¶ THE sixth Tragedy of the most grave and prudent author Lucius, Anneus, Seneca, entitled Troas, with divers and sundry additions to the same. Newly set forth in English by jasper Heywood student in Oxenford.  
Anno domini. 1559.  
¶ Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum.   

¶ TO THE MOST HIGH and virtuous princess, Elyzabeth by the grace of god Queen of England, France, and Ireland defender of the faith her highness most humble and obedient subiect● jasper Heywood student in the university of Oxford wisheth health wealth, honour, & felicity.  
IF consideration of your grace's goodness toward us all your loving subjects which flying fame by mouths of men resowndes had not fully in me repressed all dread of reprehension (Most noble princess and my dread sovereign Lady) If the wisdom that God at these years in your highness hath planted, had not seemed to me a strong defence against all bit of shameless arrogance (reproach whereof flung with disdainful words from ireful tongues, as adders stings should strike me) finally if the learning with which GOD hath endued your majesty had not been to me a comfortable persuasion of your gracious favour toward the simple gift and duty of a scholar, I would not have incurred so dangerous note of presumption, in attempting a subject to his princess, a simple scholar to so excellently learned, a rash young man to so noble a Queen by none other sign to signify allegiance and duty toward your highness save by writing: when oft times is the pen the only accuser in some points of him that therewith doth indite. But now, to si (most gracious Lady) that thing come to pass which to the honour of him and for the wealth of us god hath ordained, a Princess to reign over us, such one, to whom great freedom is for us to serve, what joy may serve to triumph at that blissful day, or what should we spare with pen to preach abroad that inward gladness of heart that floweth from the breasts of us your most loving subjects? beseeching god that it may please him to grant your grace long and prosperous governance of the imperial crown of England. Then well understanding how greatly your highness is delighted in the sweet sap of fine and pure writers, I have here presumed to offer unto you such a simple new years gift as neither presenteth gold nor pearl, but duty & good will of a scholar, a piece of Seneca translated into English which I the rather enterprise to give to your highness, as well for that I thought it should not be unpleasant for your grace to see some part of so excellent an author in your own tongue (the reading of whom in latin I understand delights greatly your majesty) as also for that none may be a better judge of my doings herein, than who best understandeth my author: and the authority of your grace's favour toward this my little work, may be to measure defence and shields against the sting of reprehending tongues. Which I most humbly beseeching your highness end● with prayer to god to send us long the fruition of so excellent and gracious a Lady.   

¶ To the readers.  
ALthough (gentle Reader) thou mayst perhaps think me arrogant, for that I only among so many fine wits, and towardly youth, (with which England this day flourisheth) have enterprised to set forth in english, this present piece, of the flower of all writers Seneca, as who say not fearing what graver heads might judge of me, in attempting so hard a thing, yet upon me pondering what next ensueth, I trust both thyself shalt clear thine own suspicion, and thy changed opinion, shall judge of me more rightful sentence. For neither have I taken this work first in hand, as once intending it should come to light (of well doing whereof I utterly despaired) and being done but for mine own private exercise. I am in mine opinion herein blameless, though I have (to prove myself) privately taken & part which pleased me best. of so excellent an author, for better is time spent in the best than other, and at first to attempt the hardest writers, shall make a man more prompt, to translate the easier with more facility. But now sins by request, and friendship of those, to whom I could deny nothing, this work against my will, extorted is out of my hands, I needs must crave thy patience in reading, and facility of judgement: when thou shalt apparently see, my wills lack of learning, praying the to consider. how hard a thing it is for me, to touch at full in all points, the aucthoures mind, (being in many places very hard and doubtful and the work much corrupt by the default of evil printed books) and also how far above my power, to keep that grace, and majesty of style, that Seneca doth, when both so excellent a writer, hath past the reach of all imitation, and also this our english tongue (as many think and I here find) is far unable, to compare with the latten, but thou (good reader) if I in any place, have swerved from the true sense. or not kept the royalty of speech, meet for a tragedy, impute the tone to my youth: and lack of judgement, the other to my lack of eloquence. Now as concerning sundry places augmented and some altered in this my translation. first forasmuch as this work seemed unto me, in some places unpersyite (whether left so of the author or part of it lost as time devoureth all things I wot not) I have (where I thought good,) with addition of mine own pen, supplied the want of some things, as the first Chorus, after the first act beginning thus. O ye to whom etc. Also in the second act. I have added the speech of Achilles' sprite, rising from hell to require the sacrifice of Polixena beginning in this wise. Forsaking now etc. Again the three last staves of the Chorus after the same act, and as for the third Chorus which in Seneca beginneth thus, Que vocat sedesi for as much, as nothing is therein but a heaped numbered of far & strange countries, considering with myself, that the names of so many unknown countries mountains. deserts, and woods should have no grace in the english tongue, but be a strange and unpleasant thing to the readers, (exceed I should expound the histories of each one, which would be far to tedious) I have in the place thereof, made another beginning in this manner. O jove that lead'st &c. which alteration may be borne withal, seeing that the Corus is no part of the substance of the matter. In the rest I have for my slender learning, endeavoured to keep touch with the Latin, not word for word or verse for verse as to expound it, but neglecting the placing of the words observed their sense. Take ●entle reader this in good worth, with all his faults favour my first beginnings, and amend rather with good will, such things as herein are ●mis, then to deprave or discommend my labour and pains, for the faults, seeing that I have herein, but only made way to other that can far better do this or like, desiring them that as they can, so they would. Far well gentle reader, & accept my good will.   

The preface to the tragedy.  

THe ten years stege of Troy, who list to here  
And of th'affairs, that there befell in fight  
Read ye the works, the long sins written were  
Of all thassaults and of that latest night,  
When Turrets tops, in Troy they blazed bright  
Good clerks they were, that have it written well  
As for this work, no word thereof doth tell.   

But dares Phrygian, well can all report  
With dictis eke of Crete in greekish tongue  
And Momere tells, to Troy the Greeks resort  
In scanned verse, and Maro hath it song  
Each one in writ hath penned a story long  
Who doubts of aught, and casteth care to know  
These antic authors, shall the story show.   

The ruins twain● of Troy, the cause of each  
The glittering holmes, in field the banners spread  
Achilles' ires, and Hector's fights they teach  
There may the jests of many a knight be red●  
Patroclus, Pyrrhus, Ajax, Diomed,  
With Troilus, Paris, many other more,  
That day by day, there sought in field full sore.   

And how the Greeks at end an engine made  
A hugy horse where many a warlike knight.  
Enclosed was, the Trojans to invade  
With Sinon's craft, when Greekes had feigned flight  
While close they lay, at Tenedos from sight,  
Or how Aeneas else as other say,  
●nd false Antenor did the town betray.   

But as for me. I nought thereof indite,  
Mine author hath not all that story ●end.  
My pen his words in english must recite.  
Of latest woes that fell on Troy at end,  
What final fates the cruel gods could send.  
And how the Greeks when Troy was burnt, g●n wre●●  
Their ire on Troyans', thereof shall I speak.   

Not I with spear who pierced was in field,  
Whose throat there cut, or head ycarved was,  
Ne bloodshed blows, that rend both ●arge and shield  
Shall I recite. all that I over pass.  
The work I w●ight, more woeful is alas,  
For I the mother's tears must here complain,  
And blood of babes, that guiltless have been slain.   

And such as yet, could never weapon wrest,  
But on the lap are wont to dandled be,  
Ne yet forgotten had the mother's breast,  
How Greeks them slew, alas here shall ye see,  
To make report thereof, ay woe is me,  
My song is mischief, murder misery.  
And hereof speaks, this doleful tragedy.   

Thou fury fell, that from thy deepest den  
Couldst cause this wrath of hell, on Troy to light,  
That workest woe, guide thou my hand and pen,  
In weeping verse of sobs and sighs to wright,  
As doth mine author them be wail aright,  
Help woeful Muse for me beseemeth will  
Of others tears, with wreping ●ye to tell.   

When battered were to ground the towers of Troy  
In writ as ancient authors do desight.  
And Greeks again repaired to since with joy.  
Up riseth here from hell achilles' sprite.  
Vengeance he craves with blood his death to quite.  
Whom Paris had in Phoebus' temple slain,  
with guile betrapped for love of Polyxena.   

And wrath of hell there is none other price  
That may assuage: but blood of her alon●  
Polyxena he craves for sacrifice,  
With threatenings on the grecians many one  
Except they shed her blood before they gone.  
The spirits the hell, and deepest pits beneath,  
O virgin dear, alas, do thrust thy death.   

And Hector's son, Astyanax, alas,  
Poor silly fool his mother's only joy,  
Is judge to die by sentence of Calchas  
Alas the while, to death is led the boy,  
And tumbled down from Turret's ●ops in Troy.  
What ruthful tears may serve to wail the woe,  
Of Hector's wife that doth her child forgot   

Her pinching pang of heart, who may express,  
But such as of like woes, have borne a parte●  
Or who bewail her ruthful heaviness  
That never yet hath felt thereof the smart?  
Full well they wot the w●●s of heavy heart.  
What is to lose a babe from mother's breast,  
They know that are in such a case distressed.   

first how the Queen laments the fall of Troy.  
As hath mine author done, I shall it wright  
Next how from Hector's wife they led the boy.  
To die, and her complaints I shall recite,  
The maidens death then must I last endyght.  
Now who that list the queens complaint to hear.  
In following verse, it shall forthwith appear.    

The speakers in this tragedy.  

Hecuba Queen of Troy.  
A company of women.  
The sprite of Achilles.  
Talthybius, a Grecian.  
Agamemnon, King of Greeks.  
Calchas.  
Pyrrhus.  
Chorus.  
●ndromacha.  
An old man Trojan.  
Ulysses.  
Astyanax.  
Helena.  
The messenger.    

