And as for Philoctetes, that he is in Lemnos, IDeserve not to bee toucht therwith. Defend your cryme: for whyYou all consented therunto. Yit doo I not denye,But that I gave the counsell to convey him out of wayFrom toyle of warre and travell that by rest he myght assay To ease the greatnesse of his peynes. He did thereto obeyAnd by so dooing is alyve. Not only faythfull wasThis counsell that I gave the man, but also happye, asThe good successe hath shewed since. Whom sith the destnyes dooRequyre in overthrowing Troy, appoynt not mee thertoo: But let sir Ajax rather go. For he with eloquenceOr by some suttle pollycie, shall bring the man fro thenceAnd pacyfie him raging through disease, and wrathfull ire.Nay, first the river Simois shall to his spring retyre,And mountaine Ida shall theron have stonding never a tree, Yea and the faythlesse towne of Troy by Greekes shall reskewd bee,Before that Ajax blockish wit shall aught at all avayle,When my attempts and practyses in your affayres doo fayle.For though thou, Philoctetes, with the king offended bee,And with thy fellowes everychone, and most of all with mee, Although thou cursse and ban mee to the hellish pit for ay,And wisshest in thy payne that I by chaunce myght crosse thy way,Of purpose for to draw my blood: yit will I give assayTo fetch thee hither once ageine. And (if that fortune sayAmen,) I will as well have thee and eeke thyne arrowes, as I have the Trojane prophet whoo by mee surprysed was,Or as I did the Oracles and Trojane fates disclose,Or as I from her chappell through the thickest of her foesThe Phrygian Pallads image fetcht: and yit dooth Ajax stillCompare himself with mee. Yee knowe it was the destinyes will That Troy should never taken bee by any force, untillThis Image first were got. And where was then our valeant knightSir Ajax? Where the stately woordes of such a hardy wyght?Why feareth hee? Why dares Ulysses ventring through the watchCommit his persone to the nyght his buysnesse to dispatch? And through the pykes not only for to passe the garded wallBut also for to enter to the strongest towre of allAnd for to take the Idoll from her Chappell and her shryneAnd beare her thence amid his foes? For had this deede of myneBeene left undoone, in vayne his sheeld of Oxen hydes seven fold Should yit the Sonne of Telamon have in his left hand hold.That nyght subdewed I Troy towne. That nyght did I it win,And opened it for you likewyse with ease to enter in.Cease to upbrayd mee by theis lookes and mumbling woordes of thyneWith Diomed: his prayse is in this fact as well as myne. And thou thy selfe when for our shippes thou diddest in reskew stand,Wart not alone: the multitude were helping thee at hand.I had but only one with mee. Whoo (if he had not thoughtA wyseman better than a strong, and that preferment oughtNot alway followe force of hand) would now himself have sought This Armour. So would toother Ajax better stayed doo,And feerce Ewrypyle, and the sonne of hault Andremon too.No lesse myght eeke Idominey, and eeke Meriones,His countryman, and Menelay. For every one of theseAre valeant men of hand, and not inferior unto thee In martiall feates. And yit they are contented rulde to beeBy myne advyce. Thou hast a hand that serveth well in fyght.Thou hast a wit that stands in neede of my direction ryght.Thy force is witlesse. I have care of that that may ensew.Thou well canst fyght: the king dooth choose the tymes for fyghting dew By myne advyce. Thou only with thy body canst avayle.But I with bodye and with mynd to profite doo not fayle,And looke how much the mayster dooth excell the gally slave,Or looke how much preheminence the Capteine ought to haveAbove his souldyer: even so much excell I also thee.A wit farre passing strength of hand inclosed is in mee.In wit rests cheefly all my force. My Lordes, I pray bestoweThis gift on him who ay hath beene your watchman as yee knowe.And for my tenne yeeres cark and care endured for your sakeFull recompence for my deserts with this same honour make. Our labour draweth to an end, all lets are now by meeDispatched. And by bringing Troy in cace to taken beeI have already taken it. Now by the hope that yeeConceyve, within a whyle of Troy the mine for to see,And by the Goddes of whom alate our emnyes I bereft, And as by wisedome to bee doone yit any thing is left,If any bold aventrous deede, or any perlous thing,That asketh hazard both of lyfe and limb to passe to bring,Or if yee think of Trojane fates there yit dooth ought remayne,Remember mee. Or if from mee this armour you restrayne,Bestowe it on this same. With that he shewed with his handMinervas fatall image, which hard by in syght did stand.The Lords were moved with his woordes, and then appeared playneThe force that is in eloquence. The lerned man did gayneThe armour of the valeant. He that did so oft susteine Alone both fyre, and swoord, and Jove, and Hector could not bydeOne brunt of wrath. And whom no force could vanquish ere that tyde,Now only anguish overcommes. He drawes his swoord and sayes:Well: this is myne yit. Unto this no clayme Ulysses layes.This must I use ageinst myself: this blade that heretofore Hath bathed beene in Trojane blood, must now his mayster goreThat none may Ajax overcome save Ajax. With that woordInto his brest (not wounded erst) he thrust his deathfull swoord.His hand to pull it out ageine unable was. The bloodDid spout it out. Anon the ground bestayned where he stood, Did breede the pretye purple flowre uppon a clowre of greene,Which of the wound of Hyacinth had erst engendred beene.The selfsame letters eeke that for the chyld were written than,Were now againe amid the flowre new written for the man.The former tyme complaynt, the last a name did represent.

