Classic Poem

The upper rags that wise Ulysses wore
Cast off, he rusheth to the great Hall dore
With Bow and Quiver full of shafts, which downe
He pour'd before his feet, and thus made known
His true state to the wooers: " This strife thus
Hath harmlesse bene decided. Now for us
There rests another marke more hard to hit,
And such as never man before hath smit,
Whose full point likewise my hands shall assay,
And try if Phaebus will give me his day."
He said, and off his bitter Arrow thrust
Right at Antinous; that strooke him just
As he was lifting up the Bolle, to show
That 'twixt the cup and lip much ill may grow.
Death toucht not at his thoughts at Feast: for who
Would thinke that he alone could perish so
Amongst so many? And he best of all?
The Arrow in his throate tooke full his fall,
And thrust his head farre through the other side:
Downe fell his cup, downe he, downe all his pride.
Straight from his Nostrils gusht the humane gore,
And as he fell his feete farre overbore
The feastfull Table, all the Rost and Bread
About the house strew'd. When his high-born head
The rest beheld so low, up rusht they all,
And ransack't every Corner of the Hall
For Shields and Darts, but all fled farre their reach.
Then fell they foule on him with terrible speach,
And told him it should prove the deerest shaft
That ever past him, and that now was saf't
No shift for him but sure and sodaine death;
For he had slaine a man whose like did breath
In no part of the Kingdome, and that now
He should no more for Game strive with his Bow,
But Vultures eate him there. These threats they spent,
Yet every man beleev'd that sterne event
Chanc't 'gainst the author's will. O Fooles, to thinke
That all their rest had any cup to drinke
But what their great Antinous began.
He (frowning) saide: " Dogs, see in me the man
Ye all held dead at Troy. My house it is
That thus ye spoile, that thus your Luxuries
File with my women's rapes, in which ye woo
The wife of one that lives, and no thought show
Of man's fit feare, or God's, your present Fame,
Or any faire sence of your future name.
And therefore present and eternal death
Shall end your base life." This made fresh feares breath
Their former boldnesse: every man had eye
On all the meanes, and studied wayes to flye
So deepe deaths imminent. But, seeing none,
Eurymachus began with suppliant mone
To moove his pitty, saying: " If you be
This Ile's Ulysses, we must all agree
In grant of your reproofe's integrity.
The Greekes have done you many a wrong at home,
At field as many. But of all, the summe
Lies heere contract in death — for onely he
Imposd the whole ill Offices that we
Are now made guilty of, and not so much
Sought his endevours, or in thought did touch
At any Nuptials, but a greater thing
Employ'd his forces. For to be our King
Was his cheefe object: his sole plot it was
To kil your Son, which Jove's hand would not passe,
But set it to his owne most merited end.
In which end your just anger, nor extend
Your sterne wreake further. Spend your royal pow'rs
In milde ruth of your people; we are yours.
And whatsoever waste of wine or food
Our Liberties have made, wee'le make all good
In restitutions: call a Court, and passe
A fine of twenty Oxen, Gold, and Brasse
On every Head, and raise your most rates still,
Till you are pleasd with your confessed fill —
Which if we faile to tender, all your wrath
It shalbe justice in our bloods to bathe."
" Eurymachus," saide he, " if you would give
All that your Fathers hoord to make ye live,
And all that ever you your selves possesse
Or shal by any industry increase,
I would not cease from slaughter, till your bloods
Had bought out your intemperance in my Goods.
It rests now for you that you either fight
That will scape death, or make your way by flight —
In whose best choise my thoughts conceive not one
Shall shun the death your first hath undergone."
