A newe enterlude of vice conteyninge, the historye of Horestes with the cruell reuengment of his fathers death, vpon his one naturill mother. By John Pikeryng ...

The Vyce. A Syrra nay ſoft, what? let me ſee, God morrowe to you ſyr, how do you fare? Sante a men. I thincke it wyll be. the next day in ye morning, before I com thear Well forwarde I wyll, for to prepare, Some weapons & armour, ye catiues to quell, Ille teache the hurchetes, agayne to rebell. Rebell? ye ſyr, how ſaye you there to? What? you had not beſte their partes to take: Houlde the content foole, and do as I do, Or elles me chaunce, your pate for to ake. Ye and thats more, for feare thou ſhalt quake, Before Horeſtes, when in good ſouth he, Shall arryue in this lande, reuenged to bée: Well forwarde I wyll, thynges to pouruaye, In good ſouth for the wares, as I ſhall thincke good. Farre well good man dotterell, and marke what I ſaye, Or eles it may chaunce you, to ſeke a new houd: You would eate no more cakbread, I thinke then by ye roud, If that, that ſame poulle from your ſhoulderes were hent, You would thincke you were yll, if ſo you were ſhent. Hear entryth Ruſtycus, & hodge. Ruſtycus. Chyll neuer nabore hodge, haue a glade harte, Tyll Egiſtous the Kynge, hath for his deſarte: Receiued dew punnyſhment, for this well I knowe, Horreſtes to Crete, with Idumeous dyd go. When his father was ſlayne, by his Mother moſt yll, And therefore I thincke, that com heather he wyll: And reuenge the iniurey, of his mother moſt dyare, waſtinge our land with zworde, and with vyare. Hodge. Ieſu nabor, with vyar and zworde? zaye you ze? By gys nabor, chyll zaue one I tro: For iche haue ſmaull good, by giſe for to loſe, And therefore iche care not, how euer it goſe. But chyll not be zlayne, chyll loue nothinge worſſe, Chyll neuer be bournt, for the mony in my pourſe. Iche haue ſmall rouddockes, and ſodyers I kno, Wyll robbe the riche chorles, and let the poore knaues go. Vyce. A ſyrre, nowe ſteye, and pauſe their a whyle, Be not to haſtye, but take all the daye: Be God I am wearey, with comming this myle, And hauing no money, my horſe heyare to paye. Who how, I rode on my fete, all the waye, Ieſu what ground, ſince yeſterday at none, Haue I gut thorow, with this pare of ſhoune. Ruſticus. Nabor hodge, be goge hatche none I beare, That this lyttell hourchet, the devayaunce doth beare. Come let vs go, and of him in good ſouth? We woll conquear out, the verey truth. Vyce. Hurchyt, goges oundes gyppe with a wanyon, Ar you ſo louſtey, in fayth good man clound: Oundes, hart, and nayles, this is a franion, Ille teache you to floute me, I hould you a pounde. O that it weare not, in fayth for my gound? It wyll I be knoc vm, yet for all that. Hodge. Hould good maſter, you mare my new hat. Fight Vyce. Ha, ha, he, mar his hat quoth he? thear was all his thought Tout tout, for the bloſe he ſet not a pyn: That garment is dyer, that with bloſe is bought, Well ſieres to in treat me, ſyth you begyn? I am contentyd, my blade, now ſhaull in. But tell me ſyeres tell me no whearefore of me, The cauſe on this ſort, your taullkynge ſhould be. Ruſticus. By gis and iche chyll maſter, for all my great payne, Of this matter to you to tell the veary playne: My naybor hodge and I, in good ſouth, Mot hear in the veldes, I tell you the truth: Now as we wear talkinge, marke what I zaye, You came in ſtraight, and of vs croſt the waye. Which thinge for zartyn, when I dyd eſpye, This fancey vlouncht, in my head by and by: And to hodge I zayde that, by gys I dyd veare, That your maſſhyp, good maſter the devyaunce doth beare, And be cauſe you weare lyttell, and of ſtature but ſmaull: Your perſon a hourchet, in fayth I dyd caull. But by gis be contentyd, vor chyll neauer more, Ofvend you a gains, but cham zorey thearuore. Vyce. Yf they weare not twayne, I cared not a poynt, But two is to meyney, the prouerbe douth tell: Elles be his oundes, I would iobard this ioynt, And teache them agaynſte me, againe to rebell? O that I wear abull, the knaues vor to quell, Then would I tryomphe, paſſinge all meaſure. Hodge. Zentyll man zentyll man, at your owne pleaſure: In fayth we be, and thearuore we praye, What they name, is to vs vor to zaye. Vyce. My name would ye kno, marrey you ſhaull, Harke frynde, fourſt to the I wyll it declare: Maſter pacience maſter pacience, many on doth me caull? But com heather nabor hodge, thou muſt haue a ſhare. By gys vnto the I wyll not ſpare, The ſame for to ſhowe, whearfore my frend, My name is pacience if thou it perpend. Hodge. Paſt ſhame? Godes gée naybor paſt ſhame? By godes de naybor thates a tryccom name. Vyce. Tell a mare a tall, and ſhyell gerd out a fart Se bow the as my wordes, douth myſtake, Would it not anger a ſaynt at the hart: To ſe what a ſcoffe of my name, he douth make? O oundes of me, as ſtill as a ſtake. He ſtandith, nought caring what of him maye be tyde, Be his woundes, I wod haue a arme, or a ſyde. Sought let me ſe, it is beſt to be ſtyll, Good ſlepinge in a hole ſkynne, ould foulkes do ſaye, Not withſtanding I wis, ill haue myne owne wyll. Naye I wyll be reuenged, by his oundes and I maye, Syrra you good man Ruſtycus, marke what I ſaye: Harke in thine eare man, this dyd I ſee, A hoge of thyne wearyed to be. Ruſticus. Godes gée maiſter pacience, I praye you me tell, What horſen chorles doge, my hogge ſo dyd quell: Iche zware by giſe, and holye zaynt blyue, Chyll be zwinge him, and ich be a lyue, By godes de cham angry, and not well content, Chould ha wear hear, chould make him repent. Ich had rather gyuen, vore ſtryke of corne, Then to had my hogge on this wyſe forlorne: But if I knewe whous dogge chould be, Reuenged well inough iche warrent the. Vyce. Ha, ha, he, by god Ruſticus, I maye ſaye in no game, I knowe the perſon, whoſe dogge ſo did flaye: Thy hogge fye fye man, it was a vearey ſhame, For thy naybor hodge, to let it by this daye. Well I wyll go to him, and ſe if I maye, By aney meanes procure him, to make the amendes; Ille do the beſt I can, to make you both frendes. Ruſticus. Chyll be no frendes, chad rather be hanged, Tyll iche haue that oulde karle, wel and thryfteley banged, And tweare not your maſſhyppe, dyd me with hould, To ſwing the ourchet, iche chould be boulde, Vyce. Ha, ha, he, nay, nay, ſpare not for me, Go to it ſtrayght, if thear to ye gre, Ruſticus, Hodge I harde ſaye, thou illy, haſt wrought, For my hogge vnto death, with thi dog thou haſte broughgt Iche byd the thy vaute, to me to amend, Or chyll zwaddell the, iche zweare in my bat end. Hodge. Zwaddell me godes get? chyll care not a poynte, Iche haue a good bat, thy bones to anoynte: Thou olde carle I zaye, thy hoge hurtyd me, And therefore I wyll haue, a mendes now of the. My rye and my otes, my beanes and my peaſe, They haue eaten vp quight, but ſmall for my eaſe: And therfore iche zaye, all thy hogges kepe vaſte, Or iche wyll them wearey, as longe as they laſte. By godes get, I can neuer come in my ground, But that zame zwyne, in my peaſe iche haue founde. Vyce. Tout tout Ruſticus, theſe wordes be but wynd To him man, to him, and ſwaddell him well: Ye neauer leaue him, as longe as thou can fynd Him whot, but teathe him, a gaine to rebell, What nededeſt thou to care, though his wordes be ſo fell, Tout tout tharte vnwyſe, and followe my mynde: And I warraunt the in end, ſome eaſe thou ſhalt finde. Ruſticus. Godes gée hourſon hoge, paye me for my zwine, Or eles larne to kepe, that cockescome of thyne. Vp with thy ſtaf, & be readye to ſmyte, but hodg ſmit firſt, and let ye viſe thwacke them both and run out. Hodge. Godes de, do thy worſt, I care not a poynte, Chyll paye the none, chyll iobard a ioynte. Vyce. Nay ſtand I ſtyll ſome what, I wyll lend, Take this for a reward, now a waye I muſt wend. Ruſticus. O Godes get, cham zwinged zo zore, Iche thincke chaul neauer lyue one houre more. Hodge. O godes ge I thincke, my bewnes will in zonder, Yf ich get home by gis, ittes a wounder: Farwell Ruſticus, for by gis ich chaull, When I mete the againe, bezwinge the vorall. Ruſticus. Naye letes be frendes, and chyll in good part, Of browne ale at my houſe, giue the a whole whart: What hodge ſhake hondes, mon be merey and lauffe, By godes ge iche had not, the beſt end of the ſtaffe. Hodge. Cham content naybor Ruſticus, ſhaull