TROW AS OF SFNECA  

The first act  Hecuba. 
WHo so in pomp of proud estate,  
or kingdom sets delight:  
Or who that joys in prince's court  
to bear the sway of might.  
Ne dreads the fates which from above  
the wavering gods down flings:  
But fast affiance fixed hath,  
in frail and fickle things:  
Let him in me both see the face,  
of fortune's flattering joy:  
And eke respect the ruthful end,  
of thee (O rumons Troy)  
For never gave she plainer proof,  
than this ye present see:  
How frail and brittle is thestate,  
of pride and high degree.  
The flower of flowering Asia, lo●  
whose fame the heavens resound,  
The worthy work of gods above,  
is battered down to ground.  
And whose assaults they sought afar,  
from west with banners spread,  
where Tanais cold her branches seven.  
abroad the world doth shed.  
With hugy host and from the east,  
where springs the newest day,  
Where Luke warm Tigris channel runs,  
and meats the ruddy sea.  
And which from wandering land of Scythe,  
the band of widows sought:  
With fire and sword thus battered be,  
her turrets down to nought.  
The walls but late of high renown.  
lot here their rumours fall:  
The buildings burn and flashing flame,  
sweeps through the palace all.  
Thus every house full high it smokes,  
of old ●ssara●lls land:  
Ne yet the ●●ame witholdes from spoil.  
the gredo victors hand.  
The surging smoke the azure sky,  
and light hath hid away:  
And (as with cloud beset) troy's ashes  
stains the dusky day.  
Through pierced with ire and greedy of heart,  
the victor from a far.  
Doth view the long assaulted Troy,  
the gain or ten years war.  
And eke the miseries thereof,  
abhors to look upon,  
An though he see it yet scant himselfe●  
believes it might be won,  
The spoils thereof with greedy hand.  
they snatch and bear away:  
A thousand ships would not receive  
a board: so huge a prey.  
The prefull might I do protest,  
of god's adverse to me,  
My countries dust, and Trojan king,  
I call to witness thee.  
Whom Troy now hides and underneath  
the stones, art over trod:  
With all the gods that guide thy ghost,  
and Troy that lately stood.  
And you also it flocking ghosts,  
of all my children dear:  
Ye lesser spirits: what ever ill,  
hath happened to us here.  
What ever Phoebus waterish ●ace,  
in fury hath foresaid:  
At raging rise from seas, when erst,  
the monsters had him frayed.  
In childbed bands I saw it yore,  
and witted it should be so:  
And I in vain before Cassandra  
told it long ago.  
Not false Ulysses kindled hath  
these fires, nor none of his:  
Not yet deceitful Sinon's craft,  
that hath been cause of this.  
My fire it is wherewith ye burn,  
and Paris is the brand:  
That smoketh in thy towers (O Troy)  
the flower of Phrygian land.  
But ay alas unhappy age,  
why dost thou yet so sore,  
Bewail thy countries fatal fall.  
thou knewest it long before.  
Behold thy last cala●tte●,  
and them bewail with tears:  
Account as old Troy's ouerturne●  
and passed by many years.  
I saw the slaughter of the king;  
and how he lost his life:  
By thawlters side (more mischief was)  
with stroke of Pyrrhus' knife.  
When in his hand he wound his locks.  
and drew the king to ground:  
And hid to hilts his wicked sword,  
in deep and deadly wownde.  
Which when the gored king had took,  
as willing to be slain,  
Out of the old man's throat he drew.  
his bloody blade again.  
Not pity of his years, alas,  
in man's extremest age:  
From slaughter might his hand withhold,  
ne yet his ire assuage.  
The gods are witness of the same  
and eke the sacrifies,  
That in his kingdom holden was,  
that flat on ground now lies.  
The father of so many kings  
Priam of ancient name,  
Untombed lieth and wants in blaze  
of Troy: his funeral flame.  
Ne yet the gods are wreaked, but lo●  
his sons and daughters all,  
Such lords they serve as doth by chance  
of lot, to them befall.  
Whom shall I follow now for pray?  
or where shall I be led?  
There is perhaps among the greeks,  
that Hector's wife will wed.  
Some man desires Helenus' spouse  
some would Antenor's have,  
And in the greeks there wants not some  
that would Cassandra crave.  
But I alas most woeful wight,  
whom no man seeks to choose,  
I am the only refuge left,  
and me they clean re●use,  
Ye careful captive company  
why stints your woeful cry?  
Bea●e on your breasts and piteously  
complain with voice so high,  
As meet may be for Troy's estate,  
let your complaints rebound  
In tops of trees: and cause the hills,  
to ring with terrible sound.  

The second scene.  The women. Hecuba 
NOt folk unapt, nor new to weep (o Queen)  
thou wilt to wail, by practice are we taught  
For all these years, in such case have we been  
since first the Trojan guest, & my clas sought  
And sailed the seas, that led him on his way  
with sacred ship, to Cibell dedicate  
From whence he brought, his unrepyning prey,  
the ●●use alas, of all this dire debate  
Ten times now hid, the hills of Idly be,  
with snow of silver hew, all over laid.  
And bared is for Trojan rogues each tree,  
ten times in field, the harvest man afraid,  
The spykes of corn hath reaped, since never day  
his wailing wants, new cause renews our w●.  
Lift up thy hand, (o Queen) cry well away:  
we follow thee, we are well taught thereto.  HEC. 
Ye faithful fellows of your casualty  
Untie that tire, that on your heads ye wear,  
And as behoveth state of misery,  
let fall about your woeful necks. your hear.  
In dust of Troy, rub all your arms about.  
in slacker weed, and let your breasts ●e tied  
Down to your bellies, let your limbs lie out,  
for what wedlock should you your bosoms hide?  
Your garments loose, and have in readiness  
your furious hands, upon your breasts to knock  
This habit well beseemeth our distress  
it pleaseth me, I know the Trojan flock  
Renew again your long accustomed cries  
and more than erst, lament your miseries.  
We bewail Hector.  WO. 
¶ Our hear we have untied, now everychone  
All rend for sorrows of our cursed cac●  
our locks out spreades● the knots we have undone  
And in these ashes slayned is our face.  HEC. 
¶ Fill up your hands & make thereof no spare●  
for this yet lawful is, from Troy to take,  
Let down your garments from your shoulders bare  
and suffer not your clamour so to slake.  
Your naked breasts wait for your hands to smite  
now dolour deep, now sorrow, show thy might  
Make all the coasts that compass Troy about  
witness the sound, of all your careful cry  
Cause from the caves, the Echo to cast out  
Rebounding voice of all your misery:  
not as she wonts, the latter word to sound  
But all your woe, from far let it rebound  
Let all the seas it hear, and eke the land  
Spare not your breasts with heavy stroke to strike  
beat ye yourselves, each one with cruel hand  
For yet your wont cry doth me not like  
We bewail Hector.  WO. 
¶ Our naked arms, thus here we rend for thee,  
and bloody shoulders, (Hector) thus we tear:  
Thus with our fists, our heads lo beaten be  
and all for there, behold we hale our hear.  
Our dugs alas, with mother's hands be torn  
and where the flesh is wounded round about  
Which for thy sake, we rend thy death to morn  
the flowing streams of blood, they spring thereout,  
Thy countries shore, and destinied delay,  
and thou to wearied Troyans' wast an aid.  
A wall thou wast, and on thy shoulders Troy  
ten years it stood: on thee alone it stayed,  
With thee it fell: and fatal day alas  
of Hector both, and Troy but one there was.  HEC. 
¶ Enough hath hector: turn your plaint & moan  
and shed your tears for Priam's every eachone.  WO. 
¶ Receive our plaints, O lord of Phrygian land,  
and old twice captive king, receive our fear,  
While thou wert king, Troy hurtless then could stand  
though shaken twice, with Grecian sword it wear,  
And twice did shot of Hercles' quiver bear:  
at latter los of Hecuba's sons all  
and rogues for kings, that high on piles we rear:  
thou father shu●st our latest funeral.  
And beaten down, to jove for sacrifies.  
like lifeless, block, in Troy thy carcase lies.  HEC. 
¶ Yet turn ye once your treares, another way,  
my Priam's death, should not lamented be  
O Trojans all, full happy is Priam's say,  
for free from bondage, down descended he,  
To the lowest ghosts: and never shall sustain  
his captive neck, with Greeks to yoked be  
He never shall, behold the Atrideses twain  
nor false Ulysses ever shall he see,  
Not he a pray, for Greeks to triumph at  
his neck shall subject, to their conquests bear  
Ne give his hands, to tie behind his back  
that to the rule of sceptres wonted wear  
Nor following Agamemnon's chart, in band  
shall he be pomp, to proud Mycenae's land.  WO. 
¶ Full happy Priam's is, each one we say  
that took with him his kingdom, then that stood  
Now safe in shade, he seeks the wandering way  
and treads the paths of all Elysium's wood,  
And in the blessed spirits, full happy he,  
again there seeks, to meet with Hector's ghost,  
Happy Priam's, happy who so may see,  
his kingdom all, at ones with him be lost.   

¶ Chorus added the tragedy by the translator.  
O Ye to whom, the lord of land and seas,  
of life and death, hath grafited here the power  
Lay down your lofty looks, your pride appears  
the crowned king, fleeth not his fatal hour.  
Who so thou be, that lead'st thy land alone  
thy life was limit, from thy mother's womb,  
Not purple rob, not glorious glittering throne,  
ne crown of gold, redemes the from the tomb  
A king he was, that waiting for the veil,  
of him that slew, the Minotaur in fight.  
Beguiled with blackness, of the wont sail  
in seas him sunk, and of his name they hight.  
So he that wild, to win the golden spoil  
and first with ship, by seas to seek renown,  
In lesser wave, at length to death 'gan boil,  
and thus the daughters, brought their father downe●  
Whose songs, the woods hath drawn, and rivers held.  
and birds to hear his notes, did theirs forsake,  
In piece meal thrown, amid the Thracian field,  
without return hath sought the Stygian lake.  
They sit above, that hold our life in line,  
and what we suffer, down they fling from high  
No cark, no care, that ever may untwine  
the thirds, that woven are above the sky,  
As witnessed he, that sometime king of Greece,  
had jason thought, in drenching sees to drown  
who scaped both death, and gained the golden fleece,  
whom sates advance, there may no power pluck down  
The highest god, sometime that Saturn hight  
his fall him taught to credit their decries  
The rule of heavens: he lost it by their might  
and jove his son, now turns the rolling skies.  
Who weeneth here to win eternal wealth,  
let him behold this present perfect proof,  
And learn, the secret step, of chances stealth,  
most near alas, when most it seems aloof.  
In slipper joy, let no man put his trust  
let none despair, that heavy haps hath passed  
The sweet with sour, she mingleth as she lust  
whose doubtful web, pretendeth nought to last.  
Frailty is the third, that Clotho's rock hath spun  
now from the distaff drown, now knapped in twain  
With all the world, at length his end he won,  
whose works have wrought, his name sholl great remain  
and he, whose traveles, twelve, his name display,  
that feared nought, the force of worldly hu●t,  
In fine alas hath found his fatal day,  
and died with smart of Dianyra●s shirt,  
If prows might eternity procure,  
than Priam's yet should live in liking lust  
●y portly pomp of pride, thou art unsure  
●o learn by him, o lungs ye are but dust.  
and Hecuba that waileth now in care,  
that was so late of high estate a Queen  
a mirror is, to teach you what you are  
your wavering wealth, o princes, here is seen.  
Whom dawn of day, hath seen in high estate  
before sons set, alas hath had his fall  
The cradles rock, apointes the life his date  
from settled joy, to sudden funeral.    

The second act. ¶ The spirit of Achilles added to the tragedy by the translator.  

The first seeane.  

FOrsaking now the places tenebrous,  
and deep dens of th'infernal regione  
from all the shadows of ●listous  
That wander there the paths full many on●.  
Lo, here am I returned all alone.  
The same Achilles whose fierce and heavy hand  
Of all the world, no wight might yet withstand.   

What man so stout of all the Grecians host.  
That hath not sometime craved Achilles' aid,  
and in the Troyans', who of prows most  
That hath not feared to see my banners splayed  
Achilles lo, hath made them all afraid.  
and in the Greeks hath been a pillar post,  
That sturdy stood against their Toiane host.   

Where I have lacked, the Grecians went to wrack  
Troy hath proud what Achilles' sword could do  
Where I have come the Trojans fled a back,  
Retiring fast from field their walls unto,  
No man that might Achilles' stroke fordo,  
I dealt such stripes amid the Trojan rout,  
That with their blood I stained the fields about.   

