CHORUS

IF greedy lust of men ambitious eye (That thirsteth so for sway of earthly things) Would eke foresee, what mischiefs grow thereby, What careful toil to quiet state it brings, What endless grief from such a fountain springs: Then should he swim in seas of sweet delight, That now complains of Fortune's cruel spite. For then he would so safely shield himself With sacred rules of wisdoms sage advise, As no alluring train of trustles pelf, To fond affects his fancy should entice, Then wary heed would quickly make him wise: Where contrary (such is our skillesse kind) We most do seek, that most may hurt the mind. Amid the troop of these unstable toys, Some fancies lo to beauty most be bent, Some hunt for wealth, and some set all their joys, In regal power of princely government, Yet none of these from care are clean exempt For either they be God with grievous toil, Or in the end forgone with shameful fail. This flitting world does firmly nought retain, Wherein a man may boldly rest his trust, Such fickle chance in fortune does remain, As when she lust, she threatens whom she lust, From high renown to throw him in the dust: Thus may we see that eke triumphing joy By Fortune's frown is turned to annoy. Those elder heads may well be thought to err, The which for easy life and quiet days, The vulgar sort would seem for to prefer. If glorious Phoebe, withhold his glistering rays, From such a peer as crown and sceptre sways, No me vail though he hide his heavenly face, From us that come of less renounied raze. Selde shall you see the ruin of a Prince, But that the people eke Like brunt do bear, And old records of ancient time long since, From age to age, yea almost every where, With proof hereof hath glutted every ear: Thus by the follies of the princes heart, The bounden subject still receiveth smart. Lo, how unbridled lust of private reign, Hath pricked both the brothers unto war: Yet Pollinyce, with sign of less disdain, Against this land hath brought from countries far, A foreign power, to end this cruel jar, Forgetting quite the duty, love, and zeal, He ought to bear unto this common weal. But whosoever gets he victory, We wretched dams, and thou Oh noble town, Shall feel thereof the woeful misery Thy gorgeous pomp, thy glorious high renown, Thy stately towers, and all shall fallen a down, Sith raging Ma S will each of them assist In others breast to bath his bloody fist. But son of , and of Jove, (That tamde the proud attempt of giants strong) Do thou defend, even of thy tender love, Thy humble thralls from this afflicting wrong, Whom wast of war hath now tormented long: So shall we never fail ne day ne night With reverence endue thy praises to resight. Oh Fierce and furious God, whose harmful heart, Rejoices most to shed the guiltless blood, Whose heady will does all the world subvert, And does envy the pleasant merry mood, Of our estate that erst in quiet stood, Why dost thou thus our harmless town annoy, Which mighty Bacchus governed in joy? Father of war and death, that dost remove With wrathful wreck from woeful mother's breast, The trusty pledges of their tender love, So grant the Gods, that for our final rest, Dame Venus pleasant looks may please Thee best, Whereby when thou shalt all amazed stand, The sword may fallen out of thy trembling hand. And thou mayest prove some other way full well The bloody prowess of thy mighty spear, Wherewith thou raisest from the depth of hell, The wrathful sprites of all the furies there, Who when they wake, do wander every where, And never rest to rang about the coasts, Enrich that pit with spoil of damned ghosts. And when thou hast our fields forsaken thus, Let cruel discord bear Thee company, Engirded with snakes and serpents venomous, Even she that can with read vermilion die The gladsome green that flourished pleasantly, And make the greedy ground a drinking cup, To suy the blood of murdered bodies up. Yet thou return Oh joy and pleasant peace, From whence thou didst against our will depart, Ne let thy worthy mind from travel cease, To chase disdain out of the poisoned heart, That raised war to all our pains and smart, Even from the breast of Oedipus his son, Whose swelling pride hath all this jar begun. And thou great God, that does all things decree And sittest on high above the starry skies, Thou chiefest cause of causes all that be, Regard not his offence but hear our cries, And speedily redress our Misery's, For what can we poor woeful wretches do But crave thy aid, and only cleave thereto? WHen she that rules the rolling wheel of chance, Does turn aside his angry frowning face, On him, whom erst she deigned to advance, She never leaves to galled him with disgrace, TO toss and turn his state in every place, Till at the last she hurl him