo, here my glove to him I give, in pledge with him to fyght.
I promys here to prove there by Horestes nought dyd do,
But that was just, and that the gods commaundyd him there to;
That he is kinge of Mycoene land, who ever do deney
I offer here my glove, with him therfore to lyve and dye.
[Throws down glove.]
Yf none there be wyll under take his tyghtull to with saye,
Let us be frendes unto him nowe, my lordes, I do ye praye.
It was the parte of such a knyght revengyd for to be.
Should Horestes content him selfe his father slayne to se?
No, no, a ryghtuous facte I thinke the same to be in dede, [1000]
Syeth that it was accomplysht so as godes before decrede.
MENELAUS: In dede, I must confesse that I revengyd should have be,
If that my father had byn slayne with such great cruelte;
But yet I would for natures sake have spard my mothers lyfe,
O wretched man, o cruell beast, o mortall blade and knyfe!
IDUMEUS: Sease of, syr kyng, leave morning; lo, nought can it you avaylle.
Not with standing, be rulyd now, we pray, by our counsaylle.
Consider first your one estate; consider what maye be
A joyefull mene to end at leyngth this your calamytie.
Horestes, he is younge of yeares, and you are somwhat olde, [1010]
And sorrowe may your grace to sone within her net in folde,
Therefore ites best you do forget, so shall you be at ease,
Ad I am sure Horestes wyll indevor you to please.
So far as it for him may be with honor lefe to do,
He wyll not shrynke, but wyll consent your gracis bydding to.
For assurance of your good wyll, Horestes here doth crave
Your daughter, fayre Hermione, in maryage for to have
Thereby for to contynew styll true love and amytie
That ought, in sought, betwixte to such indefferent for to be.
MENALAUS: As for my frendshyp, he shall have; the godes his helper be! [1020]
But for my daughters maryage, I can not graunt to be.
She is but yong and much unfet such holy ryghtes to take;
Therefore, syr kyngs, at this present no aunswere I can make.
NESTOR: She is a dame of comly grace, therefore Kyng Menalaye,
Graunt this to us this stryfe to end; O kyng, we do the praye,
For eache of them a grede be, the other for to have.
Good syr, graunt this, that at thy handes so justley we do crave.
MENALAUS: O nobell kynge, what that it were I could not you denaye.
I must nedes graunt, when nought I have against you to repley.
Horestes, here before these kinges, my sonne I the do make. [1030]
HORESTES: And the, O kynge, whyle lyfe doth last, for father I do take.
NESTOR: Ryght joyfull is this thinge to us, and happey for your state;
Therfore with spede let us go hence, the maryage to seleybrate;
And all the godes, I praye, presarve and kepe you both from wo.
Com on, syr king, shall we from hence unto our pallace go?
MENALAUS: As it shall please your grace, in dede, so we consent to do.
IDUMEUS: And we lykewyse, oh gratious prynce, do condisend there to.
[Go out all. Vyce entrith with a staffe and a bottell or dyshewallet.]
VYCE: I woulde I were ded and layde in my grave.
Oundes of me, I am trymley promouted.
Ah, ah, oh! Well, now for my labor these trynketes I have. [1040]
Why, se you not, I praye you, how I am flouted?
A bagge and a bottell -- thus am I louted.
Eache knave, now a dayes, would make me his man,
But chyll master them, I, be his oundes, and I can!
A begginge, a begginge, nay, now I must go;
Horestes is maryed -- God send him much care --
And I, Revenge, am dryven him fro,
And then ites no marvayll though I be thus bare;
But peace! Who better then beggars doth fare --
For all they be beggares and have no great port -- [1050]
Who is maryer then the pooryste sort?
What, shall I begge? Nay thates to bad!
Is their neare a man that a sarvaunt doth lacke?
Of myne honestye, gentle woman, I would be glad
You to sarve but for clothes to put on my backe.
A waye with these rages, from me the shall packe!
What, thinke you scorne, me your servaunt to make?
Another wyl have me yf you me for sake.
[Put of the beggares cote and all thy thynges.]
Parhappes you all mervayll of this sodayne mutation?