This quite dissolv'd their knees. Eurymachus,
Enforcing all their feares, yet counsail'd thus:
" O Friends! This man, now he hath got the Bow
And Quiver by him, ever will bestow
His most inaccessible hands at us
And never leave, if we avoide him thus,
Til he hath strew'd the pavement with us all:
And therefore joyne we swords, and on him fall
With Tables forc't up, and borne in opposd
Against his sharpe shafts; when, being round enclosd
By all our on-sets, we shall either take
His horrid person, or for safety make
His rage retire from out the Hall and Gates:
And then, if he escape, wee'l make our states
Knowne to the City by our generall cry.
And thus this man shal let his last shaft fly
That ever his hand vanted." Thus he drew
His sharpe-edg'd sword, and with a table flew
In on Ulysses with a terrible throte,
His fierce charge urging. But Ulysses smote
The boord, and cleft it through from end to end
Borne at his breast, and made his shaft extend
His sharp head to his Liver, his broad breast
Pierc't at his Nipple — when his hand releast
Forthwith his sword, that fel and kist the ground,
With cups and victles lying scattered round
About the pavement: amongst which his brow
Knockt the embrued earth, while in paines did flow
His vitall spirits til his heeles shooke out
His feastful life, and hurl'd a Throne about
That way-laide death's convulsions in his feete,
When from his tender eyes the light did fleet.
Then charg'd Amphinomus with his drawne blade
The glorious King, in purpose to have made
His feete forsake the house. But his assay
The Prince prevented; and his Lance gave way
Quite through his shoulder at his backe, his brest
The fierce pile letting forth. His ruine prest
Grones from the pavement, which his forhead strook.
Telemachus his long Lance then forsooke
(Left in Amphinomus) and to his Sire
Made fiery passe, not staying to acquire
His Lance againe — in doubt that, while he drew
The fixed pile, some other might renew
Fierce charge upon him and his unarm'd head
Cleave with his back-drawne sword: for which he fled
Close to his Father, bad him arme, and he
Would bring him Shield and Javelins instantly,
His owne head arming; more armes laying by
To serve the Swine-herd and the Oxen-herd.
Valour well arm'd is ever most preferd.
" Run then," saide he, " and come before the last
Of these auxilliary shafts are past,
For feare lest (left alone) they force my stand
From forth the Ports." He flew, and brought to hand
Eight Darts, foure Shields, foure Helmes. His owne parts then
First put in armes, he furnisht both his men,
That to their King stood close. But he, as long
As he had shafts to friend, enough was strong
For all the wooers, and some one man still
He made make even with earth, till all a hill
Had raisd in th'even floor'd Hall. His last shaft spent,
He set his Bow against a beame, and went
To arme at all parts, while the other three
Kept off the wooers, who, unarm'd, could be
No great assailants. In the well-built wall
A window was thrust out, at end of all
The house's Entry, on whose utter side
There lay a way to Towne; and in it wide
And two-leav'd folds were forg'd, that gave fit meane
For flyers out; and therefore at it then
Ulysses plac't Eumaeus in close guard,
One onely passe ope to it — which (prepar'd
In this sort by Ulysses " gainst all passe)
By Agelaus' tardy memorie was
In question call'd, who bad some one ascend
At such a window, and bring straight to frend
The City with his clamor, that this man
Might quickly shoot his last. " This no one can
Make safe accesse to," saide Melanthius,
" For 'tis too neere the Hal's faire doores, whence thus
The man afflicts ye. For from thence there lies
But one streight passage to it, that denies
Accesse to all, if any one man stand
(Being one of courage) and will countermand
Our offer to it. But I know a way
To bring you armes from where the King doth lay
His whole munition, and beleeve there is
No other place to all the Armories
Both of himselfe and Sonne." This saide, a paire
Of lofty Staires he climb'd, and to th'affaire
Twelve Shields, twelve Lances broght, as many casks
With horse-haire Plumes — and set to bitter tasks
Both Son and Sire. Then shrunke Ulysses' knees
And his lov'd heart, when thus in armes he sees
So many wooers, and their shaken darts:
For then the worke shew'd as it askt more parts
To safe performance — and he tolde his Sonne
That or Melanthius or his maides had done
A deed that foule warre to their hands conferd.
