The Falles of vnfortunate princes being a true chronicle historie of the vntimely death of such vnfortunate princes and men of note as haue happened since the first entrance of Brute into this iland vntill this our latter age : whereunto is added the famous life and death of Queene Elizabeth, with a declaration of all the warres, battels and sea-fights, wherein at large is described the battell of 88 with the particular seruice of all such ships and men of note in that action.

To the Reader.

HAuing hitherto continued the storie (gentle Reader) from the first entrance of Brute into this Iland, with the falles of such Princes, as were neuer before this time in one volume comprised, I now proceed with the rest, which take their beginning from the Conquest, whose pen-men being many and diuers, all diuerslie affected in the method of this their Mirror, I purpose only to follow the inten∣ded scope of that most honorable personage, who, by how much he did surpasse the rest in the eminence of his noble condition, by so much he hath exceeded them all in the excellencie of his he∣roicall stile, which with a golden pen he hath limmed out to poste∣ritie in that worthy obiect of his minde, the Tragedie of the Duke of Buckingham, and in his preface then intituled Master Sackuils induction. This worthie President of learning, inten∣ding to perfect all this storie himselfe from the Conquest, being called to a more serious expence of his time in the great State-af∣faires of his most royall Ladie and Soueraigne, left the dispose thereof to M. Baldwine, M. Ferrers and others, the composers of these Tragedies, who continuing their methode which was by way of dialogue or interlocution betwixt euery Tragedie, gaue it onely place before the Duke of Buckinghams complaint, which order I since hauing altered, haue placed the Induction in the be∣ginning, with euery Tragedie following according to succession and the iust computation of time, which before was not obserued; and lest any one thinke me enuious of others deserts, I haue sub∣scribed

the names of all such as I could heare of, vnder such Tra∣gedies as each one particularlie hath written; which at the request of the Printer, I haue briefely perused as the former. In which (friendly Reader) if I haue done amisse, I craue pardon for my ouersight, hoping if paines will in stead of penance pacifie thee, to yeeld thee satisfaction and content in my ad∣ditions following, to which I re∣fer thee.

R. N.

M^r. SACKVILS INDVCTION.

THe wrathfull winter hastning on apace, With blustring blasts had all ybard the treene, And old Saturnus with his frosty face With chilling cold had pearst the tender greene: The mantles rent, wherein enwrapped beene The gladsome groues that now lay ouerthrowne, The tapets torne, and euery tree downe blowne.

The soile that erst so seemly was to seene, Was all despoyled of her beauties hew, And soote fresh flowers (wherewith the summers Queene Had clad the earth) now Boreas blasts downe blew. And small fowles flocking, in their fong did rew The winters wrath, wherewith ech thing defaste, In woefull wise bewaild the summer past.

Hawthorne had lost his motley liuery, The naked twigs were shiuering all for cold; And dropping downe the teares abundantly, Ech thing (me thought) with weeping eye me told The cruell season, bidding mee with hold My selfe within, for I was gotten out Into the fields, whereas I walkt about.

When loe the night with mistie mantels spred Gan darke the day, and dim the azure skies, And Venus in her message Hermes sped To bloudy Mars, to will him not to rise, While she her selfe approcht in speedy wise: And Virgo hiding her disdainfull brest, With Thetis now had laid her downe to rest.

Whiles Scorpio dreading Sagittarius dart, Whose bowe prest bent in fight, the string had slipt, Downe slide into the Ocean floud apart. The Beare that in the Irish seas had dipt His grizly feet, with speed from thence he whipt: For Thetis hasting from the Virgins bed, Pursude the Beare, that ere she came was fled.

And Phaeton now neere reaching to his race With glistring beames, gold streaming where they bent, Was prest to enter in his resting place. Erythius that in the cart first went, Had euen now attain'd his iourneys stent: And fast declining hid away his head, While Titan coucht him in his purple bed.

And pale-fac'd Cinthea with her borowed light, Beginning to supplie her brothers place, Was past the Noonesteed sixe degrees in sight, When sparkling starres amid the heauens face, With twinkling light shone on the earth apace, That while they brought about the nights black chare, The darke had dim'd the day ere I was ware.

And sorrowing I to see the summer flowers, The liuely greene, the lusty lease forlorne: The sturdie trees so shattred with the showers, The fields so fade that florisht so beforne, It taught me well all earthly things be borne To dye the death, for nought long time may last, The summers beautie yeelds to winters blast.

Then looking vpward to the heauens leames With nights bright starres thick powdred euery where, Which erst so glistred with the golden streames, That chearfull Phoebus spred downe from his sphere, Beholding darke oppressing day so neere. The sudden sight reduced to my mind, The sundry changes that in earth we find.

That musing on this worldly wealth in thought, Which coms and goes more faster then we see The flickering flame that with the fire is wrought, My busie minde presented vnto me Such fall of Peeres as in the realme had be: That oft I wisht some would their woes descriue, To warne the rest whom Fortune left aliue.

And strait forth stalking with redoubled pace, For that I saw the night drew on so fast, In black all clad there fell before my face A piteous wight, whom woe had all forewast, Forth on her eyes the crystall teares out brast, And sighing sore her hands she wrung and fold, Tare all her haire that ruth was to behold.

Her body small forwithered and forespent, As is the stalke that summers drought opprest, Her wealked face with woeful teares be sprent, Her colour pale (at it seemed her best) In woe and plaint reposed was her rest. And as the stone that drops of water weares, So dented were her cheekes with fall of teares.

Her eies full swollen with flowing streames aflote, Where with her lookes throwne vp full piteously, Her forcelesse hands together oft she smote, With dolefull shrikes, that eckoed in the skye: Whose plaint such sighs did straight accompany, That in my doome was neuer man did see A wight but halfe so woe begone as shee.

I stood agast, beholding all her plight, Tweene dread and dolour so distraind in hart, That while my haires vpstarted with the sight, The teares outstreamd for sorow of her smart: But when I saw no end that could appart The deadly dole, which shee so sore did make, With dolefull voice then thus to her I spake:

Vnwrap thy woes what euer wight thou bee, And stint in time to spill thy selfe with plaint, Tell what thou art, and whence, for well I see Thou canst not dure with sorrow thus attaint. And with that word of sorrow all forfaint, She looked vp, and prostrate as she lay, With piteous sound, lo thus she gan to say:

Alas, I wretch whom thus thou seest distrain'd With wasting woes that neuer shall aslake, Sorrow I am, in endlesse torments pain'd Among the Furies in th' infernall lake: Where Pluto God of Hell so grizly black Doth hold his throne, and Laetheus deadly tast Doth reue remembrance of each thing forepast:

Whence come I am, the drery destiny And lucklesse lot for to bemone of those, Whom Fortune in this maze of misery, Of wretched chance, most wofull Mirors chose, That when thou seest how lightly they did lose Their pomp, their power, and that they thought most sure, Thou mayst soone deeme no earthly ioy may dure.

Whose rufull voice no sooner had out-brayed Those wofull words, wherewith she sorrowed so: But out alas, she shright and neuer stayed, Fell downe, and all to dasht her selfe for wo. The cold pale dread my limmes gan ouergo; And I so sorrowed at her sorrowes eft, That what with griefe and feare my wits were reft.

I stretcht my selfe, and straight my heart reuiues, That dread and dolour earst did so appale, Like him that with the seruent feuer striues, When sicknesse seekes his castell health to scale, With gathred sprites so forst I feare t'auale. And rearing her with anguish all foredone, My sprits return'd, and then I thus begon:

Sorrow, alas sith Sorrow is thy name, And that to thee this drere doth well pertaiue, In vaine it were to seeke to cease the same: But as a man himselfe with sorrow slaine, So I alas doe comfort thee in paine, That here in sorrow art foresunke so deepe, That at thy sight I can but sigh and weepe.

I had no sooner spoken of a stike, But that the storme so rumbled in her brest, As Eolus could neuer rore the like, And showres downe rain'd from her eyes so fast, That all bedreint the place, till at the last Well eased they the dolour of her mind, As rage of raine doth swage the stormie wind.

For forth she pased in her fearefull tale: Come, come (quoth she) and see what I shall show: Come heare the plaining, and the bitter bale Of worthy men, by Fortunes ouerthrow: Come thou and see them rewing all in row. They were but shades that erst in mind thou rold: Come, come with me, thine eyes shall them behold.

What could these words but make me more agast, To heare her tell whereon I mus'd while ere? So was I maz'd therewith: till at the last, Musing vpon her words, and what they were, All suddainly well lessoned was my feare: For to my mind returned how she teld Both what she was, and where her wun she held.

Whereby I knew that she a Goddesse was, And therewithall resorted to my mind My thought, that late presented me the glas Of brittle state, of cares that here we find, Of thousand woes to silly men assignd: And how she now bid me come and behold, To see with eye that earst in thought I told.

Flat downe I fell, and with all reuerence Adored her, perceiuing now that shee A Goddesse sent by godly prouidence, In earthly shape thus shew'd her selfe to me, To waile and rue this worlds vncertainty: And while I honourd thus her Godheads might, With plaining voice these words to me she shright:

I shall thee guide first to the griesly lake, And thence vnto the blisfull place of rest, Where thou shalt see and heare the plaint they make, That whilome here bare swinge among the best. This shalt thou see, but great is the vnrest That thou must bide, before thou canst attaine Vnto the dreadfull place where these remaine.

And with these words as I vpraised stood, And gan to follow her that straight forth paste, Ere I was ware, into a desert wood We now were come: where hand in hand imbraste She led the way, and through the thicke so traste, As but I had bene guided by her might, It was no way for any mortall wight.

But loe, while thus amid the desert darke, We passed on with steps and pace vnmeete, A rumbling rore confus'd with howle and barke Of Dogs, shooke all the ground vnder our feete, And strooke the din within our eares so deepe, As halfe distraught vnto the ground I fell, Besought returne, and not to visit hell.

But she forthwith vplifting mee a pace Remou'd my dread, and with a stedfast minde, Bad me come on, for here was now the place, The place where we our trauailes end should finde. Wherewith I rose, and to the place assingde Astond I stalkt, when straight we approched neere The dreadfull place, that you will dread to heare:

And hideous hole all vaste, withouten shape, Of endlesse depth, orewhelm'd with ragged stone, With ougly mouth, and griesly iawes doth gape, And to our sight confounds it selfe in one. Heere entred we, and yeeding forth, anone A dreadfull lothly lake we might discerne As blacke as pitch, that cleped is Auerne.

A deadly gulfe where nought but rubbish growes, With foule black swelth in thickned lumps that lies, Which vp in th' aire such stinking vapors throwes That ouer there, may flie no fowle but dies, Choakt with the noysome lauours that arise. Hither we come, whence forth we still did pace, In dreadfull feare amid the dreadfull place:

And first within the porch and iawes of hell Sate deepe Remorse of conscience, all besprent With teares: and to her selfe oft would she tell Her wretchednesse, and cursing neuer stent To sob and sigh: but euer thus lament, With thoughtfull care, as she that all in vaine Would weare and waste continually in paine.

Her eyes vnstedfast rolling here and there, Whurl'd on each place, as place that vengeance brought, So was her mind continually in feare, Tossed and tormented with tedious thought Of those detested crimes which she had wrought: With dreadfull cheere and lookes throwne to the skie, Wishing for death, and yet she could not die.

Next saw we Dread, all trembling how he shooke, With foote vncertaine profered here and there, Benum'd of speech, and with a ghastly looke Searcht euery place all pale and dead for feare, His cap borne vp with staring of his heare, Soyn'd and amaz'd at his owne shade for dreed, And fearing greater dangers then was need.

And next within the entrie of this lake Sate fell Reuenge gnashing her teeth for ire, Deuising meanes how she may vengeance take, Neuer in rest till she haue her desire: But frets within so farforth with the fire Of wreaking flames, that now determines she To die by death, or veng'd by death to be.

When fell Reuenge with bloudie foule pretence Had shew'd her selfe as next in order set, With trembling limbes we softly parted thence, Till in our eyes another sight we met: When from my heart a sigh forthwith I fet, Ruing alas vpon the wofull plight Of Miserie, that next appear'd in sight.

His face was leane, and somedeale pin'd away, And eke his hands consumed to the bone, But what his bodie was I cannot say, For on his carkas rayment had he none, Saue clouts and patches pieced one by one, With staffe in hand, and scrip on shoulder cast, His chiefe defence against the winters blast.

His food for most, was wilde fruits of the tree, Vnlesse sometime some crums fell to his share, Which in his wallet long God workepthe, As one the which full daintily would faire. His drinke the running streame: his cup the bare Of his palme closde, his bed the hard cold ground. To this poore life was Miserie ybound.

Whose wretched state when we had well beheld, With tender ruth on him and on his feeres, In thoughtfull cares, forth then our pace we held: And by and by, another shape appeeres Of greedie Care, still brushing vp the breers, His knuckles knob'd, his flesh deepe dented in, With tawed hands, and hard ytanned skin.

The morrow gray no sooner hath begun To spread his light euen peeping in our eyes, When he is vp and to his worke yrun. But let the nights blacke mistie mantles rise, And with foule darke neuer so much disguise The faire bright day, yet ceaseth he no while, But hath his candles to prolong his toile.

By him lay heauie Sleepe cosin of Death Flat on the ground, and still as any stone, A very corps, saue yeelding forth a breath. Small keepe tooke he whom Fortune frowned on, Or whom she lifted vp into the throne Of high renowne, but as a liuing death, So dead aliue, of life he drew the breath.

The bodies rest, the quiet of the hart, The trauailes ease, the still nights feere was he. And of our life in earth the better part, Reuer of sight, and yet in whom we see Things oft that tide, and oft that neuer bee. Without respect esteeming equally King Croesus pompe, and Irus pouertie.

And next in order sad Old Age we found, His beard all hoare, his eyes hollow and blind, With drouping cheere still poring on the ground, As on the place where nature him assign'd To rest, when that the sisters had vntwin'd His vitall thred, and ended with their knife The fleeting course of fast declining life.

There heard we him with broke and hollow plaint Rew with himselfe his end approching fast, And all for nought his wretched mind torment, With sweete remembrance of his pleasures past, And fresh delites of lustie youth forewast. Recounting which, how would he sob and shreek? And to be yong againe of Ioue beseeke.

But and the cruell fates so fixed be, That time forepast cannot returne againe, This one request of Ioue yet prayed he: That in such withred plight, and wretched paine, As eld (accompanied with lothsome traine) Had brought on him, all were it woe and griefe, He might a while yet linger forth his life,

And not so soone descend into the pit: Where Death, when he the mortall corps hath slaine, With wretchlesse hand in graue doth couer it, Thereafter neuer to enioy againe The gladsome light, but in the ground ylaine, In depth of darknesse waste and weare to nought, As he had nere into the world been brought.

But who had seene him, sobbing how he stood Vnto himselfe, and how he would bemone His youth forepast, as though it wrought him good To talke of youth, all were his youth foregone, He would haue musde and maruail'd much whereon This wretched Age should life desire so faine. And knowes ful wel life doth but length his paine.

Crookebackt he was, tooth shaken, and blere eyde, Went on three feete, and sometime crept on foure, With old lame bones, that ratled by his side, His scalpe all pil'd, and he with eld forlore: His withred fist still knocking at Deaths dore, Fumbling and driueling as he drawes his breath, For briefe, the shape and messenger of Death.

And fast by him pale Maladie was plaste, Sore sicke in bed, her colour all foregone, Bereft of stomacke, sauour, and of taste, Ne could she brooke no meate but broths alone. Her breath corrupt, her keepers euery one Abhorring her, her sicknesse past recure, Detesting physicke, and all physickes cure.

But oh the dolefull sight that then we see, We turn'd our looke, and on the other side A griesly shape of Famine mought we see, With greedie lookes, and gaping mouth that cried, And roar'd for meate as she should there haue died, Her bodie thin, and bare as any bone, Whereto was left nought but the case alone.

And that alas was gnawne on euery where, All full of holes, that I ne mought refraine From teares, to see how she her armes could teare, And with her teeth gnash on the bones in vaine: When all for nought she faine would so sustaine Her staruen corps, that rather seem'd a shade, Then any substance of a creature made.

Great was her force, whom stonewall could not stay, Her tearing nailes snatching at all she saw: With gaping iawes, that by no meanes ymay Be satisfi'd from hunger of her mawe, But eates her selfe as she that hath no law: Gnawing, alas, her carcase all in vaine, Where you may count each sinew, bone, and vaine.

On her while we thus firmely fixt our eyes, That bled for ruth of such a driety sight, Loe suddenly she shrinkt in so huge wise, As made hell gates to shiuer with the might. Wherewith a dart we saw how it did light Right on her brest, and therewithall pale Death Enthrilling it to reaue her of her breath.

And by and by a dumbe dead corps we saw, Heauie and cold, the shape of death aright, That dants all earthly creatures to his law: Against whose force in vaine it is to fight. Ne Peeres, ne Princes, nor no mortall wight, No Towne, ne Realmes, Cities, ne strongest Tower, But all perforce must yeeld vnto his power.

His dart anon out of the corps he tooke, And in his hand (a dreadfull sight to see) With great triumph eftsoones the same he shooke, That most of all my feares affrayed mee. His bodie dight with nought but bones perdie, The naked shape of man there saw I plaine, All saue the flesh, the sinow, and the vaine.

Lastly stood Warre in glittering armes yelad, With visage grim, sterne looks, and blackely hewed, In his right hand a naked sword he had, That to the hilts was all with blood embrued: And in his left (that King and kingdomes rued) Famine and fire he held, and therewithall He raced townes, and threw downe towers and all.

Cities he sackt, and Realmes that whilome flowred In honor, glorie, and rule aboue the best He ouerwhelm'd, and all their fame deuoured, Consum'd, destroy'd, wasted and neuer ceast, Till he their wealth, their name and all opprest. His face forehew'd with wounds, and by his side There hung his targ, with gashes deepe and wide.

In midst of which, depainted there we found Deadly Debate, all full of snakie heare, That with a bloodie fillet was ybound, Out breathing nought but discord euery where. And round about were portrai'd heere and there The hugie hosts, Darius and his power, His Kings, Princes, his Peeres, and all his flower;

Whom great Macedo vanquisht there in sight, With deepe slaughter, despoiling all his pride, Pierst through his Realmes, and danted all his might. Duke Hannibal beheld I there beside, In Cannas field, victor how he did ride, And wofull Romans that in vaine withstood, And Consul Paulus couered all in blood.

Yet saw I more the fight at Trasimene, And Treberie field, and eke when Hannibal And worthie Scipio, last in armes were sene Before Carthago gate, to trie for all The worlds Empire, to whom it should befall. There saw I Pompey, and Caesar clad in armes, Their hosts allied and all their ciuill harmes,

With Conquerers hands forbath'd in their owne blood, And Caesar weeping ouer Pompeyes head. Yet saw I Scilla and Marius where they stood, Their great crueltie, and the deepe bloodshead Of friends: Cyrus I saw and his host dead, And how the Queene with great despite hath flong His head in blood of them she ouercome.

Xerxes the Persian King yet saw I there, With his huge host that dranke the riuers drie, Dismounted hilles, and made the vales vprere, His host and all yet saw I slaine perdie. Thebes I saw all rac'd how it did lie In heapes of stones, and Tyrus put to spoile, With walles and towers flat euened with the soile.

But Troy alas (me thought) aboue them all, It made mine eyes in very teares consume: When I beheld the wofull werd befall, That by the wrathfull will of God was come: And Ioues vnmoued sentence and foredoome On Priam King, and on his towne so bent, I could not lin, but I must there lament.

And that the more, fith dest'ny was so sterne As force perforce, there might no force auaile, But she must fall: and by her fall we learne, That cities, towers, wealth, world, and all shall quaile. No manhood, might, nor nothing mought preuaile, All were there prest full many a Prince and Peere, And many a Knight that sold his death full deere.

Not worthie Hector worthiest of them all, Her hope, her ioy, his force is now for nought: O Troy, Troy, there is no boote but bale, The hugie horse within thy walles is brought: Thy turrets fall, thy Knights that whilome fought In armes amid the field, are slaine in bed, Thy gods defil'd, and all thy honor dead.

The flames vprising, and cruelly they creepe From wall to roofe, till all to cinders wast, Some fire the houses where the wretches sleepe, Some rush in heere, some run in there as fast. In euery where or sword or fire they tast. The wals are torne, the towers whurl'd to the ground, There is no mischiefe but may there be found.

Cassandra yet there saw I how they haled From Pallis house, with spercled tresse vndone, Her wrists fast bound, and with Greekes rout empaled: And Priam eke in vaine how he did runne To armes, whom Pyrrhus with despite hath done To cruel death, and bath'd him in the baine Of his sonnes blood before the altar slaine.

But how can I describe the dolefull sight, That in the shield so liuely faire did shine? Sith in this world I thinke was neuer wight Could haue set forth the halfe, not halfe so fine. I can no more but tell how there is seene Faire Ilium fall in burning red gledes downe, And from the soile great Troy Neptunus towne.

Here from when scarce I could mine eyes withdraw That fil'd with teares as doth the springing well, We passed on so far forth till we saw Rude Acheron, a lothsome lake to tell, That boyles and bubs vp swelth as blacke as hell, Where grieslie Charon at their fixed tide Still ferries ghosts vnto the farther side.

The aged God no sooner Sorrow spied, But hasting straight vnto the bancke apace, With hollow call vnto the rout he cried, To swarue apart, and giue the Goddesse place. Straight it was done, when to the shoare we pace, Where hand in hand as wee then linked fast, Within the boate wee are together plaste.

And forth we lanch full fraughted to the brinke, When with th' vnwonted waight, the rusty keele Began to cracke as if the same should sinke. We hoise vp mast and saile, that in a while We fet the shoare, where scarsely we had while For to arriue, but that we heard anone A three sound barke confounded all in one.

We had not long forth past, but that we saw Blacke Cerberus the hideous hound of hell, With bristles reard, and with a three mouth'd Iaw, Foredinning th' aire with his horrible yell. Out of the deepe darke caue where he did dwell, The Goddesse straight he knew, and by and by He peast and couched, while that we past by.

Thence come we to the horrour and the hell, The large greate Kingdomes, and the dreadful raigne Of Pluto in his throne where he did dwell, The wide waste places, and the hugie plaine: The wailings, shrikes, and sundry sorts of paine: The sighs, the sobs, the deepe and deadly groane, Earth, aire, and all resounding plaint and moane.

Thence did we passe the three-fold emperie To th' vtmost bounds, where Radamanthus raignes, Where proud folke waile there woefull miserie, Where dreadfull din of thousand dragging chaines, And balefull shriekes of ghosts in deadly paines Tortur'd eternally are heard most brim Through silent shades of night so darke and dim.

From hence vpon our way we forward passe, And through the groues and vncoth paths we goe, Which leade vnto the Cyclops walles of brasse: And where that maine-broad flood for aye doth floe, Which parts the gladsome fields from place of woe, Whence none shall euer passe t' Elizium plaine, Or from Elizium euer turne againe.

With Sorrow for my guide, as there I stood, A troope of men the most in armes bedight, In tumult clusterd 'bout both sides the flood: 'Mongst whom, who were ordaind t'eternall night, Or who to blissefull peace and sweet delight I wot not well, it seem'd that they were all Such as by deaths vntimely stroke did fall.

Some headlesse were, some body, face and hands, With shamefull wounds despoil'd in euery part: Some strangled, some that dide in captiue bands, Some smothred, drown'd, some stricken through the hart With fatall steele, all drown'd in deadly smart: Of hastned death, with shrikes, sobs, sighs and teares, Did tell the woes of their forepassed yeares.

We staid vs straight, and with a rufull feare, Beheld this heauie sight, while from mine eies The vapored teares downe stilled here and there, And Sorrow eke in far more wofull wise, Tooke on with plaint, vp heauing to the skies Her wretched hands, that with her cry the rout Gan all in heapes to swarme vs round about.

Loe here (quoth Sorrow) Princes of renowne, That whilome sate on top of Fortunes wheele, Now laid full low, like wretches whurled downe Euen with one frowne, that staid but with a smile. And now behold the thing that thou erewhile Saw only in thought, and what thou now shalt heare, Recount the same to Kesar, King, and Peere.

Then first came Henry Duke of Buckingham, His cloake of blacke all pild and quite forworne, Wringing his hands, and Fortune oft doth blame, Which of a Duke hath made him now her skorne. With gastly lookes as one in maner lorne: Oft spred his armes, stretcht hands he ioines as fast With rufull cheare, and vapored eyes vpcast.

His cloake he rent, his manly brest he beat, His haire all torne about the place it lay, My heart so molt to see his griefe so great, As feelingly me thought it dropt away: His eyes they whurld about withouten stay. With stormy sighes the place did so complaine, As if his heart at each had burst in twaine.

Thrice he began to tell his dolefull tale, And thrice the sighs did swallow vp his voice: At each of which he shriked so withall, As though the heauens riued with the noise: Till at the last recouering his voice, Supping the teares that all his brest beraind, On cruell Fortune weeping thus he plaind.

FINIS.

HOW THE TWO RO∣gers, surnamed Mortimers, for their sundry vices, ended their liues vnfortunately, the one, An. 1329. the other, 1387.

AMong the riders of the rolling wheele That lost their holds, Baldwine forget not mee, Whose fatall thred false Fortune needs would reele, Ere it were twisted by the sisters three: All folke be fraile, their blisses brittle bee: For proofe whereof, although none other were, Suffice may I, Sir Roger Mortimer.

Not he that was in Edwards dayes the third, Whom Fortune brought to boote and eft to bale, With loue of whom, the king so much she sturd, That none but he was heard in any tale: And whiles she smooth blew on this pleasant gale, He was created Earle of March, alas, Whence enuy sprang which his destruction was.

For wealth breeds wrath, in such as wealth doe want, Pride folly breeds in such as it possesse, Among a thousand shall you find one skant, That can in wealth his lofty heart represse, Which in this Earle due proofe did plaine expresse: For whereas he was somewhat haut before, His high degree hath made him now much more.

For now alone he ruleth as him lust, Ne recks for reade, saue of king Edwards mother: Which forced enuy foulder out the rust, That in mens hearts before did lie and smother. The Peeres, the people, th' one as well as th' other, Against him made so hainous a complaint, That for a traytour he was soone attaint.

Then all such faults as were forgot afore, They skowre afresh, and somwhat to them adde: For enuy still hath eloquence in store, When Fortune bids to worse things meanly bad. Fiue hainous crimes against him soone were had, First that he caus'd the King to yeeld the Scot, To make a peace, townes that were from him got:

And therewithall the Charter call'd Ragman, That of the Scots he bribed priuy gaine, That through his meanes sir Edward of Carnaruan In Barkely Castle traiterously was slaine: That with his Princes mother he had laine, And finally, with polling at his pleasure, Had rob'd the King and Commons of their treasure.

For these things loe which erst were out of mind He was condemn'd, and hanged at the last, In whom Dame Fortune fully shewed her kind, For whom she heaues she hurleth downe as fast. If men to come, would learne by other past, My cosin then might cause them set aside High climing, bribing, murdering, lust, and pride.

The finall cause why I this processe tell, Is that I may be knowen from this the other, My like in name, vnlike mee though he fell, Which was I thinke my grandfire or his brother: To count my kin, dame Philip was my mother, Daughter and heire of douty Lionell, The third King Edwards sonne, as stories tell.

My father hight sir Edmund Mortimer, True Earle of March, whence I was after Earle, By iust descent these two my parents were, Of which the one of Knighthood bare the fearle, Of womanhood the other was the pearle: Through their desert so cal'd of euery wight, Till death them tooke, and left mee in their right.

For why th' attainter of the elder Roger, (Whose shamefull death I told you but oflate) Was found to bee vniust, and passed ouer, Against the law, by those that bare him hate: For where by law each one of free estate Should personally be heard ere iudgement passe, They bard him this, where through destroid he was.

Wherefore by doome of court in Parliament, When we had prou'd our Cosin ordered thus, The King, the Lords, and Commons of assent His lawlesse death vnlawfull did discusse: And both to bloud and good restored vs. A preside at most worthy, shewed, and left, Lords liues to saue, that lawlesse might bee reft.

While Fortune vnto me her grace did deigne, King Richards grace the second of that name, (Whose looser life did soone abridge his reigne,) Made me his mate in earnest and in game: The Lords themselues so well allow'd the same, That through my titles duely comming downe, I was made heire apparent to the Crowne.

