Early Modern Mythological Texts: Troia Britanica XIV (51-109)
Thomas Heywood. Troia Britanica (1609)
CANTO XIV (51-109)
Stanzas 51-60 — 61-70 — 71-80 — 81-90 — 91-100 — 101-109 — Heywood’s endnotes to Canto XIV
Ed. Patricia DORVAL
These virtues they retain: when thou shouldst eat,
Upon the board this curious napkin spread.
It straight shall fill with all delicious meat,
Fowl, fish and fruits shall to the place be led
With all delicious cates costly and neat,
Which likewise shall depart when thou hast fed.
This ring hath a rich stone whose virtue, know,
Is to discern a true friend from a foe.
In this thou mayst perceive both late and early
Who flatters thee and who intends thee well,
Who hates thee deadly or who loves thee dearly.
The virtue of this jewel doth excel
Out of this purse, if I may judge severely,
And in few words the worth exactly tell.
Value it righly, it exceeds the rest,
And of the three is rated for the best.
So oft as thou shalt in it thrust thy hand,
So oft thy palm shall be replete with gold.
Spend where thou wilt, travel by sea or land,
The riches of that purse cannot be told.
Use well these gifts, their virtues understand,
Thank my divinest mistress and be bold.
Add but thy will to her auspicious aid,
She’ll sure thee that which others late have paid.”
Encouraged thus, he pierces their cold clime
Where many hot spirits had been calmed of late,
And enters the great court at such a time
When he beheld his father sit in state.
They that surview the youth now in his prime,
Not knowing his decree, blame his hard fate,
And wish he might a safer country choose,
Not come thus far his dearest things to lose.
For not a lady’s eye dwells on his face,
Or with judicial note views his perfection,
But thinks him worthy of their dearest grace.
They praise his look, gait, stature and complexion,
And judge him issued of a noble race,
A person worthy of a queen’s election.
Not one among them that his beauty saw
But now at length too cruel think their law.
After some interchange of kindest greeting
Betwixt the father and the stranger son,
Such as is usual to a sudden meeting,
With extasies that kindred cannot shon,
To omit their height of joy as a thing fleeting―
For greatest joys are oft-times soonest done―
The father, jealous of his son’s ability,
Asks if he brooked his late loss with facility,
For well he knows he cannot anchor there
Or sojourn on that rude and barbarous coast,
But his free harbourage must cost him dear,
Censuring his son by what himself had lost.
The gentle youth, whose thoughts are free from fear,
Saith he is come securely there to host
And, spite the queen and ladies, with oaths deep
Swears to his father, what he hath, to keep.
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By this the Amazonian princess hears
Of a young stranger in her court arrived.
She sends to know his nation, name and years.
But being told his father there survived,
A reverent man, one of her chiefest peers,
She will not as the custom have him gyved,
But takes his father’s promise, oath and hand
To have his son made freeman of her land.
Three days she limits him; but they expired,
As others erst, he must the razor try.
All things determined, the fair queen desired
The stranger to a banquet instantly,
Who at his first appearance much admired
Her state, her port, proportion, face and eye,
Nor had he since his cradle seen a creature
So rich in beauty or so rare in feature.
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Down sat the queen and damsels at the board,
But the young stranger stands by, discontent.
They pray him sit; he answers not a word.
Three times to him the queen of Scythia sent,
But still the youth would no reply afford.
The rest, not minding what his silence meant,
Leave him unto his humour and apply
Themselves to feed and eat deliciously.
But when he saw the ladies freely eat
And feed upon the rude cates of the land,
At a withdrawing board he takes his seat,
And spreads his curious napkin with his hand.
Straight you might see a thousand sorts of meat
Of strangest kinds upon the table stand.
What earth or air or sea within them breeds,
On these the youth with looks disdainful feeds.
The queen, amazed to see such change of cheer,
Whose beauty and variety surpassed,
Longing to know the news, could not forbear
But rose with all her damsels at the last
To know from whence he was supplied and where
With cates so rich in show, so sweet in taste;
The like in Scythia she had never seen,
The least of them a service for a queen.