How [sone] I was downe from so hye a degre! [1060]
To satisfye your myndes, I wyl yuse a perswation:
This one thinge you knowe, that on caulyd Amyte
Is unto me, Revenge, most contrarey;
And we twayne to geather could not abyde,
Whych causyd me to sone from hye state to slyde.
Horestes and his ounckell, Kynge Menalaus,
Is made such sure frendes, without paradventure,
Through the pollycye of old Idumeus,
That, as far as I can se, it is to hard to enter;
Ye, and thates worsse, when I sought to venture, [1070]
I was dryven with out comfort awaye from their gate;
I was glad to be packinge for feare of my pate.
Yet before I went, my fancey to please,
The maryage selebratyd at the church I dyd se.
Wyllinge I was them all to dysease;
But I durst not be so bold, for Master Amyte
Sot by Menalaus and bore him companye;
On the other syde, Dewtey with Horestes boure swaye,
So that I could not enter by no kynde of waye.
Well, syeth from them both I am bannyshyd so, [1080]
I wyll seke a new master, yf I can him finde.
Yet I am in good comfort, for this well I knowe,
That the most parte of wemen to me be full kynde;
Yf they saye near a worde, yet I knowe their mynde.
Yf they have not all thinges when they do desiare,
They wyll be revengyd, or elles lye in the myare.
Nay, I knowe their quallytes, the lesse is my care,
As well as they do knowe Revengys operation.
Ye, faull to it, good wyves, and do them not spare!
Nay, Ille helpe you forward, yf you lacke but perswacion. [1090]
What man a moste is free from invasion?
For as playnely Socrates declareth unto us,
Wemen for the most part are borne malitious.
Perhappes you wyll saye, maney on, that I lye;
And other sume, I am sure, also wyll take my parte.
Not withstandinge what I have sayde [thy] wyll veryfye,
Ye, and do it, iwys, in spyght of thy hart.
Yf, therefore thou wylt lyve quyetlye, after their desart
Reward [them], so shault thou brydell their affection.
And unto [thy] wyll shall have them in subjection. [1100]
In Athenes dwellyd Socrates, the phyllosopher dyvine,
Who had a wyfe namyd Exantyp, both develyshe and yll,
Which twayne, beenge faulne out uppon a tyme --
Perhappe cause Exantyp could not have her wyll --
He went out of dores, syttinge there styll;
She cround him with a pyspot and their he
Was wet to the skynne, moste pytifull to se.
I praye God that such dames be not in this place,
For then I might chaunce neare a mistres to get.
Nay, yf ye anger them, they wyll laye you on the face, [1110]
Or elles their nayles in your chekes they wyll set.
Nay, lyke a rasor some of their nayles are whet,
That not for to pare, but to cut to the bone,
I count him most happest that medelles with none.
Well, far you well, for I must be packinge.
Remembar my wordes, and beare it in mynde:
What, suffer the myll a whyle to be clackinge,
Yf that you intend aney ease forto fynde;
Then wyll they be to you both lovinge and kinde.
Farwell, Cosen Cutpursse, and be ruled by me, [1120]
Or elles you may chaunce to end on a tre.
[Go out. Enter Horestes and Hermione, Nobilytye Cominyalte,
Truth and Dewty (bearing the crown).]
HORESTES: Syth that the gods have geven us grace this realme for to posses,
Which florysheth aboundauntlye with gold and great riches,
Let us now se, how much the [wills] and minde of all this land
Is unto us, and of their state lykewyse to understand.
HERMIONE: I deme of them, Horestes myne, that they contentyd be,
With humbell hart, for to submyte, O kyng, them selves to ye.
Wherefore my love, inquiare their state this preasante tyme,
And of their hartes good wyll to us, O kynge, let them devyne.
HORESTES: As I do love the, laydye bright, so eke I thynke in dede [1130]
That love for love as equallye shalbe reward of mede [meed].
[Let Dewty and Truth take the crowne in their right hands.]
HERMIONE: The godes never prolonge my lyfe, that day I shall a peare
To breake my fayth, to the now plyght, my loving lord so dere.
HORESTES: Com on, my Lordes and Commons eke, let me now understand
Of all your mindes; for I desiare to know what case this land
Doth now consyst; [voutsafe] the same therfore to shew to me,
And yf that ought be now a myse, amendyd it shalbe.