Ulysses, having wonne the pryse, within a whyle was sentTo Thoants and Hysiphiles realme, the land defamde of oldFor murthering all the men therin by women over bold.At length attayning land and lucke according to his mynd,To carry Hercles arrowes backe he set his sayles to wynd. Which when he with the lord of them among the Greekes had brought,And of the cruell warre at length the utmost feate had wrought,At once both Troy and Priam fell. And Priams wretched wifeLost (after all) her womans shape, and barked all her lyfeIn forreine countrye. In the place that bringeth to a streight The long spred sea of Hellespont, did Ilion burne in height.The kindled fyre with blazing flame continewed unalayd,And Priam with his aged blood Joves Altar had berayd.And Phebus preestesse casting up her handes to heaven on hye,Was dragd and haled by the heare. The Grayes most spyghtfully (As eche of them had prisoners tane in meede of victorye)Did drawe the Trojane wyves away, who lingring whyle they moughtAmong the burning temples of theyr Goddes, did hang aboutTheyr sacred shrynes and images. Astyanax downe was castFrom that same turret from the which his moother in tyme past Had shewed him his father stand oft fyghting to defendHimself and that same famous realme of Troy that did descendFrom many noble auncetors. And now the northerne wyndWith prosperous blasts, to get them thence did put the Greekes in mynd.The shipmen went aboord, and hoyst up sayles, and made fro thence. Adeew deere Troy (the women cryde), wee haled are from hence.And therwithall they kist the ground, and left yit smoking stillTheyr native houses. Last of all tooke shippe ageinst her willQueene Hecub: who (a piteous cace to see) was found amidThe tumbes in which her sonnes were layd. And there as Hecub did Embrace theyr chists and kisse theyr bones, Ulysses voyd of careDid pull her thence. Yit raught shee up, and in her boosom bareAway a crum of Hectors dust, and left on Hectors graveHer hory heares and teares, which for poore offrings shee him gave.Ageinst the place where Ilion was, there is another land Manured by the Biston men. In this same Realme did standKing Polemnestors palace riche, to whom king Priam sentHis little infant Polydore to foster, to th'ententHe might bee out of daunger from the warres: wherin he mentRyght wysely, had he not with him great riches sent, a bayt To stirre a wicked covetous mynd to treason and deceyt.For when the state of Troy decayd, the wicked king of ThraceDid cut his nurcechylds weazant, and (as though the sinfull caceToogither with the body could have quyght beene put away)He threw him also in the sea. It happened by the way, That Agamemnon was compeld with all his fleete to stayUppon the coast of Thrace, untill the sea were wexen calme,And till the hideous stormes did cease, and furious wynds were falne.Heere rysing gastly from the ground which farre about him brake,Achilles with a threatning looke did like resemblance make As when at Agamemnon he his wrongfull swoord did shake,And sayd: Unmyndfull part yee hence of mee, O Greekes, and mustMy merits thanklesse thus with mee be buryed in the dust?Nay, doo not so. But to th'entent my death dew honour have,Let Polyxene in sacrifyse bee slayne uppon my grave.Thus much he sayd: and shortly his companions dooing asBy vision of his cruell ghost commaundment given them was,Did fetch her from her mothers lappe, whom at that tyme, well neere,In that most great adversitie alonly shee did cheere.The haultye and unhappye mayd, and rather to bee thought A man than woman, to the tumb with cruell hands was brought,To make a cursed sacrifyse. Whoo mynding constantlyHer honour, when shee standing at the Altar prest to dye,Perceyvd the savage ceremonies in making ready, andThe cruell Neoptolemus with naked swoord in hand Stand staring with ungentle eyes uppon her gentle face,She sayd: Now use thou when thou wilt my gentle blood. The caceRequyres no more delay. Bestow thy weapon in my chest,Or in my throte: (in saying so shee proferred bare her brest,And eeke her