Mighty Memnon, that with his Persian band,  
Would Pryames part with all his might maintain  
Lo now he lieth and knoweth Achilles' hand  
amid the field is Troilus also slain.  
Ye Hector gr●at, whom Troy accounted plain  
The flower of chivalry that might be found,  
all of Achilles had their mortal wound,   

But Paris lo, such was his false deceit,  
Pretending marriage of Polyxena,  
Behind the altar lay for me in wait  
Where I unwares have fallen into the train  
And in Apollo's church he hath me slain  
Whereof the bell will now just vengeance have,  
And here again, I come my right to crave.   

The deep Avernus my rage may not sustain  
Nor bear the angers of Achilles' sprite  
From Acheron, I rend the soil in twain  
and through the ground, I grat● again to sight  
Hell could not hide Achilles from the light,  
Uengeans and blood doth Orcus' pit require,  
To quench the furies of Achilles' ire.   

The hateful land● that worse than Tartar● is  
and burning thrust exceeds of Tantalus,  
I here behold again, and Troy is this  
O, travel worse, th●n slon● of Sisyphus  
and pains that pass the pangs of Tityus  
To light more loathsome fury hath me sent  
Then hooked wheel, that I●ions flesh doth rend.   

Remembered is allow where sprites do dwell  
The wicked slaughter wrought by wily way,  
Not yet revenged hath the deepest hell,  
Achilles' blood on them that did him slay  
But now of vengeans comes the ireful day  
and darkest dens of Tartarus from beneath  
Conspire the fates: of them that wrought my death.   

Now mischief, murder, wrath of hell drawth near  
and dire Phlegeton flood doth blood require  
Achilles' death shallbe revenged here  
With slaughter such as Stygian lakes desire  
Her daughter's blood shall slake the spirits ire,  
Whose son we slew. whereof doth yet remain,  
The wrath beneath, and hell shallbe their pain.   

From burning lakes the fury's wrath I threat,  
and sire that nought but streams of blood may slake  
The rage of wind and seas these ships shall beat,  
and Ditis' deep on you shall vengeans take,  
The spirits cry out, the earth and seas do quake  
The pool of Styx, ungrateful Greeks it seethe,  
With slaughtered blood revenge Achilles death.   

The soil doth shake to bear my heavy foot  
and feareth again the sceptres of my hand  
The poles with stroke of thunderclap ring out  
The doubtful stars amid their course do stand,  
and fearful Phoebus hides his blazing brand.  
The trembling lakes against their course do slyte,  
For dread and terrur of Achilles' sprite.   

Great is the ransom, aught of dew to me,  
Wherewith it must the spirits, and hell appease,  
Polyxena shall sacrificed be,  
Upon my tomb, their ireful wrath to please,  
and with her blood, ye shall assuage the seize  
Your ships may not return to Greece again  
Till on my tomb Polyxena be slain.   

And for that she should then have been my wile,  
I will that Pyrrhus render her to me,  
and in such solemn sort byreeve her life,  
as ye are wont the weddings for to see,  
So shall the wrath of hell appeased be,  
Nought else but this may satisfy our ire,  
Her will I have, and her I you require.    

The second scene.  Talthybius. Chorus. 
ALas how long the lingering Greeks  
in heaven do make delay,  
When either war by seas they seek  
or home to pass their way.  CHO. 
¶ Why show what cause doth hold your ships  
and Grecian navy stays,  
Declare if any of the gods  
have stopped your homeward ways.  TAL. 
¶ My mind is masde my trembling 〈◊〉  
quake and are afeard,  
For stranger news of truth than these  
I think were never heard.  
Lo I myself have plainly seen,  
in dawning of the day,  
When Phoebus first 'gan to approach,  
and drive the stars away.  
The earth all shaken suddenly  
and from the hollow ground,  
My thought I heard with roaring cry  
a deep and dreadful sound.  
That shaken the woods and all the trees  
rung out with thunder stroke,  
From Ida hills down fell the stones  
the mountain tops were broke.  
and not the earth hath only quak●e  
but all the sea likewise,  
Achilles presence felt and knew  
and high the surges rise.  
The cloven ground Erebus pits  
then showed and deepest dens,  
That down to Gods that guide beneath,  
the way appeared from hence.  
Then shaken the tomb from whence anon  
in flame of fiery light,  
appeareth from the hollow canes  
Achilles noble sprite.  
as wont he his Thracian arms  
and banners to disploye  
and weld his weighty weapons well,  
against thassaults of Troy.  
The same Achilles seemed he than  
that he was wont to be  
amid the hosts, and easily could  
I know, that this was he.  
With carcase slain in furious fight  
that stopped and filled each flood,  
and who by slaughter of his hand  
made Xanthus run with blood  
as when in chariot high he sat  
with lofty stomach stought.  
While Hector both and Troy at once  
he drew the walls about.  
aloud he cried and every coast,  
rang with Achilles' sound  
and thus with hollow voice he spoke.  
from bottom of the ground.  
The greeks shall not with little price  
redeem Achilles' ire,  
A princely ransom must they give,  
for so the fates require.  
Unto my ashes Polyxena,  
spoused shall here be slain,  
By Pyrrhus' hand, and all my tomb  
her blood shall ouerstayn●.  
This said, he strait sank down again  
to Pluto's deep regione,  
The earth then closed the hollow caves  
were vanished and gone.  
Therewith the wether waxed clear,  
the raging winds did slake,  
The tumbling seas began to rest,  
and all the tempest broke.   

The third scene.  Pyrrhus. Agamemnon. Calchas. 
WHat time our sails we should have spread,  
upon Sigeon seas,  
With swift return from long delay,  
to seek our homeward ways.  
Achilles' rose whose only hand,  
hath given greeks the spoil.  
Of Troia sore annoyed by him  
and leveled with the soil.  
With speed requighting his abode  
and former long delay,  
At Scyros' yl● and Lesbos both●  
amid the Aegeon sea.  
Till he came here in doubt it stood,  
of fall or sure estate  
Then though ye hast to grant his will  
ye shall it give to late.  
Now have the other captains all,  
the price of their manhood,  
What else reward for his prows,  
than her all only blood?  
Are his deserts think you but light,  
that when he might have fled,  
And passing Peleus' years in peace,  
a quiet life have led.  
Detected yet his mother's crafts,  
forsook his woman's wede●  
And with his weapons proved himself,  
a manly man in deed?  
The king of Mysia Telephus  
that would the greeks withstands  
Coming to Troy forbidding us,  
the passage of his land.  
To late repenting to have felt,  
Achilles' heavy stroke,  
Was glad to crave his health agayne●  
where he his hurt had took.  
For when his sore might not be salved  
as told Apollo plain,  
Except the spear that gave the hurt  
restored help again.  
Achilles' plasters cured his cuts  
and saved the king alive  
His hand both might and mercy knew  
to s●ay and then revive.  
When Thebes fell: petition saw it  
and might it not withstand.  
The captive king could nought redress  
the ruin of his land.  
Lyrnessus little likewise felt  
his hand and down it fill,  
With rheum overturned like  
from top of haughty hill.  
and taken Brys●is land it is  
and prisoner is she caught  
The cause of strife between the kings  
is Chryses come to n●ught.  
Tenedos isle well known by fame  
and fertile soil he took  
That sostreth ●atte the Thracian flocks  
and sacred ●illa shook.  
What boots to blaze the brute of him  
whom trump of fame doth shew●  
Through all the coasts where C●icus flood  
with swelling stream doth flow●  
The ruthful ruin of these realms  
so many towns bet down.  
another man would glory count  
and worthy great renown.  
But thus my father made his way  
and these his journeys are,  
And battles many one he sought.  
while war he doth prepare.  
As wished I may his merits more  
shall yet not this remain.  
Well known and counted praise enough●  
that he hath Hector slain?  
During whole life the Grecians all  
might never take the town  
My father only vanquished Troy●  
and you have pluc●● it down,  
Rejoice I may your parent's praise  
and brute abroad his acts  
It seemeth the soon to follow well  
his noble fathers acted.  
In sight of Priam's Hector slain  
and Memnon both they lay.  
With heavy cheer hi● parent's wayt●●  
to mourn his dying day.  
Himself abhorred his handy works  
in ●ight that had them slain  
The sons of cods I chill knew●  
were borne to die again.  
The woman Queen of Amazons  
that greende the Greeks full sore  
Is turned to flight than ceased out fear  
we drade their bows no more.  
If ye well way his worthiness  
Achilles ought to have  
Though he from Argos or Mycenae  
would a virgin crave.  
Doubt ye herein? allow ye not  
that straight his will be done.  
And count ye cruel Pryanies blood  
to give to Peleus' son?  
For Helen's sake your own child's blood,  
appeased dyana's ire,  
● wont thing and done ere this,  
it is that I require.  AG. 
¶ The only fault of youth it is  
not to refrain his rage●  
The father's blood already stirs,  
in Pryames wanton age  
Sometime Achilles' grievous checks  
I bore with patient heart,  
The more thou mayst the more thou oughtf●e,  
to suffer in good part.  
Whereto would ye with slaughtered blood  
a noble spirit slain?  
Think what is meet the greeks to do  
and trojans to sustain.  
The proud estate of tiranye  
may never long endure.  
The king that rules with modest mean●  
of safety may be sure.  
The higher step of princely state  
that fortune hath us sinned,  
The more behouthe a happy man  
humility of mind.  
And dread the change that chau●ce may bring  
whose gifts so soon be los●e  
And chief then to fear the gods,  
while they the favour most.  
In beating down that w●rr● hath 〈◊〉,  
by proof I have been taught,  
What pomp● and pride, in twink of eye,  
may fall and come to nought.  
Troy made me fierr● and proud of mind,  
Troy makes me frayed with all:  
The Greeks now stand where Troy ●●te fell,  
each thing may have his fall.  
Sometime I grau●● I did myself,  
and sceptres proudly beat,  
The thing that might advance my harte●  
makes me the more to fear.  
Thou Priam perfit proof presentest.  
thou art to me eftsoons:  
A cause of pride, a glass of f●●re,  
a mirror for the nonce.  
Should I account the sceptres ought,  
but glorious vanity?  
Much like the borrowed braided here,  
the face to bewtefie.  
One sudden chance may turn to nought.  
and maim the might of men,  
With fewer than a thousand ships,  
and years in les than ten.  
Not she that guides thee, slipper whel●,  
of fate: doth so delay:  
That she to all possession grants,  
of ten years settled stay.  
With leave of Grease I will confess,  
I would have worn the town,  
But not with ruin thus 〈◊〉,  
to see it beaten downe●  
But lo the battle made by night  
and rage of fervent mind,  
Can not abide the bridling bit  
that reason had assigned.  
The happy sword once stained with blood  
unsatiable is,  
And in the dark the fervent rage  
doth strike the more amiss.  
Now are we wreak on Troy to much  
let all that may remain.  
A virgin borne of prince's blood  
for offering to be slain  
And given be, to stain the tom●e  
and ashes of the dead,  
And under name of wedlock see  
the guiltless blood be shed,  
I will not grant: for mine should be  
thereof both fault and blame,  
Who when he may forbiddeth not  
offence: doth will the same.  PYR. 
¶ And shall his spirits have no rewards  
their angers to appease?  AG. 
Ye● very great, for all the world●  
shall celebrate his praise.  
And lands unknown that never s●w  
the man so praised by fame,  
Shall here and keeps for many years,  
the glory of his name.  
If bloodshed veil his ashes ought  
strike of an oxen head.  
And let no blood that may be cause  
of mother's tears be shed  
What furious fran●ye may this be  
that doth your will so lead,  
This earnest careful suit to make  
in travail for the dead?  
Let not such envy toward your father  
in your heart remain,  
That for his sacrifice ye would  
procure an others pain.  PYR. 
¶ Proud tyrant while prosperity  
thy stomach doth advance,  
And cowardly wretch that shrinks for fer●  
in case of fearful chance.  
Is yet again thy breast inflame,  
with brand of venus' might?  
Wilt thou alone so oft deprive  
A chill of his right?  
This hand shall give the sacrifice  
the which if thou withstand.  
A greater slaughter shall I make,  
and worthy Pyrrhus' hand.  
And now to long from prince's slaughter  
doth my hand abide,  
And meet it were that Poly●eine  
were laid by Priam's side.  AG. 
I nought deny but Pyrrhus' chief  
renown: in war is this,  
That Priam slain with cruel sword,  
to your father humbled is.  PYR. 
¶ My father's foes we have them known,  
submit themselves humbly,  
And Priam presently ye wot,  
w●s gladdde ●o crave mercies  
But tho● for fear not stout to rule,  
liest close from ●oes up shit:  
While thou to Ajax and ulysses,  
doos●e thy will commit.  AG. 
¶ But needs I must and will confess  
your father did not fear:  
When burned our fleet with Hector's brands,  
and Greeks they slawghtred wet,  
While loitering then a loof he lay,  
unmindful of the ●ight.  
In stead of arms with scratch of quill,  
his sounding harp to smite.  PYR. 
¶ Great Hector then despising the  
Achilles songs did fear:  
And thessal ships in greatest dread,  
in quiet peace yet wear.  AG. 
¶ For why aloof the thessal fleete●  
they lay from Trojans hands,  
And well your father might have rest,  
he felt not Hector's brands,  PYR. 
¶ Well seems a noble king to give  
an other king relief,  AG 
¶ Wh●e hast thou then a worthy king  
believed of his life?  PYR. 
¶ ● point of mercy sometime is,  
what liue● in care to kill.  AG. 
¶ But now your mercy moveth you  
a virgin's death to will.  PYR. 
¶ Account ye cruel now her death  
whose sacrifice I crave.  
Your own dear daughter once ye know,  
yourself to th'altars g●ue.  AG. 
Nought else could save the Greeks from sta●,  
but thon●●e blood of her:  
A king before his children ought,  
his country to prefer.  PYR. 
¶ The law doth spare no captives blood  
nor wilthe their death to stay.  AG. 
¶ That which the law doth not forbid,  
yet shame doth oft say nay.  PYR. 
¶ The conqueror what thing he list,  
may lawfully fulfil.  AG. 
¶ So much the les he ought to list,  
that may do what he will.  PYR. 
¶ Thus boast ye these as though in all  
ye only dare the stroke:  
When Pyrthus loosed hath the Greeks,  
from bond● of ten years yoke.  AG. 
¶ Hath S●yros isle such stomaches bred●  PYR. 
¶ No brethren's wrath it knowt●.  AG. 
¶ Beset about it is with wave.  PYR. 
¶ The seas: it do enclose.  
●hyestes noble stock I know,  
and Atreus eke full well,  
And of the brethren's dire debate.  
perpetual feign doth tell.  AG. 
¶ And thou a bastard of a maid,  
deflowered privily.  
Whom (than a boy) Achilles gate,  
in filthy lechery.  PYR. 
¶ The same Achilles that doth possess,  
the reign of gods above.  
With theties seas: with ●●cus spirits,  
the starred heaven with jove.  AG. 
¶ The same Achilles that was st●ine,  
by stroke of paris ●onde  PYR. 
¶ The same Achilles, whom no god,  
durst ever yet withstand  AG 
¶ The stoutest man I rather would  
his cheeks he should refrain,  
I could them tame, but all your brags,  
I can full will sustain.  
For even the captives spares my sword:  
let Calchas called be.  
If destinies require her blood.  
I will thereto agree.  
Calchas whose counsel ruled our ships,  
and navy hither brought,  
Unlokst the po●le and hast by art,  
the secrets thereof sought.  
To whom the bowels of the beast,  
to whom the thunder clap,  
And blazing star with flaming train,  
betokeneth what shall ha●.  
Whose words with decrest price I bought,  
now tell us by what mean,  
The will of Gods agreeth that we  
return to Greece again.  CAL. 
¶ The fates appoint the Greeks to buy  
their wale● with wont price.  
And with what cost ye came to Troy,  
ye shall repair to Greece  
With blood ye came, with blood ye must,  
from hence return again,  
And where Achilles' ashes lieth,  
the virgin shall be slain,  
In ●●mely sort of habited such  
as maidens want ye see,  
Of Thessaly, or Myeen●s else,  
what time they wedded be.  
With Pyrrhus' hand she shall be slain,  
of right it shallbe so.  
And meet it is that he the so●ne,  
his father's right should do.  
But not this only stayeth our ships,  
our sails may not be spread,  
Before a worthier blood than thine,  
(Pol●●ena) be shed.  
which thirst the fates, for ●ri●mes nephew,  
Hector's little boy:  
The greeks shall tumble headlong down,  
from highest tower in Troy.  
Let him there die, this only way  
ye shall the gods appease,  
Then spread your thousand sails with joy,  
ye need not fear the seas.   