Who then but I was euery where esteemd, Well was the man that might with me acquaint, Whom I allow'd, as Lords the people deemd, To whatsoeuer folly had me bent, To like it well the people did assent: To mee as Prince attended great and small, I hopte a day would come to pay for all.

But seldome ioy continueth trouble void, In greatest charge cares greatest doe ensue, The most possest are euer most annoid, In largest seas sore tempests lightly brue, The freshest colours soonest fade the hue, In thickest place is made the deepest wound, True proofe whereof my self too soone haue found.

For whilst faire Fortune Iuld mee in her lap, And gaue me gifts more then I did require, The subtile dame behind mee set a trap, Whereby to dash and lay all in the mire: The Irish men against mee did conspire, My lands of Vlster from me to haue reft, Which heritage my mother had mee left.

And whiles I there, to set all things in stay, (Omit my toiles and trouble thitherward) Among mine owne with my retinue lay, The wilder men whom I did not regard, (And had therefore the reckles mans reward) When least I thought, set on mee in such number, That from my corps my life they rent asunder.

Nought might auaile my courage nor my force, Nor strength of men which were (alas) too few: The cruell folke assaulted so my horse, That all my helps in peeces they to hew. Our bloud distaines the ground as drops of dew, Nought might preuaile to flie nor yet to yeeld, For whom they take they murder in the field.

They know no law of Armes, nor none will learne, They make not warre (as other doe) a play: The Lord, the boy, the Gallowglas, the Kerne, Yeeld or not yeeld, whom so they take they slay. They saue no foes for ransome nor for pay: Their chiefest boote is th' aduersaries head, They end not w••••••e till th' enemie be dead.

Amongst these men or rather sauage beasts I lost my life, by cruell murder slaine: And therefore Baldwine note thou well my geasts, And warne all Princes rashnes to refraine: Bid them beware their foes when they doe faine, Nor yet presume vnequally to striue: Had I thus done, I had been left aliue.

But I despis'd the naked Irish men, And, for they flew, I feared them the lesse: I thought one man enough to match with ten, And through this carelesse vnaduisednes I was destroid, and all my men I gesse, At vnawares assaulted by our fone, Which were in number forty to vs one.

See here the stay of fortunate estate, The vaine assurance of this brittle life: For I but yong-proclamed Prince of late, Right fortunate in children and in wife, Lost all at once by stroke of bloudy knife: Whereby assur'd let men themselues assure, That wealth and life are doubtfull to endure.

FINIS.

THE FALL OF ROBERT Tresilian chiefe Iustice of England, and other his fellowes, for misconstruing the Lawes, and expounding them to serue the Princes affections, Anno 1388.

IN the sad register of mischiefe and mishap, Baldwine we beseech thee with our names to begin, Whom vnfriendly Fortune did train vnto a trap, When as wee thought our state most stable to haue bin. So lightly leese they all, which all do weene to win. Learne by vs ye Lawyers and Iudges of this Land, Vpright and vncorrupt in doome alway to stand.

And print ye this president to remaine for euer, Enroll and record it in Tables made of Brasse, Engraue it in Marble that may be raced neuer, Where Iudges of the Law may see, as in a Glasse, What guerdon is for guile, and what our wages was, Who for our Princes will, corrupt with meed and awe, Gainst Iustice wretchedly did wrest the sense of Lawe.

A change more new or strange when was there euer seene, Then Iudges from the Bench to come downe to the Barre, And Counsellours that were most nigh to King and Queene Exiled their Countrie, from Court and Counsell farre? But such is Fortunes play, which can both make and marre, Exalting to most high that was before most low, And turning taile againe, the loftie downe to throw.

And such as late afore, could stoutly speake and plead Both in Court and Countrey, carelesse of the triall, As mummers mute do stand without aduice or read, All to seeke of shifting, by trauerse or deniall, Which haue seene the day, when, for a golden Ryall, By finenes and cunning, could haue made blacke seeme white, And most extorted wrong to haue appeared right.

Whilst thus on bench aboue we had the highest place, Our reasons were too strong, for any to confute: But when at barre beneath, we came to plead our case, Our wits were in the wane, our pleading very brute. Hard it is for prisoners with Iudges to dispute: When all men against one, and none for one shall speake, Who weenes himself most wise, may chance be too too weake.

To you therefore that sit, these few words will I say, That no man sits so sure, but he may haply stand: Wherefore whilst you haue place, and beare the swing and sway, By fauour without force, let points of Law be skand. Pity the poore prisoner that holdeth vp his hand, Ne lade him not with law, who least of law hath knowne, Remember ere ye die, the case may be your owne.

Behold me one vnfortunate amongst this flocke, Tresilian cald sometime chiefe Iustice of this Land, A gentleman by birth, no staine was in my stocke, Locketon, Holte, Belknap; with other of my band, Which the Law and Iustice had wholly in our hand, Vnder the second Richarda Prince of greate state, To whom and vs also, blind Fortune gaue the mate.

In all our Common Lawes our skill was so profound, Our credit and autority such and so high esteemd, That what wee did conclude, was taken for a ground, Allowed was for Law what so to vs best seemd, Both life, death, lands, and goods, and all by vs was deemd: Whereby with easie paine, great gaine we did in fet, And euery thing was fish, that came vnto our net.

At Sessions and Sises, we bare the stroke and sway, In patents and commission, of Quorum still chiefe: So that to whether side soeuer we did way, Were it by right or wrong, it past without repriefe. The true man we let hang some whiles to saue a thiefe, Of Gold, and of Siluer, our hands were neuer empty, Offices, Farmes, and Fees, fell to vs in great plenty.

But what thing may suffice vnto the greedie man? The more he hath in hold, the more he doth desire: Happie and twice happie is he, that wisely can Content himselfe with that, which reason doth require, And moileth for no more then for his needfull hire: But greedinesse of mind doth seldome keepe the sise, To whom enough and more doth neuer well suffice.

For like as dropsie patients drinke and still be drie, Whose vnstanch'st greedie thirst no liquor can allay, And drinke they nere so much, yet thirst they by and by; So catchers and snatchers do toile both night and day, Not needie, but greedie, still prolling for their pray. O endlesse thirst of gold, corrupter of all lawes, What mischiefe is on mould whereof thou art not cause?

Thou madest vs forget the saith of our profession, When Sergeants we were sworne to serue the common law, Which was, that in no point we should make digression From approued principles, in sencence nor in sawe: But we vnhappie wights without all dread and awe Of the Iudge eternall, for worlds vaine promotion, More to man then God did beare our whole deuotion.

The Lawes we did interpret and statutes of the Land, Not truly by the text, but newly by a glose: And words that were most plaine, when they by vs were skand, We turned by construction to a Welchmans hose, Whereby many a one both life and land did lose: Yet this we made our meane to mount aloft on mules, And seruing times and turnes, peruerted lawes and rules.

Thus climing and contending alway to the top, From high vnto higher, and then to be most hie, The hony dew of Fortune so fast on vs did drop, That of King Richards counsell we came to be most nie: Whose fauour to attaine we were full fine and flie. Alway to his profit where any thing might sound, That way (all were it wrong) the lawes we did expound.

So working Law like waxe, the subiect was not sure Of life, of land, nor goods, but at the Princes will, Which caused his kingdome the shorter time to dure: For claiming power absolute both to saue and spill, The Prince thereby presumed his people for to pill, And set his lusts for Law, and will had reasons place, No more but hang and draw, there was no better grace.

Thus the King outleaping the limits of his Law, Not raigning but raging, as youth did him entice, Wise and worthie persons from Court did daily draw, Sage counsell set at naught, proud vanters were in price, And roysters bare the rule, which wasted all in vice: Of riot and excesse, grew scarcitie and lacke, Of lacking came taxing, and so went wealth to wracke.

The Barons of the Land not bearing this abuse, Conspiring with the Commons assembled by assent, And seeing neither reason nor treatie could induce The King in any thing his rigour to relent, Maugre his Kingly might they call'd a Parlament, Franke and free for all men without checke to debate As well for weale publique, as for the Princes state.

In this high assemblie, great things were proponed Touching the Princes state, his regaltie and crowne, By reason that the King (which much was to be moued) Without regard at all of honor or renowne, Misled by ill aduice, had turn'd all vpside downe, For suretie of whose state, them thought it did behoue His Counsellours corrupt by reason to remoue:

Among whom, Robert Veer, call'd Duke of Ireland, With Michael Delapole of Suffolke new made Earle, Of Yorke also then Archbishop, dispatcht out of hand, With Brembre of London a full vncurteous churle: Some learned in the Law in exile they did hurle: But I poore Tresilian (because I was the chiefe) Was damned to the gallowes most vilely as a thiefe.

Lo the fine of falshood, stipend of corruption, The fee of double fraud, the fruits it doth procure: Yee Iudges vpon earth, let our iust punition Teach you to shake off bribes, and keepe your hands still pure. Riches and promotion be vaine things and vnsure, The fauour of a Prince is an vntrustie stay, But Iustice hath a fee that shall remaine alway.

What glorie can be greater before God or man, Then by paths of Iustice in iudgement to proceed? So duely and so truly the Lawes for to scan, That right may take his place without regard or meed. Set apart all flatterie and vaine worldly dreed, Set God before your eyes, the most iust Iudge supreme, Remember well your reckoning at the day extreme.

Abandon all affray, be soothfast in your sawes, Be constant and carelesse of mortals displeasure, With eyes shut and hands close you should pronounce the lawes. Esteeme not worldly goods, thinke there is a treasure More worth then gold a thousand times in valure, Reposed for all such as righteousnesse ensue, Whereof you cannot faile, the promise made is true.

If Iudges in our daies would ponder well in mind The fatall fall of vs, for wresting Law and right, Such statutes as touch life should not be thus defin'd. By senses constrained, against true meaning quite, As well they might affirme the blacke for to be white: Wherefore we wish they would our act and end compare, And weighing well the case, they will we trust beware.

G. Ferrers.

HOW SIR THOMAS OF WOODSTOCKE DVKE OF Glocester, vncle to King Richard the second, was vnlawfully murdered, An. Dom. 1397.

WHose state stablisht is, in seeming most sure, And so far from danger of Fortunes blasts, As by the compasse of mans coniecture, No brasen piller may be fixt more fast: Yet wanting the stay of prudent forecast, When froward Fortune list for to frowne, May in a moment turne vpside downe.

In proofe whereof, O Baldwine, take paine, To hearken a while to Thomas of Woodstocke, Addresse in presence his fate to complaine, In the forlorne hope of English flocke: Extract by descent from the royall stocke, Sonne to King Edward, third of that name, And second to none in glorie and fame.

This noble father to maintaine my state, With Buckingham Earledome did me indow, Both Nature and Fortune to me were great, Denying me nought which they might allow: Their sundrie graces in me did so flow, As beautie, strength, high fauour and fame, Who may of God more wish then the same?

Brothers we were to the number of seuen, I being the sixt, and yongest but one: A more royall race was not vnder heauen, More stout or more stately of stomacke and person, Princes all peerelesse in each condition: Namely Sir Edward, call'd the blacke Prince, When had England the like before or since?

But what of all this, any man t'assure, In state vncarefull of Fortunes variance? Sith daily and hourely we see it in vre, That where most cause is of affiance, Euen there is found most weake assurance. Let none trust Fortune, but follow reason: For often we see in trust is treason.

This prouerbe in proofe ouer true I tried, Finding high treason in place of high trust: And most fault of faith where I most affied, Being, by them that should haue been iust, Trayterously entrapt, ere I could mistrust. Ah wretched world what it is to trust thee, Let them that will learne now hearken to mee.

After King Edward the thirds decease, Succeeded my nephew Richard to raigne, Who for his glorie and honors encrease, With princely wages did me entertaine, Against the Frenchmen to be his Chieftaine. So passing the seas with royall puissance, With God and S. George I inuaded France.

Wasting the countrie with sword and with fire, Ouerturning townes, high castles and towers, Like Mars god of warre enflamed with ire I forced the Frenchmen t' abandon their bowers: Where euer we marcht I wan at all howers, In such wise visiting both citie and village, That alway my souldiers were laden with pillage.

With honor and triumph was my returne, Was none more ioyous then yong King Richard: Who minding more highly my state to adorne, With Glocester Dukedome did me reward: And after in mariage I was prefer'd To a daughter of Bohun an Earle honorable, By whom I was of England high Constable.

Thus hoysed high on Fortunes wheele, As one on a stage attending a play, See'th not on which side the scaffold doth reele, Till timber and poles and all flie away: So fared it by me: for day by day, As honor encreased I looked still higher, Not seeing the danger of my fond desier.

For Fortunes floud thus running with full streame, And I a Duke descended of great Kings, Constable of England, chiefe officer of the Realme, Abused with desperance in these vaine things, I went without feete, and flew without wings, Presuming so far vpon my high state, That dread set apart, my Prince I would mate.

For whereas Kings haue counsell of their choice, To whom they referre the rule of their Land, With certaine familiars in whom to reioyce, For pleasure or profit, as the case shall stand, I not bearing this, would needs take in hand, Maugre his will, those persons to disgrace, And for to settle others in their place.

But as an old booke saith, who will assay About the Cats necke to hang on a bell, Had first need to cut the Cats clawes away, Lest if the Cat be curst, and not tam'd well, She with her nailes may claw him to the fell: So putting the bell about the Cats necke, I vnaduised caught a cruell checke.

Reade well the sentence of the Rat renown'd, Which Pierce the plowman describes in his dreame, And whoso hath wit the sense to expound, Shall find that to curbe the Prince of a Reame, Is euen (as who saith) to striue with the streame: Note this all subiects, and construe it well, And busie not your braines 'bout the Cats bell.

But in that yee be Lieges learne t'obay, Submitting your willes to your Princes Lawes: It fits not a subiect t'haue his owne way, Remember this prouerbe of the Cats clawes: For Princes like Lions haue long large pawes That reach at randon, and whom they once twitch, They claw to the bone before the skin itch.

But to my purpose, I being once bent, Towards the atchieuing of my attemptate, Foure bould Barons were of mine assent, By oath and alliance fastly confederate: First Henrie of Derby an Earle of estate, Richard of Arundell, and Thomas of Warwicke, With Mowbray the Marshall, a man most warlike.

At Ratecote Bridge assembled our band, The Commons in clusters came to vs that day To dant Robert Veere, then Duke of Ireland, By whom King Richard was ruled alway: We put him to flight, and brake his array, Then maugre the King, his leaue or assent, We by our power did call a Parlament.

Where not in Robes, but with our Baslards bright, We came to parle of the publique weale, Confirming our quarell with maine and might, With swords and no words we tried our appeale, In stead of reason declaring out zeale, And whom so we knew, with the King in grace, We plainly depriued of power and place.

Some with short processe were banisht the Land, Some executed with capitall paine, Whereof whoso list, the whole t'vnderstand, In the Parlament roll it appeareth plaine, And further how stoutly we did the King straine, The rule of his Realme wholly to resigne, To the order of those, whom we did assigne.

But note the sequele of such presumption, After we had these miracles wrought, The King inflamed with in dignation, That to such bondage he should be brought, Suppressing the ire of his inward thought, Studied nought else but how that he might Be highly reuenged of this high despite.

Aggreeu'd was also this latter offence, With former matter his ire to renue: For once at Windsore I brought to his presence The Maior of London with all his retinue, To aske a reckoning of the Realmes reuenue: And the souldiers of Brest by me were made bold, Their wages to claime when the towne was sold.

These griefes remembred with all the remnant, Hourded in his hart hate out of measure, Yet openly in shew made he no femblant, By word or by deed to beare displeasure: But loue dayes dissembled do neuer indure, And whoso trusteth a foe reconcild, Is for the most part alwaies beguild.

For as fire ill quencht will vp at a start, And sores not well salued doe breake out of new, So hatred hidden in an irefull hart, Where it hath had long season to brew, Vpon euery occasion doth easily renew: Not failing at last, if it be not let, To pay large vsury besides the due det.

Euen so it fared by this friendship fained, Outwardly sound, and inwardly rotten: For when the Kings fauour in seeming was gained, All old displeasures forgiuen and forgotten, Euen then at a suddaine the shaft was shotten, Which pierced my heart void of mistrust; Alas that a Prince should be so vniust.

For lying at Plashey my selfe to repose, By reason of sicknesse which held me full sore, The King espying me apart from those, With whom I confedered in band before, Thought it not meete to tract the time more, But glad to take me at such auantage, Came to salute me with friendly visage.

Who hauing a band bound to his bent, By colour of kindnesse to visite his Eame, Tooke time to accomplish his cruell intent: And in a small vessell downe by the streame, Conueid me to Calis out of the Realme, Where without processe or doome of my Peeres, Not nature but murder abridged my yeeres.

This act was odious to God and to man, Yet rigour to cloake in habit of reason, By craftie compasse deuise they can, Articles nine of right hainous treason: But doome after death is sure out of season, For who euer saw so strange a president, As execution done before iudgement.

Thus hate harboured in depth of minde, By sought occasion burst out of new, And cruelty abused the law of kinde, When that the Nephue the Vncle flew. Alas King Richard, sore mayst thou rue, Which by this fact preparedst the way Of thy hard destiny to hasten the day.

For bloud axeth bloud as guerdon due, And vengeance for vengeance is iust reward: O righteous God thy iudgements are true: For looke what measure we other award, The same for vs againe is prepar'd. Take heed ye Princes by examples past, Bloud will haue bloud, either first or last.

G. Ferrers.

HOW THE LORD MOW∣brey, promoted by King Richard the second to the state of a Duke, was by him banished the Realme the yeare of Christ, 1398. and after died miserablie in exile.

THough sorrow and shame abash me to rehearse My lothsome life, and death of due deserued, Yet that the paines thereof may other pearce To leaue the like, lest they be likewise serued: Ah Baldwine marke, and see how that I swerued. Dissembling, enuy, and flattery, bane that bee, Of all their hostes, haue shew'd their power on mee.

I blame not Fortune, though she did her part, And true it is she can do little harme: She guideth goods, she hampreth not the heart, A minde well bent, is safe from euery charme. Vice, only vice, with her stout strengthlesse arme, Doth cause the heart from good to ill encline, Which I, alas, doe finde too true by mine.

For where by birth I came of noble race, The Mowbreys heire, a famous house and old, Fortune I thanke, gaue me so good a grace, That of my Prince I had what so I would: Yet neither was to other greatly hold. For I thought flattery wrong'd his want on youth, And his fond trust augmented my vntruth.

He made me first the Earle of Notingham, And Marshall of the Realme, in which estate The Peeres and people iointly to me came, With sore complaint, against them that of late Bad officers had brought the King in hate, By making sale of Iustice, right, and Lawe, And liuing naught, without all dread or awe.

I gaue them aid these euils to redresse, And went to London with an army strong, And caus'd the King, against his will oppresse By cruell death, all such as led him wrong: The Lord chiefe Iustice suffered these among, So did the Steward of his household head, The Chancellor scapte, for he afore had fled.

These wicked men thus from the King remou'd, Who best vs pleas'd succeeded in their place: For which both King and Commons much vs lou'd, But chiefly I with all stood high in grace. The King ensu'd my rede in euery case, Whence selfe-loue bred: for glory maketh prowd, And pride aye seeks alone to be allow'd.

Wherefore to th' end I might alone inioy The Kings good will, I made his lust my lawe: And where of late I labour'd to destroy Such flattering folke, as thereto stood in awe, Now learned I among the rest to clawe: For pride is such, if it be kindly caught, As stroyeth good, and stirres vp euery naught.

Pride pricketh men to flatter for the pray, Toppresse and poll for maint'nance of the same, To malice such as match vneths it may: And to be briefe, pride doth the heart inflame, To fire what mischiefe any fraud may frame, And still at length the euils by it wrought Confound the worker, and bring him to nought.

Behold in me due proofe of euery part: For pride first forced me my Prince to flatter So much, that whatsoeuer pleas'd his heart Were't nere so ill, I thought a lawfull matter, Which causd the Lords afresh against him clatter: Because he had his holds beyond sea sold, And seene his souldiers of their wages pold.

Though vnto all these ils I were a frend, Yet such was luck that each man deemed no: The Duke of Glocester for me did send, With other Lords, whose hearts did bleede for woe, To see the Realme so fast to ruine goe. In fault whereof, they said the two Dukes were, The one of Yorke, the other Lancaster.

On whose remoue from being about the King We all agreed, and sware a solemne oth, And whilst the rest prouided for this thing, I flatterer I, to win the praise of troth, Wretch that I was, brake faith and promise both: For I bewraied to th' King their whole intent, For which vnwares they all were tane and shent.

Thus was the warder of the Common weale, The Duke of Gloster guiltlesse made away, With other moe, more wretch I so to deale, Who through vntruth their trust did ill betray: Yet by this meanes obtained I may pray, Of King and Dukes I found for this such fauour, As made me Duke of Northfolke for my labour.

But see how pride and enuy iointly runne, Because my Prince did more than me prefer, Sir Henry Bolenbroke, the eldest sonne Of Iohn of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster, Proud I that would alone be blasing starre, Enuide this Duke, for nought saue that the shine Of his deserts did glister more then mine.

To th' end therefore his light should be the lesse, I slily sought all shifts to put him out: But as the poize that would the palme represse, Doth cause the bowes spred larger round about; So spite and enuy causeth glory sprout, And aye the more the top is ouertrod, The deeper doth the sound roote spred abrode.

For when this Henry Duke of Herford saw, What spoile the King made of the noble bloud, And that without all Iustice, cause, or lawe, To suffer him, he thought not sure nor good: Wherefore to me twofaced in one hood, As touching this, he fully brake his minde, As to his friend that should remedy finde.

But I, although I knew my Prince did ill, So that my harte abhorred sore the same, Yet mischiefe so through malice led my will, To bring this Duke from honour vnto shame, And toward my selfe, my soueraigne to enflame, That I bewraied his word vnto the King, Not as a read, but as a hainous thing.

Thus where my duty bound me to haue told My Prince his fault, and wild him to refraine, Through flattery loe, I did his ill vphold, Which turnd at length both him and me to paine: Woe, woe to Kings whose counsailours doe faine, Woe, woe to Realmes where such are put in trust, As leaue the Law, to serue the Princes lust.

And woe to him that by his flattering reed, Maintaines a Prince in any kind of vice: Woe worth him eke for enuy, pride or meed, That misreports an honest enterprise. Because I beast in all these points was nice, The plagues of all together on me light, And due for ill, ill doers doth acquite.

For when the Duke was charged with my plaint, He flat denied that any part was true, And claimd by armes to answere his attaint, And I by vse that warlike feates well knew, To his desire incontinently drew: Wherewith the King did seeme right well content, As one that past not much with whom it went.

At time and place appointed we appeard, At all points armd to proue our quarels iust, And when our friends on each part had vs cheard, And that the Heralds bad vs doe our lust, With speare in rest we tooke a course to iust: But ere our horses had run halfe their way, A shout was made, the King commanded stay.

And for t'auoid the sheading of our bloud With shame and death, which one must needes haue had, The King through counsaile of the Lords thought good To banish both, which iudgment straight was rad; No maruell then though both were wroth and sad, But chiefly I that was exilde for aye, My enmie strang'd but for a ten yeares day.

The date expir'd, when by this dolefull dome I should depart, to liue in banisht band, On paine of death to England not to come, I went my way: the King seasde in his hand Mine offices, my honours, goods and land, To pay the due (as openly he told) Of mighty summes, which I had from him pol'd.

See, Baldwine, see, the solary of sinne, Marke with that meed vile vices are rewarded: Through enuy I did lose both kith and kinne, And for my flattering plaint so well regarded, Exile and shame are iustly me awarded: My wife and heire lacke lands and lawfull right, And me their Lord made Dame Dianaes Knight.

If these mishaps at home bee not enough, Adioine to them my sorowes in exile: I went to Almaine first, a Land right rough, In which I found such churlish folke and vile, As made me lothe my life ech other while: There lo I learnd what is to be a gest Abroad, and what to liue at home in rest.

For they esteeme no one man more then each, They vse as well the lackey as the Lord, And like their maners churlish in their speech, Their lodging hard, their boord to be abhor'd: Their pleyted garments therewith well accord, All iag'd and frounst, with diuers colours deckt, They sweare, they curse, and drinke till they be fleckt.

They hate all such as these their manners hate, Which reason would no wise man should allow: With these I dwelt, lamenting mine estate, Till at the length they had got knowledge, how I was exil'd, because I did auow A false complaint against my trustie friend, For which they nam'd me traytour still vnhend:

That what for shame and what for wearines I stole from thence, and went to Venice towne, Whereas I found more ease and friendlines, But greater griefe: for now the great renowne Of Bolenbroke whom I would haue put downe, Was waxt so great in Britaine and in France, That Vencie through, each man did him aduance.

Thus loe his glorie grew through great despite, And I thereby encreased in defame: Thus enuie euer doth her most acquite With trouble, anguish, sorow, smart and shame, But sets the vertues of her foe in flame: Like water waues which clense the muddie stone, And soyles themselues by beating thereupon.

Or ere I had soiourn'd there a yeare, Strange tidings came he was to England gone, Had tane the King, and that which touch'd him neare, Imprisoned him with other of his fone, And made him yeeld him vp his Crowne and throne: When I these things for true by search had tried, Griefe gripte me so, I pin'd away and died.

Note heere the end of pride, see flatteries fine, Marke the reward of enuie and complaint, And warne all people from them to decline, Lest likely fault do find the like attaint. Let this my life to them be a restraint: By others harmes who listeth take no heed, Shall by his owne learne other better reed.

T. Churchyard.

HOW KING RICHARD THE SECOND WAS FOR HIS euill gouernance deposed from his seate, in the yeare 1399. and murdered in prison the yeare following.

HAppie is the Prince, that hath in wealth the grace To follow vertue, keeping vices vnder; But woe to him whose will hath wisdomes place: For whoso renteth right and law asunder, On him at length all the world shall wonder. High birth, choice fortune, force, nor Princely mace, Can warrant King or Keyser from the case.

Behold my hap, see how the silly rout On me do gaze, and each to other say: See where he lieth, but late that was so stout, Lo how the power, the pride, and rich aray Of mightie Rulers lightly fade away. The King which erst kept all the Realme in doubt, The veriest rascall now dare checke and flout.

Me thinke I heare the people thus deuise: Wherefore Baldwine, sith thou wilt declare How Princes fell, to make the liuing wise, My lawlesse life in no point see thou spare, But paint it out, that Rulers may beware Good counsell, law, or vertue to despise, For Realmes haue rules, and Rulers haue a sise.

I was a King, who ruled all by lust, Forcing but light of Iustice, right, or Law, Putting alwaies flatterers false in trust, Ensuing such as could my vices claw, By faithfull counsell passing not an haw, As pleasure prickt, so needs obey I must, Hauing delight to feed and serue the gust:

Which to maintaine, my people were sore pol'd With Fines, Fifteenes, and loanes by way of prest, Blanke Charters, oaths, and shifts not knowne of old, For which the Commons did me sore detest. I also sold the noble towne of Brest, My fault wherein because mine vncle told, I found the meanes that he to death was sold.

None aide I lackt in any wicked deed, For gaping Gulles whom I promoted had Would further all in hope of higher meed. There can no King imagine ought so bad, But shall find some that will performe it glad: For sicknesse seldome doth so swiftly breed, As humours ill do grow the griefe to feed.

My life and death the truth of this hath tri'd: For while I fought in Ireland with my foes, Mine vncle Edmund whom I left to guide My Realme at home, rebelliously arose Percies to helpe, which plied my depose: And call'd from France Earle Bolenbroke, whom I Exiled had for ten yeares there to lie.

For comming backe this sudden stur to stay, The Earle of Worster whom I trusted most, (Whiles I in Wales at Flint my castle lay, Both to refresh and multiplie mine host) There in my hall, in sight of least and most, His staffe did breake, which was my houshold stay, Bad each make shift, and rode himselfe away.

My Steward false thus being fled and gone, My seruants slie shranke off on euery side, Then caught I was and led vnto my fone, Who for their Prince no Palace did prouide, But prison strong, where Henrie puft with pride Causde me resigne my Kingly state and throne, And so forsaken left and post alone.