be ene ſo, Come to they houſe, I praye the let vs go. go out Horeſtes. To caull to minde the crabyd rage of mothers yll attempt Entrith. Prouokes me now all pyttie quight, from me to be exempt. Yet lo dame nature teles me that, I muſt with willing mind For giue the faute and to pytie, ſome what to be inclynd. But lo be hould thad vlltres dame, on hourdome morder vill Hath heaped vp not contented, her ſponſaule bed to fyll: With forrayne loue but ſought alſo, my fatal thred to ſhare As erſt before my fathers fyll, in ſonder ſhe dyd pare. O paterne loue why douſte thou ſo, of pytey me requeſt, Syth thou to me waſt quight denyed, my mother being preſt: When tender yeres this corps of mine, did hould alas for wo Whē frend my mother ſhuld haue bin thē was ſhe chefe myfo Oh godes therfore ſith you be iuſt, vnto whoſe poure & wyll, All thing in heauen, and earth alſo? obaye and ſarue vntyll. Declare to me your gracious mind, ſhall I reuenged be, Of good Kynge Agamemnones death, ye godes declare to me Or ſhall I let the, adulltres dame, ſtyll wallow in her ſin, Oh godes of war, gide me a right, when I ſhall war begyn. Vyce. Warre quoth he. I war in dede, and trye it by the. ſworde, God ſaue you ſyr, the godes to ye: haue ſent this kind of word That in the haſt you armour take, your fathers foſe to ſlaye And I as gyde with you ſhall go, to gyde you on the way. By me thy mind ther wrathfuldome, ſhalbe performd in dede Therfore Horeſtes marke me well, & forward do procede. For to reueng thy fathers death, for this they all haue ment Which thing for to demonſtrat lo, to the they haue ſent me. Horeſtes. Ar you good ſyr, the meſſenger of godes as you do ſaye Wil they in reuenging this wrong, I make not long delay. Vyce. What nede you dout, I was in heauen, whē al ye gods did gre That you of Agamemnons death, for ſouth reuengid ſhould be, Tout tout, put of that childiſh loue, couldſt thou wt a good wil Contentyd be? that one ſhould ſo, they father ſeme to kyll? Why waylſt yu man, leaue of I ſay, plucke corrage vnto the. This lamentation ſone ſhall fade, if thou imbraſydeſt me. Horeſtes What is they name may I in quear? O ſacrid wight I pray Declare to me & with this feare, do not my hart diſmaye. Vyce. Amonge the godes celeſtiall, I Courrage called am, You to aſſyſte in vearey truth, from out the heauens I cam And not wtout god Marſis his leaue, I durſt hear ſhow my face which thou ſhalt fele if that ther gift thou doſt forth wt imbrace Horeſtes. And ſith it is thear gratious will, welcom thou art to me, O holy wight for this thear gyft, I thanke them hartelley. My thinkes I fele all feare to fley, all ſorrow griefe & payne, My thinkes I fele corrage prouokes, my wil for ward againe For to reuenge my fathers death, and infamey ſo great, Oh how my hart doth boyle in dede, wt firey perching heate. Corrage now welcom by the godes, I find thou art in dede, A meſſenger of heauenly goſtes, come let vs now procede. And take in hand to bringe to pas, reuengyd for to be, Of thoſe which haue my father ſlaine, but ſoft now let meſe Idumeus that worthy Kinge, doth com into this place, What ſaye you corrage: ſhal I now? declare to him my caſe? Vyce. Faull to it then and ſlacke no time, for tyme once paſt away, Doth cauſe repentence, but to late to com old foulks do ſay. When ſtede is ſtolen, to late it is to ſhyt the ſtable dore, Take time I ſay, while time doth giue a leaſure good therfore Idumeus. What euer he be that ſceptar beares or rules in ſtate full hie Is ſoneſt down through fortunes eyar, & brought to myſerey, As of late yeares the worthy kinge Agamemnon by name, whos praſs throughout ye world is bloū, by goldē trūp of fame His wel won fame in marſhall ſtoure, doth reache vnto ye ſky Yet lo through fortunes blind attempt, be lo in earth doth lie He ye had paſt the fate of war, where chaunce was equall ſet, Through fortunes ſpight is caught alacke, win olde Meros net And he which ſomtime did delight, in clothed coat of maylle, Is now conſtcaynd in Carones bote; ouer the brouke to ſaylle. That floſe vpon ye fatall bankes, of Plutoſe kingdome great And that in ſhade of ſilent wodes, and valeys gréene do beate. Where ſoules of kinges & other wights a poyntyd are to be, In quiet ſtate there alſo is, this worthey reall trée. Of ſouth I ioye for to behold, Horeſtes actyue cheare, The which in father ſomtime was, in ſon doth now apear, But where is he that all this day, I neauer ſawe his face, Horeſtes. Kenll downe. At hand O King thy faruant is, which wiſſheth to thy grace All hayl with happey fate certayne, wt pleaſures many fould, But yet my leege a ſute I haue, if I might be ſo bold. To craue the ſame my ſoferayn lord, wherby I might aſpyer Vnto the thing with very much, O king I do requier. Idumeus. What thing is that if we ſuppoſe, it laufull for to be, On prynces faith without delaye, at ſhall be giuen the. Vyce. Tout let him alone now, we may in good ſouth, I was not ſo luſtey, my pourpoſe to get: But now of my honeſtey, I tell you of truth, In reuenging the wronge, his mynd he hath ſet? It is not Idumeus that hath poure to let. Horeſtes fro ſekinge his mother to kyll, Tout let hym alone, hele haue his owne wyll. Horeſtes. Sith that your grace hath willed me, this my defiar to ſhow, Oh gratious king this thing it is, I let your grace to know That long I haue requeſt to vew, my fathers kingley place, And eke for to reuenge the wrong done to my fathers grace, Is myne intent wherefore o king, graunt that wtout delaye, My earytage and honor eke, atchyue agayne I maye. Idumeus. Stey their a whyle Horeſtes mine, tyll councell do decrée? The thing that ſhall vnto your ſtate, moſt honorabell bée. My counciler how do you thinke, let vs your councell haue, How think you by this thīg yt which Horeſtes now doth craue Councell. As I do thinke my ſolerayne lord, it ſhould be nothing ill, A Prynce for to reuenged be, on thoſe which ſo dyd kyll. His fathers: grace but rather ſhall, it be a feare to thoſe, That to the lyke at anye time, their cruell mindes diſpoſe▪ And alſo as I thinke it ſhall, an honer be to ye, To adiuuate and helpe him with, ſome men reuenged to be. This do I thinke moſt fytteſt for, your ſtate and his alſo, Do as you lyſt ſieth that your grace, my mind herin doth kno. Idumeus. Sith Councell thinkes it fyt in ded, reuenged for to be, That you Horeſtes in good ſouth, for to reuenge I grée. And alſo to mayntaine your war, I graunt you wt good will, A thouſand men of ſtomake bolde, your enimiſe to kyll. Take them forth with, & forward go, let ſlyp no time ne tyd. For chaunce to leaſure to be bound, I tell you can not byd Go therfore ſtraight prouide your men & like a manly knight In place of ſtouer put forth thy ſelfe, aſſay wt all thy might. To win the fame, for glorey none, it chambering doth reſt Marke what I ſaye to get thy men, I take it for they beſt. Vyce. Com on Horeſtes ſith thou haſt, obtayned thy deſier. Tout tout man, ſeke to dyſtroye, as doth the flaming fier? Whoſe properte thou knoeſt doth gro, as long as any thing Is left wher by the ſame may ſeme, ſom ſuckcor for to bring. Horeſtes. I thanke your grace I ſhal ſequeſt your gratius mind herin. Vyce. Se ſe I praye you how he ioyſe, that he muſt war begin. Go out. Idumeus, Go out. My councell now declare to me, how think you by this wight Doth not he ſeme in ſouth to be, in tyme a manley knight. By all the godes I thinke in ſouth, a man may eaſeley kno, Whoſe ſon he was, ſo right he doth his fathers ſteppes follow Councell. Vndoubtedly my ſoferaynd lorde, he ſemeth vnto me, Not to ſequeſt his fathers ſteppes, in feates of cheuallrey: But rather for to imitate, the floure of great 〈◊〉 land, I meane A chilles that ſame knight, by whoſe one only hand The Greaciās haue obtaind at laingth ye cōqueſt of old Troy For which thei did holl x. yeres ſpace, their labor great imploy Idumeus. Syth he is gon for to puruaye, ſuch thinges as ſhall in dede, Suffiſe to ſarue his tourn in wares, wherof he ſhal haue nede Let vs depart and when he ſhall, retourne heather a gayne, To ſée the muſt or of his men, we wyll ſure take the payne. Halterſycke. Go out. The Songe. Entrithe & ſyngeth this ſong to ye tune of haue ouer ye water to floride or ſelengers round. FArre well adew, that courtlycke lyfe, To warre we tend to gowe: It is good ſport to ſe the ſtryfe, Of ſodyers on a rowe. How mereley they forward march, Theſe enemys to ſlaye: With hey trym and tryxey to, Their banners they dyſplaye. Now ſhaull we haue the Golden cheates, When others want the ſame: And ſodyares haue foull maney feates, Their enemyes to tame. With couckinge heare, and bomynge their, They breake thear foſe araye: And louſtey lades amid the feldes, Thear enſines do dyſplaye. The droum and flute playe louſteley, The troumpet bloſe a mayne? And ventrous knightes corragiouſley, Do march before thear trayne: With ſpeare in reſte ſo lyuely dreſt, In armour bryghte and gaye: With hey trym and tryxey to, Thear banners they dyſplaye. Hempſtringe. Goges oundes haulterſycke, what makes thou heare, Hempſtring commeth in & ſpeaketh. Haulterſycke. What? Iacke hempſtringe welcom, draw neare? Hempſtringe. By his oundes I haue ſoughte the ſome newſe the to tell, Haulterſycke. Godes bloud what newſe, iſt the deuell in hell? Hempſtring. In faythe thou act meatey, but this is the matter, Douſt thou hear halterſicke? each man doth clatter: Of warres, ye of warres, for Horeſtes wyll go, His erytage to wyn, boye the truth is ſo. Haulterſycke. Nay but Iacke Hempſtringe ſeaſe of this prate, Yf thou cauil me boye, then beware thy pate. Hempſtringe. What hould thy peace, as far as I ſe, We be boyſe both thearfore let vs grée. Haulterſycke. Boye naye be god, though I be but ſmaull, Yet Iacke hempſtringe, a hart is worth all. And haue not I an hart, that to warres dare go, Yes hempſtringe I warrant the, & that thou ſhouldeſt know If dycke halterſyckes mynde, thou moue vnto eyar, Colles neauer bourne, tyll they be ſet one fyare. Hempſtringe. Ye but if they bourne, ſo that they ſame, Yet water dycke hallterſycke, the bourning cane ſame. But hacke thée my maſter will venter a ioynt, And me to wayte on him, he all readye doth poynt. But hearſte thou, thou knoweſt my maſter loues well, Now and then to be ſnappinge, at ſome dayntye moſſell. But by goges bloud hallterſycke, if thou loue me, Take ſome prytey wenche our laundrar to be, And be goges bloud, I am contentyd to beare, Halfe of her chargis, when that ſhe comes thear. Haulterſycke. As fyt for the warre, Iacke hempſtringe thou art, In fayth as abe, is to drawe a carte: He is lyke to be manned, that hath ſuch a knight, Vnder his banner, I ſweare for to fight. When Horeſtes in fight, moſte buſieſt ſhalbe, Then with they gynney, we muſt ſeke the. Hempſtringe. Goges oundes, hart, and nayles, you are a ſea man, Come of with a myſchiefe, my gentell companion. By your ſleue fire haulterſicke, I thinke that a be, As good a ſodyer as euer was ye, Haulterſycke. He hath learned his leſſon, but of fouth I feare, He hath quight forgotten, the waye for to ſweare. Oundes, hart, and nayles, nalrey 〈…〉 , And he be not hanged, he wyll be ſtarke 〈◊〉 . Hempſtringe. Hange me no hanginge, yf ye be ſo quicke, Roube not to hard, leſt hempſtringe do kycke. Haulterſycke. flort him. Had better be ſtyll, and a ſléepe in his head, Yf a kycke me, me chaunce to breake his head, Hempſtringe. Goges bloud good man halterſycke, begine you to flout me Haulterſycke. No not at all he douth but ſout ye. What hempſtringe I ſaye, are you angred at ieſte. flort hym on ye lipes In fayth goodman lobcocke, your handſomley dreſt: Hempſtringe. Goges bloud ſo to flout me, thou art muche to blame? Haulterſycke. Why all that I do man, is but in game. Hempſtringe. giue him a bor on ye eare Take thou that for they ieſte, and flout me no more? Halterſicke. For that ſame on blowe, than ſhault haue a ſcore: Drawe thy ſword vylyne, yf thou be a man, And then do the worſt, that euer thou can. Hempſtringe. Naye ſet ſword a ſyde, and at • offetes well trey, Wheather of vs both, ſhall haue the maſterey. Haulterſycke. Goges oundes thou art bygger, yet I care not a poynt, Yf to be reuenged, I iobard a ioynt. Fyght at bofites wt fyſtes Hempſtring. I haue coylyd the well, but I holde the a grote? Yf thou meddell with me. I wyll ſ •• inge thye cote. Haulterſycke. In dede I muſt ſaye, I haue cought the worſt, But I wyll be reuengyd, or eies I ſhall bourſte. Yf tyme did not call me, from hence to depart I ſhould anger the hempſtring, euen at the h •• t? Therefore farwell, tyll an other daye, But h •• rſte thou take this, to ſpend by the waye. Giue him a box on ye eare & go out. go out. let ye drum playe and Horeſtes enter wt his men & then lette him knele downe & ſpeake. Hempſtring. Goges dundes is he gon, naye after I wyll, And of the ſlaue by his oundes, I wyll haue my fyll. Horeſtes. Oh godes be proſperous I praye, & eke preſerue my band, Show now yt ye be gods in ded, ſtretch out your mighty hand And giue vs hartes & willes alſo, where by we may preuayll And ſuffer not you godes I praye, our courragis to fayll. But let our hartes addytyd be, for aye as we pretend, And of that one adulltres dame, oh gods now make an end. My hāds do thryſt her blod to haue, nought can my mīd cōtent Tyll yt on her I haue perfourmed, oh gods your iuſt iudgmēt Nature. Nay ſtey my child frō mothers bloud wt draw thy bloudy hād ſtand vp. Horeſtes. No nought at all oh nature can, my purpoſe now withſtand, Shall I for giue my fathers death, my hart can not agre My father ſlayne in ſuch a ſorte, and vnreuengyd to be. Nature. Conſider firſt horeſtes myne, what payne for the ſhe toke, Horeſtes. And of my fathers death againe, o Nature do thou louke. Nature. I do confeſſe awycked facte, it was this is moſt playne, Not wtſtandīg frō mothers bloud, thou muſt thy hāds refrain Canſt thou a lacke vnhappey wight, conſent reuenged to be, On her whoſe pappes before this time, hath giuen foud to the In whom I nature for myd the, as beſt I thought it good, Oh now requight her for her pain, wtdraw thy hāds frō bloud Horeſtes. Who offendith ye loue of god, & eke mans loue wt willing hart Muſt by ye loue haue punniſhment, as dutey due for his deſart For me therfor to pūniſh hear as law of gods & mā doth wil Is not a crime though yt I do, as thou doſt ſaie my mother kil Nature. The cruel beaſts ye raūg in feldes whoſe iauſe to blod ar whet Do not conſent their mothers paunch, in cruell wiſe to eate The tyger fierſe doth not deſiare, the ruine of his kinde, And ſhall dame nature now in the, ſuch tyraney once finde▪ As not the cruell beſtes voutſafe, to do in aney caſe, Leue now I ſay Horeſtes myne, & to my wordes giue place. Leſt that of men this facte af thine, may iudged for to be: Ne lawe in ſouth, ne iuſtys eke, but cruell tyraney. Horeſtes. Pythagoras doth thincke it lo, no tyraney to be, When that iuſtyſe is myneſt • yd, as lawe and godes decrée. If that the law doth her condemne, as worthy death to haue, Oh nature woulſt thou wil yt I, her life ſhould ſeme to ſaue? To ſaue her lyfe whom law doth ſlay, is not iuſtiſe to do, Therefore I ſaye I wyll not yeld, they heſtes to com vnto. Nature. Yf nature cannot brydell the, remember the decaye, Of thoſe which hereto fore in ſouth, their parēts ſought to ſlay oedippus fate, caull thou to minde, that ſlew his father ſo, And eke remember now what fame, of him a brode doth go. Horeſtes. what fame doth blowe I forſe not I, ne yet what fame I haue For this is true yt bloud for bloud, my fathers deth doth craue And lawe of godes, & lawe of man, doth eke requeſt ye ſame. Therefore oh nature ſeaſe to praye, I forſe not of my name. Nature. For to lament this heauey fate, I cannot other do. A lacke a lacke that once my chyld, ſhould now conſent vnto: His mothers death wherefore farewell, I can no longer ſtey. Go out. Horeſtes. Farwel dame Nature to my men. I ſtraight wil take my way Go out. Idumeus. Enter. To ſe this monſter let vs go, for I ſuppoſe it tyme, Where is Horeſtes why ſteaſe he: the truth to me define: Councell. Let ye drū playe. Oh ſoferayne lord me thinkes I here, him for to be at hand yft pleaſe your grace, he is in ſight, euen now withal his band. Idumeus. Com on Horeſtes we haue ſtayd, your monſter for to ſe. Let ye drū play & enter Horeſtis wt his band marche about the ſtage. Horeſtes. And now at hand my men and I, all redy armed be. Lo mighty king this champions here, agre with me to wende Oh gracious king that they ſhall ſo, wylt pleaſe you cōdiſſend Idumeus. I do agrée and now a whyle, giue eare your king vnto, It doth