Chorus.  

MAy this be true or doth the fable feign,  
When corpse is dead the spirit to live as yet●  
when death our ties with heavy hand doth strain  
And fatal day our leams of light hath shut,  
And in the tomb, our ashes once be set,  
Hath not the soul likewise his funeral,  
But still alas do wretches live in thrall?   

Or else doth all at once together dye●  
And may no part his fatal hour delay.  
But with the breath the soul from hence doth flie●  
Amid the clouds to vanish quite away,  
As dankye shade fireth from the yon●● by day?  
And may no jot escape from destiny,  
When once the brand hath burnt the body?   

What ever then the rise of some may see,  
And what the west that sets the son doth know,  
In all Neptunus' reign what ever be,  
That restless seas do wash and over flow,  
with purple waves still tumbling to and fro.  
Age shall consume: each thing that liuthe sh●ll die,  
With swifter race than Pegasus doth fly.   

And with what whirl, the twice six signs do fly,  
With course as swift, as rectoure of the spheres,  
Doth guide those glistering globes eternally,  
And Hecate her changed horns repairs,  
So drauthe on death, and life of each thing wears,  
And never may the man, return to sight,  
That once hath fel● the stroke of Parca's might.   

For as the fume that from the fire doth pass,  
With turn of hand, doth vanish out of sight  
And swifter than the northern boreas,  
With whirling blast and storm of raging might,  
Driuthe far away and puts the clouds to flight,  
So fleeth the sprite that rules our life away,  
And nothing tarrieth after dying day.   

Swift is the race we run, at hand the mark,  
Say down your hope, that weight here ought to wy●.  
And who dreads ought, cast of thy careful cark,  
Wilt thou it wot what state thou shalt be in,  
When dead thou art? as thou hadst never been.  
For greedy time it doth devour us all,  
The world it sways to Chaos heap to fall.   

Death-hurtes the corpse and spareth not the sprite,  
And as for all the dens of Tenare deep,  
With Cerberus' kingdom dark that knows no light,  
And straightest gates that he there sits to keep,  
They fancies are, that follow folk by steeped  
Such rumours vain, but feigned lies they are,  
And fables, like the dreams in heavy care.   

These three staves following are added by the translator.  
O dreadful day: alas the sorry time,  
Is come of all the mother's ruthful woe,  
Istranax, alas thy fatal line,  
Of life is worn, to death strait shalt thou go,  
The sisters have decreed it should be so,  
There may no force alas escape their hand,  
The mighty jove their will may not withstand.   

To see the mother, her tender child forsake.  
What gentle heart that may from tears reframe,  
Or who so fierce that would not pity take,  
To see alas the guiltless infant slain.  
For sorry heart the tears mine ●yes do stain,  
To think what sorrow shall her heart oppress,  
Her little child to lose remediless,   

The double cares of Hector's wife to wail,  
Good Ladies have your tears in readiness,  
And you with whom should pity most prevail.  
Rue on her grief: bewail her heaviness.  
With sobbing heart, lament her deep distress  
When she with tearest shall take leave of her soon,  
And now (good ladies) here what shall be done.     