Yet some conspir'd their new King to put downe, And to that end a solemne oath they swore, To render me my royall seate and Crowne, Whereof themselues depriued me before. But late medcines can helpe no sothbind sore: When swelling flouds haue ouerflowen the towne, Too late it is to saue them that shall drowne:

For though the Peeres set Henrie in his state, Yet could they not displace him thence againe: And where they soone depriued me of late, They could restore me by no manner paine. Things hardly mend, but may be mar'd amaine, And when a man is fallen in froward fate, Still mischiefes light one on anothers pate.

For when the King did know that for my cause, His Lords in maske would kill him on a night, To dash all doubts he tooke no farther pause, But Pierce of Exton a cruell murdering Knight To Pomfret castle sent him armed bright, Who causelesse kill'd me there against all lawes, Thus lawlesse life to lawlesse death aye drawes.

G. Ferrers.

HOW OWEN GLENDOVR SE∣DVCED BY FALSE PROPHESIES, tooke vpon him to be Prince of Wales, and was by Henrie Prince of England chased to the Mountaines, where he miserablie died for lacke of food, An. 1401.

I Pray thee Baldwine sith thou doest entend To shew the fall of such as climbe too hie, Remember me, whose miserable end May teach a man his vicious life to flie. Oh Fortune, Fortune, out on thee I crie: My liuely corps thou hast made leane and slender, For lacke of food, whose name was Owen Glendour.

A Welchman borne, and of the Troian blood, But ill brought vp, whereby full well I find, That neither birth nor linage make vs good, Though it be true that Cat will after kind. Flesh gendreth flesh, but not the soule or mind, They gender not, but foulely do degender, When men to vice from vertue them surrender.

Each thing by nature tendeth to the same Whereof it came, and is disposed like: Downe sinkes the mould, vp mounts the fierie flame, With horne the Hart, with hoofe the Horse doth strike, The Wolfe doth spoile, the suttle Foxe doth pike, And to conclude, no fish, flesh, fowle or plant, Of their true dame the propertie doth want.

But as for men, sith seuerally they haue A mind, whose maners are by learning made, Good bringing vp all only doth them saue In honest acts, which with their parents fade: So that true gentrie standeth in the trade Of vertuouslife, not in the fleshly line: For blood is brute, but gentrie is diuine.

Experience doth cause me thus to say, And that the rather for my countrimen, Which vaunt and boast themselues aboue the day, If they may straine their stocke from worthie men: Which let be true, are they the better then? Nay farre the worse, if so they be not good, For why, they staine the beautie of their blood.

How would we mocke the burden-bearing mule, If he would brag he were an horses son, To presse his pride (might nothing else him rule) His boasts to proue no more but bid him run: The horse for swiftnesse hath his glorie won. The braging mule could nere the more aspier, Though he should proue that Pegas was his sier.

Each man may crake of that which was his owne, Our parents good is theirs, and no whit ours: Who therefore will of noble birth be knowne, Or shine in vertue like his ancestours, Gentrie consisteth not in lands and towers: He is a churle though all the world were his, Yea Arthurs heire if that he liue amis.

For vertuous life a Gentleman doth make Of her possessour, all be he poore as Iob, Yea though no name of elders he can take: For proofe take Merlin fathered by an Hob. But who so sets his mind to spoile and rob, Although he come by due descent from Brute, He is a churle, vngentle, vile, and brute.

Well, thus did I for want of better wit, Because my parents naughtly brought me vp: For Gentlemen (they said) was nought so fit, As to attast by bold attempts the cup Of conquests wine, whereof I thought to sup: And therefore bent my selfe to rob and riue, And whom I could of lands and goods depriue.

Henrie the fourth did then vsurpe the Crowne, Despoil'd the King, with Mortimer the heire: For which his subiects sought to put him downe, And I while Fortune offered me so faire, Did what I might his honor to appaire: And tooke on me to be the Prince of Wales, Entiste thereto by Prophesies and tales.

For which, such mates as wait vpon the spoile, From euery part of Wales vnto me drew: For loytering youth vntaught in any toile, Are readie aye all mischiefe to ensue. Through helpe of these so great my glorie grew, That I defied my King through loftie heart, And made sharpe warre on all that tooke his part.

See lucke, I tooke Lord Raynold Gray of Rithen, And him enforst my daughter to espouse, And so perforce I held him still, and sithen In Wigmore land through battell rigorous, I caught the right heire of the crowned house, The Earle of March Sir Edmund Mortimor, And in a dungeon kept him prisoner.

Then all the Marches longing vnto Wales, By Seuerne West I did inuade and burne: Destroyed the townes in mountaines and in vales, And rich in spoiles did home ward safe returne: Was none so bold durst once against me spurne. Thus prosperously doth Fortune forward call, Those whom she minds to giue the sorest fall.

When same had brought these tidings to the King, (Although the Scots then vexed him right sore) A mightie armie 'gainst me he did bring: Where of the French King being warn'd afore, Who mortall hate against King Henrie bore, To grieue our foe he quickly to me sent Twelue thousand Frenchmen, vnto the fight all bent.

A part of them led by the Earle of March, Lord Iames of Burbon, a renowned Knight, Withheld by winds to Wales-ward forth to march, Tooke land at Plimmouth priuily on night: And when he had done all he durst or might, After that many of his men were slaine, He stole to ship and sailed home againe.

Twelue thousand moe in Milford did arriue, And came to me then lying at Denbigh: With armed Welchmen thousands double fiue, With whom we went to Worcester well nigh, And there encampt vs on a mount on high, T'abide the King, who shortly after came, And pitched downe his field, hard by the same.

There eight daies long our hosts lay face to face, And neither others power durst assaile: But they so stopt the passages the space, That vitailes could not come to our auaile, Where through constrain'd our hearts began to faile, So that the Frenchmen shranke away by night, And I with mine to'th mountaines took our flight.

The King pursued greatly to his cost, From hilles to woods, from woods to valleyes plaine: And by the way his men and stuffe he lost. And when he saw he gained nought but paine, He blew retreate and gate him home againe: Then with my power I boldly came abroad, Taken in my countrey for a very god.

Immediately there fell a iolly iarre Betweene the King and Percies worthie blouds, Which grew at last vnto a deadly warre: For like as drops engender mightie flouds, And little seeds sprout forth great leaues and buds; Euen so small strises, if they be suffered run, Breed wrath and warre, and death or they be don.

The King would haue the ransome of such Scots As these the Percies tane had in the field: But see how strongly Lucre knits her knots, The King will haue, the Percies will not yeeld, Desire of goods some craues, but granteth seeld: Oh cursed goods, desire of you hath wrought All wickednes, that hath or can bee thought.

The Percies deemd it meeter for the King, To haue redeemd their Cosin Mortimer, Who in his quarell all his power did bring To fight with mee, that tooke him prisoner, Than of their pray to rob his souldier: And therefore will'd him see some meane were found, To quite forth him whom I kept vily bound.

Because the King misliked their request, They came themselues and did accord with mee, Complaining how the Kingdome was opprest By Henries rule: wherefore wee did agree To plucke him downe, and part the Realme in three: The north part theirs, Wales holy to be mine, The rest, to rest to th' Earle of Marches line.

And for to set vs hereon more agog, A Prophet came (a vengeance take them all) Affirming Henry to be Gogmagog, Whom Merline doth a Mould warpe euer call, Accurst of God that must be brought in thrall By a Wolfe, a Dragon, and a Lion strong, Which should diuide his Kingdome them among.

This crafty dreamer made vs three such beasts, To thinke wee were the foresaid beastes, indeed: And for that cause our badges and our creasts Wee searched out, which scarsly well agreed: Howbeit the Herolds apt at such a need, Drew downe such issues from old ancesters, As prou'd these ensignes to bee surely ours.

Yee crafty Welehmen, wherefore doe ye mocke, The Noble men thus with your sained rimes? Ye Noble men, why flie yee not the flocke Of such as haue seduc'd so many times? False Prophesies are plagues for diuers crimes, Which God doth let the diuellish sort deuise, To trouble such as are not godly wise.

And that appeard by vs three beasts indeed, Through false perswasion highly borne in hand, That in our feate we could not chuse but speed, To kill the King and to enioy his Land: For which exploit we bound our selues in band, To stand contented ech man with his part, So folly did assure our foolish hart.

But such, they say, as fish before the net, Shall seldome surfet of the pray they take: Of things to come the haps bee so vnset, That none but fooles may warrant of them make: The full assur'd successe doth oft forsake. For Fortune findeth none so fit to flout, As carelesse sots, which cast no kinde of doubt.

How saist thou Henry Hotspur, doe I lie, For thou right manly gau'st the King a field, And there wast slaine because thou wouldst not flie: Thine vncle Thomas Percy forst to yeeld, Did cast his head (a wonder seene but seeld) From Shrewsbury towne to'th top of London Bridge. Loe thus fond hope did both their liues abridge.

When Henry this great victory had wonne, Destroid the Percies, put their power to flight, He did appoint Prince Henry his eldest sonne, With all his power to meete me if he might: But I discomfit through my partners fight, Had not the heart to meete him face to face, But fled away, and he pursu'd the chase.

Now Baldwine marke, for I cald Prince of Wales, And made beleeue I should be he indeed, Was made to fly among the hilles and dales, Where all my men forsooke me at my need. Who trusteth loiterers seeld hath luckly speed: And when the Captaines courage doth him faile, His souldiers harts a little thing may quaile.

And so Prince Henry chased me, that loe I found no place wherein I might abide: For as the dogges pursue the silly Doe, The brache behinde, the houndes on euery side, So traste they me among the mountaines wide: Whereby I found I was the hartles hare, And not the beast the prophet did declare.

And at the last: like as the little roach, Must else be eat, or leape vpon the shore When as the hungry picketell doth approach, And there find death which it escapt before: So double death assaulted me so sore That either I must vnto mine enmy yeeld, Or starue for hunger in the barraine feeld.

Here shame and paine a while were at a strife, Paine bad me yeeld, shame bad me rather fast: The one bad spare, the other bad spend my life, But shame (shame haue it) ouercame at last. Then hunger gnew, that doth the stone wall brast, And made me eate both grauel, durt, and mud, And last of all, my dung, my flesh, and bloud.

This was mine end too horrible to heare, Yet good enough for life that was so ill, Where by O Baldwine warne all men to beare Their youth such loue, to bring them vp in skill. Bid Princes fly false prophets lying bill, And not presume to climbe aboue their states: For they bee faults that foile men, not their fates.

Th. Phaer.

HOW HENRY PERCY Earle of NORTHVMBERLAND, was for his couetous and traiterous attempt put to death at Yorke, Anno 1407.

O Morall Senec true finde I thy saying, That neither kinne, riches, strength, or fauour Are free from Fortune, but are aie decaying: No worldly wealth is ought saue doubtfull labour, Mans life in Earth is like vnto a tabour, Which now to mirth doth mildly men prouoke And straight to warre, with a more sturdy stroke.

All this full true I Percy finde by proofe, Which whilom was Earle of Northumberland. And therefore Baldwine for our peeres behoofe, To note mens falles sith thou hast tane in hand, I would thou should my state well vnderstand: For few there were that were so much redoubted, Whom double Fortune lifted vp and louted.

As for my kinne their noblenesse is knowen, My valiant acts were folly for to praise, Where through our foes so oft were ouerthrowen, That who but I was doubted in my daies: And that King Richard found at all assaies? For neuer foes rebelled in his raigne, But through my force were either caught or slaine.

A brother I had was Earle of Worcester, Alwaies in office and fauour with the King, And by my wife Dame Elenor Mortimer, A sonne I had which so the foes did sting, That being yong, and but a very spring, Henry Hotspur they gaue him vnto name, And though I say it, he did deserue the same.

We three triumphed in King Richards time, Till Fortune ought both him and vs a spite: But chiefly mee, whom cleere from any crime, My King did banish from his fauour quite, Proclaiming mee a most disloyall Knight: Where through false slander forced mee to bee, That which before I did most deadly flee.

Let men beware, how they true folke defame, Or threaten on them the blame of vices nought, For infamy breedeth wrath, wreke followeth shame: Eke open slander often times hath brought That to effect, that erst was neuer thought. To bee misdeem'd men suffer in a sort, But none can beare the griefe of misreport.

Because my King did shame mee wrongfully, I hated him and soone became his foe: And while he did at warre in Ireland lie, I did conspire to turne his weale to woe: And through the Duke of Yorke and other moe, All royall power from him wee quickly tooke, And gaue the same to Henry Bolenbrooke.

Neither did we this onely for this cause, But to say truth, force draue vs to the same: For he despising God and all his lawes, Slew whom hee would, made sinne a very game: And seeing nor age nor consell could him tame, We thought it well done for the Kingdomes sake, To leaue his rule, that did all rule for sake.

But when Sir Henry had attaind his place, Hee straight became in all points worse then he, Destroied the Peeres, and slew King Richards grace, Against his oth made to the Lords and me. And seeking quarrels how to disagree, He shamelesly requir'd me and my sonne To yeeld him foes which we in field had wonne.

My nephew also Edmund Mortimer, The very heire apparent to the crowne, Whom Owen Glendour held as prisoner, With chaines fast bound in dungeon deepe cast downe, He would not ransome, but did felly frowne, 'Gainst Mortimer and me which for him spake, And him proclaimed traytour for our sake.

Thus foule despite did cause vs to conspire, To put him downe, as we did Richard erst, And that we might this matter set on fire, From Owens Iaile, our cosin we remerst, And vnto Glendour all our griefes rehearst, Who made a bond with Mortimer and mee, To priue the King and part the Realme in three.

But when King Henrie heard of this deuice, To Owen Glendour he sped him very quicke, Minding by force to stop our enterprise: And as the diuell would, then fell I sicke, Howbeit my brother and sonne more politicke Then prosperous, with an host from Scotland brought, Encountred him at Shrewesbury where they fought.

The one was tane and kill'd, the other slaine, And shortly after was Owen put to flight: By meanes whereof I forced was to faine, That I knew nothing of the former fight. Fraud oft auailes more then doth sturdie might: For by my faining I brought him in beliefe, I knew not that wherein my part was chiefe.

And while the King thus tooke me for his friend, I sought all meanes my former wrong to wreake, Which that I might bring to the sooner end, To the Bishop of Yorke I did the matter breake, And to th' Earle Marshall likewise did I speake, Whose father was through Henries cause exiled, The Bishops brother with trayterous death defiled.

These straight assented to do what they could, So did the Lord Hastings, and Lord Faueonbridge: Which altogether promised they would Set all their power the Kings daies to abridge. But see the spite, before the birds were flidge The King had word, and seased on the nest, Whereby alas my friends were all opprest.

The bloodie tyrant brought them all to end, Excepted me, which into Scotland fled, To George of Dunbar th' Earle of March, my friend, Who in my cause with many more made head: And when on hope of greater aid I fed, Both at the Frenchmen and the Flemmings hand, And could get none, I tooke such as I fand.

And with the helpe of George my very friend, I did inuade Northumberland full bold, Whereas the folke drew to me still on end, Bent to death my partie to vphold: Through helpe of these, full many a fort and hold, The which the King right manfully had man'd, I easely wonne, and seased in my hand.

Not so content (for vengeance draue me on) I entred Yorkshire, there to waste and spoile: But ere I had far in the countrie gone The Shiriffe thereof, Raph Rokesbie did assoile My troubled host of much part of our toile: For he assaulting freshly tooke through power, Me and Lord Bardolph both at Bramham moore.

And thence conueyed vs to the towne of Yorke, Vntill he knew what was the Kings intent: There loe Lord Bardolph kinder then the Storke, Did lose his head, which was to London sent, With whom for friendship mine in like case went: This was my hap, my fortune, or my faut, This life I led and thus I came to naught.

Wherefore good Baldwine will the Peeres take heed Of slander, malice, and conspiracie, Of couetise, whence all the rest proceed: For couetise ioynt with contumacie, Doth cause all mischiefe in mens hearts to breed. And therefore this to esperance my word, Who causeth bloodshed shall not scape the sword.

HOW RICHARD PLANTAGENET EARLE OF CAMBRIDGE INTEN∣ding the Kings destruction, was put to death at Southhampton, Anno Dom. 1415.

HAste maketh waste, hath commonly been said, And secret mischiefe selde hath luckie speed: A murdering mind with proper poyze is way'd, All this is true, I find it in my creed. And therefore Baldwine warne all states take heed, How they conspire another to betrap, Lest mischiefe ment, light in the miners lap.

For I Lord Richard heire Plantagenet Was Earle of Cambridge and right fortunate, If I had had the grace my wit to set, To haue content me with mine owne estate: But O false honors, breeders of debate, The loue of you our leaud hearts doth allure, To lose our selues by seeking you vnsure.

Because my brother Edmund Mortimer Whose eldest sister was my wedded wife, I meane that Edmund that was prisoner In Wales so long, through Owens busie strife, Because I say that after Edmunds life, His rights and titles must by law be mine, For he ne had, nor could encrease his line,

Because the right of Realme and Crowne was ours, I searched meanes to helpe him thereunto: And where the Henries held it by their powers, I sought a shift their tenures to vndoe, Which being force, sith force or sleight must doe, I void of might, because their power was strong, Set priuie fleight against their open wrong.

But sith the death of most part of my kin Did dash my hope, throughout the fathers daies I let it slip, and thought it best begin, When as the sonne should dread least such assayes: For force through speed, sleight speedeth through delayes, And seeld doth treason time so fitly find, As when all dangers most be out of mind.

Wherefore while Henrie of that name the fist, Prepar'd his armie to go conquer France, Lord Scroope and I thought to attempt a drift To put him downe, my brother to aduance: But wer't Gods will, my lucke or his good chance, The King wist wholly whereabout we went, The night before to shipward he him bent.

Then were we straight as traytours apprehended, Our purpose spi'd, the cause thereof was hid, And therefore loe a false cause we pretended, Where through my brother was from danger rid: We said for hire of French Kings coine, we did Behight to kill the King: and thus with shame We stain'd our selues, to saue our friend from blame.

When we had thus confest so foule a treason, That we deseru'd, we suffered by the law. See Baldwine, see, and note as it is reason How wicked deeds to wofull ends do draw. All force doth faile, no craft is worth a straw To attaine things lost, and therefore let them go, For might rules right, and will though truth say no.

W. Baldwine.

HOW THOMAS MON∣TAGVE EARLE OF SALISBV∣rie in the middest of his glorie, was chanceably slaine at Orleaunce with a piece of Ordinance, the third of Nouember, Anno Dom. 1428.

WHat fooles be we to trust vnto our strength, Our wit, our courage, or our noble fame, Which time it selfe must needs deuour at length, Though froward Fortune could not foile the same? But seeing this Goddesse guideth all the game, Which still to change doth set her only lust, Why toile we so for things so hard to trust?

A goodly thing we deeme of good report, Which noble hearts do seeke by course of kind: But seeing the date so doubtfull and so short, The way so rough whereby we do it find, I cannot chuse but praise the Princely mind That preaseth for it, though we find opprest, By foule defame, those that deserue it best.

Concerning whom, marke, Baldwine, what I say, I meane the vertuous hindred of their brute, Among which number recken well I may My valiant father Iohn Lord Montacute, Who lost his life I iudge through iust pursute, I say the cause and not the casuall speed Is to be waighed, in euery kind of deed.

This rule obseru'd, how many shall we find For vertues sake with infamie opprest? How some againe through helpe of Fortune blind, For ill attempts atchieu'd, with honor blest? Successe is worst oft times when cause is best: Therefore say I: God send them sory haps, That iudge the causes by their afterclaps.

The end indeed is Iudge of euery thing, Which is the cause or latter point of time: The first true verdict at the first may bring, The last is slow, or slipper as the slime, Oft changing names of innocence and crime. Duke Thomas death was Iustice two yeares long, And euer since, sore tyrannie and wrong.

Wherefore I pray thee, Baldwine, weigh the cause, And praise my father as he doth deserue: Because Earle Henry, King against all lawes, Endeuoured King Richard for to starue In iayle, wherby the regall Crowne might swarue Out of the line to which it then was due, (Whereby God knowes what euill might ensue.)

My Lord Iohn Holland Duke of Excester, Which was deare cosin to this wretched King, Did moue my Sire, and th' Earle of Glocester, With other Lords to ponder well the thing: Who seeing the mischiefe that began to spring, Did all consent this Henry to depose, And to restore King Richard to the Rose.

And while they did deuise a prety traine, Whereby to bring their purpose well about, Which was in maske this Henry to haue slaine, The Duke of Aumerle blew their counsaile out: Yet was their purpose good, there is no doubt. What cause can be more worthy for a Knight, Than saue his King, and helpe true heires to right?

For this with them my father was destroid, And buried in the dunghill of defame. Thus euill chance, their glory did auoid, Whereas their cause doth claime eternall fame. When deeds therefore vnluckily doe frame, Men ought not iudge the authors to be naught, For right through might is often ouerraught.

And God doth suffer that it should be so, But why, my wit is feeble to decise, Except it be to heape vp wrath and we On wicked heads that iniuries deuise. The cause why mischiefs many times arise, And light on them that would mens wrongs redresse, Is for the rancour that they beare I gesse.

God hateth rigour though it further right, For sinne is sinne, how euer it be vsed: And therefore suffereth shame and death to light, To punish vice, though it bee well abused. Who furthereth right is not therby excused, If through the same he doe some other wrong: To euery vice due guerdon doth belong.

What preach I now? I am a man of warre, And that my lims I dare say doth professe, Of cured wounds beset with many a skarre, My broken iaw vnheald can say no lesse. O Fortune, Fortune cause of all distresse, My father had great cause thy fraud to curse, But much more I, abused ten times worse.

Thou neuer flatteredst him in all thy life, But me thou dandledst like thy darling deare: Thy gifts I found in euery corner rife, Where ere I went I met thy smiling cheare: Which was not for a day or for a yeare, But through the raigne of three right worthy Kings, I found thee forward in all kind of things.

The while King Henry conquered in France I sued the warres and still found victory, In all assaults, so happy was my chance, Holds yeeld or won did make my enemies sory: Dame Prudence eke augmented so my glory, That in all treaties euer I was one, When weighty matters were agreed vpon.

But when this King this mightie conquerour, Through death vnripe was both his Realmes berest, His silly infant did receiue his power, Poore little babe full yong in cradle left, Where Crowne and Scepter hurt him with the heft, Whose worthie vncles had the gouernance, The one at home, the other abroad in France.

And I which was in peace and warre well skilled, With both these Rulers greatly was esteemed: Bare rule at home as often as they willed, And fought in France when they it needfull deemed, And euery where so good my seruice seemed, That English men to me great loue did beare, Our foes the French, my force fulfill'd with feare.

I alwaies thought it fitly for a Prince, And such as haue the regiment of Realmes, His subiects hearts with mildnes to conuince, With Iustice mixt, auoiding all extreames. For like as Phoebus with his cheerefull beames, Doth freshly force the fragrant flowres to florish, So rulers mildnesse subiects loue doth norish.

This found I true: for through my milde behauiour, Their hearts I had with me to liue and die, And in their speech be wrayer of their fauour, They call'd me still good Earle of Salisburie, The Lords confesse the Commons did not lie. For vertuous life, free heart, and lowly mind, With high and low shall alwaies fauour find.

Which vertues, chiefe become a man of warre, Whereof in France I found experience: For in assaults due mildnes passeth farre All rigour, force, and sturdie violence: For men will stoutly sticke to their defence, When cruell Captaines couet after spoile, And so enforst, oft giue their foes the foile.

But when they know they shall be friendly vsed, They hazard not their heads but rather yeeld: For this my offers neuer were refused Of any towne, or surely very seeld. But force and furies fit be for the field, And there indeed I vsed so the same, My foes would flie if they but heard my name.

For when Lord Steward and Earle Vantadors Had cruelly besieged Crauant towne, Which he had won, and kept long time before, Which lieth in Awxer on the Riuer Youne, To raise the siege the Regent sent me downe: Whereas I vsde all rigour that I might, I killed all that were not sau'd by flight.

When th' Earle of Bedford then in France Lord Regent Knew in what sort I had remoued the siege, In Brye and Champaine he made me Vicegerent, And Lieutenant for him and for my Liege: Which causde me go to Brye, and there besiege Mountaguillon with twentie weekes assaut, Which at the last was yeelded me for naught.

And for the Duke of Britaines brother Arthur, Both Earle of Richmond and of Yuerie, Against his oath from vs had made departure, To Charles the Dolphin our chiefe enemie, I with the Regent went to Normandie, To take his towne of Yuerie, which of spight, Did to vs daily all the harme they might.

They at the first compounded by a day To yeeld, if rescues did not come before, And while in hope to fight, we at it lay, The Dolphin gathered men two thousand score, With Earles, with Lords and Captaines iolly store: Of which the Duke of Alanson was guide, And sent them downe to see if we would bide.

But they left vs, and downe to Vernoile went, And made their vaunt they had our armie slaine, And through that lie, that towne from vs they hent, Which shortly after turned to their paine: For there both armies met vpon the plaine: And we eight thousand whom they flew before, Did kill of them, ten thousand men and more.

When we had taken Vernoile thus againe, To driue the treacherous Dolphin out of France, The Regent sent me t' Aniow and to Mayne, Where I besieg'd the warlike towne of Mawns. There Lord of Toysers, Baldwins valiance Did well appeare, which would not yeeld the towne, Till all the Towres and walles were battered downe.

But heere now Baldwine, take it in good part, Though that I brought this Baldwine there to yeeld, The Lion fierce for all his noble heart, Being ouermatch'd, is forst to flie the field. If Mars himselfe there had been with his shield, And in my stormes had stoutly me withstood, He should haue yeeld, or else haue shed my blood.

This worthie Knight both hardie, stout, and wise, Wrought well his feat: as time and place require, When Fortune failes, it is the best aduise To strike the saile lest all lie in the mire. This haue I said to th' end thou take no ire, For though no cause be found, so nature frames, Men haue a zeale to such as beare their names.

But to returne, in Mayne wan I at length, Such townes and sorts as might or helpe or hurt, I manned Mayne, and Suzans towne of strength, Fort Barnard, Thanceaur, and S. Cales the curt, With Lile sues Bolton, standing in the durt: Eke Gwerland, Suze, Loupeland and Mount sure, With Malycorne, these wan I and kept full sure.

Besides all this I tooke neere fortie holds, But those I raced euen with the ground: And for these deeds, as sillie sheepe in folds Do shrinke for feare at euery little sound, So fled my foes before my face full round: Was none so hardie durst abide the fight, So Mars and Fortune furthered me their Knight.

I tell no lie, so gastfull grew my name, That it alone discomfited an host: The boldest Frenchmen well confesse the same, Else will the towne which they like cowards lost. For when they sieged Beauron with great boast, Being fortie thousand well arm'd in field, Fiue hundred men enforced them to yeeld.

For while the Frenchmen fresh assaulted still, Our Englishmen came boldly forth at night, Crying Saint George, Salisbury, kill, kill, And offered freshly with their foes to fight, And they as Frenchly tooke themselues to flight. Supposing surely that I had been there, See how my name did put them all in feare.

Thus was the Dolphins power discomfited, Foure thousand slaine, their Campetane as it stood, Whereby our towne and souldiers profited, For there were vitailes plentifull and good: This while was I in England by the rood, T'appease a strife that was right foule befall, Betweene Duke Humfrey and the Cardinall.

The Duke of Exeter soone after died, Which of the King at home had gouernance, Whose roome the Earle of Warwicke then supplied, And I tooke his and sped me into France. Where in good hope to conquer Orliance, With much adoe I got the Regents aid, And marched forth, and siege about it laid.

But in the way I tooke the towne of Yaine, Where murdered were for stoutnes many a man: But Baugencey I tooke with little paine, For which to shew them fauour I began: This causde the townes of Mewne and Iargeman, That stood on Loyer, to profer me the keyes, Ere I came neere them, welnigh by two daies.

See heere how Fortune froward can allure, What baits she layeth to bring men to their ends: Who hauing hap like this, but hopeth sure, To bring to bale what euer he entends? But soone is sower the sweet that Fortune sends: When hope and hap, when health and wealth is highest, Then woe and wracke, disease, and need be nighest.

For while I, suing this so good successe, Laid siege to Orliaunce on the Riuer side, The Bastard (Cuckold Cawnies sonne I gesse, Tho thought the Dukes) who had the towne in guide Came fiercely forth, when he his time espi'd, To raise the siege, but was bet backe againe, And hard pursued both to his losse and paine.