behoufe corragious knightes, on this wyſe for to do. That is to ſtryue for to obtayne, the victorey and prayſe, That laſts for aye, when death ſhal end, yt find of theſe our dais Wherefore be bold, & feare no fate, the gods for you ſhall fight For they be iuſt and will not ſe, that you in caſe of right. Shall be deſſtreſt wherefore attend, and do your buſey payne, The crabyd rage of enymyſe, by forſe for to reſtrayne? And as to me your truſteynes, hath here to fore be knowne, So now to this Horeſtes here, let eke the ſame be ſhowne. Be to his heaſtes obaydient, be ſtoute to take in hand, Such enterpryſe which he ſhal thinke, moſt for his ſtate to ſtād Which if you do the ſame is youres, the glorey and renoune, That ſhal ariſe of this your facts, throughout ye world ſhal ſoūd The which you may I pray the godes, your gydes here in to be And now farwell but not that well, that I haue ſayde to ye. Sodyeares. The godes preſarue your grace for aye, & you defend from wo. That we haue don as you cōmaūd, ful wel your grace ſhal kno Idumeus. Now harke Horeſtes ſith thou muſt, of men the gyder be, And that the wyll of godes it is, thou muſt now part from me. Take yet my laſt commaundement, & beare it in thy minde, Let now they men courragiouſnes, in the their captayne finde And as thou art courragious, ſo lyke wyſe let their be, For ſafegard of thy men a brayne, well fraught with pollicye. For ouer raſhe in doinge ought, doth often damage bringe, Therfore take councell firſt before, thou doſt anye thinge. For councell as Plaato doth tell, is ſure a heauenly thinge. And Socrates a certaynte doth ſay, councell doth brynge. Of thinges in dout for Lyuy ſayes, no man ſhall him repent, That hath before he worked ought, his tyme in councell ſpent And be thou lybraull to thy men, and gentell be alſo, For ye way at thy wil thou mayſt, haue them through fire to go And he that ſhall at any tyme, deſerue ought well of the, Soffer him not for to depart, tyll well reward he be. Thus haue you hard horeſtes mine, remembar well the ſame In doing thus you ſhall pourchas, to the immortaull fame. The which I hope you wyll aſſaye, for to atchife in dede, The gods the blis when in ye war, thou forward ſhalt procede. Horeſtes. I thanke your grace and now of you, my leaue I here do take Idumeus. Imbraſe him Farwell my ſonne Horeſtes I, thy partinge yll ſhall take, Yet eare thou go let me imbrace, the once I the do praye, A lacke alacke that now from me, thou muſt nedes part away Yet whyell thou art in preaſent place, receaue of me this kys, Kys him. Farwell good knight for now I ſhal, thy ſwete imbraſings mys Horeſtes. The ſacred godes preſarue and ſaue, thy ſtate oh king I pray, And ſend the helth and after death, to rayne with him for aye. Come on my men, let vs depart, Sodyers March about and go out. As pleaſe your grace with all our hart. Idumeus. Ah, ah, how, greuous is his parting now, my councell vnto me The Godes him bles & ſend him helth, I pray them hartele. Wo worth the time the day and our, now may Horeſtes wayle And Clytemneſtra may lament, that ſo ſhe dyd aſſayle. His father deare for now on bloud, Horeſtes mind is ſet, And to reuenge his fathers death, ſure nought their is can let. In voyding of a miſchefe ſmal, they haue wrought their decay For now nought elles in Horeſtes, but ſore reueng bears ſway Councell. For to cauſes my ſoferayne lord, reuengment ought to be, The on leaſt others be in fecte, with that, that they ſhall ſe. Their princes do, the other is, that thoſe that now be yll. May be reuoked and may be taught, for to ſubdew their wyll, Plato a wyſe phyloſopher, dyd thinke it for to be, A Prynceley facte when as a King, ſhall punniſhe ſeriouſley. Such perſons as dyd trayne their lyfe, to follow yt was naught yt which their prīce at ani time, ſhal by miſchaūce haue wroght Protegeus an euell kinge, a carrayne lykenes to, Which all the place about the ſame, to ſtinke cauſeth to do. Therefore O king if that her faute, ſhould vnreuengyd be, A thouſand euylles would inſu, their of your grace ſhould ſe. Her faute is great and punnyſhment, it is worthy for to haue, For by that meane the good in ſouth, frō duūgers may be ſaufe For lo the vnyuerſaull ſcoll, of all the world we knowe, Is once the pallace of a kinge, where vyces chefe do flow. And as to waters from on head, and fountayne oft do ſpring, So vyce and vertue oft do flo, from pallace of a kinge. Whereby the people ſeing that, the kinge adycte to be, To proſecute the lyke, they all do labor as we ſe. Therfore the gods haue wylled thus, Horeſtes for to take, His iorney and a recompence, for fatheres death to make. Idumeus. Sith gods haue wild the ſame to be, good lucke ye gods him ſend Com on my councell now from hence, we purpoſe for to wend Go out. Enter Egiſtus & Clytēneſtra, ſinginge this ſonge, to ye tune of king Salomon. Egiſtus. ANd was it not a worthy ſight, Of Venus childe kinge Priames ſonne: To ſteale from Grece a Ladye bryght, For whom the wares of Troye begon. Naught fearinge daunger that might faull. Lady ladie. From Grece to Troye, he went with all, My deare Lady. Clytemneſtra. When Paris firſte ariued there, Where as dame Venus worſhyp is: And blouſtringe fame abroade dyd beare, His lyueley fame ſhe dyd not mys. To Helena for to repayre, Her for to tell: Of prayſe and ſhape ſo trym and fayre, That dyd exzell. Egiſtus. Her beautie cauſed Paris payne, And bare chiefe ſweye with in his mynde: No thinge was abell to reſtraine, His wyl ſome waye fourth for to finde. Where by he might haue his deſpyare, Lady ladye: So great in him was Cupids fyare, My deare ladye. Clytemneſtra. And eke as Paris dyd deſyear, Fayre Helena for to poſſeſſe: Her hart inflamid with lyke fyear, Of Paris loue deſpiard no leſſe, And found occaſion him to mete, In Cytheron. Where each of them the other dyd grete, The feaſt vppon. Egiſtus. Yf that in Paris Cupides ſhafte, O Clytemneſtra toke ſuch place: That tyme ne waye he neuer left, Tyll he had gotte her comley grace, I thinke my chaunce not ill to be Ladye ladye. That ventryd lyfe to purchaſe ye▪ My dere ladye. Clytemneſtra. Kynge Priames. ſonne loued not ſo ſore, The gretian dame they brothers wyfe: But ſhe his perſon eſtemed more, Not for his ſake ſauinge her lyfe. Which cauſed her people to be ſlayne, With him to flye, And he requight her loue a gayne, Moſt faythfullye. Egyſtus. And as he recompence agayne, The fayre quene Hellyn for the ſame: So whyle I lyue I wyll take payne, My wyll alwayes to yours to frame. Syth that you haue voutſafe to be, Ladye ladye. A Queene and ladye vnto me, My deare ladye. Clytemneſtra. And as ſhe louyd him beſt whyle lyfe, Dyd laſt ſo tend I you to do: Yf that deuoyd of warr and ſtryfe, The Godes ſhall pleaſe to graunt vs to, Syeth you voutſafeſt me for to take, O my good knyght: And me thy ladye for to make, My hartes delyghte. Egiſtus. As ioyfull as the warlyke god is Venus to behoulde, So is my hart repleate with ioye, much more a thouſand fould Oh Lady deare in that I do, poſſes my hartes delyghte, Let ye trū pet blowe with in. What menes this ſound for very much, it doth my hart a flight Clytemneſtra. Feare nought at all Egiſtus myne, no hourt it doth pretend, But lo me thinkes a meſſenger, to vs heather doth wend. enter. Meſſenger. The Gods preſarue your eaquall ſtate & ſend you of their blys Clytemneſtra. Welcom good meſſenger what neweſe, I pray the with the is Meſſenger. Yft pleaſe your grace euen now their is, aryued in this land The mightey knight Horeſtes with, a mightey pewſaūt band Who purpoſith for to inuade, this Mycoene Citie ſtronge, And as he goeſe he leyſe both tower, and caſtell all alonge. It boutes no man defence to make, for yf he wyll not yeld, By ſodyeres rage he ſtraight is ſlayne, in mydeſt of the felde. Go out. Clytemneſtra. Ah ſyr is he come in dede, he is wellcom by this daye, Egiſtus now in ſouth wt ſpede, from hence take you your way. In to our realme and take vp men, our tyghtull to defend, Tyll your retourne this Citie I, to kepe do ſure intend. For all his ſtrength he ſhall not get, to entter once hear in, The walles be ſtrong and for his forſe, I ſure ſet not a pyn. Enter a-woman, lyke a beger rounning before they ſodier but let the ſodier ſpeke firſt, but let ye woman crye firſt pitifulley. Egiſtus. Syth