The third act.  Andromacha. Senex. Ulysses. 
ALas ye careful company  
why hal● ye thus your hears?  
Why beat you so your boiling breasts  
and stain your eyes with tears?  
The fall of Troy is new to you  
but unto me not so,  
I have foreseen this careful case  
ere this time long ago  
When fierce Achilles Hector slew  
and drew the corpse about  
Then then me thought I witted it well,  
that Troy should come to nought.  
In sorrows sunk, I senseless am  
and wrapped alas in woe,  
But soon except this babe me held,  
to Hector would I go.  
This silly soole my stomach tames  
amid my misery,  
And in the hour of heaviest haps,  
permits me not to die,  
This only cause constraynth 〈◊〉 yet  
the Gods for him to pray,  
with tracked of time prolongs my pain,  
delays my dying day.  
He takes fro me the lack of fear  
the only fruit of ill.  
For while he lives yet have I left  
whereof to fear me still.  
No place is left for better chance,  
with worse we are oppressed:  
To scare alas and see no hope,  
is worst of all the rest.  SEN. 
¶ What sudden fear thus moves your mind,  
and vexeth you so sore?  ANDR. 
¶ Still still alas of one mishap  
there riseth more a●d more.  
Not yet the doleful destinies  
of Troy become to end  SEN. 
¶ And what more grievous chances yet  
prepare the gods to send?  SEN. 
¶ The caves and de●s of hell be rend  
for Troyans' greater fear,  
And from the bottoms of their tombs  
the hidden spirits appear.  
May none but Greekes alone from hell  
return to life again?  
Would god the fates would finish soon  
the sorrows I sustain,  
Death thankful were, a common care  
The Troyans' all oppress,  
But me alas amasseth moste  
the fearful heaviness.  
That all astonished a● for dread,  
and horror of the sight:  
That in my sleep appeared to me,  
by dream this latter night.  SEN. 
Declare what sights your dream hath showed  
and tell what doth you fear.  ANDR. 
¶ Two parts of all the silent night,  
almost then passed wear.  
And then the clear seven clustered beams  
of stars: were fallen to rest.  
And first the sleep so long unknown  
my wearied eyes oppressed.  
If this be sleep the astonished maze,  
of mind in heavy mood,  
When suddenly before mine eyes,  
the sprite of Hector stood.  
Not like as he the Greeks was w●nt  
to battle to require  
Or when amid the Grecians ships,  
he threw the brands of fire.  
Nor such as raging on the Greeks,  
with slaughtering stroke had slain,  
And bare in deed the spoils of him  
that did Achilles fain.  
His countenance not now so bright.  
Nor of so lively cheer,  
But sad and heavy like to ours,  
and clad with ugly hear.  
It did me good to see him though,  
when shaking then his head:  
Shake of thy sleep in hast he said,  
and quickly leave thy bed.  
Convey into some secret place,  
our son, O faithful wife,  
This only hope there is to help,  
find mean to save his life.  
Leave of thy piteous tears he said  
dost thou yet wail for Troy?  
Would god it lay on ground full flat,  
so ye might save the boy.  
Up stir he said thyself in haste,  
convey him privily,  
Save if ye may the tender blood.  
of Hector's progeny.  
Then strait in trembling fear I w●nte  
and rolled mine eyes about  
Forgetting long my child, poor wre●che,  
and after Hector sought.  
But strait alast I witted not how  
the sprite away did passed,  
And me forsook before I could,  
my husband once embrace.  
O child: O noble father's brood  
and Troyans' only joy,  
O worthy seed of thancient blood.  
and beaten house of Troy.  
O image of thy father lo,  
thou lively bear'st his face,  
This countenance, 〈◊〉 my Hector ●ad,  
and even such was his pace.  
The pitch of all his body such,  
his hands thus would he bear.  
His shoulders high, his threatening 〈◊〉  
even such as thine they wear.  
O son: begot to late for Troy  
but borne to soon for me,  
Shall ever time yet come again  
and happy day may be,  
That thou mayst once revenge, and build  
again the towers of Troy,  
And to the town and Troyans' both  
restore their name with joy?  
But why do I, forgetting state  
of present destiny.  
So great things wishe● enough for captives  
is to live only.  
Alas what priuy● place is left  
my little child to hide?  
What seat so secret may be found  
where thou mayst safely bide?  
The tower that with the walls of gods  
so valiant was of might,  
Through all the world so notable  
so flourishing to sight,  
Is turned to dust: and five hath all  
consumed that was in Trope●  
Of all the town not so much now  
is left to hide the boy.  
What place were best to choose for guile  
the holy tomb is here,  
That thenmies'enemies sword will spare to spoil●  
where lieth my husband dear.  
Which costly work his father buylt●  
king Priam's liberal,  
And it up raised with charges great,  
for Hector's funeral.  
Herein the bones and ashes both  
of Hector lo they lie,  
Best is that I commit the son  
to his father's custody.  
A cold and fearful sweat doth roune,  
through out my membres all,  
Alas I careful wretch do fear,  
what chance may the befall.  SEN. 
¶ Hid him away: this only way  
hath saved many more,  
To make the enemies to believe,  
that they were dead before.  
He willbe sought: scant any hope  
remaineth of fatenes●  
The poise of his nobility  
doth him so sore oppress.  ANDR. 
¶ What way were best to work: that none  
our doings might bewray?  SEN. 
¶ Let none bear witness what ye do  
remove them all away.  ANDR. 
¶ What of the enemies ●ske me: where  
Astyanax doth remain?  SEN. 
¶ ●hen shall ye boldly answer make  
that he in Troy was slain.  ANDR. 
¶ What shall it help to have him hid?  
at length they will him finder  SEN. 
¶ At first the enemies rage is fierce  
delay doth slake his mind.  ANDR. 
¶ But what prevails, since free from fear  
we can him never hide?  SEN. 
¶ Let yet the wretch take his defence  
more careless there to bide.  ANDR. 
¶ What land unknown out of the w●y  
what unfrequented place,  
May keep thee safe? who aids our fear?  
who shall defend our case?  
Hector Hector, that evermore  
thy friends didst well defend,  
Now chief aid thy wife and child  
and us some succour send.  
Take charge to kept and cover close  
the treasures of thy wife,  
And in thy ashes hide thy soon  
preserve in tomb his life.  
Draw near my child unto the tomb  
why fliest thou backward so?  
Thou takest great scorn to lurk in deus  
thy noble heart I know.  
I see thou art ashamed to fear  
shake of thy princely mind,  
And bear thy breast as thee behoves  
as chance hath thee assigned.  
Behold our case: and see what flock  
remaineth now of Troy  
The tomb: I woeful captive wretch  
and thou a silly boy.  
But yield we must to sorry 〈◊〉  
thy chance must break thy breast,  
Go to: creep underneath, thy father's  
holy seats to rest.  
I fought the fates, may wretch's help●  
thou hast thy safeguard there.  
If not: all ready then poor fool  
thou hast thy sepulchre.  SEN. 
The tomb him closely hides: but le●●  
your fear should him detraye,  
Let him here lie, and far from hence,  
go ye some other way.  ANDR. 
¶ The les he fears that fears at h●●de  
and yet if need be so,  
If ye think meet a little hens  
for safety let us go.  SEN. 
¶ A little while keep silence now  
refrain your plaint and cry,  
His cursed foot now hythee moves  
the lord of Cephalye.  AN. 
¶ Now open earth, and tho● my spouse  
from Styx rend up the ground,  
Deep in thy bosom hide my son,  
that he may not be sound.  
Ullysses comes with doubtful pace  
and changed countenance  
He knits in heart deceitful craft  
for some more grievous chance.  ULY. 
¶ Though I be made the 〈◊〉  
of heavy news to you●  
This one thing first I shall desire  
that ye take this for true.  
That though the words come from my mo●th,  
and I my message tell,  
Of truth yet are they 〈◊〉 of mine  
ye may believe me well.  
It is the word of all the Greeks  
and they the authors be,  
Whom Hector's blo●●● 〈…〉  
their countries for to see.  
Our careful trust of peace unsure  
doth still the Greeks detain,  
And evermore our doubtful fear,  
yet draweth us back again.  
And ●u●●reth not our wearied hands,  
our weapons to forsake,  
In child yet of Andromach●,  
While Troian● comfort take,  AN. 
¶ And ●●yth your Augur Calchas so?  ULYS. 
¶ Though Calchas nothing said  
Yet Hector tells it us himself,  
Of whose seed are we frayed.  
The worthy blood of noble men  
oftimes we see it plain,  
Doth after in their heirs succeed  
and quickly springs again.  
For so the horneles yong●ng yet,  
of high and sturdy best,  
With lofty neck, and branched brow,  
doth shortly rule the rest.  
The tender 〈◊〉, that of the lopped  
stock doth yet remain,  
To match the tree that bore the bough,  
in time starts up again.  
With equal to●●e to former wood,  
the room it doth supply,  
And spreddes on soil allow the shade,  
to heaven his branches high.  
Thus of one spark by chance yet le●●  
it happeneth so full oft.  
The fire hath quickly caught 〈…〉  
and ●●amthe again aloft,  
So fear we yet least Hector's blood,  
might rise ere it be long,  
Fear casts in all th'extremity  
and oft interprets wrong.  
If ye respeckte our case, ye may  
not blame these old soldiers  
Though after years & months twice 〈◊〉,  
they fear again the wars.  
And other travails, dreading Troy,  
not yet to be well won,  
A great thing doth the Grecians move,  
the fear of Hector's soon.  
Rid us of fear, this stayeth our 〈◊〉,  
and plucks their ●acke again,  
And in the haven our n●u●e sticks,  
till Hector's bloody slain.  
Count me not ●●erce for that by fates  
I Hector's son require,  
For I as well if chance it would  
Orestes should desire.  
But sins that needs it must be so,  
bear it with patient heart,  
And suffer that which Agamemnon,  
suffered in good part.  AN. 
¶ Alas my child would god 〈…〉,  
yet in thy mother's hand,  
And that I knew what destinies,  
the held, or in what land.  
For never should the mothers ●●●th,  
her tender child forsake,  
Though through my dressed the 〈◊〉 all,  
their cruel weapons struck.  
Nor though the Greeks, with pinching bands  
of iron: my hands had bound,  
Or else in fervent flame of fire  
beset my body round.  
But now my little child (poor wretch)  
alas where might he be?  
Alas what cruel destiny,  
what chaunc● hath happed to thee?  
Art thou yet rangeing in the fields  
and wanderest there abroad?  
Or smothered else in dusty smoke  
of Troy: or ouertrode●  
Or have the Greeks thee slain alas  
and laughed to see thy blood●  
Or torn art thou with jaws of beasts  
or cast to fowls for fo●de?  ULY. 
¶ Dissemble not, hard is for thee  
Ulysses to deceive,  
I can full well the mother's crafts  
and subtlety perceive.  
The policy of Goddesses,  
Ullysses hath undone,  
Set all these feigned words aside,  
tell me where is thy soon?  ANDR. 
¶ Where is Hector? where all the rest?  
that had with Troy their fall●  
Where Pryamus? you ask for one  
but I require of all.  ULY. 
¶ Thou shalt constrained be to tell  
the thing thou dost deny.  AN. 
¶ A happy chance were death, to ●e●  
that doth desire to die,  ULY. 
¶ Who most desires to die: would ●aynest  
live when death drawthe on,  
These noble words with present fear  
of death: would soon v●●ou.  ANDR. 
¶ Ulysses if ye will constrain  
Andromacha with fear,  
Threaten my life, for now to die  
my chief desire it wear  ULY. 
¶ With steps, with fire, tormenting death  
we will the truth out wrest.  
And dolour shall thee force, to tell  
the secrets of thy breast.  
And what thy heart hath deepest hid  
for pain thou shalt express  
oft-times th'extremity prevails,  
much more than ientlenes.  ANDR. 
¶ Set me in midst of burning flame,  
with wounds my body rend,  
Use all the means of cruelty,  
that ye may all invent.  
proveth with thirst, and hunger both,  
and every torment try,  
Pearce through my ●ides with burning irons,  
in prison let me lie.  
Spare not the worst ye can devise  
(if ought be worse than this)  
Yet never get ye more of me  
I wots not where he is,  ULY. 
¶ It is but vain to hide the thing  
that strait ye will deteckte.  
No fears may move the mother's heart.  
she doth them all neglect.  
This tender love ye bear your child,  
wherein ye stand so stout.  
So much more circumspectly war●the,  
the Greeks to look about.  
Lest after ten years trachte of time.  
and battle borne so far.  
Some one should live that on our children,  
might renew the war.  
As for myself, what Calchas sayeth,  
I would not fear at all.  
But on Telemachus I dread,  
the smart of wars would fa●.  AN. 
¶ Now will I make Ulysses glad,  
and all the Greeks also.  
Needs must thou woeful wretch confess.  
declare thy hidden wo.  
Rejoice ye sons of Atreus,  
there is no cause of dread.  
Be glad Ullysses tell the Greeks,  
that Hector's son is ded.  ULY. 
¶ By what assurance provest thou thate  
How shall we credit thee?  AN. 
¶ What ever thing the envies hand.  
may threaten, h●ppe to me  
Let speedy fates me slay forthwith,  
and earth me hide at ones,  
And after death from tomb again,  
remove yet Hector's bones,  
Except my soon already now,  
do rest among the dead,  
And that except Astyanax.  
into his tomb be fed.  ULY. 
¶ Then fully ●re the fate's 〈◊〉  
with Hector's child's decease:  
Now shall I bear the Grecians word,  
of sure and certain peace.  
Ulysses why what dost thou now?  
the Greeks will every eachone,  
Believe thy words: whom credit she thou?  
the mother's tale alone.  
Thinkest thou for safeguard of her child  
the mother will not lie?  
And bread the more the worse mischance,  
to give her son to die?  
Her faith she binds with bond of oath,  
the truth to verify,  
What thing is more of weight to fear,  
than so to swear and lie?  
Now call thy crafts together all,  
bestir thy wits and mind,  
And show thyself Ulysses now,  
the truth herein to find.  
Search well the mother's mind: behold  
she weeps and waileth out,  
And here and there with doubtful pace,  
she rangeth all about.  
Her careful ears she doth apply,  
to hearken what I say,  
More frayed she seems then sorrowful.  
Now work some wily way.  
For 〈…〉 there is,  
and crafty policy,  
Yet once again by other 〈◊〉,  
I will the mother tri●.  
Thou wretched woman master reioye●,  
that dead he is: alas  
More doleful death by destiny  
for him decreed there was.  
From Turret's top to have been cast  
and cruelly been slain.  
Which only tower of all the rest,  
doth yet in Troy remain.  ANDR. 
¶ My sprite fareth me, my limbs do qua●e,  
fear doth my wits confound,  
And as the y●e congeals with frost.  
my blood with cold is bound.  ULYS. 
¶ ●he trembleth to● this way, this way  
I will the truth out wrest,  
The mother's fear detecteth all  
the secrets of her breast.  
I will renew her fear: go ●ears  
bestir ye speedily,  
To seek this enemy of the Greeks,  
where ever that he lie.  
Well done, he will be found at length,  
go to, s●ill seek him out,  
Now shall he die: what dost thou fear?  
why dost thou look about?  ANDR. 
¶ Would god that any cause there were,  
yet left that might me fray,  
My heart at last now all is l●●t,  
hath laid all fear away.  ULYS. 
¶ Sins that your child now hath ye say  
already suffered death.  
And with his blood we may not purge  
the hosts as Calchas saith.  
Our fleet pass not (as well inspired,  
doth Calchas prophecy)  
Till Hector's ashes cast abroad,  
The waves may pacify,  
And tomb be rend, now sins the boy  
hath scaped his destiny.  
Needs must we break this holy tomb  
where Hector's ashes lie.  ANDR. 
¶ What shall I do? my mind distracted,  
is with double fear,  
On th'one my son, on tother side  
my husbands ashes dear.  
Alas which part, should move me most,  
the cruel gods I call,  
To witness with me in the truth,  
and ghosts that guide thee all.  
Hector, that nothing in my soon  
is else that pleaseth me,  
But thou alone● god grant him life,  
he might resemble thee,  
Shall Hector's ashes ●rowned be?  
bide I such cruelty,  
To see his bones cast in the seas?  
yet let Astyanax dye●  
And canst thou wretched mother bide,  
thint own child's death to see?  
And 〈◊〉 from the hy● towers top  
that headlong thrown he be?  
I can, and will take in good part,  
his death and cruel pain,  
So that my Hector 〈◊〉 death,  
●e not removed again.  
The boy that life and senses hath  
may feel his pain and die,  
But Hector lo his death hath placed,  
at rest in tomb to lie.  
What dost thou stay? determine which  
thou wilt preserve of twain.  
Art thou in doubt? save this: lo here  
thy Hector doth remain.  
Doth Hector's be, th'one quick of sprite  
and drawing toward his strength  
And one that may perhaps revenge  
his father's death at length.  
Alas I can not save them both  
I think that best it wear.  
That of the twain I saved him,  
that doth the Grecians fear.  ULY. 
¶ It Shallbe done that Calchas words  
to us doth Prophecye●  
And now shall all this sumptuous work  
be thrown down utterly.  AN. 
¶ That once ye sold?  UL. 
¶ I will it all  
from top to bottom rend  ANDR. 
¶ The faith of Gods I call upon  
Achilles us defend.  
And Pyrrhus aid thy father's right  ULY. 
¶ This tomb abroad shall lie  ANDR. 
¶ O mischief, never durst the Greeks  
show yet such cruelty.  
Ye strain the Temples, and the Gods  
that most have favorde you,  
The dead ye spare not, on their t●●bes  
your fury rageth now.  
I will their weapons all resist  
myself with naked hand,  
The ire of heart shall give me strength,  
their armour to withstand.  
As fierce as did the Amasones  
beat down the Greeks in fight,  
And Menas once enspyrde with God,  
in sacrifice doth smite:  
With spear in hand, and while with furious  
pace she treads the ground.  
And wood as one in rage: she strikes  
and feelythe not the wound:  
So will I run on midst of them  
and on their weapons die,  
And in defence of Hector's tomb,  
among his ashes lie.  ULY. 
¶ Cease ye ● doth rage and fury vain  
of woman move ye ought.  
Dispatch with speed what I command,  
and pluck down all to nought.  ANDR. 
¶ Slay me rather here with sword  
rid me out of the way.  
Break up the deep Avernus, and rid  
my destinies delay.  
Rise Hector and beset thy foes  
break thou Ulysses ire,  
A sprite arte good enough for him,  
behold he casteth fire.  
And weapon shakes with mighty hand  
do ye not Greeks him see?  
Or else doth Hector's sprite appear  
but only unto me?  ULY. 
Down quite withal.  AN. 
What wilt thou suffer  
both thy son be slain,  
And after death thy husbands bones  
to be removed again?  
Perhaps thou mayst with prayer yet  
appease the Grecians all,  
Else down to ground the holly tomb  
of Hector, strait shall fall.  
Let rather die the child poor wretch  
and let the Greeks him kill,  
Then father and the son should cause  
the tone the others ill.  
Ulysses, at thy knees I fall,  
and humbly ask mercy.  
These hands that no man's feet else knew,  
first at thy feet they lie,  
Take pity on the mother's case,  
and sorrows of my breast,  
Vouchsafe my prayers to receive,  
and grant me my request.  
And by how much the more the gods  
have the advanced high,  
More easily strike the poor estate,  
of wretched misery.  
God grant the chaste bed of thy godly  
wife Penelope,  
May the receive, and so again  
La●rta may the see.  
And that thy son Telemachus,  
may meet thee joyfully,  
His graundsers' years, and father's witt●.  
to pass full happily.  
Take pity on the mother's tears,  
her little child to save,  
He is my only comfort left  
and th'only joy I have.  ULY. 
¶ Bring forth thy son and ask.  