" O Father," he replyed, " tis I have err'd
In this caus'd labour — I, and none but I,
That left the doore ope of your Armory.
But some (it seemes) hath set a sharper eye
On that important place. Eumaeus! hast
And shut the doore, observing who hath past
To this false action, any maide, or one
That I suspect more, which is Dolius' Sonne."
While these spake thus, Melanthius went againe
For more faire armes; whom the renowned Swaine
Eumaeus saw, and tolde Ulysses straight
It was the hatefull man that his conceite
Before suspected who had done that ill;
And (being againe there) askt if he should kill
(If his power serv'd) or he should bring the Swaine
To him, t'inflict on him a severall paine
For every forfeite he had made his house.
He answer'd: " I and my Telemachus
Will heere containe these proud ones in despite,
How much soever these stolne armes excite
Their guilty courages, while you two take
Possession of the Chamber. The doores make
Sure at your backe, and then (surprising him)
His feete and hands binde, wrapping every lim
In pliant chaines; and with a halter cast
Above the winde-beame (at himselfe made fast)
Aloft the Column draw him — where alive
He long may hang, and paines enow deprive
His vexed life before his death succeede."
This charge (soone heard) as soone they put to deed,
Stole on his stealth, and at the further end
Of all the chamber saw him busily bend
His hands to more armes, when they (still at dore)
Watcht his returne. At last he came, and bore
In one hand a faire Helme, in th'other held
A broad and ancient rusty-rested Shield,
That old Laertes in his youth had worne,
Of which the cheeke-bands had with age bin torne.
They rusht upon him, caught him by the haire,
And dragg'd him in againe, whom (crying out)
They cast upon the pavement, wrapt about
With sure and pinching cords both foote and hand,
And then (in full acte of their King's command)
A pliant chaine bestow'd on him, and hal'd
His body up the columne, till he scal'd
The highest wind-beame. Where, made firmly fast,
Eumaeus on his just infliction past
This pleasurable cavill: " Now you may
All night keepe watch heere, and the earliest day
Discerne (being hung so high) to rouse from rest
Your dainty Cattle to the wooers' Feast.
There (as befits a man of meanes so faire)
Soft may you sleepe, nought under you but aire;
And so, long hang you." Thus they left him there,
Made fast the doore, and, with Ulysses, were
All arm'd in th'instant. Then they all stood close,
Their minds fire breath'd in flames against their foes —
Foure in th'Entry fighting all alone,
When from the Hall charg'd many a mighty one.
But to them then Jove's seede (Minerva) came,
Resembling Mentor both in voice and frame
Of manly person. Passing well apaide
Ulysses was, and saide: " Now, Mentor, aide
Gainst these odde mischiefes: call to memory now
My often good to thee, and that we two
Of one yeare's life are." Thus he said, but thought
It was Minerva, that had ever brought
To her side safety. On the other part,
The wooers threatn'd, but the chiefe in heart
Was Agelaus, who to Mentor spake:
" Mentor! Let no words of Ulysses make
Thy hand a fighter on his feeble side
Gainst al us wooers: for we firme abide
In this perswasion — that, when Sire and Son
Our swords have slaine, thy life is sure to ron
One fortune with them. What strange acts hast thou
Conceit to forme here? Thy head must bestow
The wreake of theirs on us. And when thy powrs
Are taken downe by these fierce steeles of ours,
All thy possessions, in doores and without,
Must raise on heape with his, and all thy rout
Of sons and daughters in thy Turrets bleed
Wreake-offerings to us, and our Towne stand freed
Of all charge with thy wife." Minerva's heart
Was fir'd with these Braves, the approv'd desert
Of her Ulysses chiding, saying: " No more
Thy force nor fortitude, as heretofore,
Will gaine thee glory. When nine yeares at Troy
White-wristed Helen's rescue did imploy
Thy armes and wisedome still, and ever usde
The bloods of thousands through the field diffusde
By thy vaste valor, Priam's broad-waide Towne
By thy grave parts was sackt and overthrowne —
And now, amongst thy people and thy goods,
Against the wooers' base and petulant bloods
Stint'st thou thy valour? Rather mourning here
Than manly fighting? Come, Friend, stand we nere
And note my labour, that thou maist discerne
Amongst thy foes how Mentor's Nerves will erne
All thy old Bounties." This she spake, but staide
Her hand from giving each-way-often-swaide
Uncertaine conquest to his certaine use,
But still would try what selfe-pow'rs would produce
Both in the Father and the glorious Son.