throte). Assure your selves it never shalbee seene, That any wyght shall (by my will) have slave of Polyxeene.Howbee't with such a sacrifyse no God yee can delyght.I would desyre no more but that my wretched moother myghtBee ignorant of this my death. My moother hindreth mee,And makes the pleasure of my death much lesser for to bee. Howbeeit not the death of mee should justly greeve her hart:But her owne lyfe. Now to th'entent I freely may departTo Limbo, stand yee men aloof: and sith I aske but ryghtForebeare to touch mee. So my blood unsteyned in his syghtShall farre more acceptable been what ever wyght he bee Whom you prepare to pacifye by sacrifysing mee.Yit (if that these last woordes of myne may purchace any grace),I, daughter of king Priam erst, and now in prisoners cace,Beeseeche you all unraunsomed to render to my mootherMy bodye: and for buriall of the same to take none other Reward than teares: for whyle shee could shee did redeeme with gold.This sayd: the teares that shee forbare the people could not hold.And even the verry preest himself full sore ageinst his willAnd weeping, thrust her through the brest which she hild stoutly still.Shee sinking softly to the ground with faynting legges, did beare Even to the verry latter gasp a countnance voyd of feare.And when shee fell, shee had a care such parts of her to hyde,As womanhod and chastitie forbiddeth to be spyde.The Trojane women tooke her up, and moorning reckenedKing Priams children, and what blood that house alone had shed. They syghde for fayer Polyxeene: they syghed eeke for theeWho late wart Priams wyfe, whoo late wart counted for to beeThe flowre of Asia in his flowre, and Queene of moothers all:But now the bootye of the fo as evill lot did fall,And such a bootye as the sly Ulysses did not passeUppon her, saving that erewhyle shee Hectors moother was.So hardly for his moother could a mayster Hector fynd.Embracing in her aged armes the bodye of the myndThat was so stout, shee powrd theron with sobbing syghes unsoftThe teares that for her husband and her children had so oft And for her countrye sheaded beene. Shee weeped in her woundAnd kist her pretye mouth, and made her brist with shrekes to sound,According to her woonted guyse, and in the jellyed bloodBeerayed all her grisild heare, and in a sorrowfull moodSayd theis and many other woordes with brest bescratcht and rent:

O daughter myne, the last for whom thy moother may lament,(For what remaynes?) O daughter, thou art dead and gone. I seeThy wound which at the verry hart strikes mee as well as thee.And lest that any one of myne unwounded should depart,Thou also gotten hast a wound. Howbee't bycause thou wart A woman, I beleeved thee from weapon to bee free.But notwithstanding that thou art a woman, I doo seeThee slayne by swoord. Even he that kild thy brothers killeth thee,Achilles, the decay of Troy and maker bare of mee.What tyme that he of Paris shaft by Phebus meanes was slayne, I sayd of feerce Achilles now no feare dooth more remayne.But then, even then he most of all was feared for to bee.The asshes of him rageth still ageinst our race I see.Wee feele an emny of him dead and buryed in his grave.To feede Achilles furie, I a frutefull issue gave. Great Troy lyes under foote, and with a ryght great greevous fallThe mischeeves of the common weale are fully ended all.But though to others Troy be gone, yit standes it still to mee:My sorrowes ronne as fresh a race as ever and as free.I late ago a sovereine state, advaunced with such storeOf daughters, sonnes, and sonneinlawes, and husband over moreAnd daughtrinlawes, am caryed like an outlawe bare and poore,By force and violence haled from my childrens tumbes, to beePresented to Penelope a gift, who shewing meeIn spinning my appoynted taske, shall say: This same is shee That was sumtyme king Priams wyfe, this was the famous mootherOf Hector. And now after losse of such a sort of other,Thou (whoo alonly in my greefe my comfort didst remayne,)To pacifye our emnyes wrath uppon his tumb art slayne.Thus bare I deathgyfts for