THE TENTH TRAGEDY OF L. ANNAE SENECA, Entitled HERCULES OETAEUS: Translated out of Latin into Lo by I. S.⁂  
The Argument.  
HERCULES having subdued the Sons of EURITUS King of OEchalia, (who contrary to their promise, denied to give their Sister IOLE unto him) & having made conquest of the City and country thereabout, meant to sacrifice unto the Gods for his victory in that behalf, and success in bringing away, perforce, his beloved IOLE. For the solemn celebration whereof, he sent LYCAS his servant, unto DEIANEIRA his Wife, to fetch his rob, which he always used when he sacrificed. DEIANEIRA dipping and besprinkling the same rob in the blood of NESSUS the Centaur, because she feared least her husband loved IOLE better than he did her, (for NESSUS being shot through, and slain by HERCULES, had persuaded & advised her that she should so do, whensoever she doubted that her husband's love were alienated from her to any other,) sent it unto him. Which Garment when HERCULES had put on, the poison wherein it was dipped, and washed, envenomed all his Vital parts, and drove him into most intolerable torments. For remedy whereof he sent to APOLLO his Oracle at Delphos: from whence he received answer, that he should be carried unto Mount OEtus, and there, that a great fire should be made: and as for all other things, they should be referred to the pleasure and direction of JUPITER. The fire being there made and kindled by PHILOCTETES, (unto whom HERCULES bequeathed his Arrows,) HERCULES went up into it, & was there burned. Whose bones being afterward sought for and not found, the standers by were fully persuaded that he was deified, & taken up into Heaven. When knowledge thereof was brought unto DEIANIRA, she thinking herself to be the cause of her husbands tormenting death, strangled herself.  
FINIS.  

The Speakers names.  
HERCULES.  
ALCMENA,  
HYLLUS.  
nutrix.  
IOLE.  
CHORUS.  
PHILOCTETES.  
DEIANIRA.   

THE FIRST act.  HERCULES alone. 
O Lord of Ghosts whose fiery flash  
(that forth thy hand doth shake)  
Doth cause the trembling Lodges twain  
of Phoebus' Car to quake,  
Reign reckless now: in every place  
thy peace procured I have  
Aloof where Nereus locks up land  
Empaled in winding Wave.  
Thwack not about with thunder thumps, the rebel kings be down,  
The ravening tyrants Scepterless, are pulled from their crown:  
By me all daunted is whereon, thy bolts thou shouldst bestow.  
And yet O Father, yet the Heavens are still withheld me fro,  
At all assays I serve, as might an Imp of jove behove,  
And that thou aught to Father me, my stepdame well doth prove.  
Why dost thou linger in delay, is Heaven of us afraid?  
Seem we so awful, fell, and fierce? and wherefore are we staid?  
And cannot Atlas' boisterous back on stooping shoulder tough,  
Uphold the poise of Hercules, and heaven well enough?  
What is it sire? what is it jove that thee so much deters?  
What may thee force keep back thy son from scaling of the Stars  
For death hath let me pass again from dungeon dark to thee.  
When mischiefs fell and monsters all destroyed and spoiled be  
That either Land, or Seas, or Air. Or hell engender could  
Arcadian Lion none to range in savage Nemea wolte.  
The stymphal fowl hath chased been with Bow, and Brusell bolt.  
No nimble heart of Menalus doth lie in hill nor holt  
The Dragon daunting with his blood hath gored the golden grove.  
And Hydra hath his courage cooled, and Diomedes drove  
Whose puffed paunches pampered were with store of strangers blood  
That soared the Coast and barren banks of cruel Heber flood  
I slaughtered them, and that the force of foe might well be seen.  
I prowled away the boots of the proud Amazon Queen,  
Of silent shades in glummy gulfs the dreadful dooms I saw.  
On Cerber black the Tartar Tike the son did shine with awe,  
And he with steaming Goggle eyes hath glyed upon the soon:  
Anteus yawns, and gapes no more whose gasping breath to done.  
A-front his altars Busir fell was knocked unto the ground,  
By him whose hand gave Geryon his deep and deadly wound  
And slew the mighty Bull that was to hundred hearts a dread,  
All noyous plagues I spoiled have that ever tellus' bread,  
And daunted by my hand they lie: the Gods now need not free:  
The world to answer Juno's ire, no monsters now can get.  
Now show thy valiant son his sire, or set him in the clouds,  
Thou shalt not need to be my guide, myself will climb the shrouds.  
Do thou my passage but allow, and I shall find away,  
But if thou dread, that monsters more the earth engender may,  
Hast on each monster hideous, to show itself in time,  
While Hercules hath his abode beneath the heavenly Climb.  
For who encounter shall the fiends? who be't that Grecia hath,  
That may be meet, to bide the brunt of mighty Juno's wrath?  
My praise burtes not my health: my fame doth fly, from land to land:  
The icy pole doth know me, where the northern bear doth stand:  
The easterlings encumbered with the gleed of scorching sun.  
The south, where Phoebe by crooked clear of Tropic Crab doth run:  
In every coast O Titan where thou dost thyself reveal.  
How I have met thee face to face, to thee I do appeal.  
Aloof beyond the compass of thy light I set my foot,  
And never could thy blaze so far his glimpsing glory shoot.  
As I have forced the honour of my triumphs for to stretch,  
The day itself hath had his stint, within my travels reach  
Dame Nature failed, the world was shogged beside his centre dew,  
And ugsome night in shimmering shade, from dungeon dark I drew.  
And cankered Chaos lodged aloof encountered me awane:  
Yet from the deep I got to ground, whence none returns again.  
we strove against the Ocean storms, I balasen the keel  
Fraught with my weight, that wrestling waves could not compel it reel.  
What heaps of hazards tempted I through all the open air,  
To qualify thy wedlock's wrath can mischief none repair  
The earth would loathe such baggage bred as I would match by might,  
Yea monsters none are to be found, the fiends do shun my sight.  
And Hercules for want of fiends against himself did rage  
What elvish creatures cursed did I with naked arm assuage.  
Was ever any peevish thing so big upon the ground  
That coped with me, but that my hand alone did it confound.  
Not hither to from vermin vile through fainting fear I leapt  
In babish years, not when to me in cradle laid they leapt:  
Each thing that was commanded me, at ease I did obey:  
Thus free from painful toil to me there never past a day.  
What vermin have I vanquished, no king commanding it?  
My courage cloys me more than all the wiles of Juno's wit.  
But what availeth me to rid mankind of fickle fear?  
The Gods yet cannot reign in rest: while up the world doth pear,  
New rid of furious fiends, it sees aloft in starry skies  
The cruel creatures all, that erst on earth did fore aggrise.  
Dame juno hath transport the elves The scorching Crab doth creep  
About the burning zone, and loof at Africa doth keep  
The Tropic line: and Harvest fat he feeds with parching heat:  
To Virgo, Leo turns the time, and in a reeking sweat.  
He buskling up his burning Mane, doth dry the dropping south.  
And swallows up the slabby clouds in fiery foaming mouth.  
The Urchins all are crept to skies, and have prevented me:  
I Conqueror from Earth to Heaven, my travels all may see:  
These gargoyle Faces grim on heaven, Daw juno first did set:  
As though thereof the terror might to skies my passage let:  
Although she scatter them in Skies, or make the heavens forlorn  
More than the Earth, or hell-like gulfs, (whereby the Gods are sworn)  
Yet room for Hercles' shallbe made, if after monsters quelled,  
Or battles fought, or hell-like hound in Chains as captive held,  
If all exploits cannot prevail, in skies a place to gain,  
Then soaked up be the midland Sea twixt barbary, and Spain,  
That either shore may join in one, with channel none between  
There will I damn the running stream, that Sea shall none be seen:  
Or as for Corinth out shot land that tween two seas doth lie,  
It shall give way to either stream, that through the same shall fly.  
And when the seas on passage have, the Fleet of Athens town  
May float in Channel new: thus shall the world turn topsydown:  
Let Ister turn his stream, and Tanaus slow another way:  
Grant jove a placket, grant, whereby the Gods uphold I may.  
Discharge thy thunder dint. where I shall keep due watch, & ward,  
If either to the icy pole thou bid me have regard,  
Or burning zone, here let the God's full safe all force defy:  
Prince Paean purchased hath an house amid the crystal sky,  
And well deserved he the temples of Parnassus hill,  
For slaughter of a Dragon made? how oft recovering still  
In Hydra poison Python lay? with Bacchus Perseus' strong  
By less desert than Hercules, have crept the Gods among.  
But all the East (a mighty coast) to bond is brought, by him.  
Whom juno spites, how stern a bug was snaky Gorgon grim?  
What Imp is he, begot between my stepdame dire and thee,  
Whose praised pains have purchased him a place in heaven to be?  
The heaven that on my shoulders I have hoisted up I crave:  
But Lycas, (partner of my pains) dispatch our triumph brave.  
Display in pomp the ruin of Euritus' house, and Crown:  
And for the sacrifice with speed strike yet the Bullocks down,  
Where as the Aare (that doth advance the Church of Cenei jove.)  
lies open to Euboea sea: that wrackful wave doth move.  Chorus. 
THe Gods in bliss that man doth countervail,  
That can at once both Grave, & glory gain,  
Death upon death the whilst doth him assail  
Whose wretched life is lingered on in pain,  
With frowning fate in spurning spirit who shiues,  
And sets the Keel of gaping gulf at nought,  
Will not submit his captive hands to gives,  
As dish of dishonour in triumph to be brought:  
Like careful caitiff he shall never droop,  
Whelmed in storming thoughts of sour annoy  
Whose stomach scorns, for daunting death to stoop,  
Though seas amid the deep in hoisted hoy  
drive him aloof, whenas a southern gale  
Beats Boreas back, or eastern puff again  
Recoils the western wind, and seems to hale  
From deepest sands the surges torn in twain.  
That broken planks to catch he scrambles not  
Of wracked bark, as one that hopes to have  
Amid the Channel deep a landing plot,  
When dismal death appears in every wave  
He cannot suffer shipwreck all alone:  
With pined carrion corpse, and streams of tears,  
And with our country dust our heads upon,  
powdering our locks, we languish out our years.  
Neither flashing flame, nor thumping thunder crack  
Will once daunt us: O death thou dost pursue,  
Where fortune fawns: but where she worketh wrack,  
Thou shunnest those, that would thee not eschew,  
we stand not in our razed country wall,  
Whose ground shall now be overgrown (alas)  
With bramble, and briar, and down the temples fall:  
While mucky sheepecotes are planted in their place.  
And now the frosty-faced Greek (alas)  
This way, this way, with all his drove of Neat  
By so much of AEchalia must pass,  
As heaped on ashes gloweth still with heat.  
The Thessal shepherd sitting by the way  
On jarring Pipe shall play his country rhyme,  
Singing with sighs alack, and welladay,  
Thus to bewail the sorrows of our time.  
Ere time shall roll the race of many a year,  
It will be asked, where erst the town did stand?  
O well was I, whenas I lived a lere,  
Not in the barren balks of fallow land,  
Nor in Thessalia on the foodless cliffs,  
But now among rough Trachin craggy Rocks,  
And ugly shrubs necessity me drives,  
Whose flaming tops deters the feeding Ox.  
And in the way less woods untrod before  
All comfortless, affright and in a maze  
Needs must I trot alone, that would abhor  
The savage beasts, that on the mountains graze  
But better lot (if any Dames may have)  
They over Inach wambling stream shall row,  
Or shroud in Dirce Walls, where Ismen wave  
With feeble force of shallow ford doth flow.  
The haughty Hercles' mother here was wed,  
What Scythian crag, what stones engendered him?  
What Rocky mountain Rhodope thee bred,  
Of Tyrant, Titan's race a cursed limb?  
Stipe Athos hill, the brutish Caspia land.  
With teat unkind fed thee twixt rock & stone:  
False is the tale, wherewith thou bear'st in hand,  
Two nights for thee thy Mother dear did groan.  
While lingering stars long lodged in purple sky:  
The shepherd star his course did interchange  
With the load star, and up the Moon doth sty,  
That couched Phoebe durst not the Welkin range,  
No Lance can pierce his monsters ruggy skin,  
The blunted Iron tried it with thumping thwack,  
And Steel is not so tough: on naked skin  
A sword was braced, and stones rebounded back.  
The force of fate he utterly defies,  
And toughly timbered as he is of limb  
He doth contrive, how quarrels may arise,  
That death might prove his feebled force in him  
The quaries could not enter to his flesh,  
Nor yet the bow with Scythian steule drawn deep,  
No nor the glaives, with which Sarmacians fresh,  
Hot skirmishes in th'icy Climb do keep.  
No nor the Parthian better Archer far,  
Than Crete, who parched with Phaeton's sultering flame,  
Under the Equinoctial raiseth were,  
'gainst th' easterling discomfiting the same.  
He with his body did batter down the wall,  
Of Oechalie: nothing may him withstand:  
By valiant prowess he hath conquered all:  
'tis won before, that he doth take in hand:  
The huge Briar that fifty paunches had,  
The haughty Gyges' with hundred arms likewise,  
That clamb up Thessal hills as Giant mad,  
When rebels rage would take from love the skies,  
Such steaming Eyes, such ghastly visage foul,  
Such gargoyle face, such countenance glaring grim,  
Wherewith stern Hercles' glowningly doth scowl,  
Those Giants had resembling plainly him.  
Thus greatest bliss is prone to greatest bale  
There wants no woe whose cup we have not taste  
we wretched women have with countenance pale.  IOLE. 
But careful caitiff I  
do not bewail forlorn  
The sweeping flames, nor Idols, with  
their taitred Temples torn:  
Nor that the Fathers burn  
together with their Sons,  
That Gods, & men, that tombs & Church,  
at once to ruin runs.  
Upon the common care  
wec do not power our plaint,  
For Fortune wills us turn our tears with other woes attaint:  
And thus my frowning face alotteth unto me  
Another kind of wretchedness, that must lamented be:  
What shall I first beweep? Or chiefly what complain?  
And to bewail them all at once, would mitigate my pain.  
Alas that but on breast Dame Nature did me frame,  
That blows agreeing to my grief might bounce upon the same.  
With weeping Sipill rock, bruise ye my baleful breast,  
Or on Eridanus silent shore in sorrows let we rest,  
Where as the mourning troop of Nymphs do hale their hears.  
To wail the death of Phaïron, with showers of dropping tears.  
Or else in Sicil rock cause me encouched to dwell,  
Where Scylla Hag with howling noise, and barking big doth yell.  