For there we wan the Bulwarke on the bridge, With a mightie tower standing fast thereby. Ah cursed tower that didst my daies abridge, Would God thou had'st been further either I: For in this tower a chamber stands on hie, From which a man may view through all the towne By certaine windowes iron grated downe.

Where on a day, now Baldwine note mine end, I stood in viewing where the towne was weake, And as I busily talked with my friend, Shot from the towne, which all the grate did breake, A pellet came and droue a mightie fleake Against my face, and tare away my cheeke, For paine whereof I died within a weeke.

See Baldwine, see the most vncertaine glorie, How sudden mischiefe dasheth all to dust, And warne all Princes by my broken storie, The happiest fortune chiefly to mistrust. Was neuer man that alway had his lust: Then mortall fooles, in fancie more then mad, Which hope to haue that neuer any had.

W. Baldwine.

HOW DAME ELEANOR COBHAM DVCHESSE OF GLOCESTER, FOR PRAC∣tising of Witchcraft and Sorcery, suffred open penance, and after was banished the Realme into the Ile of Man.

IF a poore Ladie damned in exile Amongst Princes may be allowed place, Then gentle Baldwine stay thy pen a while, And of pure pitie ponder well my case, How I a Duchesse, destitute of grace Haue found by proofe, as many haue and shall The prouerbe true, that pride will haue a fall.

A noble Prince extract of royall blood, Humfrey sometime protector of this Land Of Glocester Duke, for vertue call'd (the good) When I but base beneath his state did stand, Vouchsaft with me to ioyne in wedlockes band, Hauing in Court no name of high degree, But Eleanor Cobham as parents left to mee,

And though by blith of noble race I was, Of Barons blood, yet was I thought vnfit, So high to match, yet so it came to passe, Whether by grace, good fortune, or by wit, Dame Venus lures so in mine eyes did sit, As this great Prince without respect of state, Did worthie me to be his wedded mate.

His wife I was, and he my true husband, Though for a while he had the company Of Lady Iaquet Dutchesse of Holland, Being an heire of ample patrimony, But that fell out to be no matrimonie: For after warre, long sute in law and strife, She proued was the Duke of Brabants wife.

Thus of a Damsell Dutchesse I became, My state and place aduanced next the Queene, Whereby me thought I felt no ground but swam, For in the Court mine equall was not seene, And so possest with pleasure of the spleene, The sparkes of pride so kindled in my brest, As I in Court would shine aboue the rest.

Such gifts of nature God in me had graft Of shape and forme, with other graces mo, That by the shot of Cupids fiery shaft, Which to the heart of this great Prince did go, This mightie Duke with loue was kindled so, As he abasing th' height of his degree, Set his whole heart, to loue and honor mee.

Grudge whoso would, to him I was most deere, Aboue all Dames aduanced in degree, (The Queene except) no Princesse was my peere, But gaue me place, and Lords with cap and knee Did all honor and reuerence vnto mee. Thus hoisted high vpon the rolling wheele, I sate so sure, me though I could not reele.

And weening least that Fortune hath a turne, I look'd aloft, and would not looke alow, The brands of pride so in my brest did burne As the hot sparkes, burst forth in open show, And more and more the fire began to glow Without quenching, and daily did encrease, Till Fortunes blasts with shame did make it cease.

For (as tis said) pride passeth on afore, And shame followes, for iust reward and meed: Would God Ladies, both now and euermore, Of my hard hap, which shall the storie reede, Would beare in mind, and trust it as their Creed, That pride of heart is a most hatefull vice, And low linesse, a pearle of passing price:

Namely in Queenes, and Ladies of estate, Within whose minds all meeknes should abound, Since high disdaine doth alwaies purchase hate, Being a vice, that most part doth redound To their reproch, in whom the same is found, And seldome gets good fauour or good fame, But is at last knit vp with worldly shame.

The proofe whereof I found most true indeed, That pride afore, hath shame to wait behind. Let no man doubt, in whom this vice doth breed, But shame for pride by iustice is assign'd, Which I well found, for truly in my mind Was neuer none, whom pride did more enflame, Nor neuer none receiued greater shame.

For not content to be a Dutchesse great, I longed sore to beare the name of Queene, Aspiring still vnto an higher seat, And with that hope my selfe did ouerweene, Since there was none, which that time was betweene Henrie the King, and my good Duke his Eame Heire to the crowne and kingdome of this Realme.

So neare to be, was cause of my vaine hope And long await when this faire hap would fall; My studies all were tending to that scope, Alas, the while to counsell I did call Such as would seeme, by skill coniecturall Of art Magique and wicked Sorcerie, For to diuine the Princes destinie.

Among which sort of those that bare most fame There was a Beldame call'd the Witch of Ey, Old mother Madge her neighbours did her name, Which wrought wonders in countries by here-say, Furies and feends her charming would obay. And dead corps from graue she could vpreare, Such an Inchantresse that time had no peere.

Two Priests also, the one hight Bolenbroke, The other Suthwel, Clerkes in coniuration, These two Chaplaines were they that vndertooke To cast and calke the Kings true constellation, And then to iudge by deepest diuination Of things to come, and who should next succeed To Englands Crowne, all this was true indeed.

And further sure they neuer did proceed, Though I confesse that this attempt was ill, But for my part, for any thing in deed Wrought or else thought, by any kind of skill, God is my iudge I neuer had the will, By any inchantment, Sorcerie, or charme, Or otherwise, to worke my Princes harme.

Yet nerethelesse, when this case came to light, By secret spies to Caiphas our Cardinall, Who long in heart had borne a priuie spight To my good Duke his nephew naturall, Glad of the chance so fitly forth to fall, His long hid hate, with Iustice to color, Vsed this case with most extreame rigor,

And caused me with my complices all, To be cited by processe peremptorie, Before Iudges, in place Iudiciall, Whereas Caiphas, sitting in his glorie, Would not allow my answere dilatorie, Ne Doctor or Proctor to alledge the lawes, But forced me to plead in mine owne cause.

The Kings counsell were called to the case, (My husband then shut out for the season) In whose absence I found but little grace, For Lawyers turned our offence to treason: And so with rigor, without ruth or reason, Sentence was giuen, that I for the same Should doe penance, and suffer open shame.

Nay the like shame had neuer wight I weene, Duches, Lady, ne Damsel of degree, As I that was a Princesse, next the Queene, Wife to a Prince, and none so great as hee, A Kings vncle, Protector of his countrey, With Taper burning, shrouded in a sheete Three dayes a row, to passe the open streete,

Barelegd, and bare foote, to all the worlds wonder, Yea, and as though such shame did not suffise, With more despite then to part asunder Me and my Duke, which Traitors did deuise By Statute lawe, in most vnlawfull wise, First sending me with shame into exile, Then murdring him by trechery and guile.

Yea and besides this cruell banishment Far from all friends to comfort mee in care, And husbands death, there was by Parliament Ordaind for me a messe of courser fare. For they to bring me to beggers state most bare, By the same act from mee did then withdraw Such right of dower, as widowes haue by law.

Death (as t'is said) doth set all things at rest, Which fell not so in mine vnhappy case: For since my death, mine enmies made a Iest In minstrels rimes, mine honour to deface. And then to bring my name in more disgrace, A song was made in manner of a laic, Which old wiues sing of mee vnto this day.

Yet with these spites their malice could not end, For shortly after, my sorowes to renue, My loiall Lord, which neuer did offend, VVas cald in haste, the cause he litle knew, To a Parlement, without sommons due, VVhereas his death was cruelly contriued, And I his wife of earthly ioyes depriued.

For all the while my Duke had life and breath, So long I stood in hope of my restore: But when I heard of his most causles death, Then the best salue for my recureles sore VVas to despaire of cure for euermore, And as I could, my carefull heart to cure VVith patience, most painfull to endure.

O Traitors fell, which in your hearts could find, Like feends of hell, the guiltles to betray, But ye chiefly his kinsmen most vnkind, VVhich gaue consent to make him so away, That vnto God, with all my heart I pray, Vengeance may light on him that caused all, Beaufort I meane, that cursed Cardinall.

VVhich bastard Priest of th' house of Lancaster, Sonne to Duke Iohn, surnamed Iohn of Gaunt, VVas first create Bishop of VVinchester, For no learning whereof he might well vaunt, Ne for vertue, which he did neuer haunt, But for his Gold and summes that were not small Paid to the Pope, was made a Cardinall.

Proud Lucifer, which from the heauens on high Downe to the pit of hell below was cast, And being once an Angell bright in sky, For his pride in hell is chained fast In deepe darkenes that euermore shall last, More haut of heart was not before his fall, Then was this proud and pompous Cardinall:

VVhose life, good Baldwine, paint out in his pickle, A and blase this Baal and Belligod most blind, An hypocrite, all faithles, false and fickle, A wicked wretch, a kinsman most vnkind, A Diuell incarnate, all diuellishly enclind, And (to discharge my conscience all at once) The Diuell him gnaw both body, bloud and bones.

The spitefull Priest would needes make me a VVitch, As would to God I had been for his sake, I would haue clawd him where he did not itch, I would haue plaid the Lady of the Lake, And as Merline was, closde him in a brake, Ye a Meridian to lull him by day light, And a night mare to ride on him by night.

The fiery feends with feuers hot and frenzy, The Airy hegges with stench and carren sauoures, The watry ghosts with gowtes and with dropsy, The earthly Goblines, with Aches at all houres, Furies and Fairies, with all infernall powers I would haue stird from the darke dungeon Of hell Centre, as deepe as Demagorgon.

Or had I now the skill of dame Erichto, Whose dreadfull charmes (as Lucan doth expresse) All feends did feare, so far forth as Prince Pluto VVas at her call for dread of more distresse, Then would I send of helhownds more and lesse A legion at least, at him to cry and yell, And with that charme, herrie him downe to hell.

VVhich need not, for sure I thinke that he VVho here in earth leades Epicurus life, As farre from God as possible may be, VVith whom all sinne and vices are most rife, Vsing at will both widow, maid, and wife, But that some Diuell his body doth possesse, His life is such, as men can iudge no lesse.

And God forgiue my wrath and wreakefull mind, Such is my hate to that most wicked wretch, Die when he shall, in heart I could well finde Out of the graue his corps againe to fetch, And racke his limmes as long as they would stretch, And take delight to listen euery day How he could sing a masse of welaway.

The Ile of Man was the appointed place To penance me for euer in exile, Thither in haste they posted me apace, And doubting scape, they pind me in a Pile Close by my selfe in care, alas the while There felt I first poore prisoners hungry fare, Much want, things skant, and stone walles hard and bare.

The change was strange, from silke and cloth of gold To rugged frize my carcas for to cloath, From Princes fare, and dainties hot and cold, To rotten fish, and meates that one would loath, The diet and dressing were much alike boath, Bedding and lodging were all alike fine, Such Downe it was as serued well for swine.

Neither doe I mine owne case thus complaine, Which I confesse came partly by desert: The only cause which doubleth all my paine, And which most neere goeth now vnto my heart, Is that my fault did finally reuert To him that was least guilty of the same, Whose death it was, though I abode the shame.

VVhose fatall fall when I doe call to minde, And how by me his mischiefe first began, So oft I cry on Fortune most vnkinde, And my mishap most vtterly doe banne, That euer I to such a noble man, Who from my crime was innocent and cleare, Should be a cause to buy his loue so deare.

Oh to my heart how grieuous is the wound, Calling to mind this dismall deadly case: I would I had been doluen vnder ground When he first saw or looked on my face, Or tooke delight in any kind of grace Seeming in me, that him did stir or moue To fancie me, or set his heart to loue.

Farewell Greenewich my Palace of delight, Where I was wont to see the Christall streames Of royall Thames, most pleasant to my sight: And farewell Kent, right famous in all Realmes, A thousand times I mind you in my dreames, And when I wake most griefe it is to mee, That neuer more againe I shall you see.

In the night time when I should take my rest I weepe, I waile, I wet my bed with teares, And when dead sleepe my spirits hath opprest, Troubled with dreames I fantasie vaine feares, Mine husbands voice then ringeth at mine eares Crying for helpe, O saue me from the death, These villaines heere do seeke to stop my breath.

Yea and sometimes me thinkes his drerie ghost Appeares in sight, and shewes me in what wise Those fell tyrants with torments had embost His winde and breath, to abuse peoples eyes, So as no doubt or question should arise Among rude folke which little vnderstand, But that his death came only by Gods hand.

I plaine in vaine, where eares be none to heare But roring seas, and blustering of the winde, And of redresse am nere a whit the neare, But with waste words to feed my mournfull minde, Wishing full oft the Parcas had vntwinde My vitall strings, or Atropose with knife Had cut the line of my most wretched life.

Oh that Neptune, and Aeolus also, Th' one god of Seas, the other of weather, Ere mine arriuall into that Ile of woe Had sunke the ship wherein I sailed thither, (The shipmen saued) so as I together With my good Duke, might haue been dead afore Fortune had wroken her heart vpon vs so sore.

Or else that God when my first passage was Into exile along Saint Albons towne Had neuer let me further for to passe, But in the street with death had strucke me downe: Then had I sped of my desired bowne That my poore corps might there haue lien with his Both in one graue, and so haue gone to blisse.

But I alas, the greater is my griefe Am past that hope to haue my sepulture Neere vnto him, which was to me most leefe, But in an Ile and countrie most obscure, To pine in paine whilst my poore life will dure, And being dead, all honorlesse to lie In simple graue, as other poore that die.

My tale is told, and time it is to cease Of troubles past, all which haue had their end: My graue I trust shall purchase me such peace In such a world where no wight doth contend For higher place, whereto all flesh shall wend: And so I end, vsing one word for all As I began, that pride will haue a fall.

G. Ferrers.

HOW HVMFREY PLAN∣TAGENET DVKE OF GLOCESTER. Protector of England, during the minoritie of his Nephew King Henry the sixt, (common∣ly called the good Duke) by practise of e∣nemies was brought to confusion.

AS highest hilles with tempests been most touched, And tops of trees most subiect vnto winde, And as great towers with stone strongly couched Haue heauie falles when they be vndermin'd: Euen so by proofe in worldly things we find, That such as climbe the top of high degree From feare of falling neuer can be free.

To proue this true, good Baldwine hearken heere, See and behold me Humfrey hight by name, Englands Protector, Duke of Glocester, Who in the sixt King Henries rule with fame, Twice ten yeares kept the troubled State in frame: Note well the cause of my vnhappie case, And'mongst thy mirrours let the same haue place.

In their most weale, let men beware mishap, And not to sleepe in slumbring sickernesse, Whilst Fortune false doth lull them in her lap Drowned in dreames of brittle blessednesse, But then to feare her freakes and ficklenesse, Accounting still the higher they ascend, More nigh to be to danger in the end.

And that vaine trust in blood or royall race, Abuse them not with blind securitie To trust their state, but weighing well my case, When she most smiles to haue in memorie My sudden fall, who in most certaintie Hauing most staies which men in state maintaine, Haue found the same vntrustie and most vaine.

Better then I none may the same approue, Who trusting all in height of high estate, To bite on fawning flatteries bait did loue, Which neuer Prince could banish from his gate, Did little thinke on such a sudden mate, Not heeding, lesse dreading, all vnaware, By foes least fear'd was trapt in suddaine snare.

If noble birth or high autority, Number of friends, kinred or alliance, If wisdome, learning, worldly policy Mought haue ben staiers to Fortunes variance, None stood more strong, in worldly countenance, For all these helpes had I to high degree, And yet in fine they all beguiled mee.

Of Henry fourth by name, fourth sonne I was, Brother to Henry fift of that same name, To the sixt Henrie vncle; but alas, What cause had I to build vpon the same? Or for vaine glory, to aduance my fame, My selfe to call in records and writings, The brother, sonne, and vncle vnto Kings?

This was my boast, which lastly was my bane, Yet not this boast was it that brought me downe: The very cause which made my weale to wane So neere of kin that I was to the Crowne, That was the rock that made my ship to drowne. A rule there is not failing, but most sure, Kingdome no kin doth know, ne can indure.

When the fift Henry by his valiancie Wan by conquest the roiall Realme of France, And of two Kingdomes made one Monarchy Before his death, for better obeisance, To his yong sonne, not ripe to gouernance, Protector of England I was by testament, And Iohn my brother in France made Regent.

To whom if God had lent a longer life, Our house t'haue kept from stormes of inward strife, Or it had been the Lord Almighties will, Plantagenet in state had standen still. But deadly discord which all states do spill Bred by desire of high domination, Brought our whole house to plaine desolation.

It is for truth in an history found That Henry Plantagenet first of our name, Who called was, King Henry the second Sonne of Dame Maude, the Empresse of high fame, Would oft report, that his ancient Grandame, Though seeming in shape a woman naturall, Was a Feend of the kind that (Succubae) some call.

Which old fable, so long time told before, When this Kings sonnes against him did rebell, He cald to minde, and being greeued sore, Loe! now (quoth he) I see and proue full well The story true, which folk of old did tell, That from a feend descended all our race, And now my children verify the case.

Whereof to leaue a long memoriall In minde of man for euermore to rest, A Picture he made and hung it in his Hall Of a Pellicane sitting on his nest, With foure yong birds, three pecking at his brest With bloudy beakes, and furder did deuise, The yongest bird to pecke the fathers eyes.

Meaning hereby his rebell Children three, Henry and Richard, bet him on the breast: (Ieffrey onely from that offence was free) Henry died of Englands Crowne possest: Richard liued his father to molest, Iohn the yongest pect his fathers eye, Whose deeds vnkinde the sooner made him die.

This King (some write) in his sicknes last Said, as it were by way of prophecie, How that the Diuell a Darnell graine had cast Among his kin, to encrease enmity, Which should remaine in their posterity Till mischiefe and murder had spent them all, Not leauing one to pisse against the wall.

And yet from him in order did succeed In England here of crowned Kings fourteene Of that surname, and of that line and seed, With Dukes and Earles, and many a noble Queene, The number such as all the world would weene So many impes could neuer so be spent, But some heire male should be of that descent.

Which to be true if any stand in doubt, Because I meane not further to digresse, Let him pursue the histories throughout Of English Kings whom practise did oppresse, And he shall find the cause of their distresse From first to last, vnkindly to begin Alwaies by those that next were of the kin.

Was not Richard, of whom I spake before, A rebell plaine vntill his father died, And Iohn likewise an enmy euermore To Richard againe, and for a rebell tried? After whose death, it cannot be denied, Against all right this Iohn most cruelly His brothers children caused for to die.

Arthur and Isabell (I meane) that were Ieffreies children then duke of Britaine Henries third sonne, by one degree more neere Then was this Iohn, as stories shew most plaine, Which two children were famisht or els slaine By Iohn their Eame cald Saunzterre by name, Of whose foule act all countries speake great shame.

Edward and Richard, second both by name Kings of this Land, fell downe by fatall fate: What was the cause that Princes of such fame Did leese at last their honour, life, and state? Nothing at all, but discord and debate, Which when it haps in kinred or in bloud, Erynnis rage was neuer halfe so wood.

Be sure therefore ye Kings and Princes all That concord in Kingdoms is chiefe assurance, And that your families doe neuer fall But where discord doth lead the doubtfull dance With busie brawles, and turnes of variance: Where malice is minstrel, the pipe ill report, The maske mischiefe, and so ends the sport.

But now to come to my purpose againe, VVhilst I my charge applied in England, My brother in France long time did remaine, Cardinal Beauford tooke proudly in hand In causes publique against me to stand, VVho of great malice so much as he might Sought in all things to doe me despite.

VVhich proud prelate to me was bastard Eame, Sonne to Duke Iohn of Gaunt as they did faine, VVho being made high Chancellour of the Realme, Not like a Priest, but like a Prince did raigne, Nothing wanting which might his pride maintaine, Bishop besides of VVinchester he was, And Cardinall of Rome, which Angels brought to passe.

Not Gods Angels, but Angels of old Gold Lift him aloft, in whom no cause there was By iust desert so high to be extold, (Riches except) whereby this golden asse At home and abroad all matters brought to passe: Namely at Rome, hauing no meane but that To purchase there his crimz in Cardinall hat,

Which thing the King my father him forbad Plainly saying, that he could not abide Within his Realme a subiect to be had His Princes peere, yet such was this mans pride, That he forth with after my father di'd, (The King then yong) obtained of the Pope That honor high, which erst he could not hope.

Whose proud attempts because that I withstood, My bound dutie the better to acquite, This holy father waxed well neere wood, Of meere malice deuising day and night To worke to me dishonor and despight, Whereby there fell betweene vs such a iarre, As in this land was like a ciuill warre.

My brother Iohn, which lay this while in France, Heard of this hurle, and past the seas in haste, By whose trauell this troublesome distance Ceased a while, but nerethelesse in waste: For rooted hate will hardly be displaste Out of high hearts, and namely where debate, Happeneth amongst great persons of estate.

For like as a match doth lie and smoulder Long time before it commeth to the traine: But yet when fire hath caught in the poulder, No art is able the flames to restraine: Euen so the sparkes of enuie and disdaine, Out of the smoke burst forth in such a flame, That France and England yet may rue the same.

So when of two Realmes the regiment royall, Betweene brothers was parted equally, One placed in France for affaires Martiall, And I at home for ciuill policie: To serue the state, we both did so applie, As honor and same to both did encrease, To him for the warre, to me for the peace.

Whence enuie sprang, and specially because This proud prelate could not abide a Peere Within the land to rule the state by lawes, Wherefore sifting my life and acts most neere, He neuer ceast, vntill, as you shall heare, By practise foule of him and his allies, My death was wrought in most vnworthie wise.

And first he sought my doings to defame, By rumors false, which he and his did sow: Letters and billes to my reproch and shame He did deuise, and all about bestow, Whereby my troth in doubt should daily grow, In England first, and afterward in France, Mouing all meanes to bring me to mischance.

One quarell was, that where by common law Murder and theft been punisht all alike, So as manslayers, which bloodie blades do draw, Suffer no more then he that doth but pike, Me thought the same no order politike, In setting paines to make no difference, Betweene the lesser and greater offence.

I being seene somewhat in ciuill law, The rules thereof reputed much bitter. Wherefore to keepe offenders more in awe, Like as the fault was smaller or greater, So set I paines more easier or bitter, Weghing the qualitie of euery offence, And so according pronounced sentence.

Among'st my other Delicta Iuuentutis, Whil'st rage of youth my reason did subdue, I must confesse as the very truth is, Driuen by desire fond fancies to ensue, A thing I did, whereof great trouble grew, Abusing one to my no small rebuke, Which wife was then to Iohn of Brabant Duke.

Called she was Ladie Iaquet the faire, Delitefull in loue like Helene of Troy: To the Duke of Bauier sole daughter and heire, Her did I marrie to my great annoy: Yet for a time, this dame I did enioy, With her whole lands, withholding them by force, Till Martin the Pope, betweene vs made diuorce.

Yet all these blasts not able were to moue The anchor strong, whereby my ship did stay, Some other shift to seeke him did behoue, Whereto ere long ill Fortune made the way, Which finally was cause of my decay And cruell death, contriued by my foes, Which fell out thus, as now I shall disclose.

Eleanor my wife, my Duchesse only deare, I know not how, but as the nature is Of women all, aye curious to enquire Of things to come (though I confesse in this Her fault not small) and that she did amisse, By witches skill, which Sorcerie some call, Would know of things which after should befall.

And for that cause made her selfe acquainted With mother Madge, called the witch of Eye, And with a Clerke that after was attainted, Bolenbroke he hight, that learned was that way, With other moe, which famous were that day, As well in Science called Mathematicall, As also in Magicke skill supernaturall.

These cunning folkes she set on worke to know The time how long the King should liue and raigne, Some by the Starres, and some by feends below, Some by witchcraft sought knowledge to attaine, With like fancies, friuolous, fond and vaine, Whereof though I knew least of any man, Yet by that meane my mischiefe first began.

Yet besides this there was a greater thing, How she in waxe by counsell of the witch, An Image made, crowned like a King, With sword in hand, in shape and likenesse sich As was the King, which daily they did pitch Against a fire, that as the waxe did melt, So should his life consume away vnfelt.

My Duchesse thus accused of this crime, As she that should such practise first begin, My part was then to yeeld vnto the time, Giuing her leaue to deale alone therein. And since the cause concerned deadly sinne, Which to the Clergie only doth pertaine, To deale therein I plainly did refraine.

And suffered them her person to ascite Into their Courts, to answere and appeare, Which to my heart was sure the greatest spite That could be wrought, and touched me most neare, To see my wife, and Ladie leefe and deare, To my reproch, and plaine before my face, Entreated so, as one of sort most base.

The Clergie then examining her cause, Conuinced her, as guiltie in the same, And sentence gaue according to their lawes, That she and they whom I before did name Should suffer death, or else some open shame: Of which penance my wife by sentence had To suffer shame, of both the two more bad.

And first she must by daies together three, Through London streets passe all along in sight Bareleg'd and barefoot, that all the world might see, Bearing in hand a burning taper bright, And not content with this extreame despight, To worke me woe in all they may or can, Exil'd she was into the Ile of Man.

This heinous crime and open worldly shame, With such rigour shewed vnto my wife, Was a fine fetch further things to frame, And nothing else but a preparatiue First from office, and finally from life Me to depriue, and so passing further, What law could not, to execute by murther.

Which by slie drifts, and windlaces aloofe, They brought about, perswading first the Queene, That in effect it was the Kings reproofe, And hers also, to be exempted cleane From princely rule, or that it should be seene A King of yeares still gouerned to bee Like a pupill, that nothing could foresee.

The danger more, considering the King Was without child, I being his next heire To rule the Realme, as Prince in euery thing Without restraint, and all the sway to beare. With peoples loue, whereby it was to feare That my haut heart, vnbridled in desire, Time would preuent, and to the Crowne aspire.

These with such like were put into her head, Who of herselfe was thereto soone enclin'd, Other there were that this ill humour fed, To neither part that had good will or mind, The Duke of Yorke our cosin most vnkind, Who keeping close a title to the Crowne, Lancasters house did labour to pull downe.

The stay whereof he tooke to stand in me, Seeing the King of courage nothing stout, Neither of wit great perill to foresee, So for purpose, if he could bring about Me to displace, then did he little doubt To gaine the Goale, for which he droue the ball, The Crowne (I meane) to catch ere it should fall.

This hope made him against me to conspire With those which foes were to each other late, The Queene did weene to win her whole desire, Which was to rule the King and all the State If I were rid, whom therefore she did hate, Forecasting not, when that was brought to passe, How weake of friends the King her husband was.

The Dukes two, of Excester, and Buckingham, With the Marquise Dorset therein did agree, But namely the Marquise of Suffolke William, Contriuer chiefe of this conspiracie, With other moe, that sate still and did see Their mortall foes on me to whet their kniues, Which turn'd at last to losse of all their liues.

But vaine desire of soueraingtie and rule, Which otherwise (Ambition) hath no name, So stir'd the Queene, that wilfull as a Mule, Headlong she runnes from smoke into the flame, Driuing a drift, which after did so frame, As she, the King, with all their line and race, Depriued were of honor, life, and place.

So for purpose she thought it very good, With former foes in friendship to confeder, The Duke of Yorke and other of his blood, With Neuils all, knit were then all together, And Delapoole, friend afore to neither: The Cardinall also came within this list, As Herode and Pilate to iudge Iesus Christ.

This cursed league too late discouered was By Bayards blind, that linked in the line, The Queene and Cardinall brought it so to passe, With Marquise Suffolke master of this mine, Whose ill aduice was counted very fine, With other moe which finely could disguise, With false visours my mischiefe to deuise.

Concluding thus they point without delay Parliament to hold, in some vnhaunted place, Far from London, out of the common way, Where few or none should vnderstand the case, But whom the Queene and Cardinall did embrace: And so for place they chose Saint Edmundsburie, Since when (some say) England was neuer merrie.

Summons was sent this company to call, Which made me muse, that in so great a case I should no whit of counsell be at all, Who yet had rule, and next the King in place, Me thought nothing my state could more disgrace Then to beare name, and in effect to be A Cypher in Algrim, as all men might see.

And though iust cause I had for to suspect The time and place appointed by my foes, And that my friends most plainly did detect The subtill traine, and practise of all those Which against me great treasons did suppose, Yet trust of truth with a conscience cleare Gaue me good heart, in that place to appeare.

Vpon which trust with more haste then good speed, Forward I went to that vnluckie place Dutie to shew, and no whit was in dread Of any traine, but bold to shew my face As a true man, yet so fell out the case That after trauell seeking for repose, An armed band my lodging did enclose.