For now she hath in scorn her own provision
And calls her choicest banquet homely fare.
Her dainty cates she hath in proud derision
Since she beheld the stranger’s food so rare.
The youth who hopes by this t’escape incision
Tells her, if she so please, he can prepare
A richer feast, yet not her treasure wrong,
With any dish for which her grace may long.
She grows the more inquisitive, and straight
Swears, if he will her royal cater be,
She’ll in her kingdom raise him to the height
Of all high state and chief nobility,
For well she knows it is a work of weight
To furnish her with such variety,
Since her cold climate with ten kingdoms more
Cannot supply her board with half that store;
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When up the stranger riseth, and thus says:
“Madam, for your sake was I hither guided,
Whom I will freely serve at all assays.
For you this diet have I here provided.
Sit then, and as you like my bounty praise;
These no illusions are to be derided,
But meats essential, made for your repast.
Sit down and welcome, and wher’ it please you taste.”
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The more she eats, the more she longs to know
Whence this strange bounty of the heavens proceeds.
They prove as sweet in taste as fair in show.
The more she wonders, still the more she feeds.
The more she eats, the more her wonders grow.
She vows her land shall chronicle his deeds,
And make him lord of all his present wishes,
Excepting love and what belongs to kisses.
The stranger then his napkin’s virtue tells,
What wonders it affords when it is spread,
Without all charms or nigromantic spells,
Or invocations made unto the dead.
Only in native virtue it excels,
A secret power by inspiration bred.
This he’ll bestow with all their virtues’ store
To save his forfeit but for three days more.
Th’ambitious queen, loath her decrees should slack,
More loath to lose a jewel of such prize
That can afford her all things she doth lack
To make a feast as with the deities,
Vows for three days he shall sustain no wrack,
But then her law of force must tyrannize;
Meantime her court is for the stranger free.
Upon these firm conditions they agree.
Glad was the queen, more glad the amorous stranger,
For neither at their bargain was aggrieved,
She for her gift, he to escape such danger,
Having his manhood for three days reprieved.
In her fair park he longs to be a ranger,
Where fed such store of deer, scarcely believed
Till he by tried experience had beheld
How many beauties in the court excelled.
Now trusting to the virtue of his ring,
He longs to prove who hate, who mean him good,
Who only to his ear smooth flatteries bring,
Who with the queen upon his party stood;
For flattery is like an oily spring,
Whose smooth soft waters waxing to a flood
Entice fond men his silver streams to crown,
But he that proves to swim perforce must drown.
Among the rest, one beldam near in place
Unto the lustless Amazon he knows
Persuades the queen to his especial grace,
And stands in plea between him and his foes.
With her he grows acquainted in small space,
And in her lap a liberal treasure throws.
He gives her gold in every place he finds her,
And by large bounty to his love he binds her.
The time wears on, his three-days’ lease expires
In which he rents the things to which he’s born,
His own fee simple. Yet the queen requires
To have the forfeit since the day’s outworn,
But still his precious gifts the youth inspires
With cheerful hope he shall not live forlorn,
But trusts by promise of the fairy dame
A man to part thence, as a man he came.
The day ’fore th’execution, he was viewing
His precious ring, the like was never seen.
Finding the time so near, he sits still rueing
His rashness for he fears the knife is keen.
Each man he thinks a barbar him pursuing
To have him eunuched, when in comes the queen
And spies this glorious ring upon his finger―
The beldam to this troubled youth did bring her.
Of this she falls in question, much admiring
The splendour, and besides she longs to know
What virtue it hath, with urgency desiring
If it be rare in worth as rich in show.
The youth into his former hopes retiring
Recounts to her what sovereign virtues grow
From this bright love, a means ordained by Fate
Only by which she may secure her state.
In this her friends she may discern and try,
On whom she may rely her certain trust,
Who in her charge their utmost wills apply,
Who in her seat of judgement prove most just.
