OCTAVIA

Oh Nurse our dolours witness sure, By curroll cheeks dystilling rain, And heavy hearts complaint, endure. That sends this guiltless ghost to graven. In rule my state the destinies have, And not thy prayers, Oh Matron joust. The Lion fierce I shall appease, And sooner tame the Tiger stout, Than mankind tyrants brutish breast. He spites the noble razed rout, Contemnes high powers, disdains the least: Ne can well use that princely weed, Which venomous parent wrapped him in By huge unspeakable grisly deed. Although that wight unthankful, grin In Kingly throne, that he does reign, Through cruel cursed mother's aid: Although he pay with death again So great a gift, it shall be said, And after fates in long spent age, That woman wight shall have always, This eloge yet, and saying sage, That he by his does bear the sway. Dispatch he me least with this hand he fallen. But wondrous dolour, great and wrathful ire, And Misery's will it grant without desire. What, that he will by guylte once slain before, Alive again my brother Me restore? That court does wait another brood they say. And poor Britts death tugges me another way. Their minds so pressed to pleasure me, I know Great comfort bring: but do not slake my woe. But princes force does bear the greater sway. His minion brave can not so lead his life. But deer to make. Ere long she shall a mother eke be made. So far therein I dare most boldly wade. Nay, sooner shall the roaring frothy seas, And mounting, flashing flaws ymatch the sky, And smoking, stifling parching fire dry, With danckish pools agree, and watery fen. And griefly Plutos filthy feltered den, With starbright heaven shall sooner coupled been, And shining light, with gloomy shades agree, And with the clear dry day, the dewy night, Than unto servile lore of husband wight, That brutishwise in blood takes his delight, My heavy woeful mind can I address, While brother's death my heart does still possess. Oh that of heavenly powers the prince, and sire, That shogges & shakes the earth, with thundering fire And, with his wondrous fearful, cursed cracks, And strange misseshapen monsters which he makes, Our fearful musing minds does soar amaze, Would coin some cureless burning wyldefyre blaze, To pelt, and pash with thumping fire bright, That devilish pate, that cruel cursed wight. We saw from ̄ heaven, with beams forthshooting far, Doubtless a dreadful hairy, blazing star: That spouted forth a mortal fiery flake, Whose force a princes blood can only slake: Even where that hayting carman sloe Boot With chilling cold all stark, of frozen pole, Does guide aright Charles whirling running rote, In stead of night that never away does role. Lo, now the open air in every street, With doggish tyrants breath, is poisoned quite, And dreadful stars soon sudden death does threat. To people, ruled by wicked Neros sprite. So stern a freak, or mankind tyrant stout, Not Tellus with the Gods displeased brought out, When mighty Jove neglected, she up horlde, Huge, ugly, monstrous Typhon to the world. A sorer plague, a cleaner scouring scourge, With bloody paws that cities bounds does purge, Is Nero dire, this cruel, cursed wight, That does him self gainst God, and man ydyght: And thrusts from sacred shrines, their quiet port, And goodly temples gay, the sancted sort: That cities dwellers puts from countries fort: That hath hereft his brother of his life, And launched his mother's sides with gory knife: Yet does this present lightsome day enjoy, And leads his life, that does us soar annoy. Oh father of heaven, in vain why dost thou throw Thy great unvanquished rattling thunder blow Upon the whistling woods, and ample seas, With force of princely power thy wrath t'appease? On such and hurtful, and pernicious freak, Thy endue and joust conceived ire to wreak. Why stay thy mighty puissant braunes so long, Ere thou fling down, thy rattling cracking throng? Oh Lord that Nero once might pay the price, Of all his devilish deeds, and every vice, Whole wide world's tyrant stern, where he a stroke Does bear: which he over lades with burdenous yoke: Of princely sire born, but does defame, With beastly manners vile his princely name: Unworth he is, your spousal chamber place: But yet your destinies force, you must embrace: And well, abide your Fortune's crooked raze: Nor move unkindly Neros gauly ire. One day perchance, there will, as I desire, Some God revenge your lamentable case: And once, I trust, a gladsome day shall be, When you shall joy a Fresh in wonted place. Ah, no, now, long this court alas, we see With heavy wrath of Gods displeased ire Hath overcharged be: which Venus dire With Messalina's monstrous, ramping lust, She first hath brought down into the dust. Who madly married to prince Claudius grace, But little mindful then of that same case, And not regarding much appointed pain, With cursed cressets married once again. To which unlucky 'incestuall bridal bed, That drosell dire that furious slut Erin, With hanging hair about his hellish head, And gyrt with snakes with deadly step went in. And flaming broandes from spousal chamber catch, In both their bloods ybathde, hath quentched clean: And hath incensed prince Claudius burning thought, In bloody thratling stroke to pass all mean. My mother first of wretches all the most, With stripe of deadly sword gave up his ghost. And now extinguished quite left me forlorn, With dolours pining pangs and mourning worn. And after his in hellish term does hail, Unto the senseless souls of Plutos jail His make, and Britannic his son that way: And first this ruinous court did she betray. Where pull you me poor wretch? alas, Into what bannisht exiles place, Would Nero have Me for to pass, Or fortune bids, with frowning face? If now with fainting strength quite coolde, And with my broils all wearied cease, And longer life she grant me woolde, If that she work for to increase, My sorrows great with deadly dart, Why is she then so much my foe, In country that I may not partly, And leave my life before I go? But now no help of health I feel, Alas I see my Brother's boat: This is the same, whose vaulted keel, His Mother once did set a float. And now his piteous Sister I, Excluded clean from spousal place, Shall be so carried by and by: No force hath virtue in this case, No Gods there be my woes to wreck. The grisly, dreadful drab Erin, Does wielded the world at nod and beck, Who can lament my state, wherein I am, alas, sufficiently? How can Aëdon duly plain, My smarting streams of tears that I Do shed? whose wings I would be feign, If destinies would them grant, to wear. Then would I leave my mourning mates, As swiftly fled, as wings could bear, And so avoid these bloody pates. Then sitting sole in shirwood shirle, And hanging sure, by dandling twig With plaintive pipe I might out twirl My heavy tuned note so big. Lo me the tyrant stern will send To yrcksome shades, and hellish spirits. Why wretch do I the time thus spend? Draw me to death you to whose mights, False fortune hath bequeathed Me. I witness now the heavenly pour. What dost thou bedlam? leave to flee, With prayer to Gods, who on Thee lower. I call to witness Tartar deep, And sprites of Hell revenging freaks Of heinous facts, in dungeon steep, And Sire whom death deserved wreaks. I do not now repine to die, Deck up your ship, and hoist your sail, On frothing seas to winds on High: Let him that guides the helm not fail, To seek the shore of Pharian land.