from on high And yield him subject unto misery: And as the branch that from the root is reft, He never wins Like life to that he left: Yea though he do, yet can no taste of joy Compare with pangs that passed in his annoy. Well did the heavens ordain for our behoof Necessity, and fa es by them allowde, That when we see our high mishaps aloof (As though gh our eyes were muffled with a cloud) Our froward will does shrink it self and shroud From our avail, wherewith we run so far As none a ends can make that we do mar: Then draws evil happen & strives to show his stre ̄ gth, And such as yield unto his might, at length He leads them by necessity the way That destiny prepared for our decay. The Mariner amid the swelling seas Who seeth his bark with many a billow beaten, Now here, now there, as wind and waves best please, When thundering Jove with tempest list to threaten, And dreads in worser pest gulf for to be eaten, Yet learns a mean by mere necessity To save him self in such extremity: For when he sees no man hath wit nor pour To fly from fate when fortune list to lower, His only hope on mighty Jove does cast, Whereby he wins the wished haven at last. How found is that man in his fantasy, Who thinks that Jove the maker of us all, And he that tempers all in heaven on high, The sun, the moan, the stars celestial, So that no leaf without his leave can fallen, Hath not in him omnipotence also To guide and govern all things here below? Oh blinded eyes, Oh wretched mortal wights, Oh subject sl ves to every evil that lights, To escape such woe, such pain, such shame and scorn, Happy were he that never had been born. Well might duke Creon driven by destiny, If tr it be that old Tyresia's says, Redeem our city from this misery, By his consent unto Meneceus death, Who of him self would feign have lost his breath, "But every man is loath for to fulfil "The heavenly hest that pleases not his will: "That public weal must needs to ruin go "Where private profit is preferred so. Yet mighty God, thy only aid we crave, This town from siege, and us from sorrow save. Who so hath elt, what fervent love A mother bears unto his tender sons, She and none other sure, can comprehend The doleful grief, the pangs and secret pain, That presently does pierce the princely breast Of our afflicted Queen: alas, I think No martyrdom might well compare with hers. So oft as I record his restless state, Alas me thinks I feel a shivering fear Flit to and from along my flushing veins. Alas for ruth, that thus two brothers should, Enforce themselves to shed each others blood. Where is the laws of nature now become? Can flesh of flesh, alas, can blood of blood, So far forget it self, as slay it self? Oh lowering stars, Oh dim and angry skies, Oh guilty fate, such mischief set aside. But if supernal powers decreed have, That death must be the end of this debate, Alas what floods of tears shall then suffice, To weep and wail the near approaching death: I mean the death of sons and mother both, And with their death the ruin and decay, Of Oedipus and all his princely raze? But lo, here Creon continued ̄ mes with careful cheer. It's time that now I end my joust complaint. Oh Blissful concord, bred in sacred breast Of him that guides the restless rolling sky, That to the earth for men assured rest From heighth of heavens vouchsafest down to fly, In Thee alone the mighty power does lie, With sweet accord to keep the frowning stars And every planet else from hurtful wars. In Thee, in Thee such noble virtue bides, As may command the mightiest Gods to bend, From Thee alone such sugared friendship flydes As mortal wights can scarcely comprehend, To greatest strife thou settest delightful end Oh holy peace, by Thee are only found The passing joys that every where abound. Thou only thou, through thy celestial might, Didst first of all the heavenly pole divide, From th'olde confused heap that Chao hight: Thou adest the Sun, the Moon, and stars to glide, With ordered course about this world so wide: Thou hast ordainde Dan Titans shining ight, By dawn of day to chase the darksome night. When tract of time returns the lusty Ver, By Thee alone, the buds and blossoms spring, The fields with flowers be garnished every where, The blooming trees, abundant fruit do bring, The cheerful birds melodiously do sing, Thou dost appoint, the crop of summer's seed For men relief, to serve the winter's need. Thou dost inspire the hearts of princely peers By providence, proceeding from above, In flowering youth to choose their worthy fears, With whom they live in league of lasting love, Till fearful death does flitting life remove: And look how fast, to death man pays his endue, So fast again, dost thou his stock renew. By Thee, the basest thing advanced is, Thou