Next, she by this all traitors may descry,
Such as against her virtues arm their lust,
Such as intend their sovereign to depose,
Briefly, it points her friends out from her foes.
No marvel if the queen were much in love
With such a jewel, and for it would pay
What he would ask as that which much behooves
To keep her doubtful kingdom from decay;
To buy it at the dearest rate she proves.
He only craves but respite for one day,
That she but one day more his youth would spare,
Ere he came bound unto the barber’s chair.
The match is made, his gifts are known abroad,
And from all parts they come this man to see.
The multitude esteem him as a god
That to their sovereign queen hath been so free.
A stately steed he mounts, and thereon rode
About the court where throngs of people be,
And from his purse, of gold whole handfuls flings,
A bounty that is seldom seen in kings.
A thousand times his arm abroad he stretched,
As oft the figured plates of coined gold fly
About their ears, still to his purse he reached,
And still to his applause the people cry.
The more they shout, the greater store he fetched
From his divine unending treasury.
The news of this unto the queen soon came,
Wondering whose praise her people thus proclaim.
In comes th’ admired stranger and, alighting,
The queen him meets, and takes him by the hand
To lead him up, he by the way reciting
The project she much longs to understand.
The Scythian queen, in his discourse delighting,
Upon the virtue of this purse long scanned,
Thinking, if this third prize she might enjoy,
She by her wealth might all the earth destroy.
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But treasure cannot gain it, for ’tis treasure
Even of itself. In vain she offers gold,
Above all wealth the youth esteems his pleasure.
One thing will do it, that in her ear he told.
The covetous queen’s perplexed above measure
To buy the price that will be cheaply sold:
Only to bed with her he doth desire,
But till two pears be roasted in the fire.
O Gold! What canst not thou? Long she doth pause:
How great’s the wealth, how easy ’tis to buy.
She knows, besides, she is above her laws,
And what she will, no subject dares deny.
Why should she lose this jewel? What’s the cause
She to her own land should prove enemy,
Whose weal, since she may compass with such ease,
Why should she not herself somewhat displease?
The time’s but little that the youth doth ask.
Besides, she’ll cause her maid her charge to haste.
If she compare her wages with her task,
She knows her time will not be spent in waste.
The friendly night will put a blushless mask
Upon her brow, then how can she be traced?
The fire is made, the pears placed, both agreed.
To bed they go, good Fortune be their speed.
The trusted hag he knows to be his friend,
And one whom he had bribèd long before.
It pleased her well that his desires have end.
To have had him eunuched would have grieved her sore.
In bed meantime the loving pair contend
To prove the game she never tried before.
And still she calls to make a quicker fire,
And “Prithee, sweet nurse, let the pears be nigher.”
“They shall,” quoth she, yet let them roast at pleasure.
The wayward queen yet thinks the time too long,
And that she pays too sweetly for his treasure,
For yield she must, the stranger proves too strong.
Yet still she calls: “Not yet? ’Tis out of measure.”
“Nor yet? Nor yet?”: she sings no other song.
Alack the beldam’s slackness quite betrays her―
The only means to keep him from the razor.
The youth prevailed, the queen’s somewhat appeased,
And for there is no help, the utmost tries;
Since her the stranger hath by wager ceased,
Before the watchword given she must not rise.
The beldam thinks at last the queen t’have pleased:
“Oh madam, they are roasted now,” she cries.
“Are they indeed? Let them roast on,” quoth she,
“And, prithee nurse, put in two more for me.”
I know not what effect this wager took,
But the next day she cancelled her strict law.
She that men hated, eunuchs cannot brook.
Command was given that all such should withdraw,
And not presume within her court to look,
That could be found touched with the smallest flaw.
And this decree among the Scythians grew
Till the sad day that they their husbands slew,
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For when their flying men were quite disgraced,
And failed in battle, they disdained their yoke,
And scorning all subjection proudly faced
Their foes themselves with many a boisterous stroke.
From Scythia’s bounds all men they clean displaced,
And strongly armed through many regions broke.
Thus reigned successfully many a bold dame
In Scythia, whence Penthesilea came.
