OLYMPIAS

Although this will but aggravate my woe, From whom the Fates all comfort now seclude: Yet do I reverence his remembrance so, That of my son to hear it does me good. And daughter now, to double my distress, Make me at length acquainted with his death: That sorrow may each partly of me possess, Sad news mine ears, tears eyes, and sighs my breath. Alas, alas, and so it proved in th'end, But who could fear a benefited friend? You needs not use those execrations more, Though Babylon of breath that prince deprived: Yet as and Oracle had told before, In Macedony was his death contrived. to Antipater was told, how diverse times The king against him had been moved to wrath: And doomed, as guilty of opprobrious crimes, His son in law Lincestes unto death. And he had herd the king did strictly try, How his Lieutenants had their places used: Still making all as traitors strait to die, That had the same in any sort abused. Then he that private was his own misdeeds, Had learned by others what he might expect: As whose ambitious breast in pride exceeds, And always did a sovereignty affect. But when Craterus was named to his place, And he in his required the wars t'attend: He thought that it was but a means embrace, To plague his pride with a deserved end. Then to prevent that, which I think was still More feared by him, then purposed by the king: With guilty thoughts best exercised in ill, He sought what might to death his sovereign bring. And this the traitor compassed at the last, As I alas, have learned (although too late) When to my son, his son Cassandra passed, As to congratulate his prosperous state. Then in his company he did retain, A poison powerful where it was employed: Whose violence no mettle could restrain, But in a horses hoof was still conveyed. He, and his brother then th'advantage watchde, And for their prince a cup of poison made: Thus he that never was by enemies matchde, Does by the treason of his friends lie dead. My son indeed I many a time advised, How that disloyal man strived to be great: But as a woman's wit, mine was despised, And wrested still unto the sense of hate. Yet of my son I thought the deeds were such, That t'admiration comed they passed envy: And that none durst his sacred person touch, On which the daunted world did whole rely. How oft have I those bitter throws allowde, By which I brought that demigod to light? And well I might of such a birth be proved, That made me glorious in the peoples sighed. Though diverse too, as I have sometime known, T'estrange his love from me did ways t'prepare: Yet were their slights by duteous love ore-t hrowne, And I respected with a reverent care. His tender love towards me was much extolde, Then when he sought t'establish a decree: That I amongst th'Imortalls might b'enrold, And as t'a Goddess, honours done to me. Ah, how can I this tragic time survive, That lost a son so great, a son so kind? And only means that make me now to live, Is with revenge, hope t'entertaine my mind. If but by hearing of his dolorous end, A stranger (once his captive) died for grief. Ah, shall his mother on new Hope's depend, As such a lose might look for some relief? And so I will, for it a great disgrace To me the mother of th'all conquering man: Like other women to give fortune place, And yield to misery as many can. Though grief at first must mollify me once, (Else as unnatural I might be admire) Yet will I not still burst my breast with groans, Than that of me more courage is require. I'll not degener from my generous kind, (Fainthearted hinds brought never Lion forth) Nor yet a mother of and abject mind, Had never born a monarch of such worth. And, Oh, who knows, but once the time may come, That I avenge my self a means may have? And may against these traitors yet move some, That with their blood may bath their sovereigns graven. Now on Perdicca's repose my trust, That with Eumenes would our wrongs redress: Their valour venturing in a cause so joust, Does by appearance promise good success. As those whose courage cannot be dismayed, Let us a faction study now to find: And while that pity does procure for aid, Go tune the peoples passion now t'our mind. Unless their love have perishde with his life, Of Alexander, in a high degree: I think the son, the mother, and the wife, Must of the Macedonians reverenced be. And this does with disdain my soul consume, That Arideus amongst other wrongs: And proved Eurydice his wife presume, To usurp those honours that but us belongs. Oh they shall find my fortune not so change, But I am able yet t'abate their pride: What? what? Olimpias must be revenged: That (save her self) a Queen disdains abide. CAn I be she whom all the world admire? As being the happiest Queen that reigned below? Whom all the planets have to plague conspire, Of fickle Fortune's course effects to show. No, t'is not I, nought could my course control, Nor force me thus t'attend another's will: Since I despise this prison of my soul, Where it disdains abide in bondage still. Ah, while I did on outward pomp rely, My state the pour of higher powers did tempt, My state that once bred reverence and envy: Though now it breed but pity and contempt. Olimpias once high as Olimpius stood, The wife of Philip Alexanders mother: That matched Alcides and Achilles blood, Engender one more worth than both together. Am I the woman whose maiestike state Seemed once so happy to deceived conceits? I, I am she, and never yet more great, Than at this present, in despite of Fates. A