Or else in Linnet's shape let me tell on my tale,  
And weep with Adon in the woods, or turned to Nightingale  
As Lady Philomele, records with weeping lay  
In shade of holy Ismar hill upon a tender spray,  
With soaking sighs her grief, O Gods: and me addight  
In shape, that may be suitable unto my plaintiff plight.  
And of my piteous moan let craggy Trachin sound,  
Sith Myrra saw the tears where in Dame Venus' eyes were drowned,  
That she for Adonis with smoky sighs did shed,  
And halcyon might wail at will her loving Ceyx's dead:  
The Lady Tastalis get life to weep alone,  
And Philomele did change her shape, and earnfully did move  
Her tender Itis' death: (alas) why are not yet  
With flickering Feathers fit for wings, my naked arms beset?  
O happy shall I be, and happily be blessed,  
When in the woods as in an house I make my shrouding nest,  
And sitting like a bird upon my country ground  
In doleful harmony shall tune the cares, that me confound.  
That thus the people fond may talk how they have seen  
In piteous likeness of a Bird, the Daughter of a Queen.  
I careful caitiff, ay, beheld my Father's fate,  
When in the Court a deadly club did Pale him on the pate,  
And sprawling on the floor with brains pashed out he lay,  
Alas if fates would let thy corpse be shrined in pit of Clay,  
What flowing tears (O sire) would I on thee bestow?  
And could I brook it Toxeus, to see thy death with woe?  
That wert unwaned in years, and take in pits unpoised,  
Upon whose naked Cheeks the pregnant sap no hairs had razor.  
Why should I parents dear your fates with tears detest,  
Whom death with hand indifferent hath taken hence to rest:  
My Fortune seeks my tears, due is mine own distress,  
Now as a captive must I dance attendance more and less,  
Upon my ladies rock: and twist her thread yspoon,  
Woe worth my beauty, for the which in dread of death I run.  
And for thy sake alone my stock hath lost his life,  
While that my sire denieth me to Hercles' as his wife  
And did for fear refuse his stepfather to be,  
But to our Lady's baleful bower as Captives hence go we:   

THE second act.  Nutrix. Deianira. 
WHat furious fits of ramping rage  
doth boil in Women's brain,  
When in one roof both wedded wife  
and Harlot do remain?  
Both Scylla, and Charibdis' gulf  
no danger like it have,  
That raging roll on Sicil shore  
by heaps the wrestling wave.  
x savage beast so bade there is,  
that betters not the same.  
For bruit no sooner blew abroad the captive harlot's name,  
And that the beauty of jolas' countenance shined brim,  
As doth the day, when marble skies, no filthy fog doth dim:  
Or like the glimpse of twinkling star, that in the welkin bright  
Displays abroad his shooting beams amid the frosty night:  
But Deianira Hercles' Wife all bedlam like doth stand,  
And scowleth as the Tiger wild which couched on the sand  
In shade of rock doth shroud his whelps, and buskells up in hesse,  
Espying him that of his young both come to make the waste:  
Or like as Menas overcharge with Bacchus' liquor sixeete  
With ivy bunch on thurled Dart from place to place doth fleet:  
She makes a pause, in doubt where to she might direct her pace,  
Then frantically as on distraught, she fisks from place to place  
In Hercles' douse. thus was she rayed in rage of flaming ire,  
The house too narrow was, to cool the desperate dames desire.  
she runneth in, she trots about, she makes a sudden stay.  
The malady in frowning face itself doth plain display.  
No galling grief remains at heart. The tears gush from her Eyes,  
Nor in on kind of temper still in frenly sits she fries:  
Her glowning looks with fury fell do change her former hue,  
Now glaring stand her steaming Eyes, and paleness doth ensue  
The ruddy colour in her Cheeks: the anguish of her heart  
Drives out her dolours deep, to show themselves in every part:  
She languisheth, she moans for help, she wails her froward fate,  
And all the house an Echo makes resounding her estate.  
Lo headlong to and fro she hies, and running still about  
Goes mumbling, and the secrets of her mind she mutters out:  
Oh juno Spouse to jove, what part of heaven soever thou keep,  
Raise up some savage beast, against lewd Hercules to creep,  
That I shall think sufficient: If any cumbrous snake  
With breeding he do crawl, more big in alt the slimy lake,  
That may not take a foil: or if that ought do yet remain,  
So ugsome, grisly, cursed, and grim, so fraught with filthy bain,  
That he may loath to look thereon, that may his sight appaule.  
Undo their Dens, from hideous holes procure such vermin crawl.  
Or if that fiends can none be found, then couture thou my ghost  
To what thou list: this soul of mine can welt abide the most:  
Some uncouth shape, some ghastly face, such one bestow on me,  
Whereby the horror of my pangs may countervailed be.  
My boiling breast cannot conceive the vengeance, I would try:  
Why searchest thou the corners far, of lands aloof that lie?  
And turnst the world thus upside down? why seekst thou harm of hell?  
To trance him, furious fiends enough within this breast do dwell:  
Make me thine instrument of hate: his stepdame I will be,  
And thou mayest work the overthrow of Hercules by me:  
appoint my hand to any thing. Why dost thou make delay?  
Use thou my frenzy, as the means to compass his decay.  
The mischief shall be brought to pass, whatever thou wilt crave:  
Why stand ye musing still thereon? contrived all I have:  
Thou mayst forbear thy malice now: thy rancour shall suffice,  
To bring this wretch unto his end, myself can well devise.  Nv. 
My Foster gyile, of raving mind, these dreary plaints assuage,  
Forbear this heat, and bridle yet the rigour of thy rage:  
Behave thyself for such an one, as men may worthy judge  
The noble Spouse of Hercules.  DEI. 
Shall Iole (slavish drudge)  
Bring bastard brethren to my Babes? of her that is a slave  
Shall jupiter the God of heaven forsooth a daughter have?  
The flashing flames, and fighting floods shall toyne together first.  
The northern bear to Marble seas shall stoop to quench his thirst.  
Yea vengeance, vengeance, will I have, though on thy back thou wield  
The boisterous heavens, and all the world do peace unto thee yield:  
There is a thing shall sting thee worse than Hydra hissing Snake,  
The corsie cursed of angry Wife. Doth any fiery Flake  
Upthrowed from Aetna's boiling Forge, so souse the beaten skies?  
More than all things that thou hast daunt, my ghost shall thee aggrise.  
Shall thou prefer a servile Trull before thy wedded Wife?  
For fear of many monsters more I tendered still thy life,  
And now for to increase my care. I see no monsters lurk,  
And now steps in an hateful whore, (which more my mind doth irk)  
To cumber us, as ill as fiends. O Father thou of might,  
The shield of Gods: and Titan thou, that bear'st the Lamp of light,  
I only unto Hercules a loyal wife abode,  
And to an harlot's use are turned my prayers made to God:  
The fruit of my felicity a Strumpet doth obtain,  
And for an harlot's love ye Gods have hard my prayers vain:  
Is Hercules returned for her? O grief not yet content.  
devise some tearing torments, seek some pangs, and punishment.  
Let juno learn of me, what force a woman's fury hath.  
she knows not how in deep despite, to use her harming wrath.  
For me you did these battles wage: for my sake Acheloe  
Did let his streaming blood amid his wambling waves to flow.  
When snarling adder's shape he took, and to the boisterous Bull  
He giving up his sloughy shape did bend his malice full.  
And thus thou foiled a thousand foes by conquest of this one:  
Yet presently thou plunged art, and that by me alone:  
A prisoner now must be preferred before thy loyal wife.  
I'll none of that: but even the day that first begins the strife,  
And to our wedlock brings the breach, shallbe thy dismal day,  
And knap in twain the fatal twist where on thy life doth stay:  
What meaneth this? my mind relents. My malice breaks his rage:  
O wretched grief why dost thou faint? thy spite wilt thou assuage?  
With fealty of a faithful Wife dost thou thy conscience charge?  
Why lets thou not my boiling ire for to increase at large?  
Why dost thou slake thy frying fits? this malady still survive.  
even now I able was with him for mastership to strive.  
In deed I have not craved aid: yet Stepdame juno will,  
To wield my hands to work his wrack, be here assistant still:  NV. 
What treachery intendest thou mad bedlam to commit?  
Thy husband wilt thou murder wretch? whose flickering fame doth flit:  
From east to west: whose bright renown the earth could not contain  
But raised aloft, from marble Skies it doth rebound again:  
The mother Earth shall rife in arms for to revenge his grave.  
His former Stepsire's stock hereby the overthrow shall have:  
And all Aetolia royal blood will feel an utter fall:  
In quarrel of thy Hercules the world conspire shall.  
Then silly wight how many plagues shalt thou alone abide?  
But be't that from the face of man thou might thy body hide.  
Yet jove the lightning leams of heaven doth hold in armed hand,  
Behold the flying fiery flakes in ranks all ready stand:  
And threatening thunders thumping thick do bounce out all the day.  
deaths dungeon (that thou dost defy) full duly scare thee may.  
For there his Uncle umpire sits: Much where thou mayst unspied.  
And everywhere thou shalt perceive the Gods to him allied.  DE. 
I grant it desperate deed, whereto despair now doth me drive.  NV. 
Die sure thou shall.  DE. 
And die I will, (as presently I live)  
The loyal spouse of Hercules. And ere this night do pass,  
Day shall not see that Deianire a living Widow was.  
Nor of my spousal head an whore shall get the interest.  
The dawning day shall sooner make the morning peer in West,  
Unto the eastward Indians the icy pole shall melt,  
And freezing Scythian first shall fry with flames that he hath felt  
Of Phoebus fervent wheel: ere me Thessalia Trulls shall see  
divorced: my bridal blaze shall with my blood quench be:  
And either let him murdered be, or take away my Life.  
So soothly let him count among the foiled fiends his Wife.  
Among Alcides' labours let me reckoned be as on.  
His love in heart I hold, until the utter gasp be gone.  
Thus undivorced (not unrevenged) I will to Hercles' tomb.  
It Iole be with child by him, I'll tear it from her womb,  
And rent it with these paws of mine. Yea in the wedding place,  
I flying at her fierce will set my talons in her face:  
Let him not spare in romping rage a sacrifice to make  
Of me upon his wedding day, when he his Trull doth take,  
So that I falling down may light on jones senseless corpse  
He dies a happy man, that first hath quelled his foes by force.  Nu. 
O wretched might why dost thou thus increase thy fuming heat:  
And feed thy fury wittingly lest hap should thee defeat.  
He loved Lady Iole, but while her father's crown  
Stood flourishing in royal state and were not bartered down,  
And as unto the daughter of a King be suitor was,  
But when from type of haughty pomp she did to thraldom pass  
He shook her of hot love was cold, and now her bitter bale  
Would not allow the wrecked keel to bear too high a sale:  
Unleeful things that should be shunned we greedily desire.  
But matters meeter for our state we seldom do require.  
The pytying of adversity doth oft enkindle more  
The fervent fits of love, and this perhaps doth urge him sore,  
To see her reaved of native soil, it may his fancy touch,  
Her hair not tucked with tresses trim, nor decked with golden ouche  
Perhaps the man with pity pricked doth love her for her care.  
Unto his noble heart to pity prisoners 'tis not rare.  
The sister dear of Priamus (fair Lady Hesyon) he  
Did cause to Telamon the Greek in wedlock knit to be:  
Account how many wives before, and maidens did he love,  
And ranged abroad to cool the rage that Venus' brand did move.  
Fair Auge maid of Arcady intentive set to lead  
Diana's drunce, by force of him did lose her maiden head.  
And yet no token could she show nor pledge of any jove,  
What shall I speak of any more, or doth it me behove,  
To prate what pranks he played with fifty daughters in one night.  
And yet how soon of such a pang he over came the might,  
He set much store by Omphale of Lidia land the Queen,  
When like a guest on Tmolus the mount he hath been seen.  
He was so pricked with Cupid's dart, and caught in Venus' trap,  
That tuck in woman's weed he sat with distaff in his lap  
And spoon the flax with fumbling fist, and rudely thumbed the thread  
And flung from him the scion's case the price of noble deed.  
With tresses trick on plaited locks he wailed as a maid  
With myrrh his ftiseled pole was smeared, and curry bush was brayed,  
Thus everywhere as fancy flits, the fondling dotes in love.  
But in such sort as easily he can the same remove.  DEI. 
But they whom fickle fancies fits have taint, do learn at last  
In link of love by tract of time to fix affiance fast.  NV. 
Trow ye that he this captive quean, and on whom he do see  
The daughter of his deadly foe, will more esteem than thee?  DE. 
As gladsome groves at Prime of spring in beauty's pride are seen  
When freshest warmth the naked twigs doth clad in pleasant green.  
But when could Boreas boisterous blast the pipling puffs doth stop  
Of south wind sweet, rough winter poles the naked bushes top:  
The bare wood with misshapen stumps doth show a withered Face,  
Even so my beauty marching forth a season on his Race  
Still fades away, and evermore abates his glimpsing gloss,  
And whatsoever was in me, by care is come to loss.  
And that which erst by fancy fed the greedy gazing eyes,  
Is fallen away by bearing child: so oft it droops, and dies.  
And since I came to mother's state. I faded fast away.  
And wrinkled age with furrowed face steps in with quick decay.  
But yet this bondmaids feature fresh her sorrow better brooks.  
Her comely countenance crazied is with lean and wanny looks.  
And yet for all her kark and care amid her deep distress.  
she bears a glimpse of beauty bright, and favour nothing less.  
Her heavy hap, and frowning rate can nothing from her pluck.  
Save Sceptre from her royal hand by all this lowering luck.  
By means of this first fainting fear did lodge within my breast,  
That makes me wake the weary nights, and lose my kindly rest.  
In all men's eyes at first I seemed to be a blessed Wife.  
And Ladies all at our estate repining very rife  
Did wish my watch in spite of fate what Stepster shall I hope  
As match in majesty to jove within the heavenly cope?  
Dear fosterdame whom shall I make my fear in spousal bed?  
Although Euryst that Hercules to all these toils hath led,  
Do link with me in bridal bands, my state shallbe impaired.  
'tis small worth to deserve to be to kingly wedlock reared.  NV. 
But Issue is the thing that doth in marriage kindle love.  DE. 
And Issue is the thing that doth in marriage malice move.  NV. 
This while the bondmaid to thee for present shallbe brought  DE. 
Lo he jetteth up and down with princely poor full haught,  
And buckles fast about his Loins the lively lions case,  
Who doth invest the wretched with the right of kingly mace,  
Deposing those from honours type that late so lofty sat.  
And pestereth his puissant paws with huge unwieldy bat,  
Of whose exploits, and martial acts the Seres sing aloof,  
And all enclosed in Ocean sea thereof have perfect proof  
Is now became an amorous knight: the honour of his name  
Doth nothing touch his conscience, to tender once his fame.  