Their poleaxes, whose use the Greeks ne’er knew,
Thunder upon their lofty casks and fell them.
The Greeks still guard the field although some few
Perished at first, and striving to excel them,
Being but women, they some damsels slew,
And with the odds of number they repel them.
But when the queen into the battle flings,
Where’er she comes, she bloody conquest brings.
King Philomines combats by her side
With many a bold knight brought from Paphlagone,
’Gainst whom the king Cassilius fierce can ride,
Striving that day to have his valour known.
Between them was a fair and even course tried.
Amphimacus, to Priam dear alone
Since Troilus’ death, thrust in amongst the Greeks,
Forcing their flight with many clamorous shrieks.
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Him Ajax Telamon encounters then,
And stays the fury of his barbèd steed,
Acting that day deeds more than common men,
Such as through both the armies wonder breed,
Whom noble Deiphebus meets again.
The youthful prince, whose valour doth exceed,
The fearful slaughter of his puissance stays,
Whose discipline his foes could not but praise.
And had not wrathful Pyrrhus now led on
His father’s Myrmidons, and quite forsook
His untried knights, the day had sure been gone.
But where they marched, the earth beneath them shook,
And to withstand their vigour, they found none,
Till Paris with his archers that way took;
And now began a fierce and mortal fray,
In emulation who should fly, who stay.
Paris prevails, his forces gain the best,
And Lycomedes’ grand-child must retire.
Behold where ’gainst the Trojans Ajax’ crest
Seems above all his soldiers to aspire.
His huge seven-folded targe still guards his breast.
For Paris through the field he doth inquire,
Whom as the Sal’mine fighting spies from far,
He hears a steel shaft from his crossbow jar.
It aims at him, and where his armour parted
Between the arm and shoulder, there it fell.
Ajax observed the man by whom he smarted,
And pressing forward vows to quite him well.
Through the mid-throng the nearest way he thwarted;
No opposition can his rage expel,
Till he had passed through groves of growing spears
To come where thousand shafts sang by his ears,
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Yet past them all, even till he came where fought |
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The amorous Trojan, and to him he makes. |
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His guard of archers the Greek dreaded naught, |
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But o’er his helm his reeking glaive he shakes, |
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Which in his fall assured ruin brought. |
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Upon the earth, the dying Trojan quakes, |
The death of Paris |
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And in his death leaves all terrestrial joy, |
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Fair Helen, Priam, Hecuba and Troy. |
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O, had the raptor in his cradle died,
Millions of lives had in his death been saved,
And Asia’s glory that late swelled in pride
Had not with siege and death so long been braved.
O’er his dead corse the warlike Greek doth stride,
And works his way through harness richly engraved,
Whose curious works he blemished where he stood,
Blurring his fingers with wide wounds and blood.
The Dardans fly at bruit of Paris’ fall;
The Greeks with dreadful march their flight pursue
Even to the very skirts of Troy’s fair wall.
But between death and them the Scythians grew;
Squadrons of Greeks before the damsels fall.
Now the respirited Trojans fight renew.
Twice ’fore the Scythian queen did Pyrrhus stand,
Yet twice by her repulsèd, hand to hand.
Night parts the battle upon equal odds.
In Paris’ death the Trojans have the worst;
Helen and Troy bequeath him to the gods,
His death less mourned than hath his life been cursed.
The morning comes; the Greeks make their abode
Before the gates through which the Scythians burst,
And scorning to be cooped, each with her shield
Bravely advanced, make roomth into the field.
Them Deiphebus follows with his train,
The sole remainder of King Priam’s race,
By whom at first a valiant Greek was slain
That in the camp enjoyed a sovereign place.
Amphimacus next him spurs on the plain
With Philomines who ranks on apace.
Aeneas and Antenor, these contend
With all their powers to give the long siege end.
In vain, for lo upon the adverse part,
Girt with his father’s Myrmidons, appears
Stern Pyrrhus, whose late bleeding wounds yet smart.