Then on the wind-beame, that along did ron
The smoaky roofe, transform'd Minerva sat
Like to a Swallow, sometimes cuffing at
The swords and Lances, rushing from her seate,
And up and downe the troubl'd house did beate
Her wing at every motion. And as she
Had rouz'd Ulysses, so the enemy
Damastor's sonne excited, Polybus,
Amphimedon and Demoptolemus,
Eurynomus and Polyctorides —
For these were men that of the wooing prease
Were most egregious and the clearly best
In strength of hand of all the desperate rest
That yet surviv'd, and now fought for their soules —
Which straight swift arrowes sent among the Fouls.
But first Damastor's sonne had more spare breath
To spend on their excitements ere his death,
And saide that now Ulysses would forbeare
His dismall hand, since Mentor's spirit was there
And blew vaine vants about Ulysses' eares;
In whose trust he would cease his Massacres,
Rest him, and put his friend's huge boasts in proofe;
And so was he beneath the Entrie's roofe
Left with Telemachus and th'other two —
" At whom," saide he, " discharge no Darts, but thro
All at Ulysses, rousing his faint rest;
Whom if we slaughter, by our interest
In Jove's assistance, all the rest may yield
Our pow'rs no care, when he strowes once the field."
As he then will'd, they all at randon threw
Where they supposd he rested; and then flew
Minerva after every Dart, and made
Some strike the threshold, some the wals invade,
Some beate the doores, and all acts rendred vaine
Their grave steele offer'd — which escap't, againe
Came on Ulysses, saying: " O that we
The wooers' troope with our joynt Archerie
Might so assaile, that where their spirits dream
On our deaths first, we first may slaughter them."
Thus the much sufferer said; and all let fly,
When everie man strooke dead his enemy:
Ulysses slaughtred Demoptolemus;
Euryades by yong Telemachus
His death encounter'd. Good Eumaeus slew
Elatus, and Philaetius overthrew
Pisander: all which tore the paved floore
Up with their teeth. The rest retir'd before
Their second charge to inner roomes, and then
Ulysses follow'd, from the slaughter'd men
Their darts first drawing. While which worke was done,
The wooers threw, with huge contention
To kill them all — when with her Swallow wing
Minerva cufft, and made their Javelins ring
Against the doores and thresholds as before.
Some yet did graze upon their markes. One tore
The Prince's wrist, which was Amphimedon,
Th'extreame part of the skin but toucht upon.
Ctesippus over good Eumaeus' Shield
His shoulder's top did taint, which yet did yield
The Lance free passe, and gave his hurt the ground.
Againe then charg'd the wooers, and girt round
Ulysses with their Lances; who turn'd head,
And with his Javelin strooke Eurydamas dead.
Telemachus disliv'd Amphimedon;
Eumaeus, Polybus; Philaetius won
Ctesippus' bosome with his dart, and said
(In quittance of the Jester's part he plaid,
The Neats-foot hurling at Ulysses): " Now,
Great Sonne of Polytherses, you that vow
Your wit to bitter taunts, and love to wound
The heart of any with a jest, so crown'd
Your wit be with a laughter never yeilding
To fooles in folly, but your glory building
On putting downe in fooling, spitting forth
Puft words at all sorts. Cease to scoffe at worth,
And leave revenge of vile words to the Gods,
Since their wits beare the sharper edge by ods;
And in the meane time take the Dart I drave
For that right hospitable foote you gave
Divine Ulysses, begging but his owne."