you be abell to defend, this Citie as you ſaye, Farwell in ſouth to get men, I now wyll take my waye. And ſone againe I wyll returne, his pamprid pryd to tame, Clytemneſtra. Farwell Egiſtus and in ſouth, I ſtrayght will do the ſame. Sodyer. Yeld the I ſaye and that by and by, Or with this ſword, in fayth thou ſhalt dye. Woman. Oh with a good wyll, I yeld me to the, Good maſter ſodier, haue mercye on me. My huſband thou haſt ſlayne, in moſt cruell-wyſe, Yet this my prayer, do now not dyſpyſe. Sodier. Go a fore her, & let her fal downe vpō the & al to be beate him. Come on then in haſt, my pryfoner thou art, Come followe me I ſaye, we muſt nedes depart. Woman. A horſon ſlaue I wyll teach the in faye, To handle a woman on, an other waye. To put me in feare, with out my dezarte I wyll teache the in faye to playe ſuch a parte. Sodyer. Be contentyd good woman, and thou ſhalt be, Neauer heare after molyſted for me. Woman. Naye vyllyn ſlaue, a mendes thou ſhalt make, In that thou be fore me as pryſinor dydeſt take. Nowe I haue cought the, and my pryſoner thou art, By his oundes horſon ſlaue, this goſe to they harte. Sodyer. Naye ſaue my lyfe, for I wyll be, Thy pryſoner and lo I yelde me to the take his weapons & let him ryſe vp & then go out both. Enter. the Vyce ſynginge this ſong to ye tune of the Paynter. Woman. Come wend thou with me, and they wepon thou ſhalt haue, Syth that thou voutſafyſte, my lyfe for to ſaue. Vyce. STand backe ye ſlepinge iackes at home, And let me go. You lye ſyr knaue am I a mome, Why ſaye you ſo. Tout tout, you dare not come in felde, For feare you ſhoulde the goſte vp yelde. With bloſe, he goſe, the gunne ſhot flye, It feares, it ſeares, and their doth lye. A houndreth in a moment be, Diſſtroyed quight: Syr ſauſe in fayth yf you ſhoulde ſe, The gonne ſhot lyght. To quake for feare you would not ſtynte, When as by forſe of gounſhotes dynte: The rankes in raye, are tooke awaye, As pleaſeth fortune oft to playe. But in this ſtower who beares the fame, But onley I: Reuenge, Reuenge, wyll haue the name, Or he wyll dye. I ſpare no wight, I feare none yll, But with this blade I wyll them kyll For when myne eayre, is ſet on fyare, I rap them, I ſnap them, that is my deſyare. Farwell a dew to wares I muſte In all the haſt. My coſen cut purſſe wyll I truſte, Your purſſe well taſt, But to it man, and feare for nought, Me ſaye to the it is well fraught. Wyth ruddockes red be at a becke, Beware the arſe, breake not thy necke, Go out. Horeſtes entrith wt his bande & marcheth about the ſtage. Horeſtes. Come on my ſodyers for at home, aryued their we be, Where as we muſt haue our deſyare, or els dye manfulley. The walles be hye yet I intend, vppon them firſt to go, And as I hope you ſodierrs will, your captayne eke follow Yf I forſake to go before then fley you eke be hynde, And as I am ſo eke I truſt, my ſodyers for to finde. Com hether harauld go proclame this mine intēt ſtraightway To yonder citite ſay that I, am come to their decaye. Vnleſſe they yeld I will deſtroye, boch man woman & childe, And eke their towers that for the war, ſo ſtrongly they do bylde Byd them in haſt to yeld to me, for nough I do a byde. But for their aunſwear or elles fourth wt for thē & theres prouid Let ye trū pet go towarde the Citie and blowe. Harraulde. Your gratious minde ſtraight ſhalbe don, cum trōpet let vs go That I haue don your meſſage wel, your grace ful wel ſhal kno Horeſtes. Hye the apaſe and let me haue, agayne an aunſweare ſone, And then a non thou ſhalt well ſe, what quickely ſhalbe done. Let ye trū pet leaue ſoundyng & let Harrauld ſpeake & Clitemneſtra ſpeake ouer ye wal. Harraulld. How whow is their yt kepes the gate giue eare my words vnto Clytemneſtra, what wouldſt thou haue harald declare, what haſt thou her to do Harauld. My maſter bydes the yeld to him, this citie out of hande, Or elles he will not leaue on ſtone, on other for to ſtand. And all things elles within this towne he wil haue at his wil As pleaſeth him by any meanes, to ſaue or elles to ſpyll, What you will now, therfore declare, & aunſwere to him ſend Clytemneſtra. This Citie here againſt him, and his I wyll defende, Harrauld. Then in his name I do defye, both the and all with in, Clytemneſtra. By him and his tell him in ſouth, we do not ſet a pyn. Harrauld. Yf it pleaſe your grace this word ſhe ſends, ſhe wil not yeld to ye But yf you com vnto your harme, ſhe ſayes that it ſhalbe. Let ye haraulde go out here. Horeſtes. Sith that my grace and eke good wil, they on ſuch ſort diſpiſe, For to deſtroye both man and chyld, I ſurely do deuyſe, Com on my men, bend now your forſe, this Citie for to wyn, Saue no mans lyfe, yt once ſhould make, ryſiſtaunce there wtin, And when you ſhall poſſes the towne, & haue all things at wil, Loke out my mother but to her, do ye no kynde of yll. Let her not die, though that ſhe would, deſiar the death to haue For other wyſe my fathers death, reuengment doth craue. Sodyer. We ſhall your heſtes obaye with ſpede, oh captayne we deſiar, That we were therefor to reuenge, our hartes are ſet on fyar. Vyce. Lyke men by God, I ſweare well ſayd, Horeſtes let vs gow, Nowe to thy men lyke manley hart, I praye the for to ſhowe. And as thou ſeiſte be firſte the man, that ſhall the Citie wyn, How, how, now for to flye, all ready they begynne. Go & make your liuely battel & let it be longe eare you can win ye Citie and when you haue won it let Horeſtes bringe out his mother by the arme & let ye droum ſeaſe playing & the trumpet, alſo when ſhe is takē let her knele downe and ſpeake. Horeſtes. With lyuely hartes my troumpeters, exault your tubal ſound. And now my ſodyers in your harts, let courrage eke be found. Com let vs go the godes for vs, ſhall make an eaſey waye, Spare none a lyue for I am bent, to ſeke their great decaye. Clytemneſtra. A lack what heaps of myſchefes great, me ſelly wight torment. Now is the tyme falune me vpon, which I thought to preuent Yet beſt I ſeke my lyfe to ſaue, perhappes he will me here, A lacke reuengment he dothe craue, for ſlaying his father dere. Yf aney ſparke of mothers bloud, remaynd within thy breſte, Oh gratious child let now thine eares, vnto my words be preſt Pardon I craue Horeſtes myne, ſaue now my corpes frō death Let no man ſaye that thou waſt cauſe, I yeldyd vp my breath, I haue offendyd I do confeſſe, yet ſaue my lyfe I praye, And to they mother this requeſt, o knight do not denaye. Horeſtes. For to repent this facte of thyne, now that it is to late, Can not be thought a recompence, for kylling of thy mate. Go haue her hence therfore with ſpede, & ſe her ſureley kepte, And for ye fact a fore thou dydeſt, thou ſurley ſhouldſt haue wept go out wt on of the ſodiares. Vyce. Nay, far you wel, in fayth you haue an aunſwer, get you hence. Oundes of me I would not be, in her cote for forty pence. Nay nay, a way far well a dew, now now, it is to late. When ſtede is ſtollen for you in ſouth, to ſhut the ſtable gate. She ſhould haue wept whē firſt ſhe went, ye king about to ſlay, Let Horeſtes ſyth hard. It makes no matter ſhe foull well, dyd brede her owne decaye Ounds of me what meane you man, begyn you now to faynt Ieſu god how ſtyll he ſyttes, I thinke he be a ſaynt. Ooooo, you care not for me, nay ſone I haue don I warrant ye wepe but let Horeſtes ryſe & bid him peaſe. Horeſtes. By all the godes my hart dyd fayle, my mother for to ſe, From hye eſtate for to be brought, to ſo great myſerey. That all moſt I had graunted lyfe, to her had not this be, My fathers death whoſe death in ſouth, chefe cauſer of was ſhe. Vyce. Euen as you ſaye but harke at hand, Egiſtus draweth nye. Who purpoſieth the chaunce of war, Horeſtes for to trye. Let Egiſtus enter & ſet hys men in a raye & let the drom playe tyll Horeſtes ſpeaketh Horeſtes. And by the godes I purpoſe eke, my honour to defend, Com on my men kepe your araye, for now we do pretend. Eather to be the conqerer, or elles to dye in felde, Lyft vp your hartes and let vs ſe, how ye your bloſe can yeld. Egiſtus. Lyke manley men adreſſe your ſelues, to get immortall fame, Yf ye do flye lo what doth reſt, behynde but foull defame. Strike vp your drūs let trūpets ſoūd, your baners eke diſplay, And I my ſelfe as captayne, to you wyll lead the waye. Horeſtes. Thou traytor to my father dere, what