He roveth through the world, as on that doth no whit esteem,  
Although that men as soon to jove shall him unworthy deem.  
Nor like the man whose credit through the towns of Greece is great.  
He seeks to compass his desire, to work a lovers feat.  
With single Dames is his delight: If any him deny,  
Than to attain his lawless lust by rigour doth he try.  
With men he fareth frantically, to others smart and blame  
He wins his wives, his folly frail is cloaked by virtues name.  
The noble City Oechalie is made a razed town.  
The Sun twixt morn and even did set, in one day up, and down.  
One day did see it stand in state, the same did see it fall.  
These bloody broils, and wasting wars of Love proceeded all,  
As oft as parents unto him deny their daughters dear,  
So oft I warrant them they need his wrathful fury fear.  
So oft a man with Hercules shallbe at deadly food:  
As he denies his stepfather to be by joining blood.  
If he may not be son in law, then doth he rage, and rave:  
Why do these guiltless hands of mine still keep him from his grave,  
Till he dissemble frantic fits, to bend his aiming bow,  
And death's wound on my child, and me with bloody hands bestow?  
Thus haughty Hercules was wont his wedlocks to divorce.  
Yet nought there is, that law of guilt on him might have recourse.  
He makes the world blame juno, for the ills he hath commit.  
O rigour, of my rage why dost thou qualify my fit?  
Now must thou set thy hands on work, too't while thy hands be hot.  N. 
Thy husband wilt thou slay?  D. 
Him whom his Leman lewd hath got.  NV. 
But yet, he is the son of jove.  DE. 
And so Alcmena's son.  N. 
With stroke of steel?  D. 
With stroke of steel if it cannot be done,  
Then for to bring his death to pass, I'll set for him a snare.  NV. 
What kind of madness may it be that makes thee thus to fare?  D. 
Such as my husband hath me taught.  N. 
Wilt thou thy spouse destroy,  
On whom the stepdame's spite yet had no power to work annoy?  D. 
The wraths of heavenly minds do make them blessed on whom they light  
So doth not spite of mortal men.  N. 
Oh silly wretched wight  
For bear thy rage, and fear the worst, man's force may not assail  
Him, that against the power of hell, and death could once prevail.  DE. 
I'll venture on the dint of sword.  N. 
Thy wrath (dear foster child)  
Is greater than the crime, that hath thy Hercules defiled.  
With equal malice measure faults. Alas why dost thou bring  
So great and sore, a penalty upon so small a thing?  
Let not thy grief be greater, than the sorrow thou sustains.  DE. 
Set you it light that with our wedlock linked an harlot reigns?  
Nay rather think it still too much, that doth thy sorrows breed.  NV. 
And is the jove of Hercules revolt from thee in deed?  DE. 
'tis not revolt, dear foster Dame, fast in my bones it sticks:  
But ire boils hot in burning breast, when love to anger pricks.  NV. 
It is almost a common guise, that wedded wives do haunt,  
Their husband's hearts by magic Art, and witchcraft to enchant.  
In winter could I charmed have the woods, to make them sprout.  
And forced the thunder dint recoil, that hath been bolting out.  
With waltering surges I have shook the seas amid the calm.  
I smoothed have the wrestling waves, and laid down every walm.  
The dry ground gaped hath like gulfs, & out new springs have gushed.  
The roaring rocks have quaking stirred, & none the rest hath pushed.  
Hell glounimy gales I have braced cape, where grisly ghosts all hushed  
Have stood & answering at my charm the goblins grim have scold.  
The threefold headed hound of hell with barking throats hath hold.  
Thus both the seas, the land, the heavens, & hell bow at my beck.  
Noon day to midnight, to and fro turns at my charming check.  
At my enchantment every thing declines from nature's law.  
Our charm shall make his stomach stoop, & bring him more in awe.  D. 
What herbs do grow in Pontus' sea? Or else on Pindus' hill?  
To trounce this matchless champton, where shall I find the ill?  
The magic verse enchants the Moon from Starry skies to ground,  
And fruitful harvest is thereby in barren winter found.  
The whisking flames of lightning leams oft sorcery doth stay.  
And noontide topsy-turvy lost doth dim the dusky day.  
And leave the welkin to the stars, and yet not cause him stxsoupe.  N. 
The Gods themselves by charm of love have forced been to droop.  DE. 
Perhaps he shall be won by one, and yield to her the spoil.  
So love shall be to Hercules the last and latest toil.  
By all the host of heavenly powers, and as thou seest me fear,  
The secrets that I shall attempt, in council see thou bear:  NV. 
What may it be, that thou would have me keep so secretly?  DE. 
No broil of blades, no prive coat, no fiery force pardie:  NV. 
I you assure I can conceal, if mischief none be meant.  
For then the keeping close of it is sure a lewbe intent.  DE. 
Then look about, if none be here, our council to betray:  
Look round about, on all sides cast thy countenance every way.  (NV. 
Behold the place is safe enough from any listening ear.)  DE. 
Beside the place of our estate there is a secret nook,  
A covert corner for our talk, that sunshine never took.  
Neither at morn, nor evening tide, when Titan's blaze doth quench.  
And he in ruddy western wave his fiery wheels doth drench.  
There secret lies the privy proof of Hercules amorous thought,  
I'll tell thee all dear foster dame: This witchcraft Nessus taught,  
Whom Ixion engendered of a misty growing cloud,  
Where Pindus' heavy hill his top among the stars doth shroud,  
And other stipe doth heave his Crest about the riding rack  
When Achelous over laid, with many a thumping thwack  
Of Hercles' club, did shift himself to every kind of shape,  
And trial made of all his sleights none served to escape,  
At length he turned himself into the likeness of Bull.  
And so was foully vanquished in form of horny skull.  
(While Hercules being Conqueror did me his Wife enjoy.)  
Returning home to Greece again, it happened Even lake  
To overflow the drowned marsh and channel to forsake,  
And strongly streamed to seas he runs, and swells above his banks.  
And Nessus used to pass the pool, and search the croaking cranks  
As Ferryman demands his fare, and bore me on his back,  
And wading forward broke the Waves, and surges of the lake.  
At length yet Nessus waded out unto the farther shore,  
Yet Hercules had swam but half the river and no more:  
And plied it hard to cut the stream: but when espied had he,  
That Hercules was far behind, Madam (quoth he) to me.  
(Be thou my booty, and my wife, and clasping me about)  
Away he flings, and Hercules' bestirs him maugre Wave:  
Though Ganges gulf and Ister stream (quoth he) thou traitor slave  
Might run in on, yet shift to scape them both, well could I make,  
And in thy haste a shaft shall soon they running over take:  
And ere he spoke the word, his arrow flew out of his bow,  
And wrought a wound in Nessus ribs, he could no farther go.  
It sped him sure, to look for death. He cried, well away.  
The baggage running from the wound reserved as he lay,  
And putting it into his hoof the which undoing, he  
In cutting it with his own hand, did give it unto me.  
And thus at latter gasp he said, the witches have me told,  
That love may charmed be by this, to have and keep his hold.  
The cunning witch dame Michale did teach Thessalia dames,  
Who only forced the Moon to stoop to her from heavenly frames.  
Therefore (quoth he) at any time when hateful whores abuse  
Thy spousal bed, or wavering man do haunt to any stews  
Then with this salve anoint his shirts, and let it see no son,  
But keep it close in corners dark, the blood then shall not shun  
His strength: and thus full suddenly he left his talk with rest:  
And deadly sleep with senseless death his feeble limbs oppressed.  
Thou Dame to whom in hope of trust my secrets all bewray,  
On, that the poison soaked into the vesture bright, it may  
Press through his limbs, unto his heart, & sink through every bone,  N. 
I will dispatch it all in haste, make thou thy earnest moan  
Unto the God, whose tender hand his steadfast darts doth wield,  D. 
I thee beseech that art of earth and heaven in honour held.  
And thou that shakest burning bolts, thou cursed and cruel boy,  
Whose elvish weapons make thy mother fear thy sharp annoy.  
Now arm thy hand with speedy shaft not of the slender sort,  
But biggest bolts, with which as yet thou hast assault no fort,  
We need no little shaft that may stir Hercules to love  
Bring cruel hands and force thy how his deepest draft to prove  
Now, now draw forth thy shaft wherewith thou caused cruelly  
The burning breast of jove by fyttes of servant love to fry.  
whenas the God his thunder bolt and lightning laid aside,  
'gan bollen with bumps on forehead big: and brought the wave he hid,  
And swam with Europe on his back in shape of horny Bull.  
Now power down love, and therewithal let hercules' heart be full.  
If Iole's beauty kindle heat and Hercles' heart doth move,  
Quench thou these coals, and force him glow with us in lawful love.  
Full oft the thunder thumping jove hath stooped to thy yoke:  
And him that wields the moary mace of black Averne to smoke.  
Thy flames enforce, and eke the Lord of glummy Stygian lake:  
But only match thou Hercules, and of him triumph take  
O jove, whose wrath more wrackful is then ireful Juno's might.  
The charm is made in perfect force is all our medicine right,  
Wherein the shirt shall steeped be that wearied many wight.  
Whose hands on Pallas distaff spoon the weary Web with pain.  
And it for Hercules avail shall brink up all the bane.  
And with my charm I'll strengthen it. But lo ye in the nick  
Deft Lycas cometh here at hand who will dispatch it quick:  
But tell him not what force it hath least he the guilt betray.  DEI. 
Alas that faith to kings dwells not in houses of estate:  
Have Lycas here this shirt, the which my hands have spun of late,  
While Hercules at random roves, and overshot with wine  
Doth rudely dandle on his lap the Lydian Lady fine.  
Now dotes he after Iole: but this his boiling rage  
That burneth in his breast I will with courtesy assuage,  
For courtesy conquers cankered churls. See thou my spouse desire,  
He spare the Shirt, until he set the Frankincense on fire,  
And offer up his sacrifice, and wear his Garland grey  
Of Poplar boughs on wreathed locks. And I will go my way  
Toth' royal Gods, and will beseek the cruel Cupid's dame.  
Ye ladies and companions that with me heather came,  
Now force the fountains of your tears from watered eyes to run,  
To wail our Country Calydon on every side undone.  Chorus. 
O DEIANIRE dear daughter of our King  
OENEUS late, to see thy frowning fates  
Woe after woe thus down on thee to fling,  
It irks our hearts, that were thy foster mates.  
O woeful wight it pitieth us to see,  
Thy wedlock in this tickle state to be.  
we Lady, we, that with thee wonted were  
With flapping Oar on Acheloe to row,  
When having passed the spring time of the year,  
With Channel smooth he newly waxeth low,  
And makes again his swelling surges calm,  
And boobling runs at Ebb withouten walm.  
Through weal and woe we still with thee remain,  
And now what grief soever thou fear in mind,  
Account thou us as partners of thy pain,  
For commonly when Fortune turns the wind.  
And makes thee bear thy beaten Sail but low,  
Then friendship ebbs, where it before did flow.  
And who so guides the sway of golden mace,  
Though people thick do haunt his stately court,  
And in at hundred gates do press apace,  
Yea though that thou maintain so great a port,  
To guard thee with this garrison, yet shall  
Thou scarcely find one faithful heart of all.  
In painted porch, and gates of guilded bowers  
The lurking hag Eryn her tusks doth whet:  
And stirring strife with quarrelling face she lours.  
The portly doors no av-c ope are set,  
But treason black, pale envy deep deceit,  
With privy knife of murder step in straight.  
And when the Prince appears in open place,  
To show himself before his subjects sight,  
Swelling despite attendeth on his grace:  
As oft as dawning day removes the night,  
And every time the sun at West goes down,  
They look another man should claim the Crown.  
Few hearts love kings, not few their kingly might:  
The glorious show of courtly countenance  
Bewitcheth many: where one sets his delight  
How next the king he may himself advance.  
That through high streets he may as lord of rule  
With lofty looks, ride mounted on his Mule.  
Ambitious heat inflames his haughty breast.  
Another would his greedy hunger staunch  
With gobs of gold, (and though he it possessed)  
Rich Arabia serves not his pining paunch,  
Nor western India (a world for to behold)  
Where Tagus flows with streams of glittering gold.  
The covetous churl, the greedy gnoffe in deed,  
In whom from cradle nature so it plants,  
No hourded heaps his endless hunger feed.  
In plenty pines the wretch, in wealth he wants.  
Some other foundlings fancy thus doth guide,  
To fawn on kings, and still in court to bide.  
As one disdaining like a Country mome  
And crooked clown, the plough to follow still:  
Although the dingthrift daily keep at home  
A thousand drudges, that his land do Till:  
Yet wants his will and wisheth wealth therefore,  
Only to waste on other men the more.  
Another claweth and flattereth fast the King,  
By climbing up to tread down every wight:  
And some at least to blookam Feast to bring.  
And thus he strives to arm himself with might  
In blood: but of their ship doth Fortune fail,  
When safe they think to float with highest sail.  
Whom Moon at morn on top of Fortune's wheel  
High swayed hath seen, at fullness of renown,  
The glading sun hath seen his Sceptre reel,  
And him from high fall topsy-turvy down.  
At morn full merry, blithe, in happy plight,  
But whelmed in woes and brought to bale ere night.  
These seldom meet hoar hairs and happy days:  
The Lord that lies on stately crimson bed  
Sleeps more in fear, then snoring drudge, that lays  
Upon the country clod his drowsy head.  
In golden roofs, and haughty courts they keep,  
Whose dreadful dreams do make them start in sleep.  
The purple robes lieth waking many a night,  
And slumbers not, when homely rags do rest.  
O if as at a Grate espy we might  
The sorrows, shrined in a princes breast.  
What pangs, what storms, what terror, O what hell  
In sighing hearts or proud estates doth dwell?  
The Irish Seas do never roar so ruff,  
When wrestling waves, and swelling surges rife,  
That hoisted are with sturdy northern puff,  
As fearful fancies do their minds aggrise.  
But he sighs not, nor cumbered is with care,  
Whom Fortune hath bequeathed a slender share.  
In wooden dish and black beech bowl he swills,  
And heaves it not to mouth with quaking hand.  
With homely fare his hungry Maw he fills,  
And leares not back for fear of those that stand  
With naked swords: but Kings in golden cup  
Wine blent with blood (most dreadful draughts) do sup.  
In dainty dish the poison bait is laid,  
And treason lurks amid the sugared wine  
At every bit they quake, and are afraid,  
The sword will fall, that hangs but by a twine,  
And ever as he lifts his head, and drinks,  
The rebels Knife is at his throat he thinks.  
Such flattering joys these happy worldlings have.  