Thus spake the black-Ox-hersman; and straight down
Ulysses strooke another with his Dart,
Damastor's son. Telemachus did part
Just in the midst the belly of the faire
Euenor's sonne, his fierce Pile taking aire
Out at his backe. Flat fell he on his face,
His whole browes knocking, and did marke the place.
And now man-slaughtering Pallas tooke in hand
Her snake-frindg'd shield, and on that beam took stand
In her true forme, where Swallow-like she sat.
And then in this way of the house and that
The wooers (wounded at the heart with feare)
Fled the encounter. As in Pastures, where
Fat Herds of Oxen feede, about the field
(As if wilde madnesse their instincts impeld)
The high-fed Bullockes flye, whom in the Spring
(When dayes are long) Gadbees or Breezes sting,
Ulysses and his sonne the Flyers chac'st;
As when with crooked Beakes and Seres a cast
Of hill-bred Eagles, cast off at some game,
That yet their strengths keepe, but (put up) in flame
The Eagles' stoopes — from which along the field
The poore Foules make wing, this and that way yield
Their hard-flowne Pinions, then the clouds assay
For scape or shelter, their forlorne dismay
All spirit exhaling all wings' strength to carry
Their bodies forth; and (trust up) to the Quarry
Their Faulconers ride in, and rejoyce to see
Their Hawkes performe a flight so fervently:
So (in their flight) Ulysses with his Heire
Did stoope and cuffe the wooers, that the aire
Broke in vaste sighes — whose heads they shot and cleft,
The Pavement boyling with the soules they reft.
Leodes (running to Ulysses) toke
His knees, and thus did on his name invoke:
" Ulysses! Let me pray thee, to my place
Affoord the reverence, and to me the grace,
That never did or saide to any Dame
Thy Court contain'd, or deede or word to blame.
But others so affected I have made
Lay downe their insolence; and if the trade
They kept with wickednesse have made them still
Despise my speech and use their wonted ill,
They have their penance by the stroke of death,
Which their desert divinely warranteth.
But I am Priest amongst them; and shall I,
That nought have done worth death, amongst them dy?
From thee this Proverbe then will men derive:
Good turnes do never their meere deeds survive."
He (bending his displeased forehead) saide:
" If you be Priest amongst them, as you pleade,
Yet you would marry, and with my wife too,
And have descent by her. For all that woo
Wish to obtaine, which they should never doo,
Dames' husbands living. You must therefore pray
Of force, and oft in Court heere, that the day
Of my returne for home might never shine;
The death to me wish't therefore shall be thine."
This said, he tooke a sword up that was cast
From Agelaus, having strooke his last,
And on the Priest's mid necke he laide a stroke
That strooke his head off, tumbling as he spoke.
Then did the Poet Phemius (whose sur-name
Was call'd Terpiades, who thither came
Forc't by the woo'rs) fly death; but, being nere
The Court's great gate, he stood, and parted there
In two his counsailes — either to remove
And take the Altar of Herceian Jove
(Made sacred to him, with a world of Art
Engraven about it, where were wont t'impart
Laertes and Ulysses many a Thye
Of broad-brow'd Oxen to the Deity),
Or venture to Ulysses, claspe his knee,
And pray his ruth. The last was the decree
His choise resolv'd on. Twixt the royall Throne
And that faire Table that the Bolle stood on
With which they sacrific'd, his Harpe he laide
Along the earth, the King's knees hugg'd, and saide:
" Ulysses! Let my prayers obtaine of thee
My sacred skil's respect, and ruth to mee.
It will heereafter grieve thee to have slaine
A Poet, that doth sing to Gods and men.