every where, dost graft such golden peace, As fills man, with more than earthly bliss, The earth by Thee, does yield his sweet increase At beck of Thee, all bloody discords cease, And mightiest Realms in quiet do remain, Whereas thy hand, does hold the royal reign. But if thou fail, then all things gone to wrack, The mother the , does dread his natural child, Then every town is subject to the sack, Then spotless maids, then virgins be defiled, Then rigor rules, then reason is exiled: And this, thou woeful Thebes, to our great pain, With present spoil, art likely to sustain. Me think I hear the wailfull weeping cries Of wretched dams, in every coast resound, Me thinks I see, how up to heavenly skies From battered walls, the thundering claps rebound Me think I hear, how all things go to ground, Me think I see, how soldiers wounded lie With gasping breath, and yet they can not die. By means whereof, o sweet Meneceus he, That gives for countries cause his guiltless life, Of others all, most happy shall he be: His ghost shall flit, from broils of bloody strife, To heavenly bliss, where pleasing joys be rife: And would to God, that this his fatal end From further plagues, our city might defend. Oh sacred God, give ear unto thy thrall, That humbly here upon thy name does call, Oh let not now, our faultless blood be spilled, For hight revenge of any others gilded. EXample here, lo take by Oedipus, You kings and princes in prosperity, And every one that is desirous To sway the seat of worldly dignity, How fickle is to trust in Fortune's wheel: For him, whom now she hoiseth up on hie, If so be chance on any side to reel, She hurls him down in twinkling of and eye: And him again, that grouleth now on ground, And lies low in dungeon of despair, His whirling wheel can heave up at a bound, And place aloft in stay of stately chair. As from the Sun the Moon withdraws his face, So might of man doth yield dame fortune place, "There is no love may be compared to that "The tender mother bears unto his child: "For even so much the more it doth increase, "As their grief grows, or contentations cease. "Who once hath passed the bounds of honstie "In earnest deeds, may pass it well in words. Oh mighty Gods of goodness, never grant Unto these evils, but set desired peace Between the hearts of these two friendly foes. God shield. Oh mighty God, the governor of Thebes, Pity with speed the pain Jocasta bides, And eke our needs, Oh mighty Bacchus help, Bend willing care unto our joust complaint: Leave them not comfortless that trust in Thee, We have nor gold nor silver Thee to give, Ne sacrifice to those thine altars endue, In steed whereof we confecrate our hearts To serve thy will, and hests for to obey. My Lord, your sister is gone forth long since, Into the camp, and with his Antigone His daughter deer. She understood, that for this realm forthwith His sons were greed in combat for to join. Oh cruel news, most cruel that can come, Oh news that might these stony walls provoke For tender ruth to burst in bitter tears, And so they would, had they the sense of man. Bewail ladies, alas good ladies wail This harden mischance, this cruel common evil, Ne henceforth hope for ever to rejoice. O wretched end of our unhappy Lords. Oh hard mishap we do not only hear The weary news of their un imely death, But eke we must with wailing eyes behold Their bodies dead, for look where they be brought. What stony heart could leave for to lament? Alas deer dame, let not thy raging grief Heap one mishap upon another's head. This dreary day is cause of many evils, Poor Oedipus, unto thy progeny. The Gods yet grant it may become the cause Of better happen to this afflicted realm. Oh worthy imp sprung out of worthy raze, Renowned Prince, whom we have looked for long, And now in happy hour art come to us, Some quiet bring to this unquiet realm. Oh Queen, Oh Queen, come forth and see thy son, The gentle fruit of all thy joyful seed. So grant the Gods, that for our common good You friendly may your sons both friends behold. Behold Oh Queen, behold Oh worthy Queen, Unworthy he, Eteocles here continued ̄ mes, So, would the Gods, that in this noble realm Should never long unnoble tyrant reign, Or that with wrong the right and doubtless heir, Should banished be out of his princely seat. Yet thou Oh Queen, so file thy sugared tongue, And with such counsel deck thy mother's tale, That peace may both the brother's hearts inflame And rancour yield, that erst possessed the same. None may deny, Oh peer of princely raze, But that thy words are honest, good and joust, And such as well be seem that ong of thine. Yea deer, too deer when it shall come too late, Good Gods, who ever saw so strange a sighed? True love and friendship both be put to flight.