makeſt the here in feld, Repent the of thy wyckednes, and to me ſtrayght do yeld. Egiſtus. Thou pryncoks boy & baſtard ſlaue, thinks thou me to ſubdew? It lyeth not with in thy powre, thou boye I tell the trew. But yf I take thy corpes, it ſhalbe a fode the byrdes to fede. Stryke vp your droums & forward now, to wars let vs proſede. ſtryke vp your drū, & fyght a good whil & then let ſum of Egiſtus mē flye & thē take hym & let Horeſtes drau him vyolentlye & let ye drūs ſeaſe. Horeſtes. Oh vyllayne trayghtor now ye gods, ne mortall man ſhall ſaue Thy corps frō death for blud for blud my fathers deth doth craue Oh tyraunt fyrſe couldeſt thou voutſafe, my father ſo to ſlaye? But now no forſe for thou haſt wrought, at laſt thine one decay Egiſtus. A lacke a lacke yet ſpare my lyfe, Horeſtes I the praye. Horeſtes. Thy lyfe? naye trayghtor vyle, that chefe I do denaye. For as thou haſt deſeruyd, ſo I ſhall thy facte requit. That once couldſt ſeme to me & mine, for to work ſuch diſpight Therfore com forth and for thy facte, receaue dew punniſhmēt Repent I ſay this former lyfe, for this is my iudgment. That for my fathers death, the which we finde the chefe to be, The cauſer of thou ſhalt be hanged, where we thy death may ſe And as thou for my fathers death, dew punniſhment receiue, So ſhall my mother in lykewiſe, for that ſhe gaue the leaue. Him for to ſlaye, and eke to it, with good will condyſende, Therfore com of and ſone dyſpatch, that we had made an end. Egiſtus. Ah heauey fate & chaunce moſt yll, wo worth this hap of mine, For giue my faute you ſacryd godes, and to my wordes incline Your gracious eare for cauſer furſt, I was this is moſt plaine, Of Agamemnous death, wherefore I muſt receaue this paine. Pardon I craue, voutſafe ye godes, the ſame to graunt it me, Now ſodier worke thy wyll in haſt, I praye the harteley. fling him of ye lader & then let on bringe in his mother Clytēneſtra but let her loke wher Egiſtus hangeth. Clytemneſtra. Ah heauey fate would god I had, in tormoyle great byn ſlayne Syth nothing can Horeſtes hands, frō ſheding bloud reſtraine Vyce. How chaunce you dyd not thē lament his father whē you ſlew? But now when death doth you preuent, to late ites for to rew. Clytemneſtra. Yet hope I that he will me graunt, my lyfe that I ſhould haue. Vyce. Euen as much as thou voutſafeſt, his fathers lyfe to ſaue, Therfore com of we muſt not ſtey, all daye to wayght on the. Lo myghtye prince for whom ye ſent, lo preaſent here is ſhe. Clytemneſtra. Haue mercy ſonne & quight remitte, this faute of mine I pray, Be mercyfull Horeſtes myne, and do not me denaye. Conſider that in me thou hadeſt, they hewmayne ſhape cōpoſid That thou ſhouldſt ſlay thy mother ſon, let it not be diſcloſyd, Spare to perſe her harte with ſword, call eke vnto thy mynd, Edyppus fate and as Nero, ſhowe not thy ſelfe vnkynde. Take downe Egiſtus and bear him out. Horeſtes. Lyke as a braunche once ſet a fyare, doth cauſe ye trée to bourne As Socrates ſuppoſeth ſo, a wicked wight doth tourne. Thoſe that be good and cauſe them eke, his euell to ſequeſt, Wherefore the poete Iuuenal, doth thinke it for the beſte: That thoſe that lyue lycentiouſley, ſhould brydlyd be wt payne And ſo others that elles would ſyn, therby they might reſtrain For thus he ſayeth that Cities are, well gouerned in dede, Where punniſhment for wycked ones, by lawe is ſo decrede. And not decrede but exerſyeſd, in punnyſhinge of thoſe, Which law ne pain frō waloing ſtill, in vice their mind diſpoſe, And as thou haſt byn chiefes cauſe, of yelding vp they breath, So call to minde thou waſt the cauſe, of Agamemnons death. For which as death is recompence, of death ſo eke with the, For kyllinge of my father thou, now kylled eke ſhault be. This thinge to ſe accomplyſhyd, reuenge with the ſhall go, Now haue her hence ſieth yt you all, my iudgment here do kno Clytemneſtra. A lacke a lack wt drawe thy hand, my ſon from ſheding bloud. Vyce. Thou art a foule thus for to prate, this doth Horeſtes good, Com on a way thou douſt no more, but him with words moleſt A foulyſhe foull that thou wart ded, he takes it for the beſt? Clytemneſtra. Knele downe. Yf euer aney pytie was, of mother plante in the, Let it apeare Horeſtes myne, and ſhowe it vnto me. Horeſtes. What pyttie thou on father myne, dydeſt curſedley beſtowe, The ſame to the at this preſent, I purpoſe for to ſhowe. Therfore Reuenge haue her a way, and as I iudgment gaue: So ſe that ſhe in order lyke, her puniſhment dew haue. Let Clytemneſtra wepe and go out reueng alſo Vyce. Let me alone, com on a way, that thou weart out of ſight, A peſtelaunce on the crabyd queane, I thinke thou do delyght, Him to moleſt, com of in haſt, and troubell me no more, Come on com on, ites all in vaine, and get you on a fore, Horeſtes. Now ſyeth we haue the conqueſt got, of all our mortall foſe, Let vs prouide that occaſion, we do not chaunce to loſe. Stryke vp your droumes for enter now, we wyll the citie gate For nowe reſeſtaunce none there is, to let vs in thereat. Enter in fame & let all ye ſodyers folow him in araye. Fame. As eache man bendes him ſelfe, ſo I report his fame in dede, Yf yll, thē yll, through iarne trūp, his fame doth ſtraigh proſede: Yf good, then good, through golden trūp, I blo his lyuely fame: through heauēs, throgh earth, & ſurgīg ſeaſe I bere abrod ye ſame perhaps what wind me heather driues, wtin your mid̄s you muſe From Crete I com to you my frends, I bring this kind of newſe That Agamemnons brother is ariuyd in this land, And eke with him his ladey fayre, Quene Helen vnderſtand. Whom for to ſe a great frequent, of people their aryue, This newſe to ſhew at this preſent, me heather now dyd driue. enter the Vyce ſinging this ſonge. Vyce. A Newe maſter, a newe, No lenger I maye: Abyde by this daye Horeſtes now doth rew. A new maſter a new, And was it not yll? His mother to kyll? I pray you how ſaye you? A new maſter a new, Nowe ites to late? To ſhut the gate? Horeſtes gines to rew. Fame. Deniꝙ non paruas animo dati gloria vires: Et foecunda facit pectora laudis amor. As Ouid ſayeth I am in dede, the ſpure to each eſtate, For by my troumpe I often cauſe the wicked man to hate, Is fylthey lyfe, and eke I ſtoure, the good more good to be: So much the hart and will of man, is lynked vnto me. Vyce. A new maſter a new, naye I wyll go, Tout, tout, Horeſtes is be com a newe man: Now he ſorroweth to bad that it is ſo, Yet I wyll oreſſe him, by his oundes and I can. Who Saintie amen. God morrowe myſtres Nan, By his oundes I am glad to ſe the ſo trycke, Nay may I be ſo bould, at your lyppes to haue a lycke. Ieſus how coye, do you make the ſame, You neauer knew me afore I dare ſaye: In fayth, in fayth, I was to blame, That I made no courchey to you by the waye. Who berladye Nan, thou art trym and gaye, Woundes of me, ſhe hath winges alſo, Who whother with a myſchefe, douſt thou thinke for to go? To heauen? or to hell? to pourgatorye? or ſpayne? To Venys? to pourtugaull? or to the eylles Canarey? Nay ſtay a whyle for a myle or twayne. I wyll go with the, I ſweare by ſaynt marey, Wylt thou haue a bote Nan, ouer ſeay the to carey. For yf it chaunce for to rayne, as the weathers not harde, It may chaunce this trym geare of thine, to be marde, Fame. Omnia ſi perdis, famam ſeruare memento, Qua ſemel amiſsa, poſtia nullus eris. Aboue eache thinge kepe well thy fame, what euer yt thou loſe For fame once gone they memory, with fame a way it goſe. And it once loſt thou ſhalt in ſouth, accomptyd lyke to be, A drope of rayne that faulyth in, the boſom of the ſée, Me fame therfore as Ouid thinkes, no man hath powre to hold, To thoſe with whom I pleaſe to dwell, I am more rich thē gold What cauſid ſom for countris ſoyle, them ſelues to perrell caſt But that the knew that after death, ye fame of thers ſhall laſt. Not on, but all, do me deſiare, both good and bad lykewyſe, As maye apeare yf we perpend, of Neroſe enterpryſe. Which firſt did cauſe his maſters death, & eke wheras he laye In mothers wound to ſe in ſouth, his mother dyd ſtraight ſlay. With this Horeſtes eke takes place, whoſe father being ſlayn, throgh mothers gile frō mothers blod, his hāds could not refraīe But lyke as he reuengyd the death, of father in his eyare, So fathers brother in lyke ſort, Reuenge hath ſet on fyare. For