double bondage long did burden me, I to my self, my self to fortune thrall: But now captivity hath set me free, That could not rise till first I had a fallen. The sprite thats with prosperity benumbed, Scarce Like it self can to the world appear: When Virtue hath Adversity ore'com'd, Then shines true greatness in her highest sphere. Our glory now I see consists no more Without ourselves in eie-betraying shows, But in the breasts inestimable store, That neither Time entombs, nor Pour overthrows. Oh never were my thoughts enlarged till now, To mark my self, and quintessence my mind, For long a prey to pride, I know not how, A missed of fancies made my iudgemcnt blind. As those that dream sweet dreams, awaked, at last Do find their error when their eyes find light, Freed from the slumbering of my fortune passed, I now arise to judge of all things right. That cloud of pomp whose smoke me shadowd once, Lo now removed unmasks my life too late: And now I see, that sceptres, crowns, and thrones, Are burdenous badges of a dangerous state. Oh happy woman, of true pleasure sure, That in the country leadest a guiltless life: From Fortune's reach retired, obscure, secure, Though not a Queen, yet a contented wife. Thy mate more deer to thee than is the light, Though low in state, loves in a high degree: And with his presence still to bless thy sighed, Does scorn great courts while he lives courting thee. And as thou woundest him not with hid disgrace, He with no jealous thought torments thy breast: Thus both lie down to rest, and rise in peace, Then if they strive, they strive who should love best. But though thou have not as the mighty ones, Thy neck surcharge with chains (ah chains indeed) Nor cares weighed down with oriental stones, Nor robes, whole worth may admiration breed. So wantest thou that which we have ever had, Sad miscontentments, jealousy, and spite: And though thy back be not with purple clad, Thy thoughts are clad with innocencies quite. As Birds, whose cage of gold the sighed deceives, Do seem to sing while they but wail their state: So with the mighty matched, made glorious slaves, We happy seem while we but curse our fate. That bliss whose show in us vain eyes do please, Makes thee indeed a true contentment breathe, Thou spendest thy youth in mirth, thy age in ase, And knowest not what it is to die till death. Ah since I lived, I have done nought but die, Still when I seemed most blessed, then most accursed: Since on frail greatness first I did rely, How oft hath my swollen breast been Like to burst? The Fates with Fortune from my birth conspire, To make my life a pattern of their might: For both my parents from the world retired, When I was scarcely comed enjoy the light. The world may judge how I was justly grieved, While angry Philip sought for my disgrace, (A thing which once I scarce could have believed) And unto Cleopatra gave my place. Then though I long as desperate of relief, For his offence afflicted had my mind: Yet did his sudden death augment my grief, He was my husband, though he was unkind. And when my sons rare trophies, and renown, With wonder filled the world, and me with joy: Those as himself that strived to throw his down, Did to supplant my state their powers employ. Yet stood my courage when my fortune fell, And still I toilde distracted from repose: Those that had him betrayed from earth expel,, And with their blood to register my woes. And my designs a time so prosperd too, That some of them did try by torments strange, All what a woman's joust disdain could do, While spurred by jealousy, spite and revenge. But this archtraitor ruler of the rest, That thirsts to drink the blood of all our raze: Even then when my design succeeded best, Did compass me with ruin and disgrace. Such was the tenor of my fortune passed, Whose least mishap had made another burst: First orphaned, widowed, and unchilded last, A daughter, wife, and mother all accursed. Heavens plague Cassandra, let that base wretch try, That Jove his judgement but a while defers, And let his wife bewail as well as I, I murdered for my son, and she by hers. Even as th'incestuous. Thehans monstrous brood, So may thy sons contend with mutual wounds: And never let thy house be free from blood, Till quite excluded from usurped bounds. Thus notwithstanding of my wonted pour, To me, save wishes, nothing does remain: But though condemned to die, yet at this hour Should I begin to curse, and to complain? No no, that custom best becomes poor souls, Whose resolution cannot climb more High: But I whose courage that base course controls, Must still triumph what ever state I try. Death is and open haven t'each storme-tossde mind, Since th'end of labour, entry unto rest: Death hath the bounds of misery confined, Whose sanctuary saves afflicted best. To suffer while with a courageous heart, It merits far more praise than deeds most known, For in our actions Fortune hath a partly, But in our sufferings, all things are our own. Lo now I loathe the world and worldly things, Of which I have both proved the best and worst: Yea apprehended death great comfort brings, And hath no cross but that it should be forced. Oh hear me now (deer son) if that thy ghost May leave the Elysian fields to look on me: Of all things else this does content me most, That from this time I may remain with thee. And blush not son to see thy mother's end, My death in glory with thy life shall strive: It Fortune as a captive shall attend, That as thy fellow followed thee alive.