my foes. To what intent am I Most wretched wyght remayning still? Why doo I linger? WhyDooth hurtfull age preserve mee still alive? To what intent,Yee cruell Goddes, reserve yee mee that hath already spentToo manye yeeres, onlesse it bee new buryalls for to see?And whoo would think that Priamus myght happy counted bee Sith Troy is razed? Happy man is hee in being dead.His lyfe and kingdoome he forwent toogither: and this steadHe sees not thee, his daughter, slaine. But peradventure thouShall like the daughter of a king have sumptuous buryall now,And with thy noble auncetors thy bodye layd shall bee. Our linage hath not so good lucke. The most that shall to theeBee yeelded are thy moothers teares, and in this forreine landTo hyde thy murthered corce withall a little heape of sand.For all is lost. Nay yit remaynes (for whome I well can fyndIn hart to live a little whyle) an imp unto my mynd Most deere, now only left alone, sumtyme of many moThe yoongest, little Polydore, delivered late agoTo Polemnestor, king of Thrace, whoo dwelles within theis bounds.But wherefore doo I stay so long in wasshing of her wounds,And face berayd with gory blood? In saying thus, shee went To seaward with an aged pace and hory heare beerent.And (wretched woman) as shee calld for pitchers for to draweUp water, shee of Polydore on shore the carkesse sawe,And eeke the myghty wounds at which the Tyrants swoord went thurrow.The Trojane Ladyes shreeked out. But shee was dumb for sorrow. The anguish of her hart forclosde as well her speech as eekeHer teares devowring them within. Shee stood astonyed leekeAs if shee had beene stone. One whyle the ground shee staard uppon.Another whyle a gastly looke shee kest to heaven. AnonShee looked on the face of him that lay before her killd. Sumtymes his woundes, (his woundes I say) shee specially behilld.And therwithall shee armd her selfe and furnisht her with ire:Wherethrough as soone as that her hart was fully set on fyre,As though shee still had beene a Queene, to vengeance shee her bentEnforcing all her witts to fynd some kynd of ponnishment. And as a Lyon robbed of her whelpes becommeth wood,And taking on the footing of her emnye where hee stood,Purseweth him though out of syght: even so Queene Hecubee(Now having meynt her teares with wrath) forgetting quyght that sheeWas old, but not her princely hart, to Polemnestor went The cursed murtherer, and desyrde his presence to th'ententTo shew to him a masse of gold (so made shee her pretence)Which for her lyttle Polydore was hid not farre from thence.The Thracian king beleeving her, as eager of the pray,Went with her to a secret place. And as they there did stay, With flattring and deceytfull toong he thus to her did say:Make speede I prey thee, Hecuba, and give thy sonne this gold.I sweare by God it shall bee his, as well that I doo holdAlready, as that thou shalt give. Uppon him speaking so,And swearing and forswearing too, shee looked sternely tho, And beeing sore inflaamd with wrath, caught hold uppon him, andStreyght calling out for succor to the wyves of Troy at handDid in the traytors face bestowe her nayles, and scratched outHis eyes, her anger gave her hart and made her strong and stout.Shee thrust her fingars in as farre as could bee, and did bore Not now his eyes (for why his eyes were pulled out before)But bothe the places of the eyes berayd with wicked blood.The Thracians at theyr Tyrannes harme for anger wexing wood,Began to scare the Trojane wyves with darts and stones. AnonQueene Hecub ronning at a stone, with gnarring seazd theron, And wirryed it beetweene her teeth. And as shee opte her chappeTo speake, in stead of speeche shee barkt. The place of this missehappeRemayneth still, and of the thing there done beares yit the name.Long myndfull of her former illes, shee sadly for the sameWent howling in the feeldes of Thrace. Her fortune moved not Her Trojans only, but the Greekes her foes to ruthe: her lotDid move even all the Goddes to ruthe: and so effectually,That Hecub to deserve such end even Juno did denye.

