CHORUS

Lo see that day suspected long, And whispered fame in all men's ears, With glistering pomp of brydall throng, To us poor wretches, now appears. And Claudius brood, Octavia's grace, From Neros wedlock place expelled, Departed is, whose spousal space, Hath Poppy conqueror long time held. The while, our piety couched lies Kept down with heavy, cumbrous fear, And slow revenging grief likewise: Where does the peoples power appear, That brake the force of princes great, That conquerous city laws hath framed, That worthy men to honours seat Preferred, that war and peace proclaimde, That savage people strange did tame That kings and princes caught in fight, Shut surely up in prison frame, To keep them close from all men's sight? Lo, which we can not once abide, To see, where Poppies image trim, Conjoined unto Neros side All glistering bright, shines very brim. Let force of arms pull down that frame And match with ground that ladies face Too likely carved to his name, And snatch his down from bedding place, And let it forthwith fly with brands With Darts and Javelins fiercely flung, From pythy brawns and sturdy hands, Unto the princes courtly throng. What sudden rage does Beatrice their broiling brain? Oh pippling puff of western wind, Which sacrifice didst once withstand, Of Iphigen to death assigned: And close in cloud congealed clad, Did carry his from smoking ears, Which angry, cruel Virgin had: This prince also oppressed with cares, Save from this painful punishment, To Dians temple safely born: The barbarous Moors to rudeness bent, Then Princes courts in Room forlorn, Have far more civil courtesy: For there does strangers death appease The angry Gods in heavens on High, But Roman blood, our Room must please What dare they do, their counsellors who are? Which Poppy now, with hold consent does hold? Alack, what made you cruel wars, in vain To move, sith prisoner love you can not gain? You can not him overcome, your fiery flame He recks not: his sirs overcomes the same. He darkened hath those thundering things that shake Heaven, Earth, Hell, Sea, all things y to makes to quake. Yea mighty Jove, in heaven that wears chief crown His flames from welkin High hath brought adown. And you, not victor's now, but vanquished, Shall ransom pay, the price of hearts blood read. Love, patient can not be, but hight in rage, No easy thing it is, his wrath assuage. Achilles worthy wight, that was so stout, To twang the Harp he made in Ladies rout, Prince Agamemnon stern that boy benumbed, And rabble rude of Greeks with love brands bummed. King Priam's reign he topsy turuis tossed, And goodly Cities great he chiefly lost. And now my mind soar frighted stands aghast, What Cupid's furious force brings us at last, The mortal brood the destinies guide: Them selves they nothing can assure, That certainly does steadfast bide: Which our last day of life, procure, (Whereof we always should beware,) Much dangerous chances for to try: Unto your troubled mind with care, Now many saumples do apply, Which your accursed court hath brought, To bolden you in all your broil: For what hath more your troubles wrought, What does against you sorer toil, Than fortune does? thee first of all, Agrippas child brought forth to life, Whom we Tyberius daughter call, By law, and eke Prince Caesars wife, Of many sons a careful dame, I cannot choose but now recount, Whose worthy, glorious, ample name, Throughout the world does much surmount. So oft with belly bolne that bore Desired fruits, and peaces pledge, Ere long thou sufferdst exiles care, Stripes, chains, and bolts of iron wedge, And mourning much, which so did frame, That death they caused Thee to abide. So Livia, Drusus lucky dame In male kind babes, did hedling slide, Into a cruel monstrous deed, And death soar piercing deadly dart. His Mother's fates does Julia speed, To follow straight with all his heart, Who after longer wasted time With bloody falchion keen, was slain, Although for no just cause, or crime. Your Mother eke that once did reign, Who then esteemed of Claudius well, Did wisely wielded his court at will, And fruitful was, as you can tell, What could not his desire fulfil? She sometime subject to his slave, To death was put with soldiers blade. What she, that casly hope might have, Tooth skies, his reign to rise have made, Prince Neros lusty parent great? First tossed with shipman's boisterous force, Then torn with sword in Princes heat, Did she not lie a senseless corpse?