The second scene.  Andromacha. 
COme hither child out of thy dens to me  
thy wretched mother's lamentable store,  
This pa●e Ulysses, ●oe this bade is he,  
that stayeth your ships, ● stareth you so sore.  
Submit thyself my soon with humble hand,  
and worship flat on ground, thy masters feet,  
Think it no shame, as now the case doth stand  
the thing that fortune wilth a wretch is meet,  
Forget thy worthy stack of kingly 〈◊〉.  
think not on Pryames great nobility,  
And put thy father Hector from thy mind,  
such as thy fort 〈◊〉 thy stomach be●  
Behave thyself 〈…〉, bend thy knee,  
and though thy grief pierce not thy tender years,  
Yet learn to wretched 〈◊〉 by me,  
and take ensample a● thy mother's 〈◊〉 ●  
Once Troy hath seen the weeping of a thylde,  
When little 〈…〉,  
And he to whom all beasts in strength 〈◊〉 yield,  
that made his 〈…〉 take their 〈◊〉  
His little enemies tears yet ouerc●●●,  
Priam's (he said) receive thy liberty,  
In scent of honour keep thy kingly name,  
but yet thy sceptres rule more faythfullye●  
Loc such the conquest was of Hercules  
of him yet learn your hearts to mollify.  
Do only Her●tes cruel weapons pirate  
and may no end be of your cruelty?  
No less than Priam's kneels to thee this boy  
that lieth and asketh only life of thee.  
As for the rule and governance of Troy  
where ever fortune will there let it be.  
Take mercy on the mother's ruthful tears  
that with their streams my checks do overflow  
And spare this guiltless infants tender years  
that humbly falleth at thy feet so low.   

The third scene.  Ulysses. Andromacha. Astyanax 
OF trenthe the mother's great sorrow,  
doth move my heart fall sore.  
But yet the mothers of the Greeks,  
of need must move me mo●e.  
To whom this hope may cause in time  
a great calamytis.  ANDR. 
¶ may ever he the burnt ruins  
of Troy re-edify?  
And shall these hands in time to come,  
erect the town again?  
If this be th'only help we have,  
there doth no hope remain  
For Troy, we stand not now in case  
to cause your fear of mind,  
Doth aught avail his father's force,  
or stock of noble kind?  
His father's heart abated was.  
he drawn the walls about.  
Thus evil haps, the haughetest heart  
at length they bring to nought.  
If ye will needs oppress a wretch  
what thing more grievous wear.  
Then on his noble neck he should  
the yoke of bondage bear?  
To serve in life, doth any man  
this to a king deny?  ULY. 
¶ Not Ulysses willeth his death  
but Calchas Prophecy  ANDR. 
O false invent or of discryt●  
and heinous cruelty.  
By manhood of whose hand in war,  
no man did ever die.  
But by deceit and crafty train  
of mind that mischief seeks,  
Before this time full many one  
dead is: ye of the Greeks.  
The Prophet's words and guiltless gods  
sayst thou my son require?  
Nay: mischief of thy breast it is  
thou dost his death desire.  
Thou night soldier, and stought of hearts  
a little child to stay,  
This enterprise thou tak●●● alone  
and that by open day.  ULY. 
¶ Ulysses manhood well to Greeks  
to much to you is known,  
I may not spend the time in words,  
out navy will be gone.  AN. 
¶ A little stay, while I my last  
farewell give to my child  
And have with oft embracing him,  
my greedy sorrows filled.  ULY. 
¶ Thy grievous sorrows to redress,  
would god it lay in me,  
But at thy will to take delay  
of time, I grant it thee.  
Now take thy last leave of thy son,  
and fill thyself with tears,  
Oft times the weeping of the eyes,  
the inward grief out wears.  ANDR. 
¶ O dear, o sweet, thy mother's pledge,  
farewell my only joy.  
Farewell the flower of honour left  
of beaten house of Troy  
O Troyans' last calamity  
and fear to Grecians part  
Farewell thy mother's only hope,  
and vain comfort of heart.  
Oft wished I thee thy father's strength.  
and half thy grandsires years.  
But all for nought, the Gods have all  
dispointed our desires.  
Thou never shalt in ●egall court  
thy sceptres take in hand  
Nor to thy people give dec●●ese  
nor lead with law thy land.  
Nor yet thine enemies overcome  
by might of handy stroke,  
Nor lend the conquered nations all  
under thy servile yoke.  
Thou never shalt beat down in fight  
and Greeks with sword pursue,  
Nor at thy Chariot Pyr●hus pluck  
as Achilles Hector drew.  
And never shall these tender hands  
thy weapons weld and wrest,  
Thou never shalt in woods pursue  
the wild and mighty beast.  
Nor as accustomed is by guise  
and sacrifice in Troy,  
With measure swift: between the altars  
shalt thou dance with joy.  
O grievous kind of cruel death  
that doth remain for thee,  
More woeful thing than Hector● death  
the walls of Troy shall see.  ULYS. 
¶ Now break of all thy mother's tears  
I may no more time spend.  
The grievous sorrows of thy heart  
will never make an end.  ANDR. 
¶ Ulysses spare as yet my tears  
and grant a whtie delays,  
To close his eyes yet with my hands  
ere he depart away.  
Thou dye●● but young: yet feared thou art  
thy Troy doth wait for thee.  
Go noble heart thou shalt again  
the noble Troyans' see.  ●S. 
¶ Help me mother?  AN. 
¶ Alas my child  
why tak'st thou hold by me?  
In vain thou callte where help none is  
I can not succour thee.  
As when the little tender beast  
that hears the Lion cry,  
Straight for defence he seeks his dam  
and crouching down doth lie.  
The cruel beast when once removed  
is the dam away,  
In greedy jaw with ravening bit  
doth snatch the tender pray  
So strait the enemies will thee take  
and from my side the Bear.  
receive my kiss and tears poor child  
receive my rented hear.  
Depart thou hence now full of me  
and to thy father go,  
Salute my Hector in my name  
and tell him of my woe.  
Complain thy ●● others grief to him  
if former cares may move,  
The spryghtes: and that in funeral flame  
they lose not all their love.  
O cruel Hector sufferest thou  
thy wife to be oppressed  
With bond of Grecians heavy yoke  
and liest thou still at rest●  
Achilles rose ● take here again  
my tears and rented hear,  
And (all that I have le●te to send)  
this kiss thy father bear.  
Thy coat yet for my comfort leave  
the tomb hath touched it  
If of his ashes ought here lie  
I will seek it every whit.  ULY. 
¶ There is no measure of thy tears  
I may no longer stay  
Defer no farther our return  
break of our ships delay.   