Although the Morning of the selfsame warres had favorer beene:Shee had no leysure to lament the fortune of the Queene, Nor on the slaughters and the fall of Ilion for to think.A household care more neerer home did in her stomacke sink,For Memnon her beloved sonne, whom dying shee behildUppon the feerce Achilles speare amid the Phrygian feeld.She saw it, and her ruddy hew with which shee woonted was To dye the breaking of the day, did into palenesse passe:And all the skye was hid with clowdes. But when his corce was goneTo burningward, shee could not fynd in hart to looke theron:But with her heare about her eares shee kneeled downe beforeThe myghtye Jove, and thus gan speake unto him weeping sore: Of al that have theyr dwelling place uppon the golden skyeThe lowest (for through all the world the feawest shrynes have I)But yit a Goddesse, I doo come, not that thou shouldst decreeThat Altars, shrynes, and holydayes bee made to honour mee.Yit if thou marke how much that I a woman doo for thee, In keeping nyght within her boundes, by bringing in the light,Thou well mayst thinke mee worthy sum reward to clayme of ryght.But neyther now is that the thing the Morning cares to have,Ne yit her state is such as now dew honour for to crave.Bereft of my deere Memnon who in fyghting valeantly To help his uncle, (so it was your will, O Goddes) did dyeOf stout Achilles sturdye speare even in his flowring pryme,I sue to thee, O king of Goddes, to doo him at this tymeSum honour as a comfort of his death, and ease this hartOf myne which greatly greeved is with wound of percing smart. No sooner Jove hadgraunted dame Aurora her desyreBut that the flame of Memnons corce that burned in the fyreDid fall: and flaky rolles of smoke did dark the day, as whenA foggy mist steames upward from a River or a fen,And suffreth not the Sonne to shyne within it. Blacke as cole The cinder rose: and into one round lump assembling wholeGrew grosse, and tooke bothe shape and hew. The fyre did lyfe it send,The lyghtnesse of the substance self did wings unto it lend.And at the first it flittred like a bird: and by and byIt flew a fethered bird in deede. And with that one gan fly Innumerable mo of selfsame brood: whoo once or twyceDid sore about the fyre, and made a piteous shreeking thryce.The fowrth tyme in theyr flying round, themselves they all withdrewIn battells twayne, and feercely foorth of eyther syde one flewTo fyght a combate. With theyr billes and hooked talants keene And with theyr wings couragiously they wreakt theyr wrathfull teene.And myndfull of the valeant man of whom they issued beene,They never ceased jobbing eche uppon the others brest,Untill they falling both downe dead with fyghting overprest,Had offred up theyr bodyes as a woorthy sacrifyse Unto theyr cousin Memnon who to Asshes burned lyes.Theis soodeine birds were named of the founder of theyr stocke:For men doo call them Memnons birds. And every yeere a flockeRepayre to Memnons tumb, where twoo doo in the foresayd wyseIn manner of a yeeremynd slea themselves in sacrifyse. Thus where as others did lament that Dymants daughter barkt,Auroras owne greef busyed her, that smally shee it marktWhich thing shee to this present tyme with piteous teares dooth shewe:For through the universall world shee sheadeth moysting deawe.