Their outward pomp pretendeth lusty lives.  
When inwardly they droop, as doth the slave  
That pines in pangs fast clogged in golden gyves.  
Strive not in haste, to climb the whirling wheel,  
For hasty climbers oft in haste do reel.  
Mean dames defy both peerless and glittering spangs,  
And golden chains with rubies rich beset,  
Nor at their ears do massy jewels hang  
With turkey stones: nor pranked proud they jet  
in murrey gowns: nor doth the wool they wear  
Of Crimson die the costly colour bear  
Neither in Tissue, nor silken garments wrought  
With needle, nor embroadred Robes they go:  
And yet this state is free from jealous thought,  
Their wedding is not unto them their woe.  
When thousand storms in ladies hearts do dwell  
By wedlock breach, that breeds their noisome hell.  
Who so he is that shuns the middle way,  
Shall never find fast footing anywhere.  
The wilful lad that needs would have a day.  
And weighty charge of Father's chariot bear:  
While he from wonted ways his jades doth lance,  
Among strange stars they pricking forward prance,  
Enforcing them with Phoebus flames to fry,  
Whose roaming wheels refuse the beaten rut:  
Thus both himself, and all the Crystal sky  
In peril of the smouldering fire he put.  
So haughty minds that climb above their skill,  
Do work their own decay, and others ill.  
While Daedalus in flying through the air  
Did keep the midst between the sky and ground  
He could in safe to Italy repair,  
And gave no gulf his name by being drowned.  
But Icarus presumes to mount on high,  
And strives above the feathered fowls to fly.  
And scorns the guiding of his father's train.  
And in his flight will cope to lofty son:  
Which molt his wings so down he drops again  
Into the seas, whereby his name they won  
Thus proud attempts of haughty climbing hire  
Receive shrewd falls to quit their fond desire.  
Let other mount aloft let other sore,  
As happy men in great estate to sit.  
By flattering name of Lord I set no store:  
For under shore my little keel shall flit:  
And from rough winds my sails fain would I keep,  
lest I be driven into the dangerous deep.  
Proud Fortune's rage doth never stoop so low  
As little roads, but them she overflies  
And seeks amid main seas her force to show  
On argosies, whose tops do reach the skies  
But lo, here comes our Lady Deianire,  
'straught of her wits, and full of furious ire,   

THE THIRD act  Deianira, Chorus, 
ALas through all my quivering joints  
a running fear doth rest,  
My staring hair stands stiff upright  
and in my quaking breast  
Deep terror dwells, and eke my heart,  
with dread amazed doth pant,  
With swelling veins my liver beats,  
as when the wind doth want  
Assuaged in calmy day, and yet  
the raging Seas do roar  
Whose wrestling waves were raised aloft  
by Southern blasts before.  
So yet my wits be toxicate, although my fear be gone:  
Thus God turmoils us when he means to cloy th'unhappy one.  
Thus proud attempts bedashed at length,  Ch. 
Oh wretch, O careful wight,  
What mischief may it be wherewith thou art so sore affright.  Dei. 
The shirt with Nessus' bane imbrued no sooner hence was sent,  
And wretched woman that I am tooth closet straight I went.  
(My mind mistrusts I know not what, and treason doth surmise)  
And Nessus by the heat bewrayed, that fainted was the blood:  
The God foreshowed that here the force of all the treason stood:  
For by good hap the foamy gleed no foggy cloud doth dim.  
But with full power of burning beams he shined blazing brim.  
Scant yet I can for feeble fear unlock my fastened jaws,  
The scorching heat doth dry away, and up by force it draws  
The soaked blood that being laid amid the frying flame  
And boiling heat of shining son did shrink before the same:  
Wherein the shirt was steeped, and all the royal rob imbrued:  
I cannot show the villainy wherewith it was endued:  
For as the Eastern wind doth force the winter snow to melt,  
Or lukewarm South when in the spring from Mimas mount they swelled  
As Lucas else that fronters on Ionian sea, a land  
Doth break the wave the beaten surge lies foaming on the strand  
Or by the warmth of heavenly heat the frankincense doth drop  
So all the venom wastes away, and melteth every crop.  
And while I wonder still hereon the wonder shrinks away  
But with a froth it spots the ground, and there the poison lay,  
It rots the cloth: my woman bollen and swelled doth follow me,  
And shakes her head. my son as one astonished I see:  
And hying hither all in haste declare what news ye bring.  Hillus, Deianira, Nutrix. 
GO mother go, seek out aloof  
if place of biding dwell  
Beyond the ground both gulf and stars  
beyond both heaven and hell,  
Fly mother far beyond the bounds  
of Hercules his toil  Dei. 
A mischief great I know not what  
within my breast doth boil:  Hil. 
Unto the royal temples of dame Juno's triumph high  
These will allow the sanctuary though other it deny  Dei. 
What heavy hap is it that may annoy my guiltless ghost  Hyl. 
Oh mother, O that diamond of the world that pillar post  
Whom fate as jove's lieutenant hear have placed for the nonce  
Is dead: and Nessus burning bane devours Hercles' bones  
The daunter of the brutish beasts he conquering knight before  
Is conquered now: he mourns, he walls, what ask ye any more  Dei. 
We wretches love the order of our wretchedness to hear,  
Tell me the state now of our stock what countenance doth it bear:  
O stock, O silly wretched stock now shall I be esteemed,  
A widow now, a cost of now, and now a beggar deemed.  Hil. 
Thou dost not languish all alone for Hercules yes dead:  
For whom the eyes of all the world have cause their tears to shed.  
Count not thy fate allotted thee alone: now all our kind  
Do howl and mourn for him whom thou bewailest in thy mind,  
Thou sufferest grief, the smart whereof belongs to every land  
Although the sour taste thereof first happen to thy hand  
Thou careful caitiff dost not wail for Hercules alone.  D. 
Speak, speak, how nigh to Deathward was my dear Alcides gone?  Hi. 
Death whom in his own empire he had conquered before,  
Did shrink from him and fate durst not allow a deed so sore,  
And Clotho she perhaps put out her rock with trembling arm  
As one that hastening Hercles' death, did fear to do such harm,  
O day, O dismal day, and shall even Hercules the great  
Pass thus to death, and silent shades and to a worser seat  (De. 
Is he think you already dead or may I die before)  
Speak on, if yet he be not dead  Hi. 
Euboea that doth rise,  
With haughty crest rings everywhere, and Caphar rock likewise  
divideth Hellespontus' sea and turns that side to south,  
Whereas it bides the boisterous blasts of Boreas windy mouth:  
Euripus bends his wandering stream and winds in creaks about  
His crooked course seven-times and doth as often break it out:  
While Phoebus drenched his weary team amid the Western wave  
(Here on a rock above the reach of clouds a temple brave)  
Of Caenaei jove show bright while all the beasts for sacrifice  
At th'altar stood, and through the wood the noise began to rise,  
Of all the herd: then of he put he mattered lions case,  
And likewise did discharge him of his huge and heavy mace  
And eased his shoulder from the burden of his quiver light.  
Then tucked in your attire he shone among the people bright  
With ugly locks, and on the altar made the fire flame  
Receive (quoth he) these fruits (O sire) though fire send the same  
And not the harvest sith: but let with frankincense good store  
The fire burn that far the rich Arabian therefore  
Doth gather out of Saba trees for Phoebus sacrifice  
The earth (quoth he) is now at peace, so be both sea and skies  
All beasts be conquered, and I am victor come again.  
Lay down thy lightning leams (O jove) in fear thou need not reign  
In midst of his prayers thus whereat I was aghast,  
He fell to sighs and grievous groans, and all the skies at last  
With dreadful crying loud he fills Even as the brainsick bull.  
When with the axe in wound he scapes doth fill the temples full  
Of roaring noise.  
Or as the thunder thrown from heaven doth rumble in the skies,  
Even so the seas and stars of heaven doth Hercles' shake with cries  
Both Calpe clive, and Cyclas isle well hard his yelling have,  
Here Caphat rocks there all the woods thereof an Echo gave.  
we saw him weep, the people thought his former franucke fits  
Had now again as erst they did bereave him of his wits  
His servants scatter then for fecare, while he with flaming eyes,  
All staring stands with tleaming looks among them all he pries  
For Lyca: him alone he doth pursue, who in his arm  
With trembling hand the altar held and scaped all the harm,  
By dying first for fainting fear, and while Alcydes held  
The quaking Carcase in his hand thou shalt (quoth he) be quelled  
And beaten with this fist of mine, O Gods eternal reign,  
Wretch Licas killeth Hercules, and hath his conqueror slain,  
But to another slaughter yet: for Hercules again  
Kills Lycas: thus the sacrifice of Gods with blood they stain,  
With Lycas thus his labours and thrown up to heaven they say,  
That with his dropping blood the clouds he stained all the way.  
even as the pitched dart of Gete with pith doth score the skies,  
Or as the whirling sting of Crete doth make the pellet rise:  
So swift he mounted up to heaven, but down his body dropped,  
And as his Carcase fell, among the rocks his neck it chopped.  
The grave prepared for their corpse (quoth Hercules) be still,  
I am no brainsteke frantic man, but lo this desperate ill  
More noisome is then rage or wrath, it calleth much my will  
To wreck my rage upon myself, his malady he scant  
bewrays: but fareth franticly: and he himself doth rent  
His limbs, and rifling them, with mighty hand asunder tears,  
And strives to strip himself of all th'apparel that he wears,  
And only this was it, of all the things that I do know,  
That past the power of Hercules yet stands he pulling so  
And plucketh of his limbs withal the vesture doth not lin  
To bring of lumps of filthy flesh the shirt sticks to the skin  
But what should ail the poison rank none knoweth what, nor why  
And yet there is good cause it oer of: now grovelling doth he lie  
And beats his face against the ground to water now he hies,  
But water cannot cool his heat, and now to shore he plies.  
And for his succour seckes to seas, at lengri, his men him calth  
We holding him (alas the whilst were able him to match  
Now in a keel amid the seas we launched were aloof,  
And Hercles' poise was hosted with a little southern puff  
My Ghost then left my careful corpse and darkness dimmed my sight  
Why stay I wretch? why doth this dreary deed make me affright.  
Her cope-fellow dame juno doth reclaim, and jove his son,  
The world must render him: then do as much as may be done,  
And boar my body with a sword such sour sauce is dew  
To her, whose cursed caitiff hand her love so lightly slew.  
O jove with fire and lightning flash destroy thy wretched Niece.  
Let not thy mighty hand be armed with a slender piece.  
Let braced the boult from skies wherewith thou wouldest Hydra burn.  
If Hercles' had not been thy son thereof to serve the turn  
Strike me with uncouth pestilence, and with such weapon smite,  
As may be far more irksome plague then all my stepdame's spite.  
drive forth those deadly darts that erst young Phaëthon overthrew  
When be full crank in fiery cart, about the heavens flew:  
For thus by slaying Hercules, eke Nations slain I have  
What need thou Deianire of Gods a tool of death to crave.  
Now trouble not thy stepster jove, think scorn may Hercles' wife  
To wish for death, for to her heart her hand shall set the knife  
Dispatch then quickly with the blade, yet let thy blade alone,  
For who with weapon ends their life 'tis long ere they be gone  
I willbe headlong hurled from a rock as high as skies.  
The Oeta hill this shallbe it, where first the son doth rise,  
Thence will I throw my body down, the edge of brasten rock  
Shall cleave my corpse, and every crag shall give a broosing knock.  
My hand shall hang torn by the way the rugged mountain side  
Shall with the gushing bubbles of my dropping blood be died  
On death were vengeance small, though small yet may it be delayed.  
What desperate death I should attempt it makes my heart dismayed:  
Alas, alas that Hercles' sword within my chamber stuck  
Then well were I if for to die on that it were my luck.  
It is enough if one right hand do bring us both to grave.  
Come near, come near ye Nations, now let all people have  
In readiness, both stone and fire the same to throw at me,  
Now hold your hands, and take ye to your tools for I am she  
That of your succour spoiled you now cruel Kaysars may  
All uncontrolled tyrantlike, in kingdoms wield the sway,  
Now every mischief may start up, and not rebuked be.  
The altars now shall up again that wonted were to see  
A bloody offering like himself in kind that offer should.  
Thus have I made the guilty gap to let in bloodshed bold  
I render you to tyrant's kings, bugs, beasts, and grisly devils.  
By taking him away that should revenge you of these evils.  
O spouse thou of the thunderer and can you yet forbear  
Wilt thou not fling thy flames from heaven as did thy brother dear?  
Dispatch me hence sent up to jove, wilt thou not me destroy  
The greatest praise that thou might win then shall thou not enjoy  
Nor lusty triumph: I am she that bear the name to be  
The daughter of the man that would in prows caape with thee.  N. 
Why wilt thou stain thy stock which hath untainted been before,  
This ill proceeds of igorance although it be full sore:  
He is not guilty that commits the guilt not with his will.  D. 
Well may he err of ignorance that favoureth his ill  
And spares himself: myself of death most worthy I do deem.  N. 
He doth condemn himself to die that needs will guilty seem.  D. 
Death can deceive no one but such as innocentes may be.  N. 
Wilt thou forsake the glorious son?  D. 
The son forsaketh me.  N. 
Wretch will thou cast away thy life.  D. 
Yea though it be to death,  
I follow will my Hercules  N. 
He hath both life and breath  D. 
When he perceived him overmatched he hastened his decay.  N. 
Wilt thou forego thy son, and eke prevent thy dying day?  D. 
herself hath lived long enough who buried hath her child.  N. 
And wilt thou follow on to death thy spouse  D. 
yea Ladies mild  
Before their husbands use to die.  N. 
thyself thou dost accuse  
Of guilt if thou condemn thyself.  D. 
No guilty one doth use  
To take revengement of themselves.  N. 
But those are pardoned still  
That do offend of ignorance and not of peevish will  
Who will condemn the deed he doth?  D. 
Each man doth seek to shun  
His lot when spite of frowning fate against him seems to run.  N. 
And he for whom thou languishest, with arrow slow his wife  
Hight Megara, and did destroy his tender children's life.  
whenas a brainsick beast in hand he tossed his knarly mace,  
That squeezed the snake in Lerna lake before his father's face.  
He played thrice the murderer, himself yet he forgave  
And for the heinous guilt he did when frenzy made him rave  
He purged himself in Cynips spring toward the Southern pole  
And in the water bathed his hand again to make him hole.  
Now whether wilt thou caitiff wretch, why dost thou damn thy hands  D. 
In condemnation of these the ghost of Hercles' stands.  
I mean to plague the treachery.  N. 
Your Hercules well I know,  
Perhaps he will be hear again and master all his woe:  
Then shall your slaked grief unto yobr Hercules give place.  DE. 
