The barrons vvars in the raigne of Edward the second. VVith Englands heroicall epistles. By Michael Drayton

The Epistle of Rosamond to King Henrie the second.

¶The Argument.

Henry the second of that name, King of England, the sonne of Geffrey Plantaginet, Earle of Aniou, and Maude the Em∣presse, hauing by long sute and princely gifts, wonne (to his vnlawfull desire) faire Rosamond, the daughter of the Lord VValter Clyfford, and to auoyde the danger of Ellinor his iealous Queene, had caused •• Labyrinth to be made within his Pallace at VVoodstocke, in the center whereof, he had lod∣ged his beauteous paramore. VVhilst the King is absent in his warres in Normandie, this poore distressed Lady, inclosed in this solitarie place, tutcht with remorse of conscience, writes vnto the King of her distresse and miserable estate, vrging him by all meanes and perswasions, to cleere himselfe of this infamie, and her of the griefe of minde, by taking away her wretched life.

IF yet thine eyes (great Henry) may endure These tainted lines, drawne with a hand impure, vvhich faine would blush, but feare keepes blushes back, And therefore suted in dispayring black, This in loues name, ô that these lips might craue, But that sweet name (vile I) prophaned haue,

Punish my fault, or pittie mine estate, Reade it for loue, if not for loue, for hate. If with my shame thine eyes thou faine wouldst feede, Heere let them surfeit, on my shame to reede; This scribled paper which I send to thee, If noted rightly, doth resemble mee; As this pure ground, whereon these letters stand, So pure was I, ere stained by thy hand; Ere I was blotted with this foule offence, So cleere and spotlesse was mine innocence. Now like these marks which taint this hatefull scroule, Such the black sinnes which spot my leprous soule, O Henry, why by losse thus should'st thou win? To get by conquest? to enrich with sinne? VVhy on my name this slaunder doost thou bring, To make my fault renowned by a King? Fame neuer stoopes to things but meane and poore, The more our greatnes, makes our fault the more. Lights on the ground, themselues doe lessen farre, But in the ayre, each small sparke seemes a starre. VVhy on a womans frailtie would'st thou lay This subtile plot, mine honour to betray? Or thy vnlawfull pleasure should'st thou buy vvith vile expence of kingly maiestie? Twas not my minde consented to this ill, Then had I beene transported by my will, For what my body was ensorst to doe, (Heauen knowes) my soule did not consent vnto; For through mine eyes had she her liking seene, Such as my loue, such had my Louer beene. True loue is simple, like his mother Truth,

Kindly affection, youth to loue with youth; No sharper corsiue to our blooming yeeres, Then the cold badge of vvinter-blasted haires. Thy kingly power makes to withstand thy foes, But canst not keepe back age, with time it growes, Though honour our ambitious sex doth please, Yet in that honour, age a foule disease, Nature hath her free course in all, and then, Age is alike in Kings, and other men, vvhich all the world will to my shame impute•• That I my selfe did basely prostitute; And say that gold was fuell to the fire, Gray haires in youth not kindling greene desire, O no; that wicked woman wrought by thee, My tempter was to that forbidden tree, That subtile Serpent, that seducing deuill, vvhich bad me tast the fruite of good and euill; That Circe, by whose magick I was charm'd, And to this monstrous shape am thus transform'd•• That viperous hag, the foe to her owne kinde, That wicked spirit vnto the weaker minde; Our frailties plague, our natures onely curse, Hels deep'st damnation, the worst euills worse, But Henrie, how canst thou affect me thus T'whom thy remembrance now is odious? My haplesse name, with Henries name I found, Cut in the glasse with Henries Diamond, That glasse from thence faine would I take away; But then I feare the ayre would me betray; Then doe I striue to wash it out with teares, But then the same more euident appeares.

Then doe I couer it with my guiltie hand, VVhich that names witnes doth against me stand; Once did I sinne, which memory doth cherrish, Once I offended, but I euer perrish. VVhat griefe can be, but time doth make it lesse? But infamie time neuer can suppresse. Sometimes to passe the tedious irkesome howres, I climbe the top of VVoodstocks mounting towres, vvhere in a Turret secretly I lye To view from farre such as doe trauaile by, vvhether (me thinks) all cast theyr eyes at mee As through the stones my shame did make them see, And with such hate the harmelesse walls doe view, As vnto death theyr eyes would me pursue. The married women curse my hatefull life, vvhich wrong a lawfull bed, a Queene, a wife; The maydens wish I buried quick may die, The lothsome staine to their virginitie. VVell knew'st thou what a monster I would be•• vvhen thou didst build this Labyrinth for mee, vvhose strange Meanders turning euery way, Be like the course wherein my youth did stray; Onely a Clue to guide me out and in, But yet still walke I, circuler in sin. As in the Tarras heere this other day My mayd and I did passe the time away, Mongst many pictures which we passed by, The silly girle at length hapt to espie Chast Lucrece picture, and desires to know vvhat she should be herselfe that murdred so? VVhy girle (quoth I) this is that Romane dame,

Not able then to tell the rest for shame, My tongue doth mine owne guiltinesse betray; vvith that I send the pratling girle away, Least when my lisping guiltie tongue should hault, My lookes should be the Index to my fault. As that life blood which from the hart is sent, In beauties felde pitching his crimson Tent, In louely sanguine sutes the Lilly cheeke, vvhilst it but for a resting place doth seeke; And changing often-times with sweet delight, Conuerts the white to red, the red to white. The louely blush, the palenes doth distaine, The palenes makes the blush more faire againe; Thus in my brest a thousand thoughts I carry, vvhich in my passion diuersly doe varry. VVhen as the sunne hales towards the VVesterne slade, And the trees shadowes three times greater made, Forth goe I to a little Current neere, vvhich like a vvanton traile creepes here and there, vvhere with mine angle casting in my baite, The little fishes (dreading the deceit) vvith fearefull nibbling flie th'inticing gin, By nature taught what danger lyes therein. Things reasonlesse thus warnd by nature be, Yet I deuour'd the baite was layd for me; Thinking thereon, and breaking into grones, The bubling spring which trips vpon the stones, Chides me away, least sitting but too nie, I should pollute that natiue puritie. Rose of the world, so doth import my name, Shame of the world, my life hath made the same.