Next him Pelides with a band of spears,
Then marched Tysander with a lion’s heart,
Ulysses, Sthenelus and, proud in years,
Nestor, the two Atrides well attended,
The two Achiaces next the field ascended.
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These with the other princes proudly fare: |
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Disordered ruin, ruffles on each side, |
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Thousands of either party slaughtered are. |
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In this encounter, Deiphebus died, |
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And brave Amphimacus, forward to dare |
and Amphimacus |
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And able to perform, a soldier tried. |
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And now on Priam’s party only stand |
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The Scythian damsels to protect his land. |
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Troy droops and Greece aspires full fourteen days.
Penthesilea hath upheld her fame;
Both camp and city surfeit with her praise,
And her renown deservedly proclaim.
The best of Greece her hardiment assays,
Yet shrink beneath the fury of the dame.
None can escape her vigour unrewarded.
Troy by this stern virago’s sol’ly guarded.
But destiny sways all things: Troy was founded
To endure a third wrack and must fate obey.
Therefore even those that with most might abounded
Cannot reprieve her to a longer day.
The Scythian dames by many princes wounded
Were with the queen at length to Greece a prey.
Her too much hardiness herself immured
Amidst her foes, in armour well assured.
And when her lance was splintered to her hand,
Her warlike poleaxe hewed to pieces small,
Herself round girt with many an armèd band,
Even in her height of fame she needs must fall.
The warlike wench amongst the Greeks doth stand
Unbacked by Troy, left of her damsels all.
The battery of a thousand swords she bides
Till her iron plates are hewed off from her sides.
Thus breathless and unharnessed, fresh in breath
And strong in armour, Pyrrhus her invades.
At these advantages he knows ’tis eath
To cope with her, quite severed from her maids.
His baleful thoughts are spurred with rage and death.
Close to her side in blood of Greeks he wades―
Blood sluiced by her―and naked thus assails her,
Whilst a whole camp of foes from safety rails her.
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After much war th’Amazonian falls, |
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Whom Pyrrhus lops to pieces with his glaive, |
The death of Penthesilea |
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And having piecemeal hewed her, loud he calls |
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To have her limbs kept from an honoured grave, |
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But to be strowed about the siegèd walls. |
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She dead, the Trojans seek themselves to save |
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By open flight; her virgins fighting die, |
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Scorning the life to gain which they must fly. |
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Now Troy’s at her last cast, her succours fail,
Her soldiers are cut off by ruthless war,
Her seaports hemmed in with a thousand sail;
In her land siege two hundred thousand are.
They close their iron gates their lives to bail,
And strengthen them with many an iron bar.
After that day, they dare no weapons wield,
Or front the proud Greeks in the open field.
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Aeneas and Antenor now conspire, |
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As some suppose, the city to betray, |
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And with the Greeks they doom it to the fire. |
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But whilst the rich Palladium’s seen to stay |
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In Pallas’ temple, they in vain desire |
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King Priam’s ruin or the land’s decay. |
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Therefore the sly Ulysses buys for gold |
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The jewel that doth Troy in safety hold. |
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O cursèd priest that canst thyself profess, |
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Severe in habit but in heart profane! |
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Would of thy name and order there were less |
of the priest of Pallas |
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That will not stick to sell their friends for gain. |
for a great sum of money |
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Who, but that knows thy treason, once would guess |
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Such treacherous thoughts should taint a churchman’s brain? |
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But many to the gods devoted sol’ly |
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In hearts are godless, though in garments holy. |
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Whether by purchase or by stealth―Heaven knows―,
But the Palladium now the Greeks enjoy,
And by a general voice the camp arose
From their long siege, their ships again t’enjoy.
The Greeks unto the sea themselves dispose,
And make a show to bid farewell to Troy.
But of this stratagem what next befell
This canto will not give us room to tell.