They say the serpent's poison doth devour him apace  
The poison of his wicked wile his lusty limbs destroys.  NV. 
And think ye it to be the serpent's bane that him annoys,  
That he cannot escape who bore the brunt of it alive,  
And how to pare of Hydra's heads he could full well contrive  
whenas the victor stood with grinning teeth amid the mood,  
And all his body slavered foul with venomous spit and blood,  
And shall the Centaur Nessus' gore against the man prevail  
That made thy pithy strength itself of Nessus for to quail.  DE. 
In vain ye rescue her that is of purpose set to die  
Therefore I have determined with myself this life to fly  
And long enough he lived hath that may with Hercles' die.  NV. 
I do beseech thee humbly for this grey and hoary head,  
And for these paps that as thy Mother have thee nourished,  
Remove the fervent fits that cage within thy boiling breast,  
And suffer not these desperate thoughts of death in thee to rest.  DE. 
Who would persuade a wretch to live. He hath a cruel heart?  
And though that death be unto me a great and grievous smart:  
Yet unto other some it is an easing of their pain.  NV. 
O wretch excuse thy handy work, and say at last again,  
'tis ignorance that did the deed, and not the wilful Wife.  DE. 
It will be quit whereas th'infernal fiends shall stint the strife  
And quit my guilty ghost: my conscience doth my hands condemn.  
But Pluta Prince of glummy gulf shall purge from slaughter them:  
Before thy banks I will appear forgetful Lethe's Lake,  
And being then a doleful ghost my husband will I take.  
But thou that wields the sceptre black of dark internal skies  
Apply thy toil: the heinous guilt that none durst enterprise,  
This ignorance hath overcome, Dame juno never dare  
To take away our Hercules. Thy plunging plagues prepare,  
Let Sisyphus' stone on my neck force my stooping shoulders shrink,  
And let the fleeting liquor from my gaping gums to sink.  
Yea let it mock my thirsty throat whenas I mean to drink,  
And thou that racks Ixion King of Thessayle O thou Wheel,  
My heinous hands deserved have thy swinging sway to feel,  
And let the greedy gripe scratch out these guts on either side,  
If Danaus' pitchers cease: by me the room shallbe supplied.  
Set open hell, take me Medea as partner of thy guilt.  
This hand of mine, than both of thine more cruel blood hath spilled  
More than thou did as in respect of mother to thy thylde.  
Or looking to thy brother's ghost whose gore hath thee defiled,  
Have with the Lady thou of Thrace for such a cruel wife,  
And the Althe that burned the brand of Meleager's life.  
Receive thy daughter now, deny me not thy babe to be:  
Why such a one should quail by you, some reason let us see:  
Ye honest matrons that enjoy the groves of holy wood  
Against me shut the heavens, or such whose hands with husbands blood  
Have been imbrued, if any of the fifty sisters dire  
Defying honest duty all that wedlock did require:  
But desperate dames with gory blades stood armed: in me let them  
See and allow their bloody hands that other will condemn.  
I will go get myself among the troop of cruel wives  
But they will shun such guilty hands as shred their husbands lives.  
O valiant spouse, a guiltless ghost, but guilty hands I have  
Ah silly woman, woe is me, that given light credit have  
O traitor Nessus while I meant by centaurs subtle charm  
To draw from Iole Hercles' love myself sustain the harm.  
Hence Phoebus hence, and thou O flickering life of her that lacks  
Her Hercules and givest day to wretches in their wracks.  
This is a dismal day: to thee Small penance yield I will  
And life with all: my woeful fate shall I continue still  
Deferring death, O spouse that of thy hand I may be slain,  
And doth their any spark of life yet in thy breast remain?  
Or can thy hand yet draw the bow Sarmacian shaft to cast,  
Do weapons cease, and have thy feeble hands given up at last  
Thy bow? but if thy hardy wife to thee a tool may reach  
I long to perish of thy hand, mine hour yet will I stretch  
Like guiltless Licas mangle me disperse in other towns  
My corpses, and hurl me to a world beyond the travails bounds.  
Trounce me like monster Arcady or aught that did rebel,  
And yet thou shalt do nought but that becomes an husband well.  Hi. 
I pray you mother spare yourself, forgive your fatal lot,  
If ye offend of ignorance, than blame deserve ye not  De. 
If thou regard true honesty, thy wretched mother slay.  
Why trembleth thus thy fearful hand, why lookest thou away?  
Such sin shallbe a sacrifice why dastard dost thou fear?  
I spoiled thy father Hercules, this hand, this hand aleare  
Hath murdered him whereby I have done thee a more despite,  
Then joy I did, in that my womb did bring thee first to light.  
If yet thou know not how to kill, then practise first on me.  
If as thou like within my throat thy blade shall sheathed be  
Or if to paunch thy mother soon thou mean to take in hand  
To yield her dreadless ghost to thee thy mother still shall stand,  
It shall not wholly be thy deed, by thee it shall be done,  
And caused by my will to be. Art thou Alcides soon  
And all afraid? so shall thou never great exploits achieve  
Nor pass the world such feats of arms and sleights for to contrive.  
If any monster should be bred thy father's courage show,  
And to it with unfearful arm, lo overcharged with woe  
My breast lies bare unto thy hand. Strike, I thy guilt forgive  
The fiends infernal for their sin thy soul shall never grieve.  
What yerking noise is this we hear, what hag here have we found  
That bears about her writhe locks these ugly adders wound,  
And one her irksome temples twain her blackish sins do wag.  
Why chase ye me with burning brands Megaera filthy hag  
Alcides can but vengeance ask, and that I will him get  
But have the judges dire of hell for it in counsel set  
But of the dreadful dungeon doors I see th'unfolding leaves  
What ancient sire is he that on his tatred shoulder heaves  
Th' unwieldy stone that born tooth top again doth downward reel  
Or what is he that sprawls his limbs upon the whirling wheel  
Lo hear stood ugly Tisiphon with stern and ghastly face,  
And did demand with steaming eyes the manner of the case.  
O spare thy stripes Megaera spare, and with thy brands away,  
Th'offence I did was meant in love, but whether do I sway  
The ground doth sink, the roof doth crack, whether went this raging rout,  
Now all the world with gazing eyes stand staring me about  
On every side the people grudge and call for their defence.  
Be good to me O nations whither, shall I get me hence?  
Death only is my load of rest there may my sorrows bide  
I do protest the fiery wheels that Phoebus chariot guide.  
That hear I die and leave the world, there's Hercles' yet behind.  Hi. 
Away she runs aghast: ay me, she hath fulfilled her mind,  
For purposed she was to die and now remains my will  
For to prevent her that by force herself she shall not kill  
O mice rabble pretty, if I my mother save.  
I sin against my father then, but if unto the grave  
I let her go, then toward her a trespass soul there lies.  
And thus (alas) on either side great mischief doth aries,  
And needs her purpose must be stayed I'll hie and take in hand  
To stop her desperate enterprise and mischief to withstand.  Chorus. 
full true the ditty is  
That holy ORPHEUS sang,  
On Thracian harp with sound whereof  
the Rocks of Rodop rang,  
That nothing is created  
For ever to endure.  
Dame Nature's birds each on must stoop  
when death throws out the lure.  
The head with Crispen locks,  
or golden hairs full:  
In time hath borne an hoary bush,  
or been a naked skull.  
And that which tract of time  
doth bring out of the grain,  
Old Saturn sharps his sith at length  
to reap it down again.  
Though PHOEBUS rise at morn,  
with glistering rays full proud,  
He runs his race, and ducketh down  
at length in foggy Cloud.  
Tooth Gaetan's ORPHEUS sang  
such kind of melody.  
And how the gods themselves were bound  
to laws of destiny.  
The God that doth the year.  
By equal parts dispose,  
How fatal web in every climb  
are daily spun he shows.  
For all things made of mould  
The ground again will gape,  
As Hercles' preacheth plain by proof  
that nothing can escape.  
For shortly shall ensue  
Discharge of Nature's Law  
And out of hand the glooming day  
of doom shall onward draw  
Then all that lies within  
The scorching Lybic climb,  
The pole antarctic of the South.  
shall overwhelm in time.  
pole arctic of the North  
Shall jumble, all that lies  
Within the axle-tree, whereon,  
dry Boreas blazing flies  
The shivering Sun in Heaven  
Shall lose his fading light  
The Palace of the frames of Heavens  
shall run to ruin quite.  
And all these blockish Gods  
Some kind of Death shall quell,  
And in confused CHAOS blind  
they shall for ever dwell,  
And after ruin made  
Of Goblin, hag, and Elf,  
Death shall bring final destiny,  
at last upon itself.  
Where shall be then bestowed  
The world so huge a mass,  
The beaten high way unto hell  
is like away to pass,  
To lead unto the Heavens  
That shall be laid flat:  
The space between the Heaven and earth,  
enough think ye is that?  
Or is it not too much  
For worldly miseries:  
Where may such heaps of sins be lodged  
what place above the skies?  
Remains, but that the sea  
With Heaven and lowest Hell,  
Three Kingdoms cast in one are like  
within one roof to dwell.  
But hark what roaring cry,  
Thus beats my fearful ear  
But lo it's Hercules that yells  
'tis Hercules I hear.   

THE FOURTH act  Hercules, Chorus. 
Retire, retire thy breathing breasts,  
O Titan blazing bright,  
Unfold thy misty mantle black  
of dim and darksome Night:  
And dash this dreary day wherein  
I Hercules must die.  
With blemish black of filthy fog defile the grisly sky:  
Prevent my stepdame's naughty mind. Now should I have resigned,  
(O Father) my inheritance of Pluto's dungeon blind  
Heaven frames should here & there be braced, & either pole should crack  
Why sparest thou the stars and least thy Hercles' go to wrack?  
Now jove look round about the heavens, and if thou can espy  
On giant heave the Thessail cliffs against th'assaulted sky  
Unburdened be Enceladus of hugy Osir hill,  
And hurled be on Hercules the mighty mountain still  
Proud Pluto shall unbar the gates of black and glummy cave  
Yet maugre all their might (o Father jove) I will thee save  
From fury of thy woes, and set thee up again in skies,  
Yet lo jove, lo, her that on earth thy thunderdint supplies,  
And for to be lieutenant of thy bolts on earth was borne,  
Is sent to burning Limbo lake in torments to be torn  
The stern Enceladus again in ramping rage shall rise  
And hurl the weight (that now doth crowd him down) against the skies,  
Thus by my death they shall presume to conquer heaven all  
But ere that day upon my corpse compel the heavens to fall  
Break down, break down, the welkin that thou sufferest to decay,  Ch. 
O son of thunder thumping jove no shadows do thee fray,  
Now Ossa mount of thessaly shall Pelion hill down crush  
And Athos piled on Pindus' top his bushy head shall push  
Among the starry skies thereby above the craggy rocks.  
Typhoëus up shall climb, and thump with store of batt'ring knocks  
Iuarmen stone in tyrrhene sea from thence eke shall he beat  
The smoky forge of Aetna mount, that glows with stewing heat  
Enceladus not overthrown yet with the thunder crack  
Shall hew the mountain side in twain, and truss it on his back  
The signs of heaven shall follow thee. and go with thee to wrack  Her. 
I that returned from dens of death, and Stygian stream defied  
And ferried over Lethe's lake, and dragged up, chained, and tIED  
The triple headed mastiff hound, when Titan's team did start  
So at the ugly sight that he fell almost from his cart.  
even I whose pith the kingdoms three of God's full well have known  
Lo yet mine end I daunted am by death and overthrown  
But yet no bloody blade against my rived rib doth crash  
It is no rock that unto death my bruised bones doth pash  
Nor as it were with O sir hill that cloven were in twain,  
Nor with the sway of all the mountain falling am I slain.  
The glaring eyed giant grim doth not now squeeze my corpse  
With poise of Pindus roch and thus not feeling enemies force  
I conquered am and yet alas this coarsie frets me more  
O feeble force of man: he whom no might could match before  
Withouten any conquest made doth end his latter day,  
Without exploit or feat of arms myself I pass away.  
O mighty umpire of the world and all ye Ghosts above  
That witness how in quarrel good my right hand ever strove  
O all ye lands, O earth alas, may it your mercy please  
To spoil the spiteful sting of death that daunts your Hercules  
Fie fie, what shame is it to us what filthy fate we have?  
A woman proud shall boast her bane brought Hercles' to his grave  
Then what are they whose mortal maim Alcides' weapon gave  
If thus with sway invincible my fatal wheel do run  
And need must on this shameful rock my fatal twist be spun:  
As by a woman's cursed hand my blood should thus be shed  
Yet Juno's malice might have powered this vengeance on my head,  
So might a woman's deadly band have brought me to my beer:  
But pet a woman wellding sway amid the welkin clear  
But this seemed overproud attempt for Gods to take in hand  
The papless dame in Scythia borne where pight on high doth stand  
The appletree whereon the underpropped poles do sway.  
It might as well have been her hap to take my breath away,  
What woman's might may master me Queen Juno's hateful foe  
Fie stepdame fie the fouler shame by this to thee doth grow?  
Why dost thou triumph in this day? why did dame Tellus breed  
Such perilous bugs thy humour rank of colour hot to feed?  
A mortal woman's peevish spite doth pass thy rancour rough,  
Thou sayst thou cannot have revenge on Hercules enough  
Then are we twain that pass thy power the Gods may blush for shame?  
To see their malice overmatched by such a mortal dame.  
Would God the ramping lions paw that noyed Neme wood,  
Had filled his greedy munching jaws with plenty of my blood:  
Or while the twining snakes had hemmed me in by hundreds thick,  
Why might not Hydra swallow up my wrinched body quick?  
Why was it not the centaurs hap my silly flesh to gnaw?  
Or that I bound on Tantalus' rock should gape with greedy jaw?  
In vain to catch the fleeting food when deep from Tartar soil,  
Where at the Gods aggrized were, I did purloin the spoil.  
And from the dark infernal Styx I got again to light,  
Or Ditis' dungeon all the stops and stays I conquered quite.  
Death shrank from me in every place that I a noble knight  
At length might end my days in shame, and in dishonour spoiled  
Oh jove the creatures terrible thou know'st that I have foiled  
The threefold shapen mastiff cur whom up I dragged in chain,  
He starring from the sunward could not hale me back again.  
The shepherds churlish rabble that aloof in Iber he  
Under the Spanish fervent clime could never master me.  
Nor serpents twain that unto me in tender cradle crept.  
ay woe is me that valiant death so oft I overleapt:  
What honour shall I die withal?  CH. 
Behold how death and hell  
Cannot appaule the virtuous mind that of deserving well.  