The Vicount Beaumount, who for the time supplied The office of high Constable of the Land, Was with the Queene and Cardinall allied, By whose support he stoutly tooke in hand My lodging to enter with an armed band, And for high treason my person did arrest, And laid me that night where him seemed best.

Then shaking and quaking, for dread of a dreame, Halfe waked all naked in bed as I lay, What time strake the chime of mine houre extreame, Opprest was my rest with mortall affray, My foes did vnclose, I know not which way My chamber dores, and boldly in brake, And had me fast before I could wake.

Thou lookest now, that of my secret murther, I should at large the maner how declare, I pray thee Baldwine aske of me no further, For speaking plaine, it came so at vnware, As I my selfe, which caught was in the snare, Scarcely am able the circumstance to shew, Which was kept close, and knowne but vnto few.

But be thou sure by violence it was, And no whit bred by sicknesse or disease, That felt it well before my life did passe, For when these wolues my bodie once did sease, Vsed I was but smally to mine ease, With torments strong which went so neere the quicke, As made me die before that I was sicke.

A Palsie (they said) my vitall spirits opprest, Bred by excesse of melancholie blacke, This for excuse to lay, them seemed best, Lest my true friends the cause might further racke, And so perhaps discouer the whole packe Of my false foes, whom they might well suspect For causes great, which after tooke effect.

Dead was I found by such as best did know The maner how the same was brought to passe, And then my corps was set out for a show, By view whereof nothing perceiued was: Whereby the world may see as in a glasse, Th' vnsure state of them that stand most hie, Which then dread least, when danger is most nie.

And also see what danger they are in, Which next their King are to succeed in place: Since Kings most part be iealous of their kin, Whom I aduise, forewarned by my case, To beare low saile, and not too much embrace The peoples loue: for as Senec saith truly: O quàm funestus est fauor populi.

G. Ferrers.

HOW LORD WILLIAM DELAPOLE Duke of Suffolke was worthily banished, for abusing his King, and causing the destruction of the good Duke Humfrey, Anno Dom. 1450.

HEauie is the hap whereto all men be bound, I meane the death, which no estate may flie: But to be banisht, headed, and then drown'd In sinke of shame from top of honors hie, Was neuer man so seru'd I thinke but I. Wherefore Baldwine amongst the rest by right, I claime of thee my wofull case to write.

My only life in all points may suffice, To shew how base all baits of Fortune be, Which thaw like yee, through heate of enuies eyes, Of vicious deeds which much possessed me. Good hap with vice, long time cannot agree, Which bring best Fortunes to the basest fall, And happiest hap to enuie to be thrall.

Called I was William De la Poole, Of Suffolke Duke in Queene Margarets daies, That found the meane Duke Humfreys blood to coole, Whose worthie acts deserue eternall praise, Whereby I note that Fortune cannot raise Any aloft, without some others wracke: Flouds drowne no fields before they finde bracke.

But as the waters which doe breake the walles Doe lose their course they had within the shore, And daily rotting stinke within their stalles, For fault of mouing which they found before: Euen so the state that ouer high is bore, Doth lose the life of peoples loue it had, And rots it selfe vntill it fall to bad.

For while I was but Earle, ech man was glad To say and doe the best by me they might: And Fortune euer since I was a lad, Did smile vpon me with a chearefull sight, For when my King had doubed me a Knight And sent me forth to serue at warre in France, My luckly speed mine honour did enhance.

Where, to omit the many feates I wrought Vnder others guide, I do remember one, Which with my souldiers valiantly was fought, None other Captaine saue my selfe alone, I meane not now th' apprinze of Pucell Ione In which attempt my trauaile was not small, Though Burgoyne Duke had then the praise of all.

The siege of Awmarie is the feat I praise: A strong built Towne, with castels, walles, and vaults, With men and weapon armd at all assaies: To which I gaue nigh fiue times fiue assaults, Till at the last they yeelded it for naughts. Yet Lord Ramburs most like a valiant Knight, Defended it as long as ere he might.

But what preuailed it these townes to winne, Which shortly after must be lost againe? Whereby I see there is more glory in The keeping things, then is in their attaine: To get and keepe not, is but losse and paine. Therfore ought mē prouide to saue their winnings In all attempts, else lose they their beginnings.

Because we could not keepe the townes we won, For they were more then we might easily weeld, One yeare vndid what we in ten had done: Enuie at home, treason abroad, did yeeld King Charles his Realme of France, made barren field: For bloodie warres had wasted all encrease, Which caus'd the Pope help need to sue for peace.

So that in Touraine at the towne of Tours Duke Charles and other for their Prince appered, So did Lord Rosse and I then Earle, for ours: And when we shewed wherein each other dered, We sought out meanes all quarels to haue clered, Wherein the Lords of Germanie, of Spaine, Of Hungarie, and Denmarke, tooke great paine.

But sith we could no finall peace induce, For neither would the others couenants heare, For eighteene months we did conclude a truce: And while as friends we lay together there, Because my warrant did me therein beare, To make a perfit peace and through accord, I sought a mariage for my soueraigne Lord.

And for the French Kings daughters were too small, I fancied most Dame Margaret his niece, A louely Ladie beautifull and tall, Faire spoken, pleasant, and a Princely piece, In wit and learning matchlesse hence to Greece, Duke Rayners heire of Aniow, King by stile Of Naples, Ierusalem, and Sicil Ile.

But ere I could the grant of her attaine, All that our King had of her fathers lands, As Maunts the towne, the countie whole of Maine, And most of Aniow duchie in our hands, I did release him by assured bands. And as for do wire with her none I sought, I thought no peace could be too deerely bought.

And when this mariage throwly was agreed Although my King was glad of such a make, His vncle Humfrey hated it indeed, Because thereby his precontract he brake, Made with the heire of the Earle of Arminacke, A noble maid with store of goods endowed, Which more then this with losse the Duke allowed.

But loue and beautie in the King so wrought, That neither gaine or promise he regarded, But set his vncles counsell still at nought: And for my paines I highly was awarded. Thus vertue starues, but lustfood must be larded. For I made Marquesse went to France againe, And brought this bride vnto my Soueraigne.

At home because Duke Humfrey aye repined, Calling their match aduoutrie (as it was) The Queene did moue me, erst thereto enclined, To helpe to bring him to his Requiem masse, Which sith it could for no crime come to passe, His life and doings were so right and clere, Through priuy murder we brought him to his bere.

Thus righteousnesse brought Humfrey to rebuke, Because he would no wickednesse allow, But for my doings I was made a Duke. So Fortune can both bend and smooth her brow On whom she list, not passing why or how. O Lord how high, how soone she did me raise, How fast she fill'd me both with prayes and praise!

The Lords and Commons both of like assent, Besought my soueraigne kneeling on their knees, For to record my deeds in the Parlament, As deeds deseruing euerlasting fees. In which attempt they did no labour leese, For they set not my praise so fast in flame, As he was readie to reward the same.

But note the end: my deeds so worthie deemed Of King, of Lords, and Commons all together, Were shortly after treasons false esteemed, And all men curst Queene Margets comming lither: For Charles the French King in his feats not lither, When we had rendred Rayner, Maunts, and Maine, Found meane to win all Normandie againe.

This made the people curse the mariage, Esteeming it the cause of euery losse: Wherefore at me with open mouth they rage, Affirming me t'haue brought the Realme to mosse: When King and Queene saw things thus go acrosse, To quiet all a Parlament they called, And caused me in prison to be thralled.

And shortly after brought me forth abrode, Which made the Commons more then double wood: And some with weapons would haue laid on lode, If their grand Captaine Blewberd in his mood Had not in time with wisdome been withstood: But though that he and more were executed, The people still their worst against me bruted.

And so applied the Parliament with billes, Of hainous wrongs and open traiterous crimes, That King and Queene were forst against their willes, From place to place t'adiourne it diuers times. For Princes power is like the sandie slimes, Which must perforce giue place vnto the waue, Or sue the windie sourges when they raue.

Their life was not more deare to them then I, Which made them search all shifts to saue me still, But aye my foes such faults did on me trie, That to preserue me from a worser ill, The King was faine full sore against his will, For fiue yeares space to send me in exile, In hope to haue restor'd me in a while.

But marke how vengeance waiteth vpon vice, To shun this storme, in sayling towards France, A Pirats Barke, that was of little price, Encountred me vpon the feas by chance, Whose Captaine there tooke me as in a trance, Let passe my ships, with all their frait and load, And led me backe againe to Douer road.

Where vnto me recounting all my faults, As murthering of Duke Humfrey in his bed, And how I had brought all the Realme to naughts, Causing the King vnlawfully to wed, There was no grace but I must lose my head. Wherefore he made me shriue me in his bote, And on the brinke my necke in two he smote.

This was mine end: which was by reason due To me, and such as others deaths procure. Therefore be bold to write, for it is true, That whoso doth such practise put in vre, Of due reward at last shall be most sure, For God is iust, whose stroke delayed long, Doth light at last with paine more sharpe and strong.

W. Baldwine.

HOW IACK CADE NAMING HIM∣SELFE MORTIMER, TRAYTEROVSLY rebelling against his King, in Iune, Anno 1450. was for his treasons and cruell doings worthilie punished.

SHall I it Fortune call, or my froward folly, That rais'd me vp and laid me downe below? Or was it courage that made me so iolly, Which of the starres and bodies greement grow? What ere it were this one point sure I know, Which shall be meete for euery man to marke: Our lust and willes our euils chiefely warke.

It may be well that Planets doe encline, And our complexions moue our mindes to ill, But such is reason, that they bring to fine No worke vnayded of our lust and will: For heauen and earth are subiect both to skill. The will of God rul'th all it is so strong, Man may by skill guide things that to him long.

Though lust be stout, and will enclin'd to nought, This forst by mixture, that by heauens course, Yet through the grace God hath in reason rought And giuen man, no lust nor will to course, But may be staied or swaged of the sourse, So that it shall in nothing force the minde To worke our woe, or leaue the proper kind.

But though this grace be giuen to some man To rule the will, and keepe the mind aloft, Yet few there be'mongst men that vse it can, These worldly pleasures tickle vs so oft: The spirit weake, and will strong, flesh is soft, And yeeldes it selfe to pleasure that it loueth, And hales the mind to that it most reproueth.

Now if this hap whereby we yeeld our mind To lust and will, be Fortune as we name her, Then is she iustly called false and blind, And no reproch can be too much to blame her: Yet is the shame our owne when so we shame her, For sure this hap if it be rightly knowne, Comes of our selues, and so the blame our owne.

For whoso liueth in the schoole of skill, And medleth not with any worlds affaires, Forsaketh pomps and honors, that doe spill The minds recourse to Graces quiet staires, His state no Fortune by no meane appaires: For Fortune is the only foe of those Which to the world their wretched willes dispose.

Among which fooles (marke Baldwine) I am one, That would not stay my selfe in mine estate: I thought to rule but to obay to none, And therefore fell I with my King at bate. And to the end I might him better mate, Iohn Mortimer I caus'd my selfe be called, Whose kingly bloud the Henries nigh had thrall'd.

This shift I vs'd the people to perswade To leaue their Prince, on my side more to sticke, Whereas indeed my fathers name was Cade, Whose noble stocke was neuer worth a sticke, But touching wit I was both ripe and quicke, Had strength of limmes large stature, comely face, Which made men weene my linage were not base.

And seeing stoutnes stucke by men in Kent, Whose valiant hearts refuse none enterprise, With false perswasions straight to them I went, And said they suffered too great iniuries: By meane whereof I caused them to rise, And battaile-wise to come to Blacke Heath plaine, And thence their griefes vnto the King complaine.

Who being deafe (as men say) on that eare, For we desired release of subsidies, Refused roughly our requests to heare, And came against vs as his enemies: But we to stay him sought out subtilties, Remou'd our Campe, and backe to Senock went, After whom the Staffords with their power were sent.

See here how Fortune setting vs a flote, Brought to our nets a portion of our pray. For why, the Staffords with their army hote, Assailed vs at Senocke where we lay: From whence aliue they parted not away. Which when the Kings retinue vnderstood, They all affirm'd my quarell to be good.

Which caus'd the King and Queene whom all did hate, To raise their campe, and suddenly depart: And that they might the peoples grudge abate, T'imprison some full sore against their hart. Lord Saye was one, whom I made after smart, For when the Staffords and their host was slaine, To Black-heath field I marched backe againe.

And where the King would nothing heare before, Now was he glad to send to know my mind: And I thereby enflamed much the more, Refus'd his grants, so folly made me blind, For this he flew and left Lord Scales behind, To helpe the Towne and strenghten London Tower, Towards which I marched forward with my power:

And found there all things at mine owne desire: I entred London, did there what I list. The Treasurer, Lord Saye, I did conspire To haue condemned: whereof when I mist, (For he by law my malice did resist) By force I tooke him in Guildhall from th' heape, And headed him before the crosse in Cheape.

His sonne in law Iames Cromer Shrief of Kent I caught at Mile-end where as then he lay, Beheaded him and on a pole I sent His head to London where his fathers lay. With these two heads I made a prety play, For pight on poles I bare them through the street, And for my sport made ech kisse other sweet.

Then brake I prisons, let forth whom I wold, And vs'd the City as it had been mine: Tooke from the Merchants money, ware and gold From some by force, from other some by fine. This at the length did cause them to repine, So that Lord Scales consenting with the Maire, For bad vs to their City to repaire.

For all this while mine host in Southwarke lay, Who when they knew our passage was denied, Came boldly to the bridge and made a fray, For in we would, the townesmen vs defied: But when with strokes we had the matter tried, We wan the bridge and set much part on fire, This done to Southwarke backe we did retire.

The morow after came the Chancellour, With generall pardon for my men, halfe gone, Which heard and read, the rest within an houre, Shranke all away each man to shift for one. And when I saw they left me post alone, I did disguise me like a Knight of the post, And into Sussex, rode all hope was lost.

And there I lurked till that cursed coyne, That restlesse begle sought and found me out, For straight the King by promise did enioyne A thousand marke to whomsoeuer mought Apprend my corps, which made them seeke about: Among the which one Alexander Iden Found out the hole, wherein the Foxe was hidden.

But ere I fell, I put him to his trumps, For yeeld I would not while my hands would hold, But hope of money made him stir his stumps, And to assault me valiantly and bold. Two houres and more our combat was not cold, Till at the last he lent me such a stroke, That downe I fell and neuer after spoke.

Then was my carcase caried like a hog, To Southwarke borow where it lay a night, The next day drawne to Newgate like a dog, All men reioycing at the rufull sight: Then were on poles my perboil'd quarters pight, And set aloft for vermine to deuour, Meete graue for rebels that resist the power.

Full little know we wretches what we do, When we presume our Princes to resist. We warre with God, against his glorie to, That placeth in his office whom he list: Therefore was neuer traytour yet but mist The marke he shot, and came to shamefull end, Nor neuer shall till God be forst to bend.

God hath ordain'd the power, all Princes be His Lieutenants or deputies in Realmes, Against their foes therefore fighteth he, And as his enmies driues them to extreames, Their wise deuices proue but doltish dreames. No subiect ought for any kind of cause To force the Prince, but yeeld him to the lawes.

Wherefore O Baldwine warne men follow reason, Subdue their willes, and be not Fortunes slaues, A shamefull end doth euer follow treason, There is no trust in rebels, rascall knaues, In Fortune lesse, which worketh as the waues: From whose assaults who listeth to stand free Must follow skill, and so contented bee.

W. Baldwine.

THE TRAGEDIE OF EDMVND DVKE OF SOMMERSET, SLAINE IN THE FIRST battaile at Saint Albanes, the 23. day of May, in the 32. yeare of Henrie the sixt, Anno Dom. 1454.

SOme I suppose are borne vnfortunate, Else good endeuours could not ill succeed, What shall I call it? ill fortune or fate, That some mens attempts haue neuer good speed, Their trauell thanklesse, all bootlesse their heed, Where other vnlike in working or skill, Out wrestle the world, and weald it at will.

Of the first number I count my selfe one, To all mishap I weene predestinate, Beleeue me Baldwine there be few or none, To whom Fortune was euer more ingrate. Make thou therefore my life a caueate, That whose with force will worke against kind, Saileth (as who saith) against the streame and winde.

For I of Sommerset Duke Edmund hight, Extract by descent from Lancaster line, Were it by follie, or Fortunes despite, Or by ill aspect of some crooked signe, Of mine attempts could neuer see good fine: What so I began did seldome well end: God from such Fortune all good men defend.

Where I thought to saue, most part I did spill, For good hap with me was alway at warre. The linage of Yorke whom I bare so ill, By my spite became bright as the morning star. Thus some whiles men make when faine they would mar, The more ye lop trees, the greater they grow, The more ye stop streames, the higher they flow.

Maugre my spite, his same grew the more, And mine, as the Moone in the wane, waxt lesse: For hauing the place which he had before, Gouernour of France, needs I must confesse, That lost was Normandie without redresse, Yet wrought I alwaies that wit might contriue, But what doth it boote with the streame to striue?

Borne was I neither to warre ne to peace, For Mars was maligne to all my whole trade: My birth I beleeue was in Ioues decrease, When Cancer in his course being retrograde, Declined from Sol to Saturnus shade, Where aspects were good, opposites did marre, So grew mine vnhap both in peace and warre.

A strange natiuitie in calculation, As all my liues course did after well declare, Whereof in briefe to make relation, That other by me may learne to beware, Ouerlight credence was cause of my care, And want of foresight in giuing assent To condemne Humfrey that Duke innocent.

Humfrey I meane that was the Protectour, Duke of Glocester of the royall blood, So long as he was Englands directour, King Henries title to the Crowne was good. This Prince as a piller most stedfastly stood, Or like a prop set vnder a vine, In state to vphold all Lancasters line.

O heedlesse trust, vnware of harme to come, O malice headlong swift to serue fond will, Did euer madnesse man so much benome Of prudent forecast, reason, wit, and skill, As me blind Bayard consenting to spill The blood of my cosin, my refuge and stay, To my destruction making open way?

So long as the Duke bare the stroke and sway, So long no Rebels quarels durst begin: But when the post was pulled once away, Which stood to vphold the King and his kin, Yorke and his banders proudly preased in To challenge the Crowne by title of right, Beginning with law and ending with might.

Abroad went bruits in countrey and towne That Yorke of England was the heire true, And how Henrie had vsurped the Crowne Against all right, which all the Realme might rue. The people then embracing titles new, Irkesome of present and longing for change, Assented soone because they loue to range.

True is the text which wee in scripture read, Va terra illi, cuius rex est puer, Woe to that land whereof a child is head, Whether child or childish, the case is one sure: Where Kings bee yong, we dayly see in vre, The people awlesse, by weakenes of their head, Leade their liues lawlesse, hauing none to dread.

And no lesse true is this text againe, Beata terra cuius rex est nobilis, Blest is the land where a stout King doth raine, Where in good peace ech man possesseth his, Where ill men feare to fault or do amisse, Where a stout Prince is prest, with sword in hand, At home and abroad his enemies to withstand.

In case King Henry had beene such a one, Hardy and stout as his fathers afore, Long mought he haue sate in the royall throne, Without any feare of common vprore. But dayly his weakenesse shewed more and more, Which boldnesse gaue to the aduersary band, To spoile him at last both of life and land.

His humble heart was nothing vnknowen, To the gallants of Yorke and their retinue: A ground lying low is soone ouerflowen, And shored houses cannot long continue: Ioints cannot knit where as is no sinew. And so a Prince, not dread as well as loued, Is from his place by practise soone remoued.

Well mought I see, had I not wanted braine, The worke begun to vndermine the state, When the chiefe linke was loosed from the chaine, And that some durst vpon bloud royall grate. How tickle a hold had I of mine estate? When the chiefe post lay flat vpon the flore, Mought not I thinke my staffe then next the dore?

So mought I also dame Margaret the Queene, By meane of whom this mischiefe first began, Did she (trow ye) her selfe not ouer weene Death to procure to that most worthy man? Which she and hers afterward mought well ban, On whom did hang (as I before haue said) Her husbands life, his honour and his ayd.

For whilst he liued which was our stable stay, Yorke and his impes were kept as vnder yoke, But when the Piller remoued was away, Then burst out flame, that late before was smoke, The traytour couert then cast off his cloke, And from his den came forth in open light, With titles blind which he set forth for right.

But this to bring about, him first behoued The King and his kin asunder for to set: Who being perforce or practise remoued, Then had they avoided the principall let, Which kept the sought pray so long from the net: The next point after, was, themselues to place In rule aboue the rest, next vnto his Grace.

Therefore was I first whom they put out of place, No cause pretending but the common-weale, The Crowne of England was the very case, Why to the Commons they burned so in zeale. My faults were clokes their practise to conceale, In counsaile hearing consider the intent, For in pretence of truth treason oft is ment.

So their pretence was only to remoue Counsaile corrupt from place about the King. But O ye Princes, you it doth behoue This case to construe as no fained thing, That neuer traytour did subdue his King, But for his plat, ere he could surder wade, Against his friends the quarell first hee made.

And if by hap he could so bring about, Them to subdue at his owne wish and will, Then would hee wax so arrogant and stout, That no reason his outrage might fulfill, But to proceed vpon his purpose still Til King and counsaile brought were in one case: Such is their folly to rebels to giue place.

So for the fish casting forth a net, The next point was in driuing out the plat, Commons to cause in rage to fume and fret, And to rebell, I cannot tell for what, Requiring redresse of this and of that: Who if they speed, the stander at receit Grasp will the pray, for which he doth await.

Then by surmise of some thing pretended, Such to displace as they may well suspect, Like to withstand their mischiefe intended, And in their roomes their banders to elect, The aduerse party proudly to reiect, And then with reports the simple to abuse, And when these helps faile, open force to vse.

So this Dukes traines were couert and not seene, Which ment no lesse, that he most pretended, Like to a Serpent couert vnder greene, To the weale publique seemed wholly bended: Zealous hee was, and would haue all things mended, But by that mendment nothing els he ment But to be King, to that marke was his bent.

For had he beene plaine, as he ment indeed, Henry to depose from the royall place, His haste had been waste, and much worse his speed, The King then standing in his peoples grace. This Duke therefore set forth a goodly face, As one that ment no quarell for the Crowne, Such as bare rule he only would put downe.

But all for nought so long as I bare stroke Serued these drifts, and proued all vaine: The best help then was people to prouoke, To make commotion and vprores amaine: Which to appease the King himselfe was faine, From Blacke Heath in Kent to send me to the Tower, Such was the force of rebels in that hower.

The troublous storme yet therewith was not ceased, For Yorke was bent his purpose to pursue, Who seing how speedily I was released, And ill successe of sufferance to ensue: Then like Iudas vnto his Lord vntrue, Esteeming time lost any longer to defarre, By Warwickes ayd proclaimed open warre.

At S. Albanes towne both our hostes did meete, Which to try a field was no equall place, Forst we were to fight in euery lane and streete, No feare of foes could make me shun the place: There I and Warwicke fronted face to face, At an Inne dore, the Castle was the signe, Where with a sword was cut my fatall line.

Oft was I warned to come in Castle none, Hauing no mistrust of any common signe, I did imagine a Castle built with stone, For of no Inne I could the same diuine: In Prophets skill my wit was neuer fine, A foole is he that such vaine dreames doth dred, And more foole he that will by them be led.

My life I lost in that vnluckly place, With many Lords that leaned to my part: The stout Earle Percy had no better grace, Clyfford couragious could not shun the dart, Buckingham heir was at this mortall mart, Babthorp th' Atturney with his skill in law, In pleading heere appeared very raw.

King Henrie thus disarmed of his bands, His friends and followers wanting assistence, Was made a prey vnto his enemies hands, Depriued of power and Princely reuerence, And as a pupill void of all experience, Innocent plaine, and simplie witted, Was as a Lambe vnto the Wolfe committed.

A Parliament then was called with speed, A Parliament? nay, a plaine conspiracie, When against right it was decreed, That after the death of the sixt Henrie. Yorke should succeed vnto the regaltie, And in his life the charge and protection, Of King and Realme at the Dukes direction.

And thus was Yorke declared Protectour, Protectour said I? nay, Proditor plaine: A rancke rebell the Princes directour, A vassall to leade his Lord and Soueraigne. What honest heart would not conceiue disdaine To see the foot surmount aboue the head? A monster is in spite of nature bred.

Some happily heere will moue a farther doubt, And as for Yorkes part alledge an elder right: O brainelesse heads that so run in and out. When length of time a state hath firmely pight, And good accord hath put all strife to flight, Were it not better such titles still to sleepe, Then all a Realme about the triall weepe?

From the female came Yorke, and all his seed, And we of Lancaster from the heire male, Of whom three Kings in order did succeed, By iust descent: this is no fained tale. Who would haue thought that any storme or gale Our ship could shake, hauing such anker hold? None I thinke sure, vnlesse that God so would.

After this hurle the King was faine to flee Northward in post, for succour and releefe! O blessed God how strange it was to see, A rightfull Prince pursued as a theefe: To thee O England, what can be more repreefe? Then to pursue thy Prince with armed hand, What greater shame may be to any land?

Traytours did triumph, true men lay in dust, Reuing and robbing roifled euery where, VVill stood for skill, and law obeyed lust, Might trode downe right, of King there was no feare, The title was tried only by shield and speare. All which vnhaps that they were not foreseene, Suffolke was in fault, who ruled King and Queene.

Some heere perhaps, do looke I should accuse My selfe of sleight, or subtiltie vniust, VVherein I should my Princes eares abuse Against the Duke, to bring him in mistrust: Some part whereof, though needs confesse I must, My fault only consisted in consent, Leaning to my foes, whereof I do repent.

If I at first when brands began to smoke, The sparkes to quench by any way had sought, Neuer had England felt this mortall stroke, VVhich now too late lamenting helpeth nought. Two points of wit, too dearely haue I bought, The first, that better is timely to foresee, Then after ouer late a counsellour to bee.

The second is, not easily to assent To aduice giuen against thy faithfull friend, But of the speaker ponder the intent, The meaning full, the point, and finall end. A Saint in shew, in proofe is found a Feend, The subtill man the simple to abuse, Much pleasant speech and eloquence doth vse.

And so was I abus'd and other moe By Suffolkes sleights, who sought to please the Queene, Forecasting not the miserie and woe VVhich therefore came, and soone was after seene: VVith glosing tongue he made vs fooles to weene, That Humfrey did to Englands Crowne aspire, VVhich to preuent, his death they did conspire.

VVhat should I more of mine vnhaps declare, VVhereof my death at last hath made an end? Not I alone was void of all this care, Some besides me there were that did offend. None I accuse, nor yet my selfe defend, Faults I know I had, as none liues without, My chiefe fault was folly, I put thee out of doubt.

Folly was the chiefe, the naughtie time was next, VVhich made my Fortune subiect to the chiefe: If England then with strife had not been vext, Glorie might haue growen whereas ensued griefe. Yet one thing is my comfort and reliefe, Constant I was in my Princes quarrell To die or liue, and spared for no parrell.

VVhat though Fortune enuious was my foe? A noble heart ought not the sooner yeeld, Nor shrinke abacke for any weale or woe, But for his Prince lie bleeding in the feeld: If priuie spight at any time me helde, The price is paid: and grieuous is my guerdon, As for the rest me God (I trust) will pardon.

G. Ferrers.

HOW RICHARD PLAN∣TAGENET DVKE OF YORKE, was slaine through his ouer rash boldnes, and his sonne the Earle of Rutland, for his lacke of valiance, An. Dom. 1460.

TRust not in chance, in whom was neuer trust, Of foolish men that haue no better grace, All rest, renowne and deeds lie in the dust, Of all the sort that sue her slipper trace. What meanest thou Baldwine for to hide thy face? Thou needest not feare although I misse my head, Nor yet to mourne for this my sonne is dead.

The cause why thus I lead him in my hand, His skin with blood and teares so sore bestain'd, Is that thou maist the better vnderstand, How hardly Fortune hath for vs ordain'd, In whom her loue and hate be whole contain'd. For I am Richard Prince Plantagenet, The Duke of Yorke in royall race beget.

From Lionel the third begotten sonne Of Kingly Edward by descent I came From Philip hight his heire we first begun The crowne as due to vs by right to clame: And in the end we did obtaine the same, She was sole heire by due descent of line, Whereby her rights and titles all were mine.