he is gon for to requeſt, the ayde of prynces great, So ſore his hart is ſet on fyare, throught raging rigorus heat. What to detarmayne all the kynges, of Grece aryued be, At Neſtores towne that Athens highte, their iudgment to decre Vyce. Oundes harte and nayles, naye now I am dreſt, Is the kinge Menalaus at Athenes aryued? And I am be hind? to be packinges the beſt, Leaſt the matter in ſouth, to ſone be contryued. Auxilla humilia firma, conſenſus facit, this allwayes prouided That conſent maketh ſuckers moſt ſure for to be, Well I wyll be their ſtrayght, wayſe you ſhall ſe. Go out. Fame. As Publius doth well declare, we ought chefeſt to ſe, Vnto our ſelues that nought be don, after extremite. Abalio expectes, alteri quod feceris. For loke what meſure thou doſt meate, ye ſame againe ſhalbe, At other tyme at others hand, repayde againe to the. Therefore I wyſhe eache wight to do, to others as he would, That they in lyke occaſion, vnto him offer would. Wel forth I muſt ſom newſe to here, for fame no where cā ſtay But what ſhe hears throughout ye would abrod ſhe doth diſplay Go out. Prouicion. Make roume and gyue place, ſtand backe there a fore, For all my ſpeakinge, you preſſe ſtyll the more. Gyue rome I ſaye quickeley, and make no dalyaunce, It is not now tyme, to make aney taryaunce: The kinges here do com, therefore giue way, Or elles by the godes, I wyll make you I ſaye. Lo where my Lord Kynge Neſtor doth com, And Horeſtes with him Agamemnons ſonne: Menelaus a kyng lykewyſe, of great fame, Make rome I ſaye, before their with ſhame. Neſtor. Nowe ſyeth we be here Kynge Menalaij Vnto vs we praye you, your matter to ſaye. For theſe prynces here, after they haue perpendyd, If ought be amys, it ſhall be amendyd, But ſyrra prouiſion, go in haſte and fet, Good kynge Idumeus, tell him we are ſet. Go out. Prouiſion. Pauſe a while till he be gon out & thē ſpeak tretably. As your gracis haue wylled, ſo tend I to do, I wyll fetche him ſtrayght, and bringe him you to. Horeſtes. If ought be amys, the ſame ſone ſhall be, If I haue commytted amendyd of me: But ſo Idumeus the good kyng of Crete, Is come to this place, vs for to mete. Enter Idumius & prouiſion comming wt his cap in his hād a fore him & making waye. Idumeus. The Gods preſarue your gracis all, & ſend you health for aye. Neſtor. Well com ſier kinge the ſame to ye, contynewalley we pray. Menalaus. Two thīgs ther is o kings, ye moues me thus your ayds to pray: And theſe be it the which to you, I purpoſe for to ſaye. The one is this where with I fynde, my ſelfe agreuid to be, That on ſuch ſort my ſyſters ſlayne, as all your gracis ſe. The other is that ſo her ſonne, without all kind of right, Should to his mother in ſuch caſe, (I ſay) worke ſuch diſpight. Theſe two be they, wherfore I craue, your ayds to ioyn wt me: To the intent of ſuch great ylles, reuengyd I may be. That thus he dyd be hould the ſtate, of all my brothers land, And ſe I pray you in what place, the ſame doth preſent ſtand. His crueltie is ſuch in ſouth, as nether tower ne towne, That letted once his paſſage, but is brought vnto the ground. The fatherles he pyttyed not, where as he euer went, ye agyd wight whoſe yeres before, their youthly poure had ſpent The mayd whoſe parentes at the ſege, defending of their right Was ſlaine, ye ſame this tyrant hath opreſſyd through his might The wido yt through forrayne wars, was left now comfortles, He ſpared not, but them & theres, he cruelly dyd dyſtres. Wherfore ſith that he thus hath wrought, as far as I can ſée, From Mycoene land we ſhould prouid, him exylyd to be. Horeſtes, Syth that you haue accuſyd me, I muſt my aunſwere make, And here before theſe kings of Grece, this for my aunſwer take O ounckel that I neuer went, reuengment for to do, On fathers foſe tyll by the godes, I was comaund there to. Whoſe heaſtes no man dare once refuſe, but wyllingly obaye That I haue ſlayne her wylfully, vntruely you do ſaye. I dyd but that I could not chuſe, ites hard for me to kycke, Syth gods commaund as on would ſay, in fayth againſt ye prick In that you ſay, I ſparyd none, your grace full well may ſe, That lyttell mercy they ſuppoſyd, in ſouth to ſhow to me. When as they bad me do my worſt, requeſting them to yeld, It is no ieſt when ſodyares ioyne, to fight within a felde. Thus I ſuppoſe ſufficiently, I aunſwerd haue to end, Your great complaynt, the which you ſo, mightely did defend. Idumeus. In dede as Hermes doth declare, no man can once eſtew, The iudgment of god moſt iuſt, that for his fautes is dew. And as god is moſt mercyfull, ſo is he iuſt lyke wyſe. And wyll correcte moſt ſuerley thoſe, that his heaſtes diſpyſel Neſtor. As you good Kyng Idumeus, haue ſayd ſo lykewiſe I, Do thinke it trew therefore as nowe, I do him here defye. That one dare ſay yt he hath wrought, ye thing yt is not right Lo here my gloue to him I giue, in pledge with him to fyght. I promys here to proue there by, Horeſtes nought dyd do, But that was iuſt & that the gods, commaundyd him there to▪ That he is kinge of Mycoene land, who euer do deney. I offer here my gloue with him, therfore to lyue and dye. Yf none therebe wyll vnder take, his tyghfull to with ſaye. Let vs be frendes vnto him nowe, my Lordes I doye praye. It was the parte of ſuch a knyght, reuengyd for to be, Should Horeſtes content him ſelfe, his father ſlayne to ſe. No, no, a ryghtuous facte I thinke, the ſame to be in dede, Syeth that it was accomplyſht ſo, as godes before decrede. Menelaus. In dede I muſt confeſſe that I, reuengyd ſhould haue be, If that my father had byn ſlayne, with ſuch great cruelte. But yet I would for natures ſake, haue ſpard my mothers lyfe O wretched man, o cruell beaſt, o mortall blade and knyfe. Idumeus. Seaſe of ſyr kyng leaue morning lo, nought can it you auaylle Not with ſtanding be rulyd now, we pray by our counſaylle. Conſider firſt your one eſtate, conſider what maye be, A ioyefull mene to end at leyngth, this your calamytie. Horeſtes he is younge of yeares, and you are ſomwhat olde, And ſorrowe may your grace to ſone, within her net in folde, Therefore ites beſt you do forget, ſo ſhall you be at eaſe, And I am ſure Horeſtes wyll, indeuor you to pleaſe, So far as it for him may be, with honor lefe to do, He wyll not ſhrynke but wyll conſent, your gracis bydding to For aſſuraunce of your good wyll, Horeſtes here doth craue, your daughter fayre Hermione, in maryage for to haue. Thereby for to contynew ſtyll, true loue and amytie, That ought in ſought betwixte to ſuch, indefferent for to be. Menalaus. As for my frendſhyp he ſhall haue, the godes his helper be But for my daughters maryage, I can not graunt to be. She is but yong and much vnfet, ſuch holy ryghtes to take, Therefore ſyr kyngs at this preſent, no aunſwere I can make. Neſtor. She is a dame of comley grace, therefore kyng Menalaye, Graunt this to vs this ſtryfe to end, o kyng we do the praye. For eache of them a grede be the other for to haue, Good ſyr graunt this that at thy handes, ſo iuſtley we do craue Menalaus. O Nobell king what that it were, I could not you denaye, I muſt nedes graunt whē nought I haue, againſt you to repley Horeſtes here before theſe kinges, my ſonne I the do make, Horeſtes. And the o kynge whyle lyfe doth laſt, for father I do take. Neſtor. Ryght ioyfull is this thinge to vs, and happey for your ſtate, Therfore with ſpede let vs go hence, the maryage to ſeleybrate And all the godes I praye preſarue, & kepe you both from wo, Com on ſyr king, ſhall we from hence, vnto our pallace go. Menalaus. As if ſhall pleaſe your grace in dede, ſo we conſent to do, Idumeus. And we lykewyſe oh gratious Prynce, do condiſend there to. go out all Vyce entrith wt a ſtaffe & a bottell or dyſhe and wallet. Reuenge. I woulde I were ded, and layde in my graue, Oundes of me, I am trymley promouted: Ah, ah, oh, well now for my labor, theſe trynketes I haue? Whyſe you not I praye you, how I am flouted. A bagge and a bottell, thus am I louted? Eache knaue now a dayes, would make me his man, But chyll maſter them, I be his oundes and I can. A begginge, a begginge, nay now I muſt go, Horeſtes is maryed, god ſend him much care: And I Reuenge, am dryuen him fro. And then ites no maruayll, though I be thus bare. But peace, who better then beggars doth fare. For all they