By guiltless conscience warrant hath the death that doth him spoil,  
Irks not as thus of such an one to take this filthy foil.  
If with this torment life were lost, his mind should much be eased,  
As with unwieldy Giants sway he had his body squeezed.  
Or Titan's burden with his monsters all he would abide.  
Or wish of raging Giants rent in pieces to have died,  
And if thy doleful death because that monster none is left.  
Who may be worthy thought by whom Alcides life be reft?  
But thine own hand to do the deed.  HE. 
ay me and wellaway,  
What Scorpion scrapes within my Maw? what crawling Crab I say  
With crooking cleaze to cumber me, from scorching zone returns,  
And boat within my boiling bones the seething Marrow burns.  
My River whilom rank of blood my rotting lungs it taws,  
And teareth them in shattered gubs, and filthy withered flaws.  
And now my Gall is dried up my burning Liver glows.  
The stewing heat hath stulde away the blood, and jove he knows  
My upper skin is scorched away and thus the canker strong  
Doth eat an hole that get it may my wretched Limbs among,  
And from my frying Ribs (alas) my Liver quite is rent.  
It gnaws my flesh, devours all, my Carcase quite is spent,  
It soaks into the empty bones, and out the juice it sucks  
The bones by lumps drop of while it the joints asunder plucks  
My corpulent Carks is consumed of Hercules every Limb  
Yet stauncheth not the festering rot that feedeth fast on him  
O what a tingling ache it is that makes me thus to smart,  
O bitter plague, O pestilence that gripeth to the heart.  
Lo cities, lo what now remains of Hercules the great.  
Are these the arms that did with stripes the roaring Lion beat?  
And in Nemea wood did tear him from his hary case  
Might this hand bend the bow from clouds the stymphal foul to chase?  
Are these the shanks that coped the heart who shifting pace full oft?  
Did bear his branched head ypranked with garland gay aloft?  
Was Calpe craggy clive of these my feeble clouches broke?  
To raise a dam in seas that did their foamy channel choke.  
Had these arms pith the breath of Kings, of Beasts, and bugs to stop?  
Or might these shoulders tough the poise of heaven underprop?  
Are these the lusty Limbs and Neck that shrank not at the poise?  
Are these hands that I against the weltering heavens did raise?  
Alas whose hands shall now perforce from hence hell jailor lead?  
Alas the noble courage erst that now in me is dead.  
Why call I jove my Father great of whom my stock should rise?  
Why by the Thunderer make I my challenge to the skies?  
Now, now Ampitrio is my ster all men may it avouch.  
Come out thou murrain fowl that dost within my bowels couch.  
Why dost thou thus with privy wound my careful Carcase foil?  
What gulf under the frozen Climb in savage Scythian soil  
Engendered them? what water Hag did spawn thee on the shore?  
Or stony Calpe Rock in Spain that borders on the Moare:  
O irksome ill, and art thou not the Serpent that doth sting  
With crest on ugly head, or else some other loathly thing,  
Or sprung of Hydraës blood, or left here by the hellish hound.  
Art thou no plague? and yet a plague in whom all plagues abound?  
What ghastly countenance carriest thou (alas) yet let me know?  
What kind of mischief may thou be that dost torment me so?  
What savage sore, or murrain strange, or uncouth plague thou be?  
With open combat face to face thou should encounter me.  
And not thus rankle in my flesh, nor soak into the sap.  
By sultering heat within my bones thy boiling bane to wrap,  
And in the mid thereof to fry the Marrow that doth melt.  
My jagged skin is ripped, and out my smoky Bowels swelled.  
From bursten Paunch myself do flay the skin with grasping pause,  
And from the naked bones do tear the mangled flesh by flaws,  
I searched for thee through my Maw, yet further dost thou creep,  
And festering farther in my flesh hast gnawn an hole more deep.  
O mischief match to Hercules, what grief could make me greet?  
Whence flow these streams of trilling tears that down my cheeks do fleet  
The time hath been no plunging pangs could cause our courage quail,  
That never use with crystal tears our anguish to bewail.  
Ah, fie, I am ashamed that I should learn these tears to shed:  
That Hercules in weeping wise his grief hath languished:  
whoever saw at any day in any time or place?  
All bitter brunes I bore with dry, and eke unreky face  
The manhood that so many ills hath mastered heretofore,  
Hath yielded only unto thee, to thee thou canker sore.  
Thou first of all haste strained the tears out of my weeping eyes  
Thy gargoyle face thy visage man that doth me sore aggrise.  
More tough than mossy Rocks, more hard than Gads of sturdy steel,  
Or roaming stream of Simplegade, whereby this smart I feel  
Hath crushed my cracking jaws, & wrong the streaming tears from me.  
O wielder of the Welkin swift, lo, lo the Earth doth see  
How Hercules doth weep and wail, and to my greater pain  
My Stepdame juno sees the same, behold, behold again  
My lungs do fry, the scorching heat prevaileth more, and more.  
Whence fell this thunder bolt on me that burns in me so sore?  C. 
Who stoopeth not when grief doth gall? more tough than Aem of Thrace  
was whilom haughty Hercules, and did no more give place  
Then doth the marble axletree, his Limbs he now doth yield  
To painful pangs: and on his Neck his aching head doth wield,  
And tossing still from side to side, he bends with hugy sway,  
And oft his noble heart doth force his trilling tears to stay.  Hercules. Alcmena. 
O Father with thy heavenly Eyes,  
Behold my wretched plight,  
For never HERCULES till now  
bid crave thy hand of might,  
Not whenas Hydraës fruitful heads  
about my limbs were wound,  
Nor when I lock in Lakes allow  
fought with th'infernal hound,  
These hideous fiends I foiled, with kings, & tyrants proud likewise.  
Yet in these broils I never looked for succour to the skies.  
This hand did still avouch the vow, no thunder for my sake  
Did glitter in the holy heavens, this day hath hid me make  
Some suit to thee, and of my bones yet here's the first and last,  
One only Thunder boult I crave at me O jove to cast.  
Count me a Giant of myself, I can no less devise,  
While jove I thought of promise true, I spared the starry skies.  
be thou either a cruel sire, or pity if thou have,  
Yet lend thy son thy help, and get the glory of my grave:  
Preventing this my dreary death, of this if thou do scorn,  
Or that thy hand abhor the guilt, from Sicil clive suborn  
The sultering Giants that in hand high Pindus' mount can wield,  
Or Ossa that it hurled on me I may therewith bequielde,  
Braced up hell Gates, and let Bellone scourge me with Iron rod,  
And let in arms encounter me the mighty martial God,  
My brother I acknowledge him but by my stepdame's side,  
And Pallas thou my sister take, let at thy brother slide  
A thirling Dart. O stepdame mine with humble suit I crave  
A wound of thee that woman's hand may bring me to my grave.  
Why dost thou feed thy fury now as one whose wrath were end  
And satisfied? what seek ye more? I stoop, I yield, I bend.  
Thou seest Alcides humbly laid, where as unto this day  
That ever I entreated thee, no Land, no Beast can say,  
Now do I need thy deadly wrath to rid me of my pain,  
And now thy rancour is appeased, thy hate is quenched again,  
And thus thou sparest me my life, whenas I wish to die:  
O Earth will none make me the fire wherein my bones may fry?  
Nor reach a blade to Hercules, convey ye all from me?  
So let no country Monsters breed when I shall buried be,  
And let none wail the loss of me if monsters mote arise,  
God send another Hercules to succour Earth and skies.  
But as for me on every side ding out my bruised brain,  
And crash with sturdy stroke of stones my cursed skull in twain  
And rid my torments: wilt thou not? O world to me unkind,  
And are so soon our benefits forgotten in thy mind.  
e'en to this bower with bugs and beasts thou had been over laid  
Had not I been: good people cause his torments to be stayed  
That succoured you: time gives you leave to recompense my pain,  
If ye with death will guerdon me, I ask none other gain.  AL. 
Where shall I wretched mother of Alcides wish to be?  
Where is my child? where is my son? If sight deceive not me  
With gasping mouth, and panting heart lo where he sprawling lies.  
Where as (alas) in raging heart of boiling fits he fries,  
He groves, all is dispatched, dear child let me Alcides mine  
Embrace thy pining limbs: with kiss enfolded my arms in thine  
Where are the limbs? where is the neck that bore the skies alone?  
What thus hath mangled thee that all thy corpse is waste and gone?  HE. 
I am your Hercles' mother dear, whom thus ye see here lost.  
Acknowledge me all though God knows I seem but as a ghost.  
Why do you turn your face away and mourning visage mild.  
Are ye ashamed that Hercules should counted be your child?  AL. 
What world hath bred this uncouth bug? what land engendered it?  
Or else what monstrous mischief may on thee triumphing sit?  
Who be't that conquers Hercules?  HE. 
By treason of his Wife  
Thou seest how wretched Hercules do lose his loathed Life.  AL. 
To overthrow my Hercules, what treason hath the might?  HE. 
That which a wrathful Dame doth seek to case her of her spite.  AL. 
How hath this pestilence gotten to thy Limbs and bleeding bones?  HE. 
acp-p a shirt the woman had conveyed it for the nonce.  AL. 
Where is the shirt for nothing but thy naked corpse I see?  HE. 
The vesture by the poison rank devoured is with me.  AL. 
And can such poison be contrived?  HE. 
I think within my guts,  
That hideous Hydra hissing Snake his sloughy body puts,  
A thousand plagues of Lerna Pool within my Bowels ramps:  
What raging dear is this that drives up all Sicilia damps?  
What Clime of Hell forbids the day to pass the boiling zone?  
O Maies amid the greedy gulfs and pools let me be thrown.  
What Ister can my Carcase cool? no not the Ocean main  
Of these my stewing vapours may the raging quench again?  
(All moisture of my limbs in these my fits are fried away)  
The juice will soon be soaked up, what precedent of hell  
Let me return from under ground again with jove to dwell  
He ought to have retained me still, receive me once again  
Into thy dungeon dark that hell may in this pickle plain  
Behold the man that conquered it, no booty bring I will  
Away with me: why dost thou quake for fear of Hercles' still.  
Set on me death courageously for now I may be killed  A. 
Now stint thy tender tears that down thy checks so long have trilled,  
And master this thy malady compel thy sorrows sloupe.  
And show that in these plunging pangs Alcides did not droop,  
And as it hath been raised thy guise force death and hell to shrink.  Her. 
If ugly crested Caucasus. In chain of iron link  
Should bind me as a groaning pray the greedy gripe to feed  
Yet from mine eyes it should not strain a broken tear indeed  
If wandering Symplegads would me wish either rock assail,  
To bide the brunt of double wrack my courage would not quail.  
Let Pindus tumbled be on me, huge Aemus let me have  
Or Athos rock in Thracian seas that breaks the weltering wave,  
And bode the bolts of thundering jove although th'unwieldy mass?  
Of all the world should fall on me and might be brought to pass  
That Phoebus flaming appletree should burn upon my grave  
No uncouth cry should force the mind of Hercles' thus to rave.  
Let meet a thousand savage beasts and rent me all at once  
Let Stymphal fowls with howling hoarse lay strokes upon my bones  
Or scrolling bull on tother side strike on with head and horn  
Or else of other serpents wild let all my parts be torn  
With roaring earthquakes, hugy lumps be puffed upon me  
With griping grief let all my limbs to nothing pined be  
Although I be to powder crushed I will with patience peace  
In spite of beasts or bruising blows my sighs and tears shall cease  Alc. 
It is not son the woman's bane that in thy bones doth boil  
But festering tears and bruising knocks of thy continual toil  
The wrinches old with aching pangs begin to smart anew.  HE. 
O where is death where is he now? of all that I do rue:  
Can any witness what it is? let death now bend his bow  
A naked hand is strong enough to make me stoop full low  
Let any wight in all the world attempt to set on me  
I warrant him, approach let him, Ah wretched might I be  
This wayward agony hath take his perfect wits away.  
Have hence his tools, and eke his shafts for danger hence convey.  
His ruddy gills that glow like fire some mischief do pretend.  
To shroud myself (alas) into what corner shall I wend?  
This malady a frenzy is, this only is the mean  
To conquer Hercules, why then do I as doting quean  
Thus fall to tears and seek to shrink, may be that he will have,  
Alcmena's hand to give the stroke, to bring him to the grave.  
But die he in a Murrain's name, ere I for coward will  
Such deadly penance be enjoined, that on my doings still,  
His heinous hand may vaunt itself, lo how the pangs full deep,  
With stuggling ceased, do hind the purple veins with deadly sleep,  
And beating sore lift up and down his faint and panting breast:  
If I O Gods of this my noble Child be dispossessed:  
Be gracious yet, and for the world some lusty champion save.  
Rid his annoy and let his limbs again their courage have.  Hyllus. Alcmena. Hercules. 
O Dismal day, O anguish, O  
the heaper up of ill.  
jove's Son is slain, his Daughter dies,  
his Nephew liveth still.  
First by the Stepdame's treason, is  
the Son to ruin brought.  
The Daughter likewise trapped in trains,  
and thereby come to nought.  
What hoary head in change of tunes, or tenor of his age  
Hath seen, that Fortune's frowning Face hath stirred such stormy rage.  
One doleful day bereaveth me (alas) of parents twain.  
But least I speak to spite the Gods, I will somewhat refrain.  
I lost a Father, Hercules this only I complain.  AL. 
O noble Imp of Hercules, (alas) my Nephew dear,  
That dost of wretched Alcmen's Son the lively feature bear.  
Refrain my child thy wailing words, this quiet sleep perhaps  
Will overcome these plunging fits. But lo? lo in my lap.  
He doth begin to strive again, his fits begin afresh.  
Sleep giving up the feeble ghost to rankle in the flesh.  HE. 
What meaneth Thrachin craggy crest to show before mine eyes?  
Or now forsaking man am I advanced above the skies.  
Why do the heavens provide for me? the father jove I see,  
And eke my stepdame juno dire appeased now with me.  
What heavenly harmony is this that soundeth in mine ear.  
Dame juno calls me son in law, I see the palace clear  
(Of crystal skies and beaten rakes of Phoebus flaming wheel)  
I see the dampish moary den of glooming lady night  
Here he commandeth darkness dim to show itself in sight.  
What meaneth this, who is it that the heavens against me spars?  
And am I thus O father mine brought down again from stars.  
even now Apollo's sultering car did fume about my face  
So nigh I passed the pinch of Death, lo Thrachin top in place  
Who brought me back to ground again, beneath me erst it lay  
And all the world was under me, thou smart wert worn away,  
Thou forcest me confess the same. Ah mercy, mercy now.  