But marke me now, I pray thee Baldwine marke, And see how force oft ouerbeareth right: Way how vsurpers tyrannously warke, To keepe by murther that they get by might, And note what troublous dangers do alight On such as seeke to repossesse their owne, And how through rigour, right is ouerthrowne.

The Duke of Herford, Henrie Bolenbroke, Of whom Duke Mowbray told thee now of late, When void of cause he had King Richard toke: He murdered him, vsurped his estate, Without all right or title, sauing hate Of others rule, or loue to rule alone: These two excepted, title had he none.

The Realme and Crowne was Edmund Mortimers, Whose father Roger was King Richards heire: Which caused Henrie and the Lancasters To seeke all shift our housholds to appaire, For sure he was to sit beside the chaire, Were we of power to claime our lawfull right, Against vs therefore he did all he might.

His cursed sonne ensued his cruell path, And kept my guiltlesse cosin strait in durance: For whom my father hard entreated hath. But liuing hopelesse of his liues assurance, He thought it best by politike procurance, To slay the King, and so restore his friend: Which brought himselfe to an infamous end.

For when King Henrie of that name the fift, Had tane my father in his conspiracie, He from Sir Edmund all the blame to shift, Was faine to say the French King Charles his alley Had hired him this trayterous act to trie, For which condemned shortly he was slaine, In helping right this was my fathers gaine.

Thus when the linage of the Mortimers Was made away by his vsurping line, Some hang'd, some slaine, some pined prisoners, Because the Crowne by right of law was mine, They gan as fast against me to repine, In feare alwaies lest I should stir some strife, For guiltie hearts haue neuer quiet life,

Yet at the last in Henries dayes the sixt, I was restored to my fathers lands, Made Duke of Yorke: where through my mind I fixt To get the Crowne and Kingdome in my hands, For aide wherein I knit assured bands With Neuils stocke, whose daughter was my make, Who for no woe would euer me forsake.

O Lord what hap had I through mariage, Foure goodly boyes in youth my wife she bore, Right valiant men and prudent for their age, Such brethren shee had and nephues in store As none had erst, nor any shall haue more: The Earle of Salisbury, and his sonne of Warwicke, Were matchlesse men from Barbary to Barwicke.

Through helpe of whom and Fortunes louely looke, I vndertooke to claime my lawfull right, And to abash such as against me tooke, I raised power at all points prest to fight: Of whom the chiefe that chiefly bare me spight, Was Sommerset the Duke, whom to annoy I alway sought, through spite, spite to destroy.

And maugre him, so choice lo was my chance, Yea though the Queene that all rul'd tooke his part, I twice bare rule in Normandy and France, And last Lieutenant in Ireland, where my hart Found remedy for euery kinde of smart. For through the loue my doings there did breed, I had their helpe at all times in my need.

This spitefull Duke, his silly King and Queene, With armed hosts I thrice met in the field, The first vnsought through treaty made betweene, The second ioind, wherein the King did yeeld, The Duke was slaine, the Queene enforst to shield Her selfe by flight. The third the Queene did fight, Where I was slaine being ouer matcht by might.

Before this last were other battailes three: The first the Earle of Salisbury led alone, And fought on Bloreheath, and got victory: In the next I with kinsfolke euery one. But seeing our souldiers stale vnto our fone, We warely brake our company on a night, Dissolu'd our host, and tooke our selues to flight.

This Boy and I in Ireland did vs saue, Mine eldest sonne with Warwicke and his father To Calais got, whence by the read I gaue They came againe to London, and did gather An other host, whereof I spake no rather: And met our foes, flewe many a Lord and Knight, And took the King and draue the Queene to flight.

This done I came to England all in haste, To make a claime vnto the Realme and Crowne: And in the house while parliament did last, I in the Kings seate boldly sate me downe, And claimed it, whereat the Lords did frowne, But what for that? I did so well proceed, That all at last confest it mine indeed.

But sith the King had raigned now so long, They would he should continue till he died, And to the end that then none did me wrong, In ech place heire apparant they me cried. But sith the Queene and others this denied, I sped me towards the North where then shee lay, In minde by force to cause her to obay.

Whereof she warnd prepard a mighty powre, And ere that mine were altogether ready, Came swift to Sandale and besieged my bowre: Where like a beast I was so rash and heady, That out I would, there could be no remedy, With scant fiue thousand souldiers, to assaile Foure times so many, encampt to most auaile.

And so was slaine at first: and while my child Scarce twelue yeare old, sought secretly to part, That cruell Clifford, Lord, nay Lorell wilde While th' infant wept, and prayed him rue his smart, Knowing what he was, with dagger cloue his heart: This done, he came to th' campe where I lay dead, Despoil'd my corps and cut away my head.

Which with a painted paper Crowne thereon, He for a present sent vnto the Queene: And she for spite commanded it anon To Yorke fast by: where, that it might be seene, They placed it where other traytours beene. This mischiefe Fortune did me after death. Such was my life, and such my losse ofbreath.

Wherefore see Baldwine that thou set it forth, To th' end the fraud of Fortune may be knowen, That eke all Princes well may weigh the worth Of things, for which the seeds of warre be sowen: No state so sure but soone is ouerthrowen. No worldly good can counterpoize the prise, Of halfe the paines that may thereof arise.

Better it were to lose a piece of right, Then limbes and life in striuing for the same: It is not force of friendship nor of might, But God that causeth things to fro or frame, Not wit but lucke doth wield the winners game. Wherefore if we our follies would refraine, Time would redresse all wrongs we void of paine.

Wherefore warne Princes not to wade in war For any cause except the Realmes defence: Their troublous titles are vnworthie far The blood, the life, the spoile of innocence: Of friends, of foes behold my foule expence, And neuer the neere: best therefore tarie time, So right shall raigne, and quiet calme each crime.

HOW THE LORD CLIF∣FORD FOR HIS STRANGE and abominable crueltie, came to as strange and sudden a death, Anno, 1461.

OPen confession asketh open penance, And wisdome would a man his shame to hide: Yet sith forgiuenes commeth through repentance, I thinke it best that men their crimes ascride, For nought so secret but at length is spide: For couer fire, and it will neuer linne Till it breake forth, in like case shame and sinne.

As for my selfe my faults be out so plaine, And published abroad in euery place, That though I would I cannot hide a graine. All care is bootlesse in a curelesse case, To learne by others griefe some haue the grace: And therefore Baldwine write my wretched fall, The briefe whereof I briefely vtter shall.

I am the same that slue Duke Richards child, The louely babe that begged life with teares: Whereby mine honor foully I defil'd. Poore silly Lambes the Lion neuer teares: The feeble mouse may lie among the beares: But wrath of man his rancour to requite, Forgets all reason, ruth, and vertue quite.

I meane by rancour the parentall wreake Surnam'd a vertue (as the vicious say) But little know the wicked what they speake, In boldning vs our enmies kin to slay. To punish sin is good, it is no nay. They wreake not sinne, but merit wreake for sinne, That wreake the fathers fault vpon his kinne.

Because my father Lord Iohn Clyfford died, Slaine at Saint Albanes, in his Princes aide, Against the Duke my heart for malice fried, So that I could from wrecke no way be stayed, But to auenge my fathers death, assay'd All meanes I might the Duke of Yorke t'annoy, And all his kin and friends for to destroy.

This made me with my bloodie dagger wound His guiltlesse sonne, that neuer 'gainst me stor'd: His fathers bodie lying dead on ground To pierce with speare, eke with my cruell sword To part his necke, and with his head to bord Enuested with a royall paper crowne, From place to place to beare it vp and downe.

But crueltie can neuer scape the scourge Of shame, of horror, or of sudden death. Repentance selfe that other sinnes may purge Doth flie from this, so sore the soule it slayeth. Despaire dissolues the tyrants bitter breath: For sudden vengeance suddenly alights On cruell deeds, to quite their cruell spights.

This find I true, for as I lay in stale To fight with this Duke Richards eldest son, I was destroy'd not far from Dintingdale, For as I would my gorget haue vndone T'euent the heat that had me nigh vndone, An headlesse arrow strake me through the throte, Where through my soule forsooke his filthie cote.

Was this a chance? no sure, Gods iust award, Wherein due iustice plainly doth appeare: An headlesse arrow paid me my reward, For heading Richard lying on his beare, And as I would his child in no wise heare, So sudden death bereft my tongue the power To aske for pardon at my dying hower.

Wherefore, good Baldwine, warne the bloodie sort, To leaue their wrath, their rigour to refraine: Tell cruell Iudges horror is the port Through which they saile to shame and sudden paine: Hell halleth tyrants downe to death amaine. Was neuer yet nor shall be cruell deed Left vnrewarded with as cruell meed.

THE INFAMOVS END OF THE LORD TIPTOFT EARLE OF WOR∣cester, for cruelly executing his Princes but∣cherly commandements. Anno Dom. 1470.

THe glorious man is not so loth to lurke, As the infamous glad to lie vnknowen: Which makes me Baldwine, disallow thy worke, Where Princes faults so openly be blowen. I speake not this alonly for mine owne Which were my Princes (if that they were any) But for my Peeres in number very many.

Or might report vprightly vse her tongue, It would lesse grieue vs to augment the matter. But sure I am thou shalt be forst among, To wrench the truth the liuing for to flatter: And other whiles in points vnknowen to smatter. For time nere was, nor nere I thinke shall bee That truth vnshent should speake in all things free.

This doth appeare (I dare say) by my storie, Which diuers writers diuersly declare: But storie writers ought for neither glorie, Feare, nor fauour, truth of things to spare. But still it fares as alway it did fare, Affections, feare, or doubts that daily brue, Do cause that stories neuer can be true.

Vnfruitfull Fabian followed the face Of time and deedes, but let the causes slip: Which Hall hath added, but with double grace, For feare I thinke lest trouble might him trip: For this or that (saith he) he felt the whip. Thus story writers leaue the causes out, Or so rehearse them as they were in dout.

But seing causes are the chiefest things That should be noted of the story writers, That men may learne what ends all causes brings, They be vnworthy name of Chroniclers That leaue them cleane out of their registers, Or doubtfully report them: for the fruite Of reading stories standeth in the suite.

And therefore Baldwine either speake vpright Of our affaires, or touch them not at all: As for my selfe I way all things so light, That nought I passe how men report my fall. The truth whereof yet plainly shew I shall, That thou maist write and others thereby reed, What things I did whereof they should take heed.

Thou heardst of Tiptofts Earles of Worcester, I am that Lord that liu'd in Edwards daies The fourth, and was his friend and counsailour, And butcher too, as common rumor saies. But peoples voice is neither shame nor praise: For whom they would aliue deuour today, Tomorow dead they'ill worship what they may.

But though the peoples verdit go by chance, Yet was there cause to call me as they did: For I enforst by meane of gouernance, Did execute what ere my King did bid, From blame herein my selfe I cannot rid: But sie vpon the wretched state that must Defame it selfe to serue the Princes lust.

The chiefest crime wherewith men doe me charge, Is death of th' Earle of Desmunds noble sonnes, Of which the Kings charge doth me cleere discharge, By strait commandement and iniunctions: Th' effect whereof so rigorously runnes, That or I must procure to see them dead, Or for contempt as guiltie lose my head.

What would mine foemen doe in such a case, Obay the King or proper death procure? They may well say their fancy for a face, But life is sweet, and loue hard to recure. They would haue done as I did, I am sure: For seldom will a wealthy man at ease For others cause his Prince in ought displease.

How much lesse I, which was Lieutenant than In th' Irish Isle, preferred by the King: But who for loue or dread of any man Consents t'accomplish any wicked thing, Although chiefe fault thereof from other spring, Shall not escape Gods vengeance for his deed, Who scuseth none that dare do ill for dreed.

This in my King and me may well appeere, Which for our faults did not escape the scourge: For when we thought our state most sure and clere, The wind of Warwicke blew vp such a sourge, As from the Realme and Crowne the King did pourge, And me both from mine office, friends, and wife, From good report, from honest death and life.

For th' Earle of Warwicke through a cancard grudge Which to King Edward causelesse he did beare, Out of his Realme by force did make him trudge, And set King Henry againe vpon his chaire. And then all such as Edwards louers were As traytours tane, were grieuously opprest, But chiefly I, because I lou'd him best.

And, for my goods and liuings were not small, The gapers for them bare the world in hand For ten yeares space, that I was cause of all The executions done within the land. For this did such as did not vnderstand Mine enmies drift, thinke all reports were true: And so did hate me worse then any Iew.

For seldome shall a ruler lose his life, Before false rumours openly be spread: Whereby this prouerbe is as true as rife, That rulers rumours hunt about a head, Frowne Fortune once all good report is fled: For present shew doth make the many blind, And such as see dare not disclose their mind.

Through this was I King Edwards butcher named, And bare the shame of all his cruell deeds: I cleare me not, I worthily was blamed, Though force was such I must obey him needs. With highest rulers seldome well it speeds, For they be euer neerest to the nip, And fault who shall, for all feele they the whip.

For when I was by Parliament attainted, King Edwards euils all were counted mine. No truth auailed, so lies were fast and painted, Which made the people at my life repine, Crying Crucifige, kill that butchers line: That when I should haue gone to Blockham feast, I could not passe, so sore they on me preast.

And had not been the officers so strong, I thinke they would haue eaten me aliue, Howbeit hardly haled from the throng, I was in Fleet fast shrouded by the Shriue. Thus one daies life their maliee did me giue: Which when they knew, for spite the next day after They kept them calme, so suffered I the slaughter.

Now tell me Baldwine, what fault dost thou find In me, that iustly should such death deserue? None sure, except desire of honor blind, Which made me seeke in offices to serue: What mind so good that honors make not swerue? So maist thou fee it only was my state That caus'd my death, and brought me so in hate.

Warne therefore all men wisely to beware, What offices they enterprise to beare: The highest alway most maligned are, Of peoples grudge, and Princes hate in feare. For Princes faults his faultors all men teare. Which to auoid, let none such office take, Saue he that can for right his Prince forsake.

HOW SIR RICHARD NEVILL EARLE OF WARWICKE, AND HIS BROTHER IOHN Lord Marquise Montacute, through their too much boldnes were slaine at Barnet, the 14. of Aprill, Anno 1471.

AMong the heauie heape of happie Knights VVhom Fortune stal'd vpon her staylesse stage, Oft hoist on high, oft pight in wretched plights, Behold me, Baldwine, A perse of my age, Lord Richard Neuill, Earle by mariage Of VVarwicke Duchie, of Sarum by descent, Which erst my father through his mariage hent.

VVould'st thou behold false Fortune in her kind? Note well my selfe, so shalt thou see her naked: Full faire before, but too too foule behind, Most drowsie still when most she seemes awaked: My fame and shame her shift full oft hath shaked, By enterchange alow and vp aloft, The Lysard like that changeth hue full oft.

For while the Duke of Yorke in life remaind Mine vncle deare, I was his happy hand: In all attempts my purpose I attaind, Though King and Queene and most Lords of the land With all their power did often me withstand: For God gaue Fortune, and my good behauiour Did from their Prince steale me the peoples fauour.

So that through me in fields right manly fought, By force mine vncle tooke King Henry twice: As for my cosin Edward I so wrought, When both our fires were slaine through rash aduice, That he atchieu'd his fathers enterprise: For into Scotland King and Queene we chased, By meane whereof the Kingdome he embraced.

Which after he had held in quiet peace, (For shortly after was King Henry take, And put in hold) his power to encrease, I went to France and match him with a make, The French Kinges daughter, whom hee did forsake: For while with paine I brought this sute to passe, He to a widow rashly wedded was.

This made the French King shrewdly to mistrust, That all my treaties had but ill pretence, And when I saw my King so bent to lust, That with his faith he past not to dispence, Which is a Princes honours chiefe defence: I could not rest till I had found a meane To mend his misse, or els to marre him cleane.

I me allied with his brother George, Incensing him his brother to maligne, Through many a tale I did against him forge: So that through power that we from Calais bring And found at home, we fraied so the King, That he did flie to Freeselandward amaine, Whereby King Henry had the Crowne againe.

Then put we th' Earle of Worcester to death, King Edwards friend, a man loe foule defamed: And in the while came Edward into breath. For with the Duke of Burgoine so he framed, That with the power that he to him had named, Vnlooked for he came to England streight, And got to Yorke, and tooke the towne by sleight.

And after through the sufferance of my brother, Which like a beast occasion foulely lost, He came to London safe with many other, And tooke the towne to good King Henries cost: Who was through him from post to piller tost, Till th' Earle of Oxford, I and other more, Assembled power his freedome to restore.

Whereof King Edward warned came with speed, And camped with his host in Barnet towne, Where we right fierce encountred him indeed On Easter day right earely on the downe: There many a man was slaine and stricken downe On either side, and neither part did gaine, Till that I and my brother both were slaine.

For we to heart our ouermatched men, Forsooke our steeds, and in the thickest throng Ran preasing forth on foot, and fought so then That downe we draue them were they nere so strong: But we ere lucke had lasted very long With force and number were so foulely cloyed, And rescue fail'd, that quite we were destroyed.

Now tell me, Baldwine, hast thou heard or read Of any man that did as I haue done? That in his time so many armies led, And victorie at euery voyage won? Hast thou ere heard of subiect vnder sun, That plac'd and bac'd his Soueraignes so oft By enterchange, now low, and then aloft?

Perchance thou think'st my doings were not such As I and other do affirme they were: And in thy mind I see thou musest much What meanes I vs'd, that should me so prefer: Wherein because I will thou shalt not erre, The truth of all I will at large recite, The short is this: I was no Hypocrite.

I neuer did nor said saue what I ment, The commonweale was still my chiefest care: To priuate gaine or good was I nere bent, I neuer past vpon delicious fare. Of needfull food my boord was neuer bare, No creditour did curse me day by day, I vsed plainnesse, euer pitch and pay.

I heard poore souldiers and poore workemen whine Because their duties were not truly pai'd: Againe I saw how people did repine At those through whom their payment was delai'd: And proofe did oft assure (as Scripture said) That God doth wreake the wretched peoples greeues, I saw the polles cut off from polling theeues.

This made me alway iustly for to deale, Which when the people plainly vnderstood, Because they saw me mind the Commonweale, They still endeuoured how to do me good, Readie to spend their substance, life, and blood, In any cause whereto I did them moue: For sure they were it was for their behoue.

And so it was. For when the Realme decayed By such as good King Henrie sore abused, To mend the state I gaue his enemies aide: But when King Edward sinfull prankes still vsed, And would not mend, I likewise him refused, And holpe King Henrie, better of the twaine, And in his quarell (iust I thinke) was slaine.

And therefore Baldwine teach by proofe of mee, That such as couet peoples loue to get, Must see their works and words in all agree, Liue liberally and keepe them out of det, On Commonwealth let all their care be set: For vpright dealing, debts paid, poore sustained, Is meane whereby all hearts are throwly gained.

HOW KING HENRIE THE SIXT, A VERTVOVS PRINCE, WAS, AF∣ter many other miseries, cruelly murdered in the Tower of London the 22. of May, Anno, 1471.

IF euer wofull wight had cause to rue his state, Or by his ruefull plight to moue men mone his fate, My piteous plaint may prease my mishap to rehearse, Wherof the least most lightly heard, the hardest hart may pierce.

What heart so hard can heare of innocence opprest By fraud in worldly goods, but melteth in the brest? When guiltlesse men be spoil'd, imprisoned for their owne, Who waileth not their wretched case to whom y^e case is knowen?

The Lion lickes the sores of silly wounded sheepe, The dead mans corps may cause the Crocodile to weepe, The waues that waste the rockes refresh the rotten reeds, Such ruth the wracke of innocence in cruell creatures breeds.

What heart is then so hard, but will for pitie bleed, To heare so cruell lucke so cleare a life succeed? To see a silly soule with woe and sorrow sounst, A King depriu'd, in prison pent, to death with daggers dounst.

Would God the day of birth had brought me to my bere, Then had I neuer felt the change of Fortunes chere: Would God the graue had gript me in her greedie wombe, When crowne in cradle made me King with oile of holy thombe.

Would God the rufull tombe had been my royall throne, So should no Kingly charge haue made me make my mone: O that my soule had flowen to heauen with the ioy, When one sort cried, God saue the King, another, Ʋiue le Roy.

So had I not been washt in waues of worldly wo, My minde to quiet bent, had not been tossed so: My frends had been aliue: my subiects not opprest: But death or cruell destiny denied me this rest.

Alas what should we count the cause of wretches cares, The starres do stirre them vp, Astronomy declares: Our humors saith the leach, the double true diuines To'th will of God, or ill of man, the doubtfull cause assignes.

Such doltish heads as dreame that all things driue by haps, Count lacke of former care for cause of after claps, Attributing to man a power fro God bereft, Abusing vs, and robbing him through their most wicked theft.

But God doth guide the world, and euery hap by skill, Our wit and willing power are poized by his will: What wit most wisely wards, & will most deadly vrkes Though all our power would presse it down, doth dash our warest workes.

Then destiny, our sinne, Gods will or else his wreake Doe worke our wretched woes, for humours be too weake, Except we take them so as they prouoke to sinne, For through our lust by humours fed all vicious deeds beginne.

So sinne and they be one, both working like effect, And cause the wrath of God to wreake the soule infect, Thus wrath and wreake diuine, mans sinnes and humours ill Concurre in one, though in a sort, ech doth a course fulfill.

If likewise such as say the welkin Fortune warkes, Take Fortune for our fate and Starres thereof the markes, Then destiny with fate and Gods will all be one: But if they meane it otherwise, skath causers skies be none.

Thus of our heauy haps chiefe causes be but twaine, Whereon the rest depend, and vnder put remaine: The chiefe the will diuine, cald destiny and fate, The other sinne through humours holpe, which God doth highly hate.

The first appointeth paine for good mens exercise, The second doth deserue due punishment for vice: This witnesseth the wrath, and that the loue of God, The good for loue, the bad for sinne God beateth with his rod.

Although my sundry sinnes doe place me with the worst, My haps yet cause me hope to be among the first: The eye that searcheth all and seeth euery thought, Is Iudge how sore I hated sinne, and after vertue sought.

The solace of my soule my chiefest pleasure was, Of worldly pomp, of fame, or game I did not passe: My Kingdomes nor my Crowne I prised not a crum: In Heauen were my riches heapt, to which I sought to come.

Yet were my sorowes such as neuer man had like, So diuers stormes at once, so often did me strike: But why, God knowes, not I, except it were for this, To shew by paterne of a Prince, how brittle honour is.

Our kingdomes are but cares, our state deuoid of stay, Our riches ready snares, to hasten our decay: Our pleasures priuy pricks our vices to prouoke, Our pompe a pumpe, our fame a flame, our power a smouldring smoke.

I speake not but by proofe, and that may many rue, My life doth cry it out, my death doth try it true: Whereof I will in briefe rehearse the heauy hap, That Baldwine in his woefull warpe, my wretchednesse may wrap.

In Windsore borne I was, and bare my fathers name, Who wonne by warre all France to his eternall fame, And left to me the crowne, to be receiu'd in peace Through mariage made with Charles his heire vpon his lifes decease.

Which shortly did ensue, yet died my father furst, And both the Realmes were mine ere I a yeare were nurst: Which as they fell too soone, so faded they as fast. For Charles and Edward got them both or forty yeares were past.

This Charles was eldest sonne of Charles my father in law, To whom as heire of France, the Frenchmen did them draw, But Edward was the heire of Richard Duke of Yorke, The heire of Roger Mortimer, slaine by the kerne of Korke.

Before I came to age Charles had recouered France, And kild my men of warre, so happy was his chance: And through a mad contract I made with Raynerds daughter I gaue and lost all Normandy, the cause of many a slaughter.

First of mine vncle Humfrey, abhorring sore this act, Because I thereby brake a better precontract: Then of the flattering Duke that first the mariage made, The iust reward of such as dare their Princes ill perswade.

And I poore silly wretch abode the brunt of all, My mariage lust so sweet was mixt with bitter gall. My wife was wise and good, had she ben rightly sought, But our vnlawfull getting it, may make a good thing nought.

Wherefore warne men beware how they iust promise breake, Lest proofe of painfull plagues doe cause them waile the wreake, Aduise well ere they grant, but what they grant performe: For God will plague all doublenes although we feele no worme.

I falsly borne in hand, beleeued I did well, But all things bee not true that learned men doe tell: My clergie said a Prince was to no promise bound, Whose words to be no gospell tho, I to my griefe haue found.

For after mariage ioind Queene Margaret and me, For one mishap afore, I dayly met with three: Of Normandy and France Charles got away my Crowne, The Duke of Yorke and other sought at home to put me downe.

Bellona rang the bell at home and all abroad, With whose mishaps amaine fell Fortune did me load: In France I lost my forts, at home the foughten field, My kinred slaine, my friends opprest, my selfe enforst to yeeld.

Duke Richard tooke me twice, and forst me to resine My Crowne and titles due vnto my fathers line: And kept mee as a ward, did all things as him list, Till that my wife through bloudy sword had tane me from his fist.

But though we slew the Duke my sorowes did not slake, But like to Hydraes head still more and more awake: For Edward through the aid of Warwicke and his brother From one field draue me to the Scots, and toke me in another.

Then went my friends to wrack, for Edward ware the Crowne, For which for nine yeares space his prison held me downe: Yet thence through Warwickes worke I was againe releast. And Edward driuen fro the realme to seeke his friends by East.

But what preuaileth paine or prouidence of man To helpe him to good hap, whom destiny doth ban? Who moileth to remoue the rocke out of the mud, Shall mire himselfe, and hardly scape the swelling of the flud.

This all my friends haue found, and I haue felt it so, Ordain'd to be the touch of wretchednesse and woe: For ere I had a yeare possest my seat againe, I lost both it and liberty, my helpers all were slaine.

For Edward first by stelth and sith by gathred strength Arriu'd, and got to Yorke and London at the length: Tooke me and tied me vp, yet Warwicke was so stout, He came with power to Barnet field, in hope to helpe me out,

And there alas was slaine, with many a worthy knight. O Lord that euer such luck should hap in helping right: Last came my wife and sonne, that long lay in exile, Defied the King, and fought a field, I may bewaile the while.

For there mine only sonne, not thirteene yeares of age, Was tane, and murdred straight by Edward in his rage: And shortly I my selfe to stint all further strife, Stab'd with his brothers bloodie blade in prison lost my life.

Lo heere the heauie haps which hapned me by heape, See heere the pleasant fruits that many Princes reape, The painfull plagues of those that breake their lawfull bands, Their meed which may and will not saue their friends from bloo∣die hands.

God grant my woful haps, too grieuous to rehearce, May teach all States to know how deepely dangers pierce, How fraile all honors are, how brittle worldly blisse, That warned through my fearefull fate they feare to do amisse.

HOW GEORGE PLANTAGENET THIRD SONNE OF THE DVKE OF Yorke, was by his brother King Edward wrongfully imprisoned, and by his brother Richard miserably murdered, the 11. of Ianuarie, An. Dom. 1478.

THe fowle is foule men say, that files the nest. Which makes me loth to speak now, might I chuse, But seeing time vnburdened hath her brest, And fame blowne vp the blast of all abuse, My silence rather might my life accuse Then shroud our shame, though faine I would it so, For truth will out, although the world say no.

And therefore Baldwine I do thee beseech To pause a while vpon my heauie plaint, And vnneth though I vtter speedie speech, No fault of wit nor folly makes me faint: No headie drinkes haue giuen my tongue attaint Through quaffing craft: Yet wine my wits confound, Not that I dranke, but wherein I was drown'd.

What Prince I am although I need not shew, Because my wine bewrayes me by the smell: For neuer man was soust in Bacchus dew To death but I, through Fortunes rigour fell: Yet that thou maist my storie better tell, I will declare as briefely as I may, My wealth, my woe, and causers of decay.

The famous house surnam'd Plantagenet, Whereat Dame Fortune frowardly did frowne, While Bolenbroke vniustly sought to set His Lord King Richard quite beside the Crowne, Though many a day it wanted due renowne, God so prefer'd by prouidence and grace, That lawfull heires did neuer faile the race.

For Lionel King Edwards eldest child, Both Eame and heire to Richard issulesse, Begot faire Philip hight, whom vndefil'd The Earle of March espous'd, and God did blesse With fruit assign'd the kingdome to possesse: I meane Sir Roger Mortimer, whose heire The Earle of Cambridge maried Anne the faire.