And to th'vnchast this name shall giuen be, Of Rosamond, deriu'd from sinne and me. The Clyffords take from me that name of theyrs, Famous for vertue many hundred yeeres. They blot my birth with hatefull bastardie, That I sprang not from their nobilitie; They my alliance vtterly refuse, Nor will a strumpet shall theyr name abuse. Heere in the garden wrought by curious hands, Naked Diana in the fountaine stands, vvith all her Nimphes got round about to hide her, As when Acteon had by chaunce espide her; This sacred Image I no sooner view'd, But as that metamorphosd man pursu'd By his owne hounds; so by my thoughts am I, vvhich chase me still, which way so ere I flie. Touching the grasse, the honny-dropping dew, vvhich falls in teares before my limber shue, Vpon my foote consumes in weeping still, As it would say, vvhy went'st thou vnto ill? Thus to no place in safety can I goe, But euery thing doth giue me cause of woe. In that faire Casket of such wondrous cost Thou sent'st the night before mine honour lost, Amimone was wrought, a harmeles mayd, By Neptune that adulterous God betrayd; Shee prostrate at his feete begging with prayers, vvringing her hands, her eyes swolne vp with teares; This was not the entrapping baite of men, But by thy vertue gentle warning then; To shew to me for what intent it came,

Least I therein should euer keepe my shame. ••••d in this Casket (ill I see it now) vvat Ioues loue I-o, turnd into a Cow. Yet was shee kept with Argus hundred eyes, So wakefull still be Iunos iealousies; By this I well might haue forewarned beene, T'haue cleerd my selfe to thy suspecting Queene, vvho with more hundred eyes attendeth mee Then had poore Argus single eyes to see. In this thou rightly imitatest Ioue, Into a beast thou hast transformd thy loue. Nay worser farre; (degenerate from kinde) A monster, both in body and in mind. The waxen Taper which I burne by night, vvith his dull vapory dimnes mocks my sight; As though the damp which hinders his cleere flame, Came from my breath, in that night of my shame, vvhen it did burne as darkenes vgly eye, vvhen shot the starre of my virginitie. And if a starre but by the glasse appeare, I straight in treate it not to looke in heere; I am already hatefull to the light, It is enough, betray me not to night. Then sith my shame so much belongs to thee, Rid me of that by onely murdring me; And let it iustly to my charge be layde, Thy royall person I would haue betrayd; Thou shalt not neede by circumstance t'••ccuse mee, If I denie it, let the heauens refuse mee. My life's a blemish which doth cloude thy name, Take it away, and cleere shall shine thy fame.

Yeeld to my sute, if euer pittie moou'd thee, In this shew mercy, as I euer lou'd thee.

Notes of the Chronicle Historie.

Well knew'st thou what a monster I would bee, When thou didst build this Labyrinth for mee.

IN the Cretean Labyrinth a monster was inclosed, called a Min••∣taur, the hystorie whereof is well knowne, but the Labyrinth was framed by Daedalus, vvith so many intricate wayes, that being entred, one could either hardlie or neuer returne, being in manner of a maze saue that it was larger, the waies being walld in on euery side•• out of the which Theseus by Ariadnes helpe (lending him a clue of thred) escaped. Some report that it was a house, hauing one halfe beneath the ground, another aboue, the chamber doores therein so deceitful∣lie enwrapped, and made to open so manie lundry wayes, that it was held a matter almost impossible to returne.

Some haue held it to haue beene an Allegory of mans life, true it is that the comparison will hold, for what liker to a Labyrinth then the maze of life? But it is affirmed by antiquitie, that there was in∣deede such a building, though Daedalus being a name applyed to the workmans excellencie, make it suspected: for Daedalus is nothing els but ingenious, or artificiall. Heerevpon it is vsed among the auncient Poets, for any thing curiouslie wrought.

Rosamonds Labyrinth, whose ruins together with her vvell beeing paued with square stone in the bottome, and also her Tower from which the Labyrinth did runne, (are yet remaining) was altogether vnder ground, beeing vaults arched and walled with brick and stone, almost inextricably wounde one within another, by which if at any time her lodging were layd about by the Queene, shee might easilie auoyde perrill imminent, and if neede be, by secrete issues take the ayre abroade, manie furlongs round about Woodstocke in Oxford∣shire, wherein it was situated. Thus much for Rosamonds Labyrinth.

Whose strange Meanders turned euery way.

Meander is a riuer in Lycia, a prouince of Natolia, or Asia minor, famous for the sinuositie and often turning thereof, rising from cer∣taine

hils in Maeonia, herevpon are intricate turnings by a transu••tiue and metonimicall kind of speech, called Maeanders, for this Riuer did so strangely path it selfe, that the foote seemed to touch the head.

Rose of the world, so doth import my name, Shame of the world my life hath made the same.

It might be reported, howe at Godstowe where this Rose of the world was sumptuously interred, a certaine Bishop in the visitation of his Diocesse, caused the monument which had beene erected to her honour, vtterly to be demolished, but be that seuere chastisement of Rosamond then dead, at this time also ouerpassed, least shee shoulde seeme to be the Shame of the world.