In stead of farther vengeance do these humble words allow.  
Lo Hillus, lo thy mother's gifts such presents she prepared  
Ah, might my truncheon punch her puddings once as whilom fared  
The haughty Lady Amazon well trounced for her pride  
On th'edge of icy Caucasus affront the mountain side.  
O noble lady Megara were thou my wretched wife,  
When rapt in rage of frantic fits, I rest thee of thy life  
Give me my bat and bow in hand, my wrists I will embrew.  
And force ye all your brags on me with blemish black to rue.  
Thus let of Hercules' exploits a woman be the last.  Hi. 
Forbear O Sire thy hateful threats, she hath it, all is past.  
The vengeance that ye seek on her already hath her sped.  
With wound received at your hand my mother lieth dead  (Her. 
O blinded anguish: die she should of Hercles' furious hand)  
Thus Licas hath his marrow lost the heat of burning breast  
Will have me on the breathless corpse for to revenge the rest  
Why doth she not yet feel her force both let her want a grave  
And on her cursed flesh to feed let beasts her carcase have.  Hil. 
The silly woman was more woe than ye that bide the smart.  
Ye will release some part hereof for pity in your heart.  
For grief of you with her own hand, alas herself she slew  
Thus more than ye do ask of her, she doth her doing rue  
Yet is it not your Wife's misdeed that brought you to this plight.  
No nor my mother's traitorous hand hath wrought this deep deceit.  
This treason Nessus did contrive whom ye did pay his hire,  
With arrow shot into his Ribs for rape of Deianire.  
Thus father with the centaurs blood your shirt was sore embrued.  
At Nessus' hand the vengeance of your deed thus have ye rued.  HE. 
He hath his will: all is dispatched, our Fates themselves display.  
This is the day of death to me. Thus erst to me did say,  
A charmed Oak, and all the wood that range with yelling noise  
Of Parnass hill the Temples shook, and thundered out this voice.  
The dead man's hand whom thou before hast slain,  
O Hercules shall murder thee again.  
Thou having mot the space of gulf and ground,  
And depth of hell, hear shall thou be confound.  
I therefore do bewail no more, such should our ending be.  
That Hercles' conquered after him no man alive may see.  
Now let me die a manly death, a stout and excellent,  
And meet for me: this noble day shall valiantly be spent.  
Fell all the Timber on the ground hew down all OEta wood.  
Let coals devour Hercules, let fire fry his blood.  
But ere I die thou noble Imp of paeans royal race.  
This doleful duty do for me: See that an whole day space,  
My funeral fire flaming burn. And now my tender Hill,  
The last petition of my mouth make unto thee I will.  
Among the captive Ladies, one there is, a noble Dame,  
Of royal blood, Euritus' Child, Iole is her name:  
Accept her to thy spousal Bed, whom victor I unkind  
Have trained from her native home and but my heart, and mind  
Poor silly maid I gave her nought, and now she shall me lose.  
Lo thus the wretched woman walls her still increasing woes.  
But let her foster that she hath conceived as jove's ally,  
And child to me, be't thine by her that erst begot have I:  
And as for thee dear mother mine your dreary dole forego,  
Your Hercules shall live: do not vain tears on him bestow:  
My manhood made a strumpet thought a Stepdame unto thee,  
But if that either Hercles' birth show her unsure to be,  
Or be a man my ster or else be falsified my kin.  
Now let jove's juggling cease, and let my mother's slander lin,  
I have deserved a father well that have advanced so high  
The glory of the rolling heavens, of nature framed was I.  
To work the wondrous praise of jove, and jove himself doth joy,  
To have the name of Hercules, begetting such a boy.  
But pardon now my strained tears, but you as jove his niece.  
Shall as a stately matron be among the Dames of Greece.  
Though juno with the thunderer in spousal chamber lies  
And in her heavenly hand doth wield the sceptre of the skies,  
whenever bore she such a Babe, and yet though heaven she hold  
In heart against a mortal man she fosters malice old,  
For spirit that borne of woman's womb be counted thus I should.  
Go Titan go, run out thy Race, thee only I forsake.  
I that went with thee foot by foot now to th'infernal lake.  
And Ghosts, I go yet with this praise toth' pit down will I pass  
That Hercules of open foe yet never foiled was.  
But he in open combats brought his conquests all to pass.  Chorus. 
O Titan crowned with blasting bush whose morning moistures make  
The Moon her foamy bridle from her tired team to take.  
Declare toth' Easterlings whereas the ruddy morn doth rise.  
Declare unto the Irishmen aloof at western Skies.  
Make known unto the moors annoyed by flaming axentree.  
Those that with the icy Wain of Archas pestered be.  
Display to these that Hercules to th'eternal ghosts is gone  
And to the bawling mastiff's den from whence returneth none.  
With dusky damp of filthy fog O Titan choke thy blaze,  
With lowering light of wanny Globe on woeful worldlings gaze,  
And let thy head be muffled up with clouds and darkness dim.  
For Hercles' sake, when shall thou find, or where the like to him?  
(O wretched world to whom wilt thou henceforth thy woes complain,)  
If any scattering pestilence on earth shall be renewed,  
By venom rank, from poison mouth of scaly Dragon spewed:  
If any Boar of Arcady shall cumber all a wood,  
And tear the travelers flesh with tusk imbrued in gory blood:  
If any champion rough of Thrace with heart more hard in breast,  
Then are the icy rocks, where as the frozen Bear doth rest,  
Shall trample thick his stables foul with blood of slaughtered men,  
When people quake for fear of war, who shall assist them then?  
If wrathful Gods for vengeance will some monsters to be bred?  
Lo now enfeebled all of force his Carcase lieth dead,  
Whom Nature's mould had made a match to thundering jove in strength.  
Hale out (alas) and let your plaint be heard to towns at length.  
Let women beat their naked arms, and wring their trembling hands,  
Untruss their hair, and from their locks pluck of their binding bands.  
bolt up, and lock the Temple gates of Gods, and ope be none,  
But desperate Juno's chapel doors. O Hercles' thou art gone  
To Lethe's lake, and stream of Styx, from whence no Keel again  
Shall bring thee back: O silly soul thou goest to remain  
Among the grisly goblins grim: from whence thou whilom came  
With triumph sooner daunted death, and conquest of the same.  
With ghastly face, and carrion arms, and neck that yields to weight,  
Thy ghost returns, but caron's boat then shall not have her freight.  
As balanced with thy only poise, and yet shalt thou not bide  
Among the rascal sprites, but sit on bench by Aeacus' side,  
And with the judges twain of Crete as Umpire there to be,  
Appointing pains to souls that may to their deserts agree.  
From slaughter hold your guiltless hands, bath not your blades in blood.  
Ye states, that bear high sail on earth, and float in worldly good:  
It merits praise a maiden sword undipped in gore to bear,  
And while thou rain, to keep thy realm from cruel doings clear.  
But virtue hath a privilege to pass unto the skies.  
Toth' top of frozen Apple tree O Hercules wilt thou rise?  
Or where the sun with scorching blaze his burning beams doth rest?  
Or wilt thou be a shining star amid the lukewarm west?  
Where Calpe Rock is heard with roaring noise of wrestling wave?  
What place amid the azure sky intendest thou to have?  
What place shall be in all the heavens from hurly-burly free?  
When Hercules amid the stars shall entertained be?  
Let jove appoint thy biding from the ugly Lion far,  
And burning Crab▪ lest thou with grisly countenance do them scar.  
And make the trembling stars in heaven for fear to break array  
And Titan quake: while spring doth prank with flowers the tender spray.  
Then hasty winter strip the trees of all their branches green.  
Or sudden Summer decked with leaves in bushy woods be seen.  
And from the trees the Apples fall, the harvest being done:  
No age on earth shall wipe away the fame that thou hast won.  
As far as Sun, or Stars can shine, thy glorious name shall go.  
Amid the bottom of the Sea first Corn shall sprout, and grow,  
And brackish Seas his water's salt to water fresh shall change:  
And fixed star of icy bear from Clime to Climb shall range,  
And sink into the frozen pool against his kindly sway,  
Ere people cease the honour of thy triumphs to display:  
O sovereign jove we wretched wights this boon of thee do crave,  
No monstrous beasts, no noisome plagues, hereafter let us have:  
With bloody champions let the earth encumbered be no more:  
Cast down the haughty sway of Courts: if aught annoyance sore  
Shall cloy the earth, a champion to be our shield we cave,  
Whom as an honour of the Crown his rueful realm may have.  
(That still will keep his sword from being taint with guiltless blood.)  
But lo what means this rumbling noise? Lo Hercles' ster doth groan,  
And sigheth for his son: is it the Gods that wail, and moan.  
Or is it Juno's fearful shriek, whom Hercles' doth aggrise,  
That seeing him for fear she roars, and runneth from the skies.  
Or else did Atlas faltering feet with feeble stirring stumble?  
And shrinking from his tottering weight thus force the Gods to rumble?  
Or scared he the wauling ghosts, the which to fear he drove?  
Or Cerberus braced his jingling Chains with buskling in his cave.  
It is not so: but lo where Philoctetes doth appear,  
And Hercles' famous shafts to him bequeathed doth he bear.   

THE FIFT act.  Nutrix. Philoctetes. 
OF Hercules' most heavy haps  
Good young man make report  
How did he bear it at his death?  PH. 
In such a cheerful sort  
As no man lives.  NV. 
And could he with  
so sweet and merry look,  
The scorching pangs and torments of  
his ending fire brook?  PH. 
That there was any heat at all his face did not bewray,  
Who proved that power might force all things to stoop and to obey,  
That under son untamed be.  NV. 
Where did the noble knight,  
Among the wrestling waves of sea display his matchless might:  PH. 
That mischief witch all only yet the world knew not before,  
Even fire hath been conquered as beasts, and monsters more  
Among the toils of Hercules the fire is crept in.  NV. 
Declare us how the flaming force of fire could he win.  PH. 
As soon as he with smarting hand the Oeta hill had gripped,  
And forthwith from the branched beech the shrinking shade was wiped:  
And felled from the stump it lies, a Pine tree hard he bends,  
That cracks the clouds, & down from skies his haughty head he sends  
The Rock did totter ready for to reel, and with the sway  
It tumbleth down, a little grove withal it bears away.  
A spreading Oak of Chaon big, whose leaves did ever rush,  
And dimmed the sun, and did beyond the wood his branches push.  
It being hued doth crack, and eke in twain the wedges knaps:  
The steel starts back and thus the tool of Iron bides the raps,  
And flies out of the Log, at length at roar it shogged and shook,  
And falling down full lythly the overthrow it took.  
Forthwith the place lost all his light, the birds scared fro their nest  
Do soar about the cropped wood, and holes wherein to rest,  
And chirping with their weary wings about the plot they flicker  
In every tree the ringing strokes were multiplied thicker.  
The holy Oaks in hugy hand the Iron Axe did feel.  
No timber on the stallen stocks might scape the hewing steel,  
Thus all the wood upon a pile is heaped, and one by one  
The Logs are laid as high as heaven that Hercules thereon  
Might have a narrow room: his burning bones for to bestow.  
On pinetree top, and toughest Oak the fire begins to glow.  
And on the stumped willow flam'th, and thus the forest wide  
Doth make the Kill: the Poplar wood all Hercles' blocks doth hide.  
But as the puissant Lion when his fits do vex him sore,  
Lies wallowing on his back, and through the forest loud doth roar.  
So fareth he, who would have thought he had to burning gone?  
As one that climbs to heaven, not fire, he was to look upon  
When up he stepped on Oera mount and gazed on his Kill.  
Being laid aloft he broke the block, so heavy was he still.  
The shines yet could not bear his weight he calling for his bow  
Did say to me, have Philoctet, on thee I it bestow,  
This same is it that Hydra with his swarming heads did know.  
This did fetch down the stymphal fowls, and all that we have daunt,  
Go thou with this let victory, and happiness thee haunt,  
For never shall thou shoot against thy foes with these but speed.  
If at a bird amid the clouds thou aim she dies indeed.  
These certain shafts shall bring thy mark down from the azure sky,  
This bow shall not deceive thy hand, full oft I did it try,  
And made it meet to bear a shaft, and cast his level dew.  
Thine arrows shall not fail thine aim if that thou nock them true,  
I ask but only this of thee, put fire to the Stack,  
Bestow on me my funeral flame to bring me to my wrack.  
This knarry Club (quoth he) the which no hand shell ever loss  
Shall only with his Hercules in fire go to loss,  
This also (quoth he) shouldst thou have if thou could wield the same,  
Beside his master let it lie to help toward the flame.  
And then beside him down he lays the lions vayry skin  
To burn with him: the shaggy case hid all the pile within.  
The people sobbed, and none there was but sorrow strained his tears.  
The mother mad for eager grief her breast all bare she bears,  
And naked down tooth Navel stead displays her tender teats.  
And languishing with wringed hands her naked dugs she bears  
And crieth out upon the Gods on jove himself she cries,  
Her shrieking rang through all the place so womanlike she yells,  
Be still (quoth he) good mother: force your showers of tears to cease.  
Your dreary dole disgraceth much the death of Hercules.  
Wail secretly unto yourself: why make ye juno glad,  
To see that you a weeping day with store of tears have had?  
(It doth her good to see her bawds, to stand with weeping eyes.)  
Forbear, forbear your malady, 'tis deadly sin for ye,  
To tear the tears, and rent the womb, that first did foster me.  
And as he blustered giving grunts when erst he led in chain  
The hound about the towns of Greece what time he came again  
Triumphing over conquered hell defying Pluto's might,  
And dreadful destiny: so on the fire he lay upright.  
What conqueror ever sat in coach with such a cheerful grace?  
What tyrant did control his folk by law with such a face?  
How hushed was all thing at his death? himself he could not weep  
And also we had clean forgot the wound of sorrows deep  
None doth lament him at his death now were it shame to wail:  
Alemen (whom nature ought to move) her tears now do her fail.  
And thus as ill as was the son the mother stood almost.  N. 
But at his burning did he not call on the heavenly host,  
Remembering jove to hear his suit.  Ph. 
As on in deep despair  
He lay, and staring up so rolled his eyes into the air  
To spy if jove look down to him from any turret high.  
Then with his hands displayed to heaven (quoth he) where so thou lie,  
And lookest down to see thy son, this same, this same is he,  
Whom one day eeked with a night engendered hath to thee  
If East and West if Scythia, and every burning plot,  
That parched is with glowing gleed of Phoebus fire hot  
Doth sing my praise? and if the earth full satisfied with peace  
If languishing and wailing words in every town do cease.  
If none their altars do embrew with any guiltless gore,  
Than jove let my uncaged spirit have heaven for evermore.  