be beggares, and haue no great port, Who is meryer, then the pooryſte ſort. What ſhall I begge? nay thates to bad, Is their neare a man, that a ſaruaunt doth lacke: Of myne honeſtye gentle woman, I would be glad? You to ſarue but for clothes, to put on my backe. A waye with theſe rages, from me the ſhall packe. Put of ye beggares cote & all thy thynges. What thinke you ſcorne, me your ſeruaunt to make, A nother wyll haue me, yf you me for ſake. Parhappes you all meruayll, of this ſodayne mutation, How ſene I was downe, from ſo hye a degre: To ſatiſfye your myndes, I wyl yuſe a perſwation. This one thinge you knowe, that on caulyd amyte, Is vnto me reuenge moſt contrarey. And we twayne to geather, could not abyde, Whych cauſyd me ſo ſone, from hye ſtate to ſlyde. Horeſtes and his ounckell, Kynge Menalaus, Is made ſuch ſure frendes, without paraduenture, Through the pollycye, of olde Idumeus? That as, far as I can ſe, it is to hard to enter, Ye and thates worſſe, when I ſought to venture. I was dryuen with out comfort, awaye from their gate, I was glad to be packinge, for feare of my pate. Yet befor I went, my fancey to pleaſe, The maryage ſelebratyd, at the church I dyd ſe, Wyllinge I was, them all to dyſeaſe: But I durſt not be ſo bold, for maſter Amyte. Sot by Menalaus, and bore him companye, On the other ſyde Dewtey with Horeſtes boure ſwaye. So that I could not enter, by no kynde of waye? Well ſyeth from them both, I am bannyſhyd ſo, I wyll ſeke a new maſter, yf I can him finde: Yet I am in good comfort, for this well I knowe, That the moſt parte of wemen, to me be full kynde, Yf they ſaye near a worde, yet I knowe their mynde. Yf they haue not all thinges, when they do deſiare, They wyll be reuengyd, or elles lye in the myare. Nay I knowe their quallytes, the leſſe is my care, As well as they do knowe, Reuengys operation, Ye faull to it good wyues, and do them not ſpare. Nay Ille helpe you forward, yf you lacke but perſwacion. What man a moſte is frée, from inuaſion. For as playnely Socrates declareth vnto vs, Wemen for the moſt part, are borne malitious. Perhappes you wyll ſaye, maney on that I lye, And other ſume I am ſure, alſo wyll take my parte: Not withſtandinge what I haue ſayde, they wyll veryfye, ye and do it I wys, in ſpyght of thy hart. Yf therefore thou wyll lyue quyetlye, after their deſart? Reward then ſo ſhault, thou brydell their affection, And vnto they wyll, ſhall haue them in ſubiection. In Athenes dwellyd Socrates, the phylloſopher dyuine, Who had a wyfe namyd Exantyp, both deuelyſhe and yll: Which twayne beenge faulne out, vppon a tyme, Perhappe cauſe Exantyp, could not haue her wyll. He went out of dores, ſyttinge there ſtyll. She cround him with a pyſpot, and their he Was wet to the ſkynne, moſte pytifull to ſe. I praye god that ſuch dames, be not in this place, For then I might chaunce neare a miſtres to get, Nay yf ye anger them, they wyll laye you on the face, Or elles their nayles in your chekes, they wyll ſet, Nay lyke a raſor, fome of their nayles are whet. That not for to pare, but to cut to the bone, I count him moſt happeſt, that medelles with none. Well far you well, for I muſt be packinge, Remembar my wordes, and beare it in mynde? What ſuffer the myll, a whyle to be clackinge, Yf that you intend, aney eaſe for to fynde. Then wyll they be to you, both louinge and kinde. Farwell coſen cutpurſſe, and be ruled by me, Or elles you may chaunce, to end on a tre. Go out. Enter Horeſtes & Hermione Nobilytye and Cominyalte truth & Dewty Horeſtes. Syth yt the gods haue geuen vs grace, this realme for to poſſes Which floryſheth aboundauntlye, with gold & great riches. Let vs now ſe how much the wilds, & minde of all this land, Is vnto vs and of their ſtate, lykewyſe to vnderſtand. Hermione. I deme of them Horeſtes myne, that they contentyd be, With humbell hart for to ſubmyte, o kyng them ſelues to ye, Wherefore my loue inquiare, their ſtate this preaſente tyme, And of their hartes good wyll to vs, o king let them deuyne. Horeſtes. As I do loue the laydye bright, ſo eke I thynke in dede, That loue for loue as equallye, ſhalbe reward of mede. Hermione. The godes neuer prolonge my lyfe, that day I ſhall a peare, Let Dewty and Truth take ye crowne in their right hands. To breake my fayth to the now plyght, my louing lord ſo dere. Horeſtes. Com on my Lordes & commons eke, let me now vnderſtand, Of all your mindes for I deſiare, to know what caſe this land Doth now conſyſt voutſate the ſame, therfore to ſhew to me, And yf that ought be now a myſe, amendyd it ſhalbe. Nobelles. Moſt regall Prynce we now are voyd, of mortall wars vexatiō And through your grace we ar ioyned, in loue wt euery nation. So yt your nobelles may now lyue, in pleaſaunt ſtate ſartaine, Deuoyd of wars & ciuill ſtryfes, whyle yt your grace doth raine The which you may I pray the god, with happy days and blys And after death to ſend you there, where ioyſe ſhall neuer mys. Let truth & Dewty Crowne Horeſtes. As ſyne of our obedyence, lo Dewty doth the Crownd, And Truth alſo which doth me bynd, they ſubiecte to be found. Horeſtes. My Nobels all I gyue you thankes, for this now ſhowed to me And as you haue ſo eke wyll I, the lyke ſhow vnto ye. My cōmons how goſe it wt you, your ſtate now let me know, Commons. Where as ſuch on as you do raine, there nedes muſt riches gro We are o king eaſyd of the yoke, which we haue ſo deſiard. The ſtate of this our common welth, nede not to be inquiard. Peace, welth, ioye, and felycitie, o kinge it is we haue, And what thing is their yt which, ſubiects ought more to craue Horeſtes. Syeth all thinges is in ſo good ſtate, my commons as you ſaye That it may ſo contynew ſtyll, the ſacred godes I praye. And as to me your truſteynes, ſhall anye wayes be found, So ſtyll to mayntayne your eſtate, I ſureley ſhalbe bound. And for your faythfull harts, the which you graūted haue to me Both you my lordes, and commons eke, I thanke you hartele. Therfore ſith time wil haue an end, & now my mind you know Let vs giue place to tyme, and to our pallaſe let vs go. Nobelles. We both wil waight vpon your grace, yft pleaſe you to depart Commons. Eeuen when you pleaſe to waigh you on I ſhall wt all my hart go out all & let truth & Dewtye ſpeake. Truth. A kyngdome kept in Amyte, and voyde of diſſention, Ne deuydyd in him ſelfe, by aney kynde of waye, Neather prouoked by wordes, of reprehention, Muſt nedes long contynew, as Truth doth ſaye. For deſention and ſtryfe, is the path to decaye. And continuinge therein, muſt of neſecttie, Be quight ruinate, and brought vnto myſerye. Dewtey. Where I Dewtey am neclected, of aney eſtate. Their ſtryfe and dyſſention, my place do ſupplye: Cankred mallyſe pryde, and debate, Therefore to reſt, all meanes do trye. Then ruin comes after, of their ſtate whereby, They are vtterly extynguyſhed, leuinge nought behynde, Whereof ſo much as their, name we maye fynde. Truth. He that leadeth his lyfe, as his phanſey doth lyke, Though for a whyle, the ſame he may hyde: Yée Truth, the daughter of Tyme, wyll it ſeke, And ſo in a tyme, it wyll be diſcryde. Yet in ſuch tyme as it can not, be denyed? But receaue dew punniſhment, as god ſhall ſe, For the faute commytted, moſt conuenient to be. As this ſtorye here hath, made open vnto ye, Which yf it haue byn marked, much prophet may aryſe? For as Truth ſayth, nothinges wryten be, But for our learninge, in anye kynde of wyſe. By which we may learne, the yll to diſpyſe, And the truth to imitate, thus Truth doth ſaye: The which for to do, I beſech God we maye. Dewtey. For your gentle pacience, we geue you thankes hartely, And therefore our dewtey weyed, let vs all praye, For Elyzabeth our Quene, whoſe gratious maieſtie: May rayne ouer vs, in helth for aye, Lyke wyſe for her councell, that each of them maye. Haue the ſpyryte of grace, their doinges to dyrecte, In ſettinge vp vertue, and vyce to correcte. Truth. For all the Nobylytie, and ſpiritualtie, let vs praye, For Iudges, and head officers, what euer they be: According to oure boundaunt dewties, eſpetially I ſaye, For my Lord Mayre, lyfetennaunt of this noble Cytie. And for all his brytherne, with the cominualtie. That eache of them, doinge their dewties a ryght, May after death poſſes heauen, to their hartes delyght. Finis. ꝙ. I. P.