I of my selfe am taught: for God alone
All sorts of song hath in my bosome sowne.
And I, as to a God, will sing to thee.
Then do not thou deale like the Priest with me.
Thine owne lov'd sonne Telemachus will say
That not to beg heere, nor with willing way,
Was my accesse to thy high Court addrest
To give the wooers my song after Feast.
But being many, and so much more strong,
They forc't me hither, and compell'd my Song."
This did the Prince's sacred vertue heare,
And to the King his Father said: " Forbeare
To mixe the guiltlesse with the guilties' blood.
And with him, likewise, let our mercies save
Medon the Herald, that did still behave
Himselfe with care of my good from a childe —
If by Eumaeus yet he be not kild,
Or by Philaetius, nor your fury met
While all this blood about the house it swet."
This Medon heard as lying hid beneath
A Throne set neere, halfe dead with feare of death,
A new-flead Oxe-hide (as but there throwne by)
His serious shroud made, he lying there to fly.
But hearing this, he quickly left the Throne,
His Oxe-hide cast as quickly, and as soone
The Prince's knees seiz'd, saying: " O my love,
I am not slaine, but heere alive, and move.
Abstaine your selfe, and do not see your Sire
Quench with my cold blood the unmeasur'd fire
That flames in his strength, making spoile of me,
His wrath's right, for the wooers' injury."
Ulysses smil'd, and said: " Be confident
This man hath sav'd and made thee different,
To let thee know and say, and others see,
Good life is much more safe than villany.
Go then, sit free without from death within.
This much renowned Singer from the sin
Of these men likewise quit. Both rest you there,
While I my house purge, as it fits me here."
This saide, they went and tooke their seat without
At Jove's high Altar, looking round about,
Expecting still their slaughter — when the King
Searcht round the Hall, to try life's hidden wing
Made from more death. But all laid prostrate there
In blood and gore he saw: whole sholes they were,
And lay as thicke as in a hollow creake
Without the white Sea, when the Fishers breake
Their many-meshed Draught-net up, there lye
Fish frisking on the Sands, and faine the dry
Would for the wet change. But th'al-seeing beam
The Sun exhales hath suckt their lives from them;
So, one by other, spraul'd the wooers there.
Ulysses and his Son then bid appeare
The Nurse Euryclea, to let her heare
His minde in something fit for her affaire.
He op't the doore, and call'd, and said: " Repaire,
Grave Matron, long since borne, that art our Spy
To all this house's servile huswifery.
My Father cals thee to impart some thought
That askes thy action." His word found in nought
Her slacke observance, who straight op't the dore
And enter'd to him, when himselfe before
Had left the Hall. But there the King she view'd
Amongst the slaine, with blood and gore embrew'd.
And as a Lyon sculking all in Night
Farre off in Pastures, and come home all dight
In jawes and brest-lockes with an Oxe's blood,
New feasted on him, his lookes full of mood:
So look't Ulysses, all his hands and feete
Freckl'd with purple. When which sight did greete
The poore old woman (such workes being for eyes
Of no soft temper) out she brake in cries,
Whose vent, though throughly opened, he yet closd,
Cal'd her more neere, and thus her plaints composd:
" Forbeare, nor shrieke thus. But vent joyes as loud;
It is no piety to bemone the proud.
Though ends befall them moving neere so much,
These are the portions of the Gods to such.
Men's owne impieties, in their instant act,
Sustaine their plagues, which are with stay but rackt.
But these men Gods nor men had in esteeme;
Nor good nor bad had any sence in them.
Their lives directly ill were therefore cause
That Death in these sterne formes so deepely drawes.
Recount then to me those licentious Dames
That lost my honor, and their sexe's shames."
" I'le tell you truly," she replied. " There are
Twice five and twenty women here that share
All worke amongst them; whom I taught to Spin
And beare the just bands that they suffer'd in.
