But Clytemnestra bad her be content,
Her time was com'n: now bootelesse vsd she force,
Against so many; whom this Tygresse sent
To apprehend her: who (within one hower
Brought backe againe) was lockt within a Tower.
Now is she ioylesse, friendlesse, and (in fine)
Without all hope of further libertie:
Insteed of cates, cold water was her wine,
And Agamemnons corps her meate must be,
Or els she must for hunger starue (poore sole)