NOBELLES: Most regall prynce, we now are voyd of mortall wars vexation,
And through your grace we ar joyned in love with every nation;
So that your nobelles may now lyve in pleasaunt state, sartaine, [1140]
Devoyd of wars and civill stryfes, whyle that your grace doth raine;
The which you may, I pray the god, with happy days and blys,
And after death to send you there where joyse shall never mys.
As syne of our obedyence, lo, Dewty doth the crownd
And Truth also, which doth me bynd they subjecte to be found.
[Let Truth and Dewty crowne Horestes.]
HORESTES: My Nobels all, I gyve you thankes for this now showed to me,
And as you have, so eke wyll I the lyke show unto ye.
My Commons, how gose it with you? Your state now let me know.
COMMONS: Where as such on as you do raine, there nedes must riches gro.
We are, O kynge, easyd of the yoke, which we have so desiard. [1150]
The state of this our common welth nede not to be inquiard;
Peace, welth, joye and felycitie, O kynge, it is we have,
And what thing is their, the which subjects ought more to crave?
HORESTES: Syeth al thinges is in so good state, my Commons, as you saye,
That it may so contynew styll, the sacred godes I praye;
And as to me your trusteynes shall anye wayes be found,
So, styll to mayntayne your estate, I sureley shalbe bound;
And for your faythfull harts, the which you graunted have to me,
Both you, my Lordes and Commons eke, I thanke you hartele.
Therfore, with time wil have an end, and now my mind you know, [1160]
Let us give place to tyme, and to our pallase let us go.
NOBELLES: We both wil waight upon your grace, yft please you to depart.
COMMONS: Eeven when you please, to [waight] you on I shall with all my hart.
[Go out all, and let Truth and Dewtye speake.]
TRUTH: A kyngdome kept in amyte and voyde of dissention,
Ne devydyd in him selfe by aney kynde of waye,
Neather provoked by wordes of reprehention,
Must nedes long contynew, as Truth doth saye;
For desention and stryfe is the path to decaye,
And continuinge therein must of nesecitie
Be quight ruinate and brought unto myserye. [1170]
DEWTEY: Where I, Dewtey, am neclected of aney estate,
Their, stryfe and dyssention my place do supplye;
Cankred mallyse, pryde and debate
There fore to rest, all meanes do trye;
Then ruin comes after of their state, whereby
They are utterly extynguyshed, levinge nought behynde
Whereof so much as their name we maye fynde.
TRUTH: He that leadeth his lyfe as his phansey doth lyke,
Though for a whyle the same he maye hyde,
[Yet] Truth, the daughter of Tyme, wyll it seke, [1180]
And so in tyme it wyll be discryde,
Yet in such tyme as it can not be denyed,
But receave dew punnishment as God shall se
For the faute commytted most convenient to be;
As this storye here hath made open unto ye,
Which, yf it have byn marked, much prophet may aryse;
For, as Truth sayth, nothinges wryten be
But for our learninge, in anye kynde of wyse,
By which we may learne the yll to dispyse
And the truth to imitate -- thus Truth doth saye -- [1190]
The which for to do, I besech God,we maye.
DEWTEY: For your gentle pacience we geve you thankes, hartely;
And therefore, our dewtey weyed, let us all praye
For Elyzabeth our Quene, whose gratious majestie
May rayne over us in helth for aye;
Lyke wyse for her Councell, that each of them maye
Have the spyryte of grace, their doinges to dyrecte.
In settinge up vertue and vyce to correcte.
TRUTH; For all the nobylytie and spiritualtie let us praye,
For judges, and head officers, what ever they be, [1200]
According to oure boundaunt dewties; espetially, I saye,
For my Lord Mayre, lyfetennaunt of this noble cytie,
And for all his brytherne, with the cominualtie,
That eache of them doinge their dewties a ryght
May, after death, posses heaven to their hartes delyght.
Finis quoth J. P.
IMPRINTED AT LONDON IN FLETE STRETE AT THE SIGNE OF THE
FAUCON BY WYLIAM GRYFFITH AND ARE TO BE SOLD
AT HIS SHOPPE IN SAYNTE DUNSTONES CHURCH
YARDE. ANNO DOMINI 1567
Go To Horestes Appendices and Glossary
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