Chorus altered by the translator.  
O jove that lead'st the lamps of fire  
and dekst with slaming star●es the sky  
Why is it ever thy desire  
to care their course so orderly?  
That now the frost the leaves hath worn  
and now the spring doth clothe the tree,  
Now fiery Leo ripes the Corn  
and still the soil should changed be?  
But why art thou that all doos●e guide  
between whose hands the poles do sway●  
And at whose will the Orbs do slide  
careless of man's estate alway?  
Regarding not the good man's case,  
nor caring how to hurt the ill  
Chance beareth rule in every place,  
and turneth man's estate at will.  
She gives the wrong the upper hand  
the better part she doth oppress,  
She makes the highest low to stand  
her kingdom all is orderless.  
O par●itte proof of her frailty,  
the princely towers of Troy bet down  
The flower of Asya here ye see  
with turn of hand quite overthrown  
The tuthfull end of Hector's son  
whom to his death the Greeks have led  
His fatal hour is come and gone  
and by this time the child is dead  
Yet still alas more cares increase,  
o Troyans' doleful destiny,  
Fast doth approach the maids decease  
and now Polyxena shall die.    

The fourth ackte.  Helena. Andromacha. Hecuba. 
WHat ever woeful wedding yet,  
were cause of funeral.  
Of walling, tears, blood, slaughter 〈◊〉  
or other mischief all,  
I worthy match for Helena,  
and meet for me it ware,  
My wedding torch hath been the cause,  
of all the Troyans' care.  
I am constrained to hurt them yet,  
after their overthrow  
The false and feigned marriages,  
of Pyrthus must I show.  
And give the maid the Greeks attire  
and by my policy,  
Shall mary sister be betrayed,  
and b● 〈◊〉 shall die.  
But let her be beguiled thus,  
the les should be her pain  
If that ●nware, without the fear  
of death: she might be slain.  
What ceasest thou the will of Gr●ekes,  
and message to fulfil?  
Of hurt constrained the fault returnthe  
to th'author of the ill.  
O noble virgin of the famous  
house: and stock of Troy,  
To thee, the Gresians have me sent  
I bring the news of joy.  
The gods ●ue on thy afflicted state,  
more merciful they be,  
A great and happy marriage lo,  
they have prepared for the.  
Thou never should if Troy had stood,  
so nobly wedded be,  
Nor Priam never could prefer,  
the to so high degree.  
Whom flower of all the G●●cyon name,  
the prince of honour hongur high.  
That bears the sceptres over all.  
The land of Thessal●e,  
Doth in the law of wedlock chose  
and for his wife require●  
To sacred rights of lawful bed,  
doth Pyr●hus thee desire  
Lo Thetys great with all the rest,  
of gods that guide by se●.  
Each one shall thee account as theirs,  
and joy by wedding ●ea.  
And Peleus shall thee daughters call,  
when thou art Pyrthus wife,  
And Ner●us shall account thee his  
the space of all thy life.  
Put of thy mourning 〈◊〉 now.  
this regal vesture wear  
Forget henceforth thy cantive state,  
and seemly broyde thy hear.  
Thy fall hath lift thee higher up.  
and doth thee more advance.  
Oft to be taken in the war,  
doth bring the better chance.  AN. 
¶ This ill the Troyans' never knew  
in all their griefs and pain,  
Before this time ye never made,  
us to rejoice in vain.  
Troy towers give light, o seemly time  
for marriage to be made  
Who would refuse the wedding day  
that Helen doth persuade?  
The Plague and Ruin of each part  
behold dost thou not see,  
These tombs of noble men: and how  
their bones here scattered be?  
Thy bride bed hath been cause of this  
for thee all these be dead,  
For thee the blood of Asya both  
and Europe hath been shed.  
When thou in joy and pleasure both  
the fight folk from far,  
Haste veude: in doubt to whom to wish  
the glory of the war.  
Go to prepare the marriages  
what need the torchiss light?  
Be hold the towers of Troy do shine  
with brands that blaze full bright.  
O Troyans' all set to your hands,  
this wedlock celebrate:  
Lament this day with woeful cry  
and tears in seemly rate.  HELE. 
¶ Though care do cause the want of 〈◊〉  
and reasons rule deny.  
And heavy hap doth oftimes hate  
his mates in misery,  
Yet I before most hateful judge  
dare well defend my part,  
That I of all your grievous cares  
sustain the greatest smart.  
Andromach● for Hector weeps,  
for Priam Hecuba,  
For only Paris privily  
bewaileth Helen●.  
A hard and grievous thing it is  
captivity to bear.  
In Troy that yoke I suffered long  
a prisoner whole ten year.  
Turned are the fates, Troy beaten down.  
to Greece I must repeat,  
The native country to have lost  
is ill, but worse to fear.  
For dread thereof you need not care  
your evils all be paste.  
On me both parts will vengeance take  
all lights to me at last.  
Whom each man prisoner takes God won  
she stands in slipper stay,  
And me not captive made by lot  
yet Paris led aways  
I have been cause of all these wars  
and then your woes w●re wrought,  
When first your ships the Spartan seas  
and land of Grecia sought.  
But if the Goddess wild it so  
that I their pray should be,  
And for reward to her beauties judge  
she had appointed me.  
Then pardon Paris: think this thing  
in wrathful judge doth lie,  
The sentence Menclaus gives  
and he this case shall try.  
Now turn thy plaints ●ndromache.  
and weep for Polyxena.  
mine eyes for sorrows of my heart.  
their tears may not refrain.  AN. 
¶ Alas what care makes Heleyve weeps  
What grief doth she lament?  
Declare what crafts Ulysses casts,  
what mischief hath he sent?  
Shall she from height of Ida hill  
be headlong tumbled down?  
Or else out of the turret's top  
in Troy, shall she be thrown?  
Or will they cast her from the cliffs,  
into Sugeon se●es?  
In bottom of the surging waves,  
to end her ruthful days?  
Show what thy countenance hides, ● tell  
the secrets of thy breast:  
Some woes in Pyrthus wedding are  
far worse than all the rest.  
Go to, give sent case on the maid,  
pronounce her destiny:  
Delude no longer our mishaps,  
we are prepared to die.  HELL. 
¶ Would god their pounder of the gods  
would give his doom so right:  
That I also on point of sword  
might lose the loathsome light.  
Or at Actulles tomb, with stroke  
of Pyrrhus' hand be s●ayne:  
And bear a part of all thy fates  
O wretched Polyxena.  
Whom yet Achilles wooth to wed.  
and where his ashes lie●  
Requireth that thy blood be shed,  
and at his tomb to die.  AN. 
¶ Behold lo, how her noble minds  
of death doth gladly hear.  
She decks herself: her regal weed,  
in seemly wise to wear.  
And to her head she sets her hand,  
the broided hear to lay●  
To wed she thought it death: to die,  
she thinks a wedding day.  
But help, alas, my mother sounds.  
to hear her daughter's death.  
Arise: pluck up your heart and take,  
again the panting breath.  
Black good mother how slender stays  
that doth thy life sustain?  
A little thing shall happy thee.  
thou art almost past thy pain.  
Her breath returns: she doth revive,  
her limbs their life do take.  
So see when wretches feign would die●  
how death doth them forsake.  HEC. 
¶ Doth yet Achilles live alas,  
to work the Troyans' spite?  
Doth he rebel against us yet?  
O hand of Paris light.  
The very tomb and ashes lo●,  
yet thirsteth for our blood.  
A happy heap of children ●ate●  
on every side me stood.  
It wearied me to deal the mo●  
there's kiss among them all  
The rest are lost and this alon●,  
now doth me mother call.  
Thou only child of Hecuba,  
a comfort left to me,  
A stair of my sorry state,  
and shall I now lose thee?  
Depart O wretched soul, and from  
this careful carcase fly,  
And ease me of such ruthful fates,  
to see my daughter die.  
My weeping wets, alas my eyess  
and stains them over all,  
And down my cheeks the sudden streams  
and showers of tears do fall.  
But thou dear daughter mayst be glad  
Cassandra would rejoice,  
Or Hector's wife thus wed to be  
if they might have their choice.  AN. 
¶ We are the wretches Hecuba  
in cursed case we stand,  
Whom straight the ship shall toss by seus  
into a foreign land.  
But as for Helen's grieves be gone  
and turned to the best,  
She shall again her native country  
see: and live at rest.  HELE. 
¶ Ye would the more envy my state  
if ye might know your own,  AN. 
¶ And grouthe there yet more grief to me  
that erite I have not known?  HELE. 
¶ Such marsters must ye serve as doth  
by chance of lots befall  ANDR. 
¶ Whose servant am I then become  
whom shall I master call?  HELE. 
¶ By lot ye fall to Pyrrhus hands  
you are his prisoner.  ANDR. 
¶ Cassandra is happy: fury saves  
perhaps and Phoebus her.  HELE. 
¶ These king of Greeks Cassandra keeps  
and his captive is she  HEC. 
¶ Is any one among them all  
that prisoner would have me?  HELE. 
¶ You chanced to Ulysses are  
his pray ye are become.  HEC. 
¶ Alas what cruel, dire and ireful  
dealeth of the doom.  
What god unjust doth so divide,  
the captives to their lords?  
What grievous arbiter is he?  
that to such choice accords.  
What cruel hand to wretched folk,  
so evil fates hath cast?  
Who hath among Achilles' armour,  
Hector's mother placed?  
Now am I captive and beset,  
with all calamity.  
My bondage grieves me not, but him  
to serve it shameth me.  
He that Achilles spoils hath won,  
shall Hector's also have:  
Shall barren land enclosed with seas,  
receive my bones in grave?  
Lead me Ulysses where thou wilt.  
lead me, I make no stay,  
My master I, and me my fates,  
shall follow every way.  
Let never calm come to the seas,  
but let them rage with windt,  
Come fire and sword, mine own mischafice  
and Priam's let me find.  
In mean time haps this deep distress  
my cares can know no calm:  
I ran the race with Priamus  
but he hath won the Palm.  
But Pyrthus comes with swiftened pace  
and threatening brows doth wrest.  
What stayest thou Pyrthus? strike thy sword  
now through this woeful breast.  
And both at ones the parents of  
thy father's wife now slay,  
Murderer of age, likes thee her blood?  
he drawth my daughter away.  
Defile the gods and stain the sprighte●●  
of hell with slaughtered blood,  
To ask your mercy what avails?  
our prayers do no good.  
The vengeance ask I on your ships,  
that it the gods may pleas,  
According to this sacrifice.  
to guide you on the seas.  
This wish I to your thousand sails,  
God's wrath light on them all,  
Even to the ship that beareth me,  
what ever may befall.  

