ULYSSES

Though I be made the messenger of heavy news to you, This one thing first I shall desire that you take this for true. That though the words come from my mouth, and I my message tell Of truth yet are they none of mine you may believe me well. It is the word of all the Greeks, and they the authors be, Whom Hector's blood does yet forbid their countries for to see. Our careful trust of peace unsure does still the Greeks detain, And evermore our doubtful fear yet drawth us back again. And suffers not our wearied hands, our weapons to forsake, In child yet of Andromacha, while Trojans comfort take. Dissemble not, hard is for thee Ulysses to deceive, I can full well the mother's crafts and subtlety perceive. The policy of Goddesses Ulysses hath undone. Set all these feigned words assyde, tell me where is thy son? Though Calchas nothing said Yet Hector tells it us himself, of whose seed are we frayed. The worthy blood of noble men oft times we see it plain, Does after in their heirs succeed and quickly springs again. For so the hornles youngling yet, of high and sturdy b ste, With lofty neck and branched brow, does shortly rule the rest. The tender twig that of the lopped stock does yet remain, To match the tree that bore the bough, in time starts up again With equal top to former wood the room it does supply, And spreads on soil allow the shade, to heaven his branches hie. Thus of one spark by chance yet left it happeneth so full oft. The fire hath quickly caught his force and flamth again aloft. So scare we yet least Hector's blood might rise er it be long, Fear casts in all th'extremity and oft interprets wrong. If you respect our case you may not blame these old soldiers Though after years and months twice slew, they fear again the wars. And other travails dreading Troy, not yet to be well won, A great thing does the Grecyans move, the fear of Hector's son. Rid us of fear, this stays our fleet, and plucks us back again, And in the haven our navy sticks, till Hector's blood be slain. Count me not Fierce for that by fates I Hector's son require, For I as well if chance it would Orestes should desire. But since that needs it must be so, bear it with patient heart: And Suffer that which Agamemnon suffered in good partly. Who most destres to die, would feignest live when death drawth on, These noble words with present fear of death would soon be gone. It is but vain to hide the thing that Straight you will deteckt No fears may move the mother's heart, she does them all neglect. This tender love you bear your child, wherein you stand so stout, So much more circumspectly warnth, the Greeks to look about. Least after ten years tract of time and battle born so far, Some one should live that on our children might renew the war, As for my self, what Calchas say, I would not fear at all But on Telemachus I dread, the smart of wars would fallen Thy grievous sorrows to redress, would God it lay in me, But at thy will to take delay of time I grant it thee. Now take thy last leave of thy Son, and fill thy self with tears. Oft times the weeping of the eyes, the inward grief out weaks. Thou shalt constrained be to tell the thing thou dost deny. With stripes with fire tormenting death we will the truth out wrest And dolour shall thee force to tell the secrets of thy breast. And what thy heart hath deepest hid for pain thou shalt express, Oft times th'extremity prevails much more then gentleness, By what assurance proves thou that? how shall we credit thee: She tre ̄ bleth lo: this way, this way I will the truth out wreaste, The mother's fear detecteth all the secrets of her breast: I will renew her fear go sirs bestir you speedily To seek this enemy of the Greeks where ever that he lie. Well done he will be found at length, go to still seek him out, Now shall he die. what dost thou fear why dost thou look about? It shall be done that Calchas words to us does prophecy, And now shall all the sumptuous work be thrown down utterly I will it all from top to bottom rend. This tomb abroad shall lie: Cease you: does rage and fury vain of women move you ought? Dispatch with speed what I command, & pluck down all to nought. Down quite withal. ¶Bring forth thy son and ask. Not Ulysses with his death, but Calchas prophecy. Ulysses manhood well to Greeks to much to you is known, I may not spend the time in words, our Navy will be gone There is no measure of thy tears I may no longer stay, Defer no further our return break of our ships delay. Then fully are the fates fulfilled with Hector's child's disceace. Now shall I bear the Grecians word, of sure and certain peace. Ulysses why what dost thou now the Greeks will every chone, Believe thy words, whom creditst thou? the mother's tale alone. Thinkest thou for safeguard of her child the mother will not lie? And dread the more the worse mischance to give her son to die? Her faith she binds with bound of oath, the truth to verify, What thing is more of weight to fear, then so to swear and lie? Now call thy crafts together all, bestir thy wits and mind, And show thy self Ulysses now, the truth herein to find. Search well thy mother's mind: behold she weeps and waileth out, And here and there with doubtful pace, she ranges all about, Her careful ears she does apply to harken what I say, More frayed she seems then sorrowful. Now work some wily way. For now most need of wit there is and crafty policy, Yet on e again by other means I will the mother try. Thou wretched woman mayest rejoice, that dead he is: (alas) More doleful death by destiny for him decreed there was. From Turrets top to have be cast and cruelly be slain. Which only tower of all the rest does yet in Troy remain. Sins that your child now hath you say already suffered death, And with his blood we may not purge the hosts as Caschas say. Our fleet pass not (as well inspired does Calchas prophecy) Till Hector's ashes cast abroad the waves may pacify. And tomb be rend now sins the boy hath skapt his destiny. Needs must we break this holy tomb where Hector's ashes lie. Now break of all thy mother's tears I may no more time spend. The grievous sorrows of thy heart will never make and end.