This Earle of Cambridge Richard clept by name, Was sonne to Edmund Langley Duke of Yorke: Which Edmund was fift brother to the same Duke Lionel, that all this line doth korke: Of which two houses ioyned in a forke, My father Richard Prince Plantagenet True Duke of Yorke was lawfull heire beget.

Who tooke to wife as ye shall vnderstand A mayden of a noble house and old, Ralph Neuils daughter Earle of Westmerland, Whose sonne Earle Richard was, a Baron bold, And had the right of Salisbury in hold, Through mariage made with good Earle Thomas heire, Whose earned praises neuer shall appaire.

The Duke my father had by this his wife Foure sonnes, of whom the eldest Edward hight, The second Edmund, who did lose his life, At Wakefield slaine by Clyfford cruell Knight, I George am third, of Clarence Duke by right: The fourth borne to the mischiefe of vs all, Was Glocesters Duke, whom men did Richard call.

VVhen as our fire in sute of right was slaine, (VVhose life and death himselfe declared earst) My brother Edward plied his cause amaine, And got the Crowne as Warwicke hath rehearst: The pride whereof so deepe his stomacke pearst That he forgot his friends, despis'd his kin, Of oath or office passing not a pin.

VVhich made the Earle of Warwicke to maligne My brothers state, and to attempt a way To bring from prison Henrie sillie King, To helpe him to the kingdome if he may, And knowing me to be the chiefest stay My brother had, he did me vndermine To cause me to his treasons to encline.

VVhereto I was prepared long before, My brother had been to me so vnkind: For sure no canker fretteth flesh so sore, As vnkind dealing doth a louing mind. Loues strongest bands vnkindnes doth vnbind, It moueth loue to malice, zeale to hate, Chiefe friends to foes, and brethren to debate.

And though the Earle of Warwicke subtill fire Perceiu'd I bare a grudge against my brother, Yet toward his feate to set me more on fire, He kindled vp one firebrand with another: For knowing fancie was the forcing rother VVhich stirreth youth to any kind of strife, He offered me his daughter to my wife.

Where through and with his craftie filed tongue, He stole my heart that erst vnsteadie was: For I was witlesse, wanton, fond and yongue, Whole bent to pleasure, brittle as the glasse: I cannot lie, In vino veritas. I did esteeme the beautie of my bride Aboue my selfe and all the world beside.

These fond affections ioynt with lacke of skill, (Which trap the heart, and blind the eyes of youth, And pricke the mind to practise any ill) So tickled me, that void of kindly truth, (Which if it want all wretchednesse ensueth) I stinted not to persecute my brother, Till time he left his kingdome to another.

Thus carnall loue did quench the loue of kind, Till lust were lost through fancie fully fed: But when at length I came vnto my mind, I saw how leaudly lightnes had me led, To seeke with paine the perill of my head: For had King Henrie once been setled sure, I was assur'd my daies could not endure.

And therefore though I bound my selfe with oath To helpe King Henrie all that ere I might, Yet at the treatie of my brethren both, Which reason granted to require but right, I left his part, whereby he perisht quite: And reconcil'd me to my brethren twaine, And so came Edward to the Crowne againe.

This made my fire in law to fret and fume, To stampe and stare, and call me false forsworne, And at the length with all his power presume, To helpe King Henrie vtterly forlorne. Our friendly profers still he tooke in scorne; Refused peace, and came to Barnet field, And there was kill'd because he would not yeeld.

His brother also there with him was slaine, Whereby decayed the keyes of chiualrie: For neuer liu'd the matches of them twaine, In manhood, power, and martiall policie, In vertuous thewes, and friendly constancie, That would to God if it had been his will They might haue turn'd to vs and liued still.

But what shall be shall be: there is no choyce, Things needs must driue as destiny decreeth, For which we ought in all our haps reioyce, Because the eye eterne all things foreseeth Which to no ill at any time agreeth, For il's too ill to vs, be good to it, So far his skilles exceed our reach of wit.

The wounded man which must abide the smart Of stitching vp, or searing of his sore, As thing too bad, reproues the Surgeons art Which notwithstanding doth his health restore: The child likewise to science plied sore, Counts knowledge ill, his teacher to be wood, Yet Surgerie and sciences be good.

But as the patients griefe and schollers paine, Cause them deeme bad such things as sure be best, So want of wisdome causeth vs complaine Of euery hap, whereby we seeme opprest: The poore do pine for pelfe, the rich for rest, And when as losse or sickenesse vs assaile We curse our fate, our fortune we bewaile.

Yet for our good, God worketh euery thing: For through the death of these two noble Peeres My brother liu'd and raign'd a quiet King, Who had they liu'd perchance in course of yeares Would haue deliuered Henrie from the breares, Or holpe his sonne t'enioy the carefull Crowne, Whereby our line should haue been quite put downe.

A carefull Crowne it may be iustly named, Not only for the cares thereto annext. To see the subiect well and duly framed, With which good care few Kings are greatly vext, But for the dred wherwith they are perplext, Of losing Lordship, liberty, or life: Which wofull wracks in kingdoms happen rife.

The which to shun while some too sore haue sought, They haue not sparde all persons to suspect: And to destroy such as they guilty thought, Though no apparance proued them infect, Take me for one of this wrong punisht sect, Imprisond first, accused without cause, And done to death, no processe had by lawes.

Wherein I note how vengeance doth acquite Like ill for ill, how vices vertue quell: For as my mariage loue did me excite Against the King my brother to rebell, So loue to haue his children prosper well, Prouoked him against both law and right, To murder me, his brother and his knight:

For by his Queene two Pincelike sonnes he had, Borne to be punisht for their parents sinne: Whose Fortunes calked made the father sad, Such wofull haps were found to be therin: Which to auouch, writ in a rotten skin A prophesie was found, which said a G, Of Edwards children should destruction be.

Me to be G, because my name was George My brother thought, and therefore did me hate, But woe be to the wicked heads that forge Such doubtfull dreames to breed vnkind debate. For God, a Gleue, a Gibbet, Grate, or Gate, A Gray, a Griffeth, or a Gregory, As well as George are written with a G.

Such doubtfull riddles are no prophesies. For prophesies, in writing though obscure, Are plaine in sense, the darke be very lies: What God foresheweth is euident and pure, Truth is no Harold nor no Sophist sure: She noteth not mens names, their shields nor creasts, Though she compare them vnto birds and beasts.

But whom she doth foreshew shall raigne by force, She tearmes a Wolfe, a Dragon, or a Beare: A wilfull Prince, a rainelesse raging horse: A bold, a Lion: a Coward much in feare, A Hare or Hart: a craftie, pricked eare: A leacherous, a Bull, a Goat, a Foale: An vnderminer, a Moldwarpe, or a Mole.

By knowen beasts thus truth doth plaine declare VVhat men they be of whom she speakes before. And whoso can mens properties compare, And marke what beast they do resemble more, Shall soone discerne who is the griesly Bore. For God by beasts expresseth mens conditions, And not their badges, Harolds superstitions.

And learned Merline whom God gaue the sprite To know and vtter Princes acts to come, Like to the Iewish Prophets, did recite In shade of beasts their doings all and some, Expressing plaine by maners of the dome, That Kings and Lords such properties should haue As haue the beasts whose name he to them gaue.

Which while the foolish did not well consider, And seeing Princes gaue for difference And knowledge of their issues mixt together, All maner beasts for badges of pretence, There tooke those badges to expresse the sence Of Merlines mind, and those that gaue the same, To be the Princes noted by their name.

And hereof sprang the false nam'd prophesies, That go by letters, ciphers, armes or signes: VVhich all be foolish, false, and craftie lies Deuis'd by ghesse, or guiles vntrue diuines: For when they saw that some of many lines Giue armes alike, they wist not which was he VVhom Merline meant the noted beast to be.

For all the brood of Warwickes gaue the Beare, The Buckinghams do likewise giue the Swan: But which Beare-bearer should the Lion teare They were as wise as Goose the ferry man: Yet in their skill they seased not to scan, And to be deemed of the people wise, Setforth their gloses vpon prophesies.

And whom they doubted openly to name They darkely tearm'd or by some letter ment, For so they thought how ere the world did frame, To keepe themselues from shame or being shent. For howsoeuer contrary it went, They might expound their meaning otherwise, As haps in things should newly still arise.

And thus there grew of a mistaken truth, An art so false as made the true suspect: Whereof hath come much mischiefe, more the ruth That errors should our minds so much infect, True Prophets haue oft foulely been reiect: The false which breed both murder war and strife Beleeu'd, to losse of many a good mans life.

And therefore Baldwine teach men to discerne, VVhich prophesies be false, and which be true: And for a ground this lesson let them learne, That all be false which are deuised new. The age of things are iudged by the hue. All riddles made by letters, names or armes, Are yong and false, far worse then witches charmes.

I know thou musest at this lore of mine, How I no studient should haue learned it: And dost impute it to the fume of wine That stirres the tongue, and sharpneth vp the wit. But heark, a friend did teach me euery whit, A man of mine, in all good knowledge rife, For which he guiltlesse lost his learned life.

This man abode my seruant many a day, And still in study set his whole delight: Which taught me more then I could beare away Of euery arte: and by his searching sight Of things to come he would foreshew as right As I rehearse the pageants that were past: Such perfectnes God gaue him at the last.

He knew my brother Richard was the Bore, Whose tusks should teare my brothers boies and me, And gaue me warning therof long before. But wit nor warning can in no degree Let things to hap, which are ordaind to bee. Witnesse the painted Lionesse, which slue A Prince emprisoned, Lions to eschewe.

He told me eke my yoke-fellow should dy, (Wherein would God he had been no diuine) And she being dead I should woo earnestly A spouse, wherat my brother would repine, And find the means she should be none of mine. For which such malice should among vs rise, As saue my death no treaty should decise.

And as he said, so all things came to passe: For when King Henry and his sonne were slaine, And euery broile so throughly quenched was, That then my brother quietly did raigne, I, reconciled to his loue againe, In prosperous health did lead a quiet life, For fiue yeares space with honours laden rife.

And to augment the fulnesse of my blisse, Two louely children by my wife I had: But froward hap whose maner euer is In chiefest ioy to make the happie sad, Bemixt my sweet with bitternes too bad: For while I swam in ioyes on euery side, My louing wife, my chiefest Iewel dide,

Whose lack when sole I had bewail'd a yeare, The Duke of Burgoines wife dame Margaret My louing sister willing me to cheere, To wed againe did kindly me entreate And wish'd me matched with a maiden nete A step-daughter of hers, Duke Charles his heire, A noble damsell, yong, discreete and faire.

To whose desire because I did incline, The King my brother doubting my degree Through Prophesies, against vs did repine: And at no hand would to our willes agree. For which such rancour pierst both him and mee, That face to face we fell at flat defiance, But were appeas'd by friends of our alliance:

Howbeit my mariage vtterly was dasht: VVherein because my seruant said his mind, A meane was sought whereby he might be lasht, And, for they could no crime against him find, They forg'd a sault the peoples eyes to blind, And told he should by sorceries pretend To bring the King vnto a speedie end.

Of all which points he was as innocent As is the babe that lacketh kindly breath: And yet condemned by the Kings assent, Most cruelly put to a shamefull death. This fir'd my heart, as foulder doth the heath: So that I could not but exclame and crie, Against so great and open iniurie.

For this I was commanded to the Tower, The King my brother was so cruell harted: And when my brother Richard saw the hower Was come, for which his hart so sore had smarted, He thought it best take time before it parted. For he endeuour'd to attaine the Crowne, From which my life must needs haue held him downe.

For though the King within a while had died, As needs he must, he surfaited so oft, I must haue had his children in my guide, So Richard should beside the Crowne haue coft: This made him ply the while the wax was soft, To finde a meane to bring me to an end, For realmrape spareth neither kin nor frend.

And when he saw how reason can asswage Through length of time my brother Edwards ire, With forged tales he set him newe in rage, Till at the last they did my death conspire. And though my truth sore troubled their desire, For all the world did know mine innocence, Yet they agreed to charge me with offence.

And couertly within the Tower they calde A quest, to giue such verdit as they should. Who what with feare and what with fauour thrald, Durst not pronounce but as my brethren would. And though my false accusers neuer could Proue ought they said, I guiltlesse was condemned: Such verdits passe where iustice is contemned.

This feate atchieud yet could they not for shame Cause me be kild by any common way, But like a wolfe the tyrant Richard came, (My brother, nay my butcher I may say) Vnto the Tower when all men were away, Saue such as were prouided for the seate: Who in this wise did strangely me entreate.

His purpose was with a prepared string To strangle me: but I bestird me so, That by no force they could me therto bring, Which caused him that purpose to forgo: Howbeit they bound me whether I would or no, And in a But of Malmesey standing by, New christned me because I should not cry.

Thus drownd I was, yet for no due desert, Except the zeale of Iustice be a crime: False prophecies bewitcht King Edwards hart, My brother Richard to the Crowne would clime. Note these three causes in thy rufull rime, And boldly say they did procure my fall, And death of deaths most strange and hard of all.

And warne all Princes prophecies t'eschue That are too dark and doubtfull to be knowne: What God hath said, that cannot but ensue, Though all the world would haue it ouerthrowne, When men suppose by fetches of their owne To fly their fate, they further on the same Like quenching blasts which oft reuiue the flame.

Will Princes therefore not to thinke by murder They may auoid what prophecies behight, But by their meanes their mischiefes they may furder, And cause Gods vengeance heauier to alight: Woe worth the wretch that striues with Gods foresight. They are not wise, but wickedly doe erre, Which thinke ill deedes due destinies may barre.

For if we thinke that prophecies be true, We must beleeue it cannot but betide, Which God in them foresheweth shall ensue: For his decrees vnchanged doe abide. Which to be true my brethren both haue tried, Whose wicked workes warne Princes to detest, That others harmes may keepe them better blest.

HOW KING EDWARD THE FOVRTH THROVGH HIS SVRFETING and vntemperate life, suddenly di∣ed in the middest of his prosperitie, the ninth of Aprill, Anno 1483.

MIseremini mei ye that be my friends, This world hath form'd me downe to fall: How may I endure when that euery thing ends? What creature is borne to be eternall? Now there is no more but pray for me all, Thus say I Edward that late was your King, And twentie two yeares ruled this Imperiall, Some vnto pleasure and some to no liking: Mercie I aske of my misdoing. What auaileth it friends to be my foe? Sith I cannot resist, nor amend your complaining, Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.

I sleepe now in mould as it is naturall, As earth vnto earth hath his reuerture: What ordained God to be terrestriall, Without recourse to the earth by nature? Who to liue euer may himselfe assure? What is it to trust to mutabilitie? Sith that in this world nothing may endure. (For now am I gone that was late in prosperitie) To presume thereupon it is but vanitie. Not certaine, but as a cherie faire full of wo. Raigned not I of late in great prosperitie? Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.

Where was in my life such an one as I, While Lady Fortune had with me continuance: Granted not she me to haue victorie. In England to raigne and to contribute France? She tooke me by the hand and led me a dance, And with her sugred lips on me she smiled, But what for dissembled countenance, I could not beware till I was beguiled. Now from this world she hath me exiled, When I was lothest hence for to go, And am in age (who saith) but a child, Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.

I had enough, I held me not content, Without remembrance that I should die: And moreouer to encroch readie was I bent, I knew not how long I should it occupie, I made the Tower strong I wist not why. I knew not to whom I purchased Tartersoll. I mended Douer on the mountaine high, And London I prouoked to fortifie the wall. I made Notingham a place full royall. Windsore, Eltam, and many other mo, Yet at the last I went from them all, Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.

Where is now my conquest and victorie? Where is my riches and royall array? Where be my coursers and my horses hie? Where is my mirth, my solace, and my play? As vanitie to nought all is withered away: O Lady Bes long for me may you call, For I am departed vntill domes day: But loue you that Lord that is Soueraigne of all. Where be my Castles and buildings royall? But Windsore alone now haue I no moe, And of Eton the prayers perpetuall, Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.

Why should a man be proud or presume high? Saint Bernard thereof nobly doth treate, Saying a man is but a sacke of stercorie, And shall returne vnto wormes meat: Why, what became of Alexander the great? Or else of strong Sampson, who can tell? Were not wormes ordain'd their flesh to freat? And of Salomon, that was of wit the Well, Absolon preferred his haire for to sell, Yet for his beautie wormes eat him also, And I but late in honors did excell, Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.

I haue played my pageant, now am I past, Ye wot well all I was of no great elde. Thus all things concluded shall be at the last, When death approcheth then lost is the field: Then seeing the world me no longer vpheld, (For nought would conserue me heere in this place; In manus tuas Domine my spirit vp I yeeld, Humblie beseeching thee O God of thy grace. O you courteous Commons your hearts embrace Benignely now to remember me also, For right well you know your King I was: Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.

HOW SIR ANTHONY WODVILE Lord Riuers and Scales, gouernour of Prince EDVVARD, was with his Nephew Lord Richard Gray and other causelesse imprisoned, and cruelly murdered, Anno, 1483.

AS silly suiters letted by delayes To shew their Prince the meaning of their mind, That long haue bought their brokers yeas and nayes And nere the nigher, do daily wait to find The Princes grace, from waightie affaires vntwind: Which time attain'd, by attending all the yeare, The wearied Prince will then no suiters heare:

My case was such not many daies ago. For after bruite had blazed all abroad That Baldwine through the aide of other mo, Of fame or shame fall'n Princes would vnload, Out from our graues we got without abode, And preased forward with the rufull rout, That sought to haue their doings boulted out.

But when I had long tended for my turne To tell my tale, as diuers other did: In hope I should no longer while soiourne But from my suits haue speedily been rid, When course and place both orderly had bid Me shew my mind, and I prepar'd to say, The hearers paus'd, arose, and went their way.

These doubtfull doings draue me to my dumpes, Vncertaine what should moue them so to do: I feared lest affections lothly lumpes Or inward grudge had driuen them thereto, Whose wicked stings all stories truth vndo, Oft causing good to be reported ill, Or drown'd in suds of Laethes muddie swill.

For hitherto slie writers wilie wits Which haue engrossed Princes chiefe affaires, Haue been like horses snaffled with the bits Of fancie, feare, or doubts full deepe despaires, Whose raines enchained to the chiefest chaires, Haue so been strain'd of those that bare the stroke That truth was forst to chow or else to choke.

This caused such as lothed loud to lie, To passe with silence sundrie Princes liues. Lesse fault it is to leaue, then leade awrie, And better droun'd, then euer bound in giues: For fatall fraud this world so fondly driues, That whatsoeuer writers braines may brue Be it neuer so false, at length is tane for true.

What harme may hap by helpe of lying pens, How written lies may leaudly be maintain'd, The lothly rites, the diuellish idoll dens, With guiltlesse blood of vertuous men bestain'd, Is such a proofe as all good hearts haue plain'd, The taly grounds of stories throughly tries, The death of Martyrs vengeance on it cries.

The freshest wits I know will soone be wearie, In reading long what euer booke it bee, Except it be vaine matter, strange, or merrie, Well saust with lies, and glared all with glee, VVith which because no graue truth may agree, The closest stile for stories is the meetest, In rufull meanes the shortest forme is sweetest:

And seeth the plaints alreadie by thee pen'd, Are briefe enough, the number also small, The tediousnesse I thinke doth none offend, Saue such as haue no lust to learne at all: Regard none such: no matter what they brall. Warne thou the warie lest they hap to stumble: As for the carelesse, care not what they mumble.

My life is such as (if thou note it well) May cause the wittie wealthie to beware. For their sakes therefore plainly will I tell, How false and cumbrous worldly honors are, How cankred foes bring carelesse folke to care, How tyrants suffered and not quell'd in time, Do cut their throats that suffer them to clime.

Nor will I hide the chiefest point of all, VVhich wisest Rulers least of all regard, That was and will be cause of many a fall. This cannot be too earnestly declar'd, Because it is so seeld, and slackly hard. Th abuse and scorning of Gods ordinances, Is chiefest cause of care and wofull chances.

Gods holy orders highly are abused When men do change their ends for strange respects: They scorned are, when they be cleane refused, For that they cannot serue our fond affects: The one our shame, the other our sinne detects. It is a shame for Christians to abuse them, But deadly sinne for scorners to refuse them.

I meane not this alonely of degrees Ordaind by God for peoples preseruation, But of his law, good orders, and decrees, Prouided for his creatures conseruation; And specially the state of procreation, Wherein we here the number of them encrease, Which shall in Heauen enioy eternall peace.

The only end why God ordained this, Was for th' encreasing of that blessed number For whom he hath prepard eternall blisse. They that refuse it for the care or cumber Being apt thereto are in a sinfull slumber: No fond respect, no vaine deuised vowes Can quit or bar what God in charge allowes.

It is not good for man to liue alone Said God: and therefore made he him a make: Sole life said Christ is granted few or none, All seed-sheders are bound like wiues to take: Yet not for lust, for lands, or riches sake, But to beget and foster so their fruite That Heauen and Earth be stored with the suite.

But as the state is damnably refused Of many apt and able thereunto, So is it likewise wickedly abused Of all that vse it as they should not doe: Wherein are guilty all the greedy who For gaine, for friendship, lands, or honours wed, And these pollute the vndefiled bed.

And therfore God through iustice cannot cease To plague these faults with sundry sorts of whips: As disagreement, healths or wealths decrease, Or lothing sore the neuer liked lips. Disdiane also with rigour some times nips Presuming mates, vnequally that match: Some bitter leauen sowers the musty batch.

We worldly folke account him very wise That hath the wit most wealthily to wed: By all meanes therefore alwaies we deuise To see our yssue rich in spousals sped. We buy and sell rich orphanes: babes scant bred Must marry ere they know what mariage meanes, Boyes marry old trots, old fooles wed yong queanes.

We call this wedding which in any wise Can bee no mariage, but pollution plaine. A new found trade of humane merchandise, The diuels net, a filthy fleshly gaine: Of kinde and nature an vnnaturall staine; A foule abuse of Gods most holy order, And yet allow'd almost in euery border.

Would God I were the last that shall haue cause Against this creeping canker to complaine, That men would so regard their makers lawes, That all would leaue the leaudnesse of their braine, That holy orders holy might remaine, That our respects in wedding should not choke The end and fruite of Gods most holy yoke.

The Sage King Solon after that he saw What mischiefes follow missought mariages, To barre all baits, established this law: No friend nor father shall giue heritages, Coine, cattell, stuffe, or other carriages With any maid for dowry or wedding sale, By any meane, on paine of banning bale.

Had this good law in England been in force, My fire had not so cruelly been slaine, My brother had not causelesse lost his corps, Our mariage had not bred vs such disdaine, My selfe had lack'd great part of grieuous paine: VVe wedded wiues for dignitie and lands, And left our liues in enuies bloodie hands.

My father hight Sir Richard Woduile: he Espoused Bedford Duchesse, and by her Had issue males my brother Iohn, and me Call'd Anthony: King Edward did prefer Vs far aboue the state wherein we were: He 'spous'd our sister Elizabeth, Whom Sir Iohn Gray made widow by his death.

How glad were we, thinke you, of this alliance? So neerely coupled with so great a King. VVho durst with any of vs be at defiance Thus made of might the mightiest to wring? But fie, what cares do highest honors bring? VVhat carelesnesse our selues or friends to know? VVhat spite and enuie both of high and low?

Because the King had made our sister Queene, It was his honor to prefer her kin: And sith the readiest way (as wisest weene) VVas first by wedding wealthie heires to win, It pleas'd the Prince by like meane to begin: To me he gaue the rich Lord Scales his heire, A vertuous maid, in my mind very faire.

He ioyned to my brother Iohn, the old Duches of Northfolke notable of fame. My nephew Thomas (who had in his hold The honor and right of Marquise Dorsets name) Espoused Cicelie a right wealthie dame, Lord Bonuiles heire: by whom he was possest In all the rights where through that house was blest.

The honours that my Sire attaind were diuers, First Chamberlaine, then Constable he was: I doe omit the gainfullest, Earle Riuers. Thus glistred we to glory cleere as glasse. Such miracles can Princes bring to passe Among their lieges whom they mind to heaue To honours false, who all their guests deceiue.

Honours are like that cruell King of Thrace, With new come guests that fed his hungry horses: Or like the tyrant Busiris, whose grace Offred his Gods all strangers strangled corses. To forrenners so hard false honors force is, That all her bourders, strangers either geasts She spoiles to feede her Gods and greedy beasts.

Her Gods be those whom God by law or lot, Or kinde by birth doth place in highest roomes, Her beasts be such as greedily haue got Office or charge to guide the silly groomes. These officers in law or charge are broomes, Which sweep away the sweet from simple wretches, And spoile th' enriched by their crafty fetches.

These plucke downe those whom Princes set aloft, By wresting lawes, and false conspiracies: Yea Kings themselues by these are spoiled oft. When wilfull Princes carelesly despise To heare th' oppressed peoples heauy cries, Nor will correct their polling theeues, then God Doth make those reues the reckles Princes rod.

The second Richard is a proofe of this, Whom crafty Lawyers by their lawes deposed. Another patern good King Henry is, Whose right by them hath diuersly beene glosed, Good while he grew, bad when he was vnrosed: And as they sodred these and diuers other, With like deceit they vsde the King my brother.

While he preuail'd they said he owed the Crowne, All lawes and rights agreed with the same: But when by drifts hee seemed to be downe, All lawes and right extremely did him blame, Nought saue vsurping traytour was his name. So constantly the Iudges construe lawes, That all agree still with the stronger cause.

These (as I said) and other like in charge Are honours horses, whom shee feedes with gests, For all whom Princes frankly doe enlarge With dignities, these barke at in their brests, Their spite, their might, their falsehood neuer rests Till they deuour them, sparing neither bloud, Ne lim, ne life, and all to get their good.

The Earle of Warwicke was a pransing courser, The hauty heart of his could beare no mate: Our wealth through him waxt many a time the worser, So cankardly he had our kin in hate. He troubled oft the Kings vnsteady state, And that because he would not be his ward To wed and worke as he should list award.

He spited vs because we were preferd By mariage to dignities so great, But craftily his malice he deferd Till traytorously he found meanes to entreate Our brother of Clarence to assist his feate: Whom when he had by mariage to him bound, Then wrought he straight our linage to confound.

Through slanderous brutes he brued many a broile Throughout the Realme, against the King my brother, And raised trayterous rebels thirsting spoile To murder men: of whom among all other Robin of Kiddesdale many a soule did smother, His rascall rable at my father wroth Tooke sire and sonne, and quicke beheaded both.

This heynous act although the King detested, Yet was he faine to pardon: for the rout Of rebels all the Realme so sore infested, That euery way assaild, he stood in doubt: And though he were of courage high and stout, Yet he assaid by faire meanes to asswage His enemies ire, reueld by rebels rage.

But Warwicke was not pacified thus, His constant rancour causeles was extreme, No meane could serue the quarell to discus, Till he had driuen the King out of the Realme. Nor would he then be waked from his dreame: For when my brother was come and plac'd againe, He stinted not till he was stoutly slaine.

Then grew the King and Realme to quiet rest, Our stocke and friends still stying higher and higher: The Queene with children fruitfully was blest: I gouernd them, it was the Kings desier. This set their vncles furiously on fier, That we the Queenes bloud were assignd to gouern The Prince, not they, the Kings owne bloud and brethren.

This causde the Duke of Clarence so to chafe, That with the King he brainelesse fell at bate: The Counsaile warily to keepe him safe. From raising tumults as he did of late, Imprisoned him: where through his brothers hate He was condemnd, and murdered in such sort As he himselfe hath truly made report.

Was none abhord these mischiefs more then I, Yet could I not be therewith discontented, Considering that his rancour toucht mee ny: Els would my conscience neuer haue consented To wish him harme, could he haue beene contented. But feare of hurt, for sauegard of out state Doth cause more mischiefe then desert or hate.

Such is the state that many wish to beare, That or we must with others bloud be staind, Or leade our liues continually in feare. You mounting mindes behold here what is gaind By coumbrous honour, painfully attaind: A damned soule for murdring them that hate you, Or doubtfull life, in danger lest they mate you.

The cause (I thinke) why some of high degree Do deadly hate all seekers to ascend, Is this: The clowne contented can not be With any state, till time he apprehend The highest top: for therto climers tend: Which seldome is attaind without the wracke Of those betweene that stay and beare him back.

To saue themselues they therfore are compeld To hate such climers, and with wit and power To compasse meanes where through they may be queld, Ere they ascend their honours to deuoure. This causd the Duke of Clarence frowne and lowre At me and other, whom the King promoted To dignities: wherein he madly doted.

For seeing we were his deare allied frends, Our furtherance should rather haue made him glad Then enmy-like to wish our wofull ends. We were the neerest kinsfolk that he had. We ioyed with him, his sorow made vs sad: But he esteem'd so much his painted sheath, That he disdaind the loue of all beneath.

But see how sharply God reuengeth sinne: As he maligned me and many other His faithfull friends, and kindest of his kin, So Richard Duke of Glocester his owne brother, Maligned him and beastly did him smother, A diuellish deed, a most vnkindly part, Yet iust reuenge for his vnnaturall hart.

Although this brother-queller, tyrant fell Enuide our state as much and more then he: Yet did his cloaking flattery so excell To all our friends ward, chiefly vnto mee, That he appear'd our trustie stay to bee: For outwardly he wrought our state to furder, Where inwardly hee minded nought saue murder.

Thus in appearance who but I was blest? The chiefest honours heaped on my head: Belou'd of all, enioying quiet rest. The forward Prince by me alone was led, A noble impe, to all good vertues bred: The King my Liege without my counsaile knowne Agreed nought: though wisest were his owne.

But quiet blisse in no state lasteth long Assailed still by mischief many waies: Whose spoyling battrie glowing hote and strong, No flowing wealth, no force nor wisdome staies, Her smoakles powder beaten souldiers slaies. By open force foule mischiefe oft preuailes, By secret sleight, she seeld her purpose failes.

The King was bent too much to foolish pleasure, In banqueting he had so great delight: This made him grow in grossenesse out of measure, Which, as it kindleth carnall appetite, So quencheth it the liuelines of sprite. Whereof ensue such sicknes and diseases As none can cure saue death that all displeases.

Through this fault furdered by his brothers fraud (Now God forgiue me if I iudge amisse) Or through that beast his ribald or his baud That larded still these sinfull lusts of his, He sodainely forsooke all worldly blisse. That loathed leach, that neuer welcome death, Through Spasmous humours stopped vp his breath.

That time lay I at Ludloe Wales his border, For with the Prince the King had sent me thither To stay the robberies, spoile, and foule disorder Of diuers outlawes gathered there together: Whose banding tended no man wist well whither, VVhen these by wisdome safely were suppressed, Came wofull newes, our soueraigne was deceassed.

The griefe whereof when reason had asswaged, Because the Prince remained in my guide, For his defence great store of men I waged, Doubting the stormes which at such time betide. But while I there thus warely did prouide, Commandement came to send them home againe And bring the King thēce with his houshold traine.

This charge sent from the Counsell and the Queene Though much against my minde I beast obayed: The diuell himselfe wrought all the drift I weene, Because he would haue innocents betraied: For ere the King were halfe his way conuayed, A sort of traytors falsly him betrapt I caught afore, and close in prison clapt.

The Duke of Glocester that in carnate deuill Confedred with the Duke of Buckingham, VVith eke Lord Hastings, hasty both to euill To meete the King in mourning habit came, (A cruell VVolfe though clothed like a Lambe) And at Northampton, where as then I baited, They toke their Inne as they on me had waited.

The King that night at Stonystratford lay, A towne too small to harbour all his traine: This was the cause why he was gone away VVhile I with other did behind remaine. But will you see how falsly friends can faine? Not Synon sly, whose fraud best fame rebukes, VVas halfe so suttle as these double Dukes.

First to mine Inne commeth in my brother false, Embraceth me: well met good brother Scales, And weepes withall: the other me enhalse With welcome cosin, now welcome out of Wales: O happie day, for now all stormie gales Of strife and rancour vtterly are swaged, And we our owne to liue or die vnwaged.

This proferd seruice saust with salutations Immoderate, might cause me to suspect: For commonly in all dissimulations Th' excesse of glauering doth the guile detect: Reason refuseth falsehood to direct: The will therefore for feare of being spide Exceedeth meane, because it wanteth guide.

This is the cause why such as faine to weepe Do houle outright, or wailing crie ah, ah, Tearing themselues, and straining sighes most deepe: Why such dissemblers as would seeme to laugh Breath not tihhee, but bray out, hah hah hah: Why beggers faining brauery are the proud'st, Why cowards bragging boldnesse, wrangle loud'st.

For commonly all that do counterfeat In any thing, exceed the naturall meane, And that for feare of failing in their feat. But these conspirers couched all so cleane Through close demeanour, that their wiles did weane My heart from doubts, so many a false deuice They forged fresh, to hide their enterprise.

They supt with me, propounding friendly talke Of our affaires, still giuing me the prayse: And euer among the cups to me ward walke: I drinke to you good Cuz each traytour sayes. Our banquet done, when they should go their waies They took their leaue, oft wishing me good night, As heartily as any creature might.

A noble heart they say is Lion like, It cannot couch, dissemble, crouch, nor faine. How villanous were these, and how vnlike? Of noble stocke the most ignoble staine. Their woluish hearts, their trayterous foxly braine Or proue them base, of rascall race engendred, Or from hault linage bastard like degendred.

Such polling heads as praise for prudent policie False practises, I wish were pact on poles: I meane the bastard law-brood, which can mollifie All kind of causes in their craftie noles. These vndermine all vertue, blind as Moles, They bolster wrong, they racke and straine the right, And prayse for law both malice, fraud, and might.

These quench the worthie flames of noble kind, Prouoking best borne to the basest vices: Through crafts they make the boldest courage blind, Disliking highly valiant enterprices, And praysing vilely villanous deuices. These make the Bore a Hog, the Bull an Oxe, The Swan a Goose, the Lion a Wolfe or Foxe.

The Lawyer Catesby and his craftie feeres A rout that nere did good in any reame, Are they that had transform'd these noble peeres: They turn'd their blood to melancholike fleumes, Their courage hault to cowardife extreame, Their force and manhood into fraud and malice, Their wit to wiles, stout Hector into Paris.

These glauerers gone, my selfe to rest I laid, And doubting nothing soundly fell a sleepe: But suddenly my seruants sore afraid Awaked me: and drawing sighes full deepe, Alas (quoth one) my Lord we are betrai'd. How so (quoth I) the Dukes are gone their waies, Th' haue bar'd the gates, and borne away the kaies.

While he thus spake, there came into my mind This fearefull dreame, whereout I waked was: I saw a riuer stopt with stormes of winde, Where through a Swan, a Bull, and Bore did passe, Franching the fish and frie, with teeth of brasse, The riuer dri'd vp saue a little streame, Which at the last did water all the Reame.

Me thought this streame did drowne the cruell Bore In little space, it grew so deepe and brode: But he had kill'd the Bull and Swan before. Besides all this I saw an vglie Tode Crale toward me, on which me thought I trode: But what became of her, or what of mee My sudden waking would not let me see.

These dreames considered with this sudden newes, So diuers from their doings ouer night, Did cause me not a little for to muse, I blest me, rose in all the hast I might. By this, Aurora spred abroad the light, Which from the ends of Phoebus beames he tooke, Who then the Bulles chiefe gallery forsooke.

When I had open'd the window to looke out, There might I see the streets each where beset, My Inne on each side compassed about With armed watchmen, all escapes to let: Thus had these Neroes caught me in their net, But to what end I could not throughly ghesse, Such was my plainnes, such their doublenesse.

My conscience was so cleare I could not doubt Their deadly drift, which lesse apparant lay, Because they caus'd their men returne the rout That rode toward Stonystratford as they say, Because the Dukes will first be there to day: For this (thought I) they hinder me in iest, For guiltlesse minds do easely deeme the best.

By this the Dukes were come into mine Inne, For they were lodged in another by. I got me to them, thinking it a sinne Within my chamber cowardly to lye. And merrily I ask'd my brother why He vs'd me so? he sterne in euill sadnes Cried out: I arrest thee traytour for thy badnes.

How so (quoth I) whence riseth your suspicion? Thou art a traytour (quoth he) I thee arrest Arrest (quoth I) why where is your commission? He drew his weapon, so did all the rest, Crying: yeeld thee traytour. I so sore distrest Made no resistande: but was sent to ward, None saue their seruants signed to my gard.

This done they sped him to the King in post, And after humble reuerence to him done, They trayterously began to rule the rost, They pickt a quarell to my sisters son Lord Richard Gray: the King would not be won T'agree to them, yet they against all reason Arrested him, they said for hainous treason.

Sir Thomas Vaughan and Sir Richard Hault Two worthie Knights were likewise apprehended, These all were guiltie in one kind of fault, They would not like the practise then pretended: And seeing the King was herewith sore offended, Backe to Northampton they brought him againe, And thence discharged most part of his traine.

There loe Duke Richard made himselfe Protector Of King and Realme, by open proclamation, Though neither King nor Queene were his elector, Thus he presum'd by lawlesse vsurpation. But will you see his deepe dissimulation? He sent me a dish of dainties from his bord That day, and with it, this false friendly word:

Commend me to him, all things shall be weil, I am his friend, bid him be of good cheere: These newes I prayed the messenger go tell My Nephew Richard, whom I lou'd full deere. But what he ment by well, now shall you heere: He thought it well to haue vs quickly murdred, Which not long after thorowly he furdred.

For straight from thence we closely were conueied, From iayle to iayle Northward, we wist not whither: Where, after a while we had in sunder staied, At last we met at Pomfret all together. Sir Richard Ratcliffe bade vs welcome thither, Who openly, all law and right contemned, Beheaded vs before we were condemned.

My cosin Richard could not be content To leaue his life, because he wist not why, Good gentleman that neuer harme had ment, Therefore he asked wherefore he should die: The Priest his ghostly father did replie With weeping eyes: I know one wofull cause; The Realme hath neither righteous Lords not lawes.

Sir Thomas Ʋaughan chasing cried still: This tyrant Glocester is the gracelesse G, That will his brothers children beastly kill. And, lest the people through his talke might see The misciefes toward, and thereto not agree, Our tormentour that false periured Knight Bad stop our mouthes, with words of high despight.

Thus di'd we guiltlesse, processe heard we none, No cause alleag'd, no Iudge, nor yet accuser, No Quest empanel'd passed vs vpon. That murdrer Ratcliffe, law and rights refuser, Did all to flatter Richard his abuser. Vnhappie both that euer they were borne, Through guiltlesse blood that haue their soules forlorne.

In part I grant I well deserued this, Because I caus'd not speedie execution Be done on Richard for that murder of his, When first he wrought King Henries close confusion, Not for his brothers hatefull persecution. These cruell murders painfull death deserued, Which had he suffred, many had been preserued.

Warne therefore all that charge or office beare, To see all murdrers speedily executed: And spare them not for fauour or for feare: By guiltlesse blood the earth remaines polluted. For lacke of Iustice kingdomes are transmuted. They that saue murdrers from deserued paine, Shall through those murdrers miserably be slaine.

HOW THE LORD HASTINGS WAS BETRAYED BY TRVSTING TOO MVCH to his euill Counseller Catesby, and villanously murde∣red in the Tower of London, by Richard Duke of Glocester, the 13. of Iune, Anno, 1483.

I Am that Hastings whose too hastie death, They blame that know wherefore I lost my breath, With others fearing lest my headlesse name Be wrong'd, by partiall brute of flattering Fame. Hearing O Baldwine that thou mean'st to pen, The liues and falles of English Noblemen, My selfe heere present, do present to thee My life, my fall, and forced destinie.

Ne feare to staine thy credit by my tale: In Laethes floud, long since, in Stigian vale, Selfe loue I drown'd. What time hath fin'd for true, And ceaseth not, (though stale) still to renue: Recount I will: whereof take this for proofe, That blase I will my praise, and my reproofe. We naked ghosts are but the very man Nor of our selues more then we ought, we scan.

The Heauens high, and Earthly vale belowe, Yet ring his Fame, whose deedes so great did grow. Edward the fourth ye know vnnam'd I meane, Whose noble nature so to me did leane, That I his staffe was, I his onely ioy, And euen what Pandare was to him of Troy: VVhich mou'd him first, to make me Chamberlaine, To serue his sweets, to my most sower paine.

VVherein, to iustly prais'd for secretnesse (For now my guilt with shriking I confesse) To him too true too vntrue to the Queene, Such hate I wan, as lasted long betweene Our families: Shores wife was my Nice cheat, The holy whore, and eke the wily peat. I fed his lust with louely peeces so, That Gods sharp wrath I purchast, my iust wo.

See here the difference of a noble minde. Some vertue raiseth, some by vice haue climde. The first, though onely of themselues begon, Yet circlewise into themselues do ron. VVithin themselues their force vnited so, Both endlesse is, and stronger gainst their foe. For, when end'th it that neuer hath begon? Or how may that, that hath no end, b'vndone?

Th' other as by wicked meanes they grue, And raigned by flatterie, so soone they rue. First tumbling step fro honours old, is vice. VVhich once stept downe, some linger, none arise To former type: But they catch vertues spray, VVhich raiseth them that climbe by lawfull way. Beware to rise by seruing princely lust. Surely to stand, one meane is rising iust.

〈◊〉〈◊〉 learne by me, whom let it helpe t'excuse, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••••hfull now my selfe I do accuse, 〈…〉〈…〉 my Prince I euer pleas'd with such,

As harmed none, and him contented much. In vice some fauour, or lesse hate let win, That I ne wried to worser end my sin. But vsde my fauour to the helpe of such, As death in later warre to liue did grutch.

For as on durt (though durtie) shin'th the Sunne: So, euen amidst my vice, my vertue shoane. My selfe I spared with his cheate to staine, For loue or reuerence so I could refraine. Gisippus wife erst Titus would desire With friendships breach: I quencht that brutish fire. Manly it is, to loth the pleasing lust. Small vant to flie, that of constraint thou must.

These faults except, if so my life thou scan, Lo! none I hurt but furdred euery man. My Chamber England was, my staffe the law: Whereby saunce rigour, all I held in awe. So kind to all, and so belou'd of all, As, (what ensued vpon my bloodie fall Though I ne felt) yet surely this I thinke, Full many a trickling teare their mouthes did drinke.

Disdaine not Princes easie accesse, meeke cheare. We know then Angels statelier port ye beare Of God himselfe: too massie a charge for sprits. But then, my Lords, consider, he delights To vaile his grace to vs poore earthly wants, To simplest shrubs, and to the dunghill plants. Expresse him then, in might, and mercies meane: So shall ye win, as now ye rule the Reame.

But all too long I feare I do delay The many meanes, whereby I did bewray My zealous will, to earne my Princes grace. Lest thou defer, to thinke me kind percase. As nought may last, so Fortunes changing cheare With pouting lookes gan lower on my sire,

And on her wheele, aduanst high in his rome The Warwick Earle, admir'd through Christendome.

Besides the tempting prowesse of the foe. My Princes brother did him then forgoe. The cause was lik'd, I was his link'd allie. Yet nor the cause, nor brothers treacherie, Nor enmies force, nor band of mingled blood: Made Hastings beare any other mind then good. But tane, and scap'd from Warwickes griping pawes, With me he fled through Fortunes froward flawes.

To London come, at large we might haue seemed, Had not we then the Realme a prison deemed. Each bush, a bar, each spray, a banner splayed, Each house, a fort, our passage to haue stayed. To Lin we leape, where while w'await the tide, My secret friends in secret I suppli'd, In mouth to further Henrie sixt their King, And vse my best meanes Edward in to bring.

The restlesse tide, to bar the emptie bay, With waltring waues roames wambling forth. Away The merrie Mariner hales. The bragging boy, To masts high top vp hies. In signe of ioy The wauering flag is vanst. The surging seas Their swelling cease: to calmest euen peace Sinkes downe their pride. With drunkennesse 'gainst all care The Seamen arm'd, await their noble fare.

On bord we come. The massie anchors wai'd, One English ship, two hulks of Holland, aid In such a pinch. So small though was the traine, Such his constraint, that now, that one with paine Command he might, who late might many moe: Then ghastly Greekes erst brought to Tenedo. So nought is ours that we by hap may lose, What nearest seemes, is farthest off in woes.

As banished wights, such ioyes we might haue made. Eas'd of aye threatning death that late we drade. But once our countries sight (not care) exempt, No harbour shewing, that might our feare relent, No couert caue, no shrub to shroud our liues. No hollow wood, no flight that oft depriues The mightie his prey, no sanctuarie left For exil'd Prince, that shrouds each slaue for theft:

In prison pent whose woodie walles to passe Of no lesse perill then the dying was: With th' Ocean moated battred with the waues, (As chain'd at oares the wretched galley slaues, At mercie sit of sea and enmies shot, And shun with death that they with flight may not) But greenish waues, and heauie lowring skies All comfort else forclosed our exiled eies:

Lo lo from highest top the slauish boy Sent vp, with sight of land our hearts to ioy: Descries at hand a fleete of Easterlings As then hot enmies of the British Kings. The Mouse may sometime helpe the Lion in need, The bittle Bee once spilt the Aegles breed. O Princes seeke no foes. In your distresse, The earth, the seas, conspire your heauinesse.

Our foe descried by flight we shun in hast And laid with canuas now the bending mast, The ship was rackt to trie her sailing then, As Squirels climbe the troupes of trustie men. The steersman seekes a readier course to run, The souldier stirs, the Gunner hies to gun. The Flemmings sweate, the English ship disdaines To wait behind to beare the Flemmings traines.

Forth flieth the Barke, as from the violent Goone The pellet breakes all staies, and stops eftsoone. And swift she swindg'th, as oft in Sunnie day,

The Dolphin fleetes in seas, in merrie May. As we for liues, so th' easterlings for gaine, Thwack on the sailes, and after make amaine. Though heauie they were, and of burthen great: A King to master yet, what Swine nold sweat?

So mid the vale the Greyhound seeing start The fearefull Hare, pursueth before she flert, And where she turn'th he turn'th her, there to beare. The one prey pricketh, th' other safeties feare. So were we chas'd, so fled we 'fore our foes. Bet flight then fight in so vneuen close. I end. Some thinke perhaps, too long he staieth In perill present shewing his fixed faith.

This ventred I, this dread I did sustaine, To trie my truth, my life I did disdaine. But, loe! like triall' gainst his ciuill foe, Faiths worst is triall, which reserues to woe. I passe our scape, and sharpe returning home, Where we were welcom'd by our wonted fone. To battell maine descends the Empires right, At Barnet ioyne the hosts in bloodie fight.

There ioyn'd three battels ranged in such array, As might for terror, Alexander fray. What should I stay to tell the long discourse? Who wan the Palme? who bare away the worse? Sufficeth say by my reserued band, Our enemies fled, we had the vpper hand. My iron armie held her steadie place, My Prince to shield, his feared foe to chase.

The like successe befell in Tewkesbury field. My furious force, their force perforc'd to yeeld My Princes foe: and render to my King Her only sonne, lest he more bate might bring. Thus hast a mirrour of a Subiects mind, Such as perhaps is rare againe to find.

The caruing cuts, that cleaue the trusty steele, My faith, and due allegeance, could not feele.

But out alas, what praise may I recount, That is not stain'd with spot, that doth surmount My greatest vaunt? bloudy for VVarre, to feete A Tiger was I, all for peace vnmeete, A souldiers hands must oft be died with goare, Lest starke with rest, they finewd waxe and hoare. Peace could I win by VVarre, but peace not vse. Few daies liue he, who VVarlike peace doth chuse.

VVhen Crofts a Knight presented Henries Heiro To this our Prince, in furious moode enquere Of him he gan, what folly or phrensy vaine, With Arms forst him t'inuade his Realme againe? Whom answering, that he claim'd his fathers right: With Gauntlet smit, commanded from his sight, Glocester, Clarence, I and Dorset slewe: The guilt whereof we shortly all did rue.

Clarence, as Cyrus, drown'd in bloud like Wine, Dorset I furthered to his speedy pine. Of me, my selfe am speaking president, Nor easier fate the bristled Boare is lent. Our blouds haue paid the vengeance of our guilt, His bones, shall broile for bloud which he hath spilt, O deadly murther, that attaint'th our fame, O wicked Traytours wanting worthy name.

Who as mischieuously of men deserue, As they merit well, who doe mens liues preserue. If those therefore we recken heauenly wights, These may we well deeme Feendes, and damned Sprits, And while on earth they walke, disguised deuils, Sworne foes of vertue, factours for all euils. Whose bloudy hands torment their goared harts, Through bloudsheds horrour, in sound sleepe he starts.

O happy world were the Lions men, All Lions should at least be spared then. No suerty now, no lasting league is bloud. A meacocke is he, who dreadth to see bloud shed. Old is the Practise of such bloudy strife, While ij. weare Armies. ij. the Issues of first Wife, With armed hart and hand, the one bloudy brother, With cruell chase pursueth, and murdreth th' other.

Which who abhorreth not? yet who ceaseth to sue? The bloudy Caines their bloudy sire renue. The horror yet is like in common fraies. For in ech murther, brother brother slaies. Traytours to nature, countrey kin and kinde. Whom no band serueth in brothers loue to bind. O simple age, when slaunder slaughter was. The tongues smal euil, how doth this mischief passe?

Hopest thou to cloake thy couert mischiefe wrought? Thy conscience, Caitif, shal proclaime thy thought, A vision, Chaucer sheweth difcloasd thy crime. The Foxe descrie the crowes and chattring pien, And shal thy fellow felons, not bewray The guiltelesse death, whom guiltie hands do slay? Vnpunished scaped for hainous crime some one, But vnaduenged, in minde or body none.

Vengeance on minde, the freating furies take, The sinful corps, like earth quake agues shake, Their frowning lookes, their troubled minds bewray, In hast they runne, and mids their race they staie, As gidded Roe. Amids their speech they whist, At meate they muse. No where they may persist But some feare netleth them. Ay hang they so. So neuer wanteth the wicked murtherer wo.

An infant rent with Lions ramping pawes? Why slaunder I Lions? They feare the sacred lawes Of royall bloud. Ay me more brute then beast.

With infants sides, (Lycaons pie) to feast. O tyrant Tigers, O insaciate woolues, O English courtesie, monstrous mowes and gulfes. Onely because our Prince displeas'd we saw With him, we slue him straight before all law.

Before our Prince commanded once his death, Our bloudie swords on him we did vnsheath, Preuenting law, and euen our Princes hest, We hid our weapons in the young lings brest. Whom not desire of raigne did driue to field, But mothers pride, who longd the Realme to wield. But straight my death shall shew my worthie meed, If first to one other murther I proceed.

VVhile Edward liued, dissembled discord lurked In double hearts, yet so his reuerence worked. But when succeeding tender feeble age, Gaue open gap to tyrants rushing rage: I holpe the Boare, and Bucke, to captiuate Lord Riuers, Gray, sir Thomas Vaughan and Hawte. If land would helpe the sea, well earnd that ground It selfe, to be with conquering waues surround.

Their speedie death by priuie dome procured, At Pomfret: tho my life short while endured. My selfe I slue, when them I damned to death, At once my throate I riued, and reft them breath. For that selfe day, before or neere the hower That withred Atropos nipt the springing flower VVith violent hand, of their forth running life: My head and body, in Tower twinde like knife.

By this my paterne all ye peeres beware. Oft hangth he himselfe who others weenth to snare: Spare to be each others butcher. Feare the Kite, VVho soareth aloft, (while frog and mouse do fight In ciuil combat, grappling void of feare Of forreine foe) at once al both to beare.

Which plainer by my pitied plaint to see, A while anew your listning lend to mee.

Too true it is two sundrie assemblies kept, At Crosbies place, and Baynards Castle set: The Dukes at Crosbies, but at Baynards we. The one to crowne a king, the other to be. Suspicious is secession of foule frends, When eithers drift to th' others mischief tends, I fear'd the end, my Catesbies being there Discharg'd all doubts. Him held I most entire.

Whose great preserment by my meanes, I thought Some spurre, to pay the thankfulnesse hee ought. The trust he ought me, made me trust him so, That priuie he was both to my weale and wo. My hearts one halfe, my chest of confidence, Mine only trust, my ioy dwelt in his presence. I lou'd him Baldwine, as the apple of mine eye; I loath'd my life when Catesby would me die.

Flie from thy chanel Thames, forsake thy streames, Leaue the Adamant Iron: Phoebus lay thy beames: Cease heauenly Sphears at last your weary warke, Betray your charge, returne to Chaos darke. At least, some ruthlesse Tiger hang her whelp, My Catesby so with some excuse to help. And me to comfort, that I alone, ne seeme Of all dame natures workes left in extreeme.

A Golden treasure is the tried frend. But who may Gold from Counterfaits defend? Trust not too soone, nor yet too soone mistrust: With th' one thy selfe, with th' other thy friend thou hurt'st. VVho twin'th betwixt, and steareth the golden meane, Nor rashly loueth, nor mistrusteth in vaine. In friendship soueraigne it is as Mithridate, Thy friend to loue as one whom thou maist hate.

Of tickle credit ne had bin the mischiefe, What needed Ʋirbius miracle doubled life? Credulity surnamed first the Aegean Seas. Mistrust, doth reason in the trustiest raise. Suspicious Romulus, stain'd his Walls first reard With brothers bloud, whom for light leape he feard. So not in brotherhood ielousie may be borne, The ielous Cuckold weares the Infamous Horne.

A beast may preach by triall, not foresight. Could I haue shund light credit, nere had light The dreaded death, vpon my guilty head. But Fooles aye wont to learne by after read. Had Catesby kept vnstaind the truth he plight, Yet had yet enioied me, and I yet the light: All Derbies doubts I cleared with his name. I knew, no harme could hap me without his blame.

But see the fruites of tickle light beleefe. The ambitious Dukes corrupt the Traitor theefe, To grope mee, if allured I would assent, To bin a Partner of their cursed intent. Whereto, when as by no meanes friendship vail'd, By Tyrant force behold they me assail'd, And summond shortly a Counsell in the Tower, Of Iune the fifteenth, at appointed hower.

Alas, are Counsels wried to catch the good? No place is now exempt from sheading bloud, Sith counsels, that were carefull to preserue The guiltelesse good, are meanes to make them starue, VVhat may not mischiefe of Mad man abuse? Religious cloake some one to vice doth chuse, And maketh God Protectour of his crime. Omonstrous world, well ought we wish thy fine.

The fatall skies, roll on the blackest day, VVhen doubled bloudshed, my bloud must repay. Others none forceth. To me sir Thomas Haward

As spurre is buckled, to prouoke me froward. Derbie who feared the parted sittings yore, Whether, much more he knew by experience hoare, Or better minded, clearelier truth could see: At midnight darke this message sends to mee.

Hastings away, in sleepe the gods foreshow By dreadfull dreame, fell fates vnto vs two. Me thought a Bore with tuske so raced our throate, That both our shoulders of the blood did smoake. Arise to horse, straight homeward let vs hie: And seeth our foe we cannot match, O flie. Of Chanteclere you learne dreames sooth to know, Thence wisemen construe, more then the cock doth crow.

While thus he spake, I held within mine arme Shores wife, the tender piece, to keepe me warme. Fie on adulterie, fie on leacherous lust. Marke in me ye Nobles all, Gods iudgements iust. A Pander, Murderer, and Adulterer thus, Only such death I die, as I ne blush. Now lest my dame might thinke appall'd my hart With eager mood vp in my bed I start.

And, is thy Lord (quoth I) a Sorcerer? A wiseman now become? a dreame reader? What though so Chanteclere crowed? I reck it not? On my part pleadeth as well dame Partelot. Vniudg'd hang'th yet the case betwixt them tway. Nay was his dreame cause of his hap I say. Shall dreaming doubts from Prince my seruing slack? Nay, then might Hastings life and liuing lacke.

He parteth. I sleepe, my mind surcharg'd with sinne, As Phoebus beames by mistie cloud kept in, Ne could misgiue, ne dreame of my mishap: As blocke, I tumbled to mine enemies trap. Securitie causelesse through my fained frend, Reft me foresight of my approching end.

So Catesby clawed me, as when the Cat doth play, Dallying with Mouse whom straight she meanes to slay.

The morow come, the latest light to me, On Palfray mounted, to the Tower I hie, Accompanied with that Haward my mortall foe, To slaughter led, thou God didst suffer so. (O deepe dissemblers, honoring with your cheare, Whom in hid heart you trayterously teare) Neuer had Realme so open signes of wrack, As