Chorus.  

A Comfort is to man's calamity  
A doleful flock of fellows in distress.  
And sweet to him that morurnes in miseri●  
To hear them wail whom sorrows like oppress  
In deepest care his grief him bites the less,  
That his estate bewails not all alone,  
But seeth with him the tears of many one.   

For still it is the chief delight in woe,  
And joy of them that sunk in sorrows are,  
To see like fates byfall to many more,  
That may take part of all their woeful fare.  
And not alone to be oppressed with care.  
There is no wight: of woe that doth complayn●,  
when all the rest do like mischance sustain.   

In all this world if happy man were none,  
None (though he were) would think himself a wretch,  
Let once the rich with heaps of gold be gone,  
whose hundred head his pastors overretche,  
Then would the poor man's heart begin to stretch  
There is no wretch whose life him doth displease  
But in respect of those that live at ease.   

Sweet is to him that stands in deep distress,  
To see no man in joyful plight to be,  
Whose only vessel, wind and wave oppress,  
Full sore his chance bewails and weepeth he,  
That with his own none others wrack doth see  
When he alone makthe shipwrak on the sand  
And naked falls to long desired land.   

A thousand sail who seeth to drench in seas  
with better will the storm hath overpast  
His heavy hap doth him the less displease,  
When broken boards abroad be many cast  
And shypwrackt ships to shore they flit full fast,  
With doubled waves when stopped is the flood,  
With heap of them that there have lost their good.   

Full sore did Phryxus Helen's loss complain,  
What time the leader of his flock of sheep,  
Upon his back alone he bore them twain,  
And wet his golden locks amid the deep.  
In piteous plaint alas he 'gan to weep  
The death of her it did him deep displease,  
That shypwrak made amid the drenching seas.   

And piteous was the plaint and heavy mood  
Of woeful Pyr●ha and eke Deucalion,  
That nought beheld about them but the flood,  
When they of all mankind were left alone  
Amid the seas full sore they made their moan  
To see themselves thus left alive in woe  
When neither land they saw nor fellows more.   

A non these plaints, and Trojans tears shall quasie,  
And here and there the ship th●m toss by seas  
When trumpets sound sh●ll warn to hoist up sail  
And through the waves with wind to seek their way●●:  
Then shall these captives go to end their days  
In land unknown: when once with hasty o'er  
The drenching deep they take and shun the shore.   

What state of mind shall then in wretch's ●e,  
When shore shall sink from sight and seas arise?  
When I day hill to lurk aloof they see?  
Then point with hand from far where Troia lice,  
Shall child and mother: talking in this wise:  
Lo yonder Troy, where smoke it fumeth high,  
By this the Trojans, shall their country spy.     

The fifth act.  Messenger. Andromacha. Hecuba. 
ODyre fierce, wretched, horrible,  
o civil fates accutlle,  
Of Matsh 〈…〉 years bloodshed blows.  
the woefull'st and the worst.  
A la● which s●ould I syr●● bewail?  
thy cares Andromacha●  
Or else lament the wretched age  
of woeful ●ecaba?  HEC 
What ever ●●ns calamities  
y● wail for mine it is  
I bear the smart of all their woes,  
each other feels but his.  
Who ever he, I am the wretch  
all haps to me at last.  MES. 
Slain is the maid, and from the w●lles  
of Troy: the child is cast.  
But both, (as them became) they took  
their death, with stomach stout.  ANDR. 
Declare the double slaughters then●  
and tell the whole throughout.  MES. 
¶ One tower of all the rest ye knowe●  
doth yet in Troy remain,  
Where Priam wonted was to sit,  
and view the armies twain.  
His little Nephew the with him  
to lead and from a far,  
His father's ●ightes with fire and swoord●  
to show, and feats of war.  
This tower, sometime well known by fame,  
and Troyans' honour most.  
Is now with captains of the Greeks,  
beset on every coast.  
With swift recourse and from the ships.  
in clustered heaps anon.  
Both tag and ●agge, they run to g●●●●  
what thing should there be done.  
Some clime the hills, to seek a place●  
where they might see it best,  
Some on the rocks a-tiptoe stande●  
to overlook the rest.  
Some on their temples wear the Pine,  
some beech, some crowns o● bay.  
For garlands torn is every tree,  
that standeth in their way.  
Some from the highest mowntaynes top,  
aloof beholdeth all  
Some sca●e the buildings half yburnte,  
and some the ruinous wall  
Ye some there wear (o mischief lo)  
that for the more despite,  
The tomb of Hector sits upon,  
beholders of the sight.  
With princely pace Ulysses then,  
passed through the preasyd b●nde  
Of Greeks, king Pryames little Nephew,  
leading by the hand.  
The child with unrepining gate  
passed through his enemies hands,  
Up toward the walls, and as anon  
in turretts top he stands,  
From thence adown, his lo●tye looks  
he cast on every part,  
The nearer death more free from care  
he seemed, and fear of heart.  
Amid his ●oes, his stomach swells,  
and fierce he was to sight,  
Like tigers whelye, that threats in vain  
with toothless chap to byght,  
Alas, for pity them each one,  
〈◊〉 on his tender years,  
And all the rout that present were,  
for him they shed their tears.  
Yea not Ulysses them restrained,  
but trickling down they fall,  
And only he, wept not, (poor fool,)  
whom they bewailed all.  
But while on God's Ulysses called,  
and Calchas words expound,  
In midst of Pryames land alas,  
the child leapt down to ground.  AN. 
¶ What cruel Colchus could or scythe  
such slaughter take in hand?  
Or by the shore of Caspian sea,  
what barbarous lawless land?  
Busyrides to th'altars yet,  
no infant's blood hath shed:  
Nor never yet were children slain,  
for feast of Dyomed.  
Who shall alas in tomb thee lay,  
or hide thy limbs again?  MES. 
¶ What limbs from such a headlong fall,  
could in a child remain?  
His bodies poise, thrown down to ground,  
hath battered all his bones,  
His face, his noble father's marks,  
are spoiled against the stones.  
His neck unjointed is: his head  
so dashed with flint stone stroke,  
That scattered is the brain about,  
the skull is all to broke.  
Thus lieth he now dismembered corpse,  
deformed, and all to rend.  ANDR. 
Lot herein doth he yet likewise,  
his father represent.  MES. 
What time the child, had headlong fallen  
thus from the walls of Troy.  
And all the Greeks themselves bewailed,  
the slaughter of the boy.  
Yet straight return they back, and at  
Achilles' tomb again  
The second mischief go to work,  
the death of Polyxena  
This tomb the waves of surging seas,  
beset the utter side.  
The other part the fields enclose  
about, and pastors wide.  
In vale environed with hills,  
that round about do rise.  
A slope on height erected are  
the banks, in theatre wise.  
By all the shore then swarm the Greeks  
and thick on heaps they press:  
Some hope that by her death, they shall  
their ships delay release.  
Some other joy, their enemies stock  
thus beaten down to be:  
A great part of the people, both  
the slaughter hate and see.  
The Troyans' eke, no less frequent  
their own calamities,  
And all afraid, beheld the last  
of all their miseries.  
When first proceedyd torches bright  
as guise of wedlock is.  
And author thereof led the way  
the lady Tyndaris.  
Such wedlock (pray the Troyans' then)  
god send Herinyona●  
And would god to her husband so,  
restored were Helena.  
Fear masde each part, but Polyxena,  
her bashful look down cast:  
And more than erst her glittering eyes,  
and beauty shined at last.  
As sweetest seems than Phoebus' light.  
when down his beams do sway,  
When stars again, with night at hand,  
oppress the doubtful day.  
Astonished much the people were,  
and all, they her commend.  
And now much more than ever erst,  
they praised her, at her end.  
Some with her beauty moved were,  
some with her tender years:  
Some to behold the turns of chance,  
and how each thing thus wears.  
But most them moans her valiant mind,  
and lofty stomach high,  
So strong, so stout, so ready of heart,  
and well prepaide to die.  
Thus pass they forth, and bold, before  
king Pyrrhus goeth the maid,  
They pity her, they marvel her,  
their hearts were all afraid.  
As soon as then, the hard hill top.  
(where die she should) they trod.  
And high upon his father's tomb,  
the youthful Pyrrhus stood.  
The manly maid she never shrunk,  
one foot, nor backward drew  
But boldly turns to meet the stroke,  
with stout unchanged he●●e  
Her courage moves each one, and ●oe  
a strange thing monstrous like.  
That Pyrthus even himself stood still,  
for dread, and durst not strike.  
But as he had, his glittering sword,  
in her to hills up done,  
The purple blood, at mortal wound,  
then gushing out it spoon.  
Ne yet her courage her forsook,  
when dying in that stownde,  
She fell as th'earth should her revenge,  
with Ireful rage to ground.  
Each people wept: the Troyans' first,  
with privy fearful cry.  
The Grecians ●ke, each one bewailed,  
her death, apparently.  
This order had the sacrifice,  
her blood the tomb up drunk,  
No drop remainth above the ground,  
but down forthwith it soonee.  HEC. 
Now go, now go ye Greeks, & now,  
repair it safel●e home.  
With careless ships, and hoist sails,  
Now cut the sallt sea ●ome.  
The child and virgin, both be slain,  
your battels●●●ysht are.  
Alas where shall I end my age?  
or whether bear my care?  
Shall I my daughter, or my nephew?  
or my husband moan?  
My country else, or all at once?  
or else myself alone?  
My wish is death, that children doth  
and virgins fiercely takes  
Where ever cruel death doth haste  
to strike, it me for sakes.  
Amid the enemies weapons all,  
amid both sword and fire,  
All night sought for, thou fleest from me,  
that do thee most desire.  
Not flame of fire, not fall of tower,  
nor cruel enemies hand,  
Hath rid my life: how near alas,  
could death to Priam's stand?  MES. 
¶ Now captives all, with swift recourse  
repair ye to the seayes,  
Now spread the ships, their sails abroad,  
and forth they seek their ways.    

¶ Imprinted at London in Fleetstreet within Temple bar, at the sign of the hand and star, by Richard Tottyll.  
Cum privilegio ad impris mendum solum.