As for th'infernal dens of death they do not me deter?  
Nor scowling Pluto's dungeon dark, but jove I do abhor.  
Unto those ghastly Goblins as a stlly shade to go.  
Sith I am he whose conquering hand gave them their overthrow.  
Withdraw these foggy clouds of night, display the glimpsing light  
That Hercles' broiled with flying flames the Gods may have in sight  
And if thou do deny (O fire) the stars and heaven to me  
To give me them against thy will thou shalt constrained be,  
If glutting grief do stop thy speech, the Stygian gulfs set open,  
And let me die, but first declare within the heavenly cope,  
That thou accept'st me as thy soon: this day it shall be wrought,  
That to be raised aloft to stars, I may be worthy thought.  
Thou hast done little for me yet: it may be doubted well  
Whether jove did first beget his son, or damned him first to hell.  
And (quoth he) let my stepdame see, how well I can abide  
The scorching heat of burning brands: for fire than he cried,  
And sayth to me O Philoctet in haste upon me throw  
The burning logs, why quakest thou? dost dastard thou foreslow,  
For fear to this wicked deed? O coward peasant slave,  
Thou art too weak to bend my bow, unmeet my shafts to have  
What ailest thou to look so pale? and as thou seest me lie  
With cheerful look courageously do thou the fire ply.  
Behold me wretch that broil and burn my father opes the Skies  
And unto me son Hercules come, come away he cries.  
O father jove (quoth he) I come: with that I waxed pale  
And toward him a burning beam with might and main I hale:  
But back from him the billets fly and tumbling out they leap,  
And from the limbs of Hercules down falleth all the heap.  
But he encroacheth on the fire as it from him doth shrink.  
That many mountains whole were set on fire a man would think  
No noise was hard, and all was hushed, but that the fire did hiss  
In Hercles' glowing paunch whenas his liver burning is.  
It boisterous giant Typhus had amid this fire been thrown,  
These torments would have strained his tears & forced him sigh & groan.  
Or tough Enceladus that tossed a mountain on his back.  
But Hercles' lifted up himself amid his fires all black,  
With smoke besmeared his corpse half burnt in shivers, gube & flaws,  
And down the throat his gasping breath & flames at once he draws  
Then to Alemen he turned himself: O mother mine (quoth he)  
Should ye so stand at Hercles' death? should you thus wail for me?  
And thus between the fire and smoke, upright and stiff he stands.  
And neither stoops nor leans awry, but moves and stirs his hands,  
With all his lively gestures still, and thus he doth persuade.  
His mother leave the languishing, and mourning that she made.  
And did encourage all his men t'increase the fire than  
As though he were not burning, but would burn some other man.  
The people stood astonished, and scant they would believe  
That fire had any force on him, or that it did him grieve.  
Because his cheerful look had such a majesty and grace.  
And never wild us move the fire that he might burn apace,  
(And now whenas he thought, he had endured pangs enough,)  
And stoutly bode the brunt of death, the blocks he doth remove,  
That smothering lay, to make them burn: then downward doth he shove  
And where the stewing heat did chiefly scorch, and burn most hot,  
That way he thrusts his frying limbs, and thither hath he got.  
(With steaming countenance unappalled his mouth now doth he fill)  
With burning coals, his comely Beard then blazed about his cheeks:  
And now whenas the sparkling fire unto his visage seeks,  
The flame licked up his singed hair, and yet he did not wink:  
But open kept his staring eyes But what is this? my think  
Alomene cometh yonder as a woeful wight forlorn,  
With sighs and sobs, and all her hair befrounced rent, and torn.  
And bears the remnant in her Lap, of Hercules the great.  Alcmena. Philoctetes. 
Learn Lordings, learn to fear and dread  
th'unwieldy fatal force.  
This little dust is all that's left  
of Hercles' hugy corpse.  
That boisterous Giant is consumed  
unto these ashes small  
O Titan what a mighty mass  
is come to nought at all.  
ay me an aged woman's lap all Hercules doth shroud,  
her lap doth serve him for a grave, and yet the champion proud,  
With all his lump stills not the room. ay me a burden small  
I feel of him to whom whole heaven no burden was at all.  
O Hercules, bear child, O son the season whilom was,  
That thou to Tartar pits, and sluggish deus aloof didst pass  
For to repass: from deep of hell when wilt thou come again?  
For to put loin the spoils thereof, or bring from captive chain  
To life thy friendly Theseus. But when wilt thou return  
Alone: can flaming Phlegethon thy ghost in torments burn:  
Or can the mastiff Dog of hell keep down thy woeful sprite?  
Where then might I come see thy soul and leave this loathed light?  
When shall I rap at Tartar gate? what jaws shall me devour?  
What death shall daunt me: goest thou to hell, and hast no power  
To come again: alas why do I waste, the day in tears and plaint  
O wretched life why dost thou last thou shouldest droop and saint,  
And loathe this dreary day: how: can I bear to jove again  
Another noble Hercules, what son may I obtain  
So valiant to call me thus (Alcmena mother mine)  
O happy spouse Ampliterio twice happy hast thou been  
In entering at the dens of death, and through the noble son  
The Deutis arthy presents quake to see thee thither come.  
Though thou but forged father were to Hercules of late  
Whether shall old beldame go whom many kings do hate:  
If any prince remain with bloody breast and murdering mind  
Then woe to me: if groaning babes be any left behind,  
That sorrow for their parents deaths now, now for Hercles' sake  
Their malice let them wreck on me, on me dire vengeance take  
If any young Bustris be, I fear the Persians sore  
Will come and take me captive hence in chains for evermore.  
If any tyrant feed his horse with gobs of strangers flesh  
Now let his pampered jades unto my Carcase fall afresh.  
Perhaps dame Juno coveteth on me to wreck her ire.  
And on vs of her burning breast will turn the flaming fire  
Her wreckful hand doth loiter now sith Hercules is slain.  
And now to feel her spurning spite as harlot I remain.  
My valiant son is cause of this my womb shall barren be,  
lest I should bear another child as hardy as was he.  
Oh whether may Alcmena go? or whether shall she wend?  
What country or what kingdoms may my careful head defend  
Where may I couch my wretched corpse, that everywhere am known  
If I unto my native soil repair among mine own,  
Eurystheus is of Argo lord thus woefully forlorn.  
I will to Thebes where I was wed, and Hercules was borne:  
And where with jove I did enjoy dame Venus' dear delight.  
O blessed woman had I been and in most happy plight,  
It jove with flash of lightning leams and blazing flakes of fire  
Had smoldered me as Semele was soused at her desire.  
Would God that Hercles' while he was a babe had ripped been  
Out of my womb, then wretchedly I should not this have seen  
The pangs and torments of my son, whose praise doth countervail  
Even jove: then had I learned that death at length might him assail,  
And take him from my sight: O child, who will remember thee?  
For now unthankfulness is great in men of each degree:  
( That, for thy sake I do not know where entertained to be).  
The courtesy of the Cleonies I will attempt and fire  
Whom from the Lion rescued he and made the monster die,  
Or shall I too th'Arcadians go where thou didst sleay the boar  
Where thy renown remain 〈…〉 of great exploits before,  
The perilous serpent Hydra hear was slain there fell he dead,  
That with the flesh of slaughtered men his greedy horses fed  
And yond's were the stymphal birds compelled to leave the say  
And tamed by the handy toil, now doth the Lion fry,  
And belketh stifling fumes in heavens while thou liest in thy grove  
O if mankind but any spark of thankful nature have  
Let all men prcace to succour me Alcmene thy mother dear.  
What if among the Thracians I venture to appear,  
Or on the banks of Heber flood? thy prowess everywhere  
Hath succoured all these soylts: for erst in Thrace thou did put down  
The fleshy meangres of the King and put him from his crown,  
By slaughter of the savage print the people live in peace,  
Where didst thou deny thy help to make turmoiling cease?  
Unhappy mother that I am a shrine where may I have  
To shroud thy corpse: for all the world may strive about thy grave  
What temple may be meet to shrine thy relics safe for aye,  
And hallowed bones? what nations unto the ghost shall pray?  
O noble son what sepulchre what hearse may serve for thee?  
The world itself through flying flame thy fatal tomb shallbe:  
Who taketh here this poise from me his ashes which I bear  
Why loath I them? embrace his bones keep still his ashes here,  
And they shall be a shield to thee his dust that thee defend,  
To see his shadow, princes proud for fear shall stoop and bend  Ph. 
O mother of noble Hercules forbear your dreary plaint:  
His valiant death thus should not be with female tears attaint.  
Ye should not languish thus for him, nor count him wretched man  
In dying, who by noble mind prevent his destiny can.  
His chivalry forbiddeth us with tears him to bewail:  
The stately stomach doth not sloupe: they sigh whose hearts do fail.  Alc. 
(I'll moan no more: behold, behold. most wretched mother I)  
Have lost the shield of land end seed, where glittering Phoebe displays  
With whirling wheels in foamy gulfs, and red and purple rays  
The loss of many sons I may lament in him alone.  
Through him I lifted Kings to frown, when crown myself had none  
Aid never any mother lived, that needed less to crave.  
Of Gods, than I. I asked nought while I my son might have.  
What could not Hercles' tender love like on me to bestow?  
What God would once deny to grant, or what he held me fro,  
I was in my power to ask and have. If jove would aught deny,  
My Hercules did bring to pass I had it acp and by.  
What mortal mother ever bare and lost so dear a son?  
Erst down the cheeks of Niobe the trilling tears did run.  
When of her dear and tender brats she wholly was bereuen,  
And did bewail with strained sighs her children seven and seven  
And yet might I compare this one (my Hercles') unto those  
And I in him as much as she in all her imps did lose.  
The mothers that are mourning dames do lack on head and chief,  
And now Alcmene shallbe she deprived of all relief,  
Cease woeful mothers cease, if that among you any are  
constrain to shed your streaming tears by force of pensive care:  
Ye Lady whom lamenting song of women formed rocks,  
Give place unto my glutting grief, beat on with burning knocks  
Ye hands upon my riveled breast, alas am I alone  
Enough for such a funeral to languish and to move,  
Whom all the world shall shortly need? yet steech thy feeble arms  
To thump upon thy sounding breast thy grief with doleful larmes  
And in despite of all the God's power put thy woeful erye  
And to receive thy flowing tears thy warry cheeks apply.  
Bewail Alcmena's woeful state: the son of jove bewail,  
Whose birth did cause the dusky day in kindly course to fail.  
The East compact two nights in one: Lo, to, a greater thing  
Then glorious day the world hath lost now let your furrows ring,  
Yet people all whose lowering lords he draw to dens of death  
Their blades (that recked with guiltless gore) he put into the sheath.  
Bestow on him your Crystal tears, which he deserved wellt  
Howl out ye heavens, ye mardle seas, and gulfs with groanings yell.  
O Crete Dear darling unto jove For jove of Hercles' rose,  
Ye hundred cities beat yond arms: my son, for evermore  
Is gone among the grisly ghosts, and shimmering shades of hell  
Lament for him ye woeful mights, that here on earth do dwell,  Hercules. Alcmena. 
WHy Mother wail you me as tossed  
in torments hot of hell?  
Or plunged in pangs of death, sith I  
among the Spheres do dwell?  
Forbear, forbear, to moan for me  
for virtue opened hath  
To me the passage to the Stars:  
and set me in the path,  
That guides to everlasting Life,  
whence coms this dreadful sound?  Alc. 
Whence roars this thundering voice. that doth against mine ears rebounded,  
And biddeth me to shine my tears? I know it now I know,  
The darksome dungeons daunted are, and dens of Lakes allow.  
O Son art thou returned to the from Stygian gulf again?  
And can thou twice of ugly death the con quest thus obtain?  
And braced the baleful prisons twice, of glum and ghastly night.  
Against thus by might?  
May any scape from Acheron? Or dost thou scape alone?  
Hath hell no power to hold thy sprite, when breath from breast is gone?  
Or else hath Pluto baalde thee out, for fear lest thou alone  
Should cloyne his Sceptre from his hand, & pluck him from his front?  
For I am sure I saw thee laid upon the burning trees:  
And from thy Corpse the flame and sparks against the welkin flies:  
That sure thou wast to poulder burn, and feeble life was lost:  
But sure the deeps and pits of hell did not lock up thy ghost.  
Why were the devils afraid of thee? why quaked Ditis grim?  
And did thy noble ghost seem such a ghastly bug to him?  HE. 
The dampy dikes of Cocytus could not keep me from light.  
Nor Charon's fusty musty Barge transported hath my sprite,  
Now Mother mourn no more: once have I seen the Hags of hell,  
cc all the stearne cc steaming fiends in dungeons deep that dwell.  
That mortal mould I took of you to nought the flames have fried:  
Heaven hath the substance that I took of jove: in fire yours died.  
And therefore rouse your plaintiff's tears, which parents use to shed,  
When wretchedly they wail their sons, that dastardly are dead.  
Thus vulgar varlets weep: Lo virtue hopes the Stars to get:  
But fainting fear av on death, from heaven where I am set,  
You hear my voice: Eurystheus now shall bide the deadly push  
With chariot sway his cracked skull ye shall on sunder crush  
Now must I hence advance my Ghost up to the rolling skies  
Once more I daunt the devils, and do the goblins grim aggrise  Alc. 
But stay awhile my son: he fades and shrinketh from my sight  
Advanced he is among the stars: doth this my charmed Spirit  
Dote in a trance & or do I dream that I have seen my son  
A troubled mind can scant believe the things he seeth done.  
But now I see thou art a God possessing heaven for aye.  
I see it sure. I will to Thebes thy triumphs to display.  Chorus. 
LO virtue scapes the ghastly shades of hell,  
Ye noble peers that shine in virtue bright  
Dire destiny cannot constrain you dwell  
Among the glooming glades of ugly might,  
Nor sink your fame in loathsome lakes of spite.  
But when deaths day draws on the gasping hour,  
You purchased glory shall direct your right  
To find the passage to the heavenly bower.  
When flesh doth fall, and breathing body dies  
Then (Fame the child of Virtue) doth arise.  
But sluggish sots that sleep their days in sloth,  
Or give their golden age to loathe some lust.  
Them and their names the wretches bury both,  
whenas their bones shall shrined be in dust:  
The clay shall cover their carcases forlorn,  
As though such caitiffs never had been borne.  
But if that aught of memory they have.  
In thafter age it shallbe filthy shame.  
The gnawing worms torment not so in grave  
Their rotten flesh, as tongues do tear their name,  
That daily killed to further mischief lives.  
Lo both the fruits, that vice and virtue gives.   
FINIS. ovid. Omne genus scripti gravitate Tragoedia vincit.