Of all which onely there were twelve that gave
Themselves to impudence and light behave,
Nor me respecting, nor herselfe (the Queene).
And for your Son he hath but lately bene
Of yeares to rule, nor would his Mother beare
His Empire where her women's labors were.
But let me go, and give her notice now
Of your arrivall. Sure some God doth show
His hand upon her in this rest she takes,
That all these uprores beares, and never wakes."
" Nor wake her yet," said he, " but cause to come
Those twelve light women to this utter roome."
She made all utmost haste to come and go,
And bring the women he had summon'd so.
Then both his Swaines and Son he bad go call
The women to their aide, and cleere the Hall
Of those dead bodies, clense each boord and Throne
With wetted Sponges: which with fitnesse done,
He bad take all the Strumpets 'twixt the wall
Of his first Court and that roome next the Hall
In which the vessells of the house were scour'd —
And in their bosomes sheath their every sword,
Till all their soules were fled, and they had then
Felt 'twas but paine to sport with lawlesse men.
This said, the women came, all drown'd in mone,
And weeping bitterly. But first was done
The bearing thence the dead — all which beneath
The Portico they stow'd, where death on death
They heap't together — then tooke all the paines
Ulysses will'd. His Sonne yet and the Swaines
With paring shovels wrought. The women bore
Their parings forth, and al the clotter'd gore.
The house then clensd, they brought the women out,
And put them in a roome, so wall'd about
That no meanes serv'd their sad estates to flye.
Then saide Telemachus: " These shall not dye
A death that lets out any wanton blood,
And vents the poison that gave Lust her foode,
The body clensing; but a death that chokes
The breath and all together, that provokes
And seemes as Bellowes to abhorred Lust —
That both on my head pour'd depraves unjust
And on my Mother's, scandaling the Court
With men debaucht in so abhorr'd a sort."
This said, a Halser of a ship they cast
About a crosse beame of the roofe, which fast
They made about their neckes, in twelve parts cut,
And hal'd them up so high they could not put
Their feete to any stay. As which was done,
Looke how a Mavis, or a Pygeon,
In any Grove caught with a Sprindge or Net,
With strugling Pinions 'gainst the ground doth beat
Her tender body, and that then-streight bed
Is sowre to that swindge in which she was bred:
So striv'd these taken Birds, till every one
Her pliant halter had enforc't upon
Her stubborne necke, and then aloft was haul'd
To wretched death. A little space they sprauld,
Their feet fast moving, but were quickly still.
Then fetcht they downe Melanthius, to fulfill
The equall execution — which was done
In Portall of the Hall, and thus begun.
They first slit both his Nosethrils, cropt each eare,
His Members tugg'd off, which the dogges did teare
And chop up bleeding sweet; and while red hot
The vice-abhorring blood was, off they smote
His hands and feet, and there that worke had end.
Then washt they hands and feet, that blood had steind,
And tooke the house againe. And then the King
(Euryclea calling) bad her quickly bring
All-ill-expelling Brimstone and some fire,
That, with perfumes cast, he might make entire
The house's first integrity in all.
And then his timely will was she should call
Her Queene and Ladies, still yet charging her
That all the Handmaids she should first confer.
She said he spake as fitted; but, before,
She held it fit to change the weeds he wore,
And she would others bring him — that not so
His faire broad shoulders might rest clad, and show
His person to his servants was to blame.
" First bring me Fire," said he. She went, and came
With fire and sulphure straight — with which the hall
And of the huge house all roomes capitall
He throughly sweetned. Then went Nurse to call
The Handmaid servants downe; and up she went
To tell the newes, and will'd them to present
Their service to their Soveraigne. Downe they came,
Sustaining Torches all, and pour'd a flame
Of Love about their Lord with welcomes home,
With huggings of his hands, with laborsome
Both head's and fore-head's kisses and embraces;
And plyed him so with all their loving graces
That teares and sighes tooke up his whole desire;
For now he knew their hearts to him entire.