Yit suffred not the destinyes all hope to perrish quyght Togither with the towne of Troy. That good and godly knyghtThe sonne of Venus bare away by nyght uppon his backeHis aged father and his Goddes, an honorable packe.Of all the riches of the towne that only pray he chose,So godly was his mynd: and like a bannisht man he goes By water with his owne yoong sonne Ascanius from the IleAntandros, and he shonnes the shore of Thracia which ere whyleThe wicked Tyrants treason did with Polydores blood defyle.And having wynd and tyde at will, he saufly wyth his trayneArryved at Apollos towne where Anius then did reigne.Whoo being both Apollos preest and of that place the king,Did enterteyne him in his house and unto church him bring,And shewd him bothe the Citie and the temples knowen of old,And eeke the sacred trees by which Latona once tooke holdWhen shee of chyldbirth travailed. As soone as sacrifyse Was doone with Oxens inwards burnt according to the guyse,And casting incence in the fyre, and sheading wyne thereon,They joyfull to the court returnd, and there they took anonRepaste of meate and drink. Then sayd the good Anchyses this:O Phebus, sovereine preest, onlesse I take my markes amisse, (As I remember) when I first of all this towne did see,Fowre daughters and a sonne of thyne thou haddest heere with thee.King Anius shooke his head wheron he ware a myter whyght,And answerd thus: O noble prince, in fayth thou gessest ryght.Of children fyve a father then, thou diddest mee behold, Whoo now (with such unconstancie are mortall matters rolld)Am in a manner chyldlesse quyght. For what avayles my sonneWho in the Ile of Anderland a great way hence dooth wonne?Which country takes his name of him, and in the selfsayd place,In stead of father, like a king he holdes the royall mace.Apollo gave his lot to him: and Bacchus for to showeHis love, a greater gift uppon his susters did bestoweThen could bee wisht or credited. For whatsoever theyDid towche, was turned into come, and wyne, and oyle streyghtway.And so theyr was riche use in them. As soone as that the fame Hereof to Agamemnons eares, the scourge of Trojans, came,Lest you myght tast your stormes alone and wee not feele the sameIn part, an hoste he hither sent, and whither I would or noDid take them from mee, forcing them among the Greekes to goTo feede the Greekish army with theyr heavenly gift. But they Escapde whither they could by flyght. A couple tooke theyr wayTo Ile Ewboya: tother two to Anderland did fly,Theyr brothers Realme. An host of men pursewd them by and by,And threatened warre onlesse they were deliverde. Force of feareSubdewing nature, did constreyne the brother (men must beare With fearfulnesse) to render up his susters to theyr fo.For neyther was Aenaeas there, nor valeant Hector (whoDid make your warre last ten yeeres long) the countrye to defend.Now when they should like prisoners have beene fettred, in the endThey casting up theyr handes (which yit were free) to heaven, did cry To Bacchus for to succour them, who helpt them by and by,At leastwyse if it may bee termd a help, in woondrous wyseTo alter folke. For never could I lerne ne can surmyseThe manner how they lost theyr shape. The thing it selfe is knowen.With fethered wings as whyght as snow they quyght away are flowen Transformed into doovehouse dooves, thy wyfe dame Venus burdes.When that the time of meate was spent with theis and such like woordes,The table was removed streyght, and then they went to sleepe.Next morrow rysing up as soone as day began to peepe,They went to Phebus Oracle, which willed them to go Unto theyr moother countrey and the coastes theyr stocke came fro.King Anius bare them companie. And when away they shoold,He gave them gifts. Anchises had a scepter all of goold.Ascanius had a quiver and a Cloke right brave and trim.Aenaeas had a standing Cup presented unto him. The Thebane Therses whoo had been king Anius guest erewhyleDid send it out of Thessaly: but Alcon one of MyleDid make the cuppe. And hee theron a story portrayd out.It was a Citie with seven gates in circuit round about,Which men myght easly all discerne. The gates did represent The Cities name, and showed playne what towne thereby was ment.Without the towne were funeralls a dooing for the dead,With herces, tapers, fyres, and tumbes. The wyves with ruffled headAnd stomacks bare pretended greef. The nymphes seemd teares to shead,And wayle the drying of theyr welles. The leavelesse trees did seare. And licking on the parched stones Goats romed heere and there.Behold amid this Thebane towne was lyvely portrayd outEchions daughters twayne, of which the one with courage stoutDid prefer bothe her naked throte and stomacke to the knyfe:And tother with a manly hart did also spend her lyfe, For saufgard of her countryfolk: and how that therupponThey both were caryed solemly on herces, and anonWere burned in the cheefest place of all the Thebane towne.Then (least theyr linage should decay whoo dyde with such renowne,)Out of the Asshes of the maydes there issued twoo yong men, And they unto theyr moothers dust did obsequies agen.Thus much was graved curiously in auncient precious brasse,And on the brim a trayle of flowres of bearbrich gilded was.The Trojans also gave to him as costly giftes agen.Bycause he was Apollos preest they gave to him as then A Chist to keepe in frankincence. They gave him furthermoreA Crowne of gold wherin were set of precious stones great store.