[Heywood’s endnotes to canto XIV]
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Artemisia, Queen of Caria and wife to King Mausolus. She is famous for her chastity and the love to her husband, after whose death she made so royal a sepulchre for him that it was held of the wonders of the world, and of that all stately buildings have since then been called Mausolea. |
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Camma, a beauteous maid born in Galatia, the wife of one Sinatus. She was religiously devoted to the chaste goddess Diana whom her country held in great reverence, whom when Synorix had often solicited with love but could not prevail, he treacherously slew her husband, Sinatus, and after enforced her to his marriage bed, to whom by the urgent instigation of her friends and the promotion expected by the greatness of Synorix, she seemed willingly to yield, he persuading her that for his love to her he wrought the death of her beloved Sinatus. When before the altar of the goddess they were to be espoused, she drank to Synorix, as the custom was, a bowl of wine in which, when he had pledged her, she told him with a joyful countenance that in that draught they had both caroused their deaths, being extremely overjoyed that before the chaste goddess Diana and in the face of so great a people, she had justified her own innocence and revenged the murder of her husband, which incontinently appeared, for the potion being commixed with poison, they both expired before the altar. |
lib. de virtutibus mulierum |
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When Achilles was slain in the temple by Paris, it is remembered of him that the Grecians could not purchase his body of the Trojans till, to ransom him, they weighed them down as much gold as poised the body of Hector. ’Tis said that for his death all the muses and nymphs wept exceedingly: |
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Rursus redempto pro altero cadavere |
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Par pondus auri splendidi Pactoli— Ferent. |
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The isle Boristhenes was called Achilleides, of Achilles that was there buried. Besides it is poetized of him that in the Elysian field, after his death, he espoused Medea. |
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Paris that slew Achilles, and was after slain by Ajax, was sent into Greece with two and twenty sail, whence he brought the fair Helen. His shipmaster, or he that built his ships, was called Phereclus. Some think he pierced Greece first by the commandment of Venus, and having ravished Helen carried her into Egypt, where he first lay with her. Others are opinioned that he bedded with her in Athens, and had by her these four sons: Bunichus, Corythus, Aganus and Idaeus. Others think he first lay with her in Cranae, one of the Sporad Islands, which when Paris had done almost by violence, and after many tears shed for the leaving of her husband, it is said that of her tears grew the herb helenium, which if women drink in wine it provokes mirth and venery. |
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Of Helena it is thus recorded, Menelaus being dead, after their return to Greece, for her former luxuriousness, she was expulsed from Lacedaemon by her sons, Nicostratus and Megapenthes. She fled to her cousin Polyxo, the wife of Tlepolemus who governed Rhodes, where she sojourned for a space but Polyxo after remembering that her husband was by reason of the adultery of Helen slain in the wars of Troy, she came upon Helen suddenly, as she was bathing herself amongst her maids, and hurrying her unto a tree, upon the same she strangled her. |
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Others report that Helen waxing old and seeing her beauty wrinkled and quite faded, in grief thereof hanged herself as a just reward of her former incontinence. |
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Some think the Palladium to be bought by Ulysses of the priest of Pallas. Others that it was stole by Ulysses and Diomed, others that it was merchandized by Aeneas and Antenor, in which sale the famous city of Troy was betrayed to the Greeks. These opinions are uncertain but when Ilus was to build the palace of Ilion, following a parti-coloured ox, he prayed to the gods that some auspicious sign might satisfy him from the heavens that his buildings were pleasing to the deities. Then to him descended the Palladium, an image of three cubits height, which seemed to have motion and to walk of itself, in the right hand holding a spear, in the left hand a distaff, or rock and a spindle. And where he further proceeded to the oracle to know the virtue of this Palladium, it was then answered him that as long as that was kept free, inviolate and unprophaned, so long Troy should be in peace and security, which accordingly happened. For till Ulysses had either bought or stolen away the Palladium, the Greeks had never any opportunity or means to use any violence upon the city. |
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The end of the 14. Canto.
Back to Canto XIV (1-50)
How to cite
Patricia Dorval, ed., 2017. Troia Britanica Canto XIV (1609). In A Dictionary of Shakespeare's Classical Mythology: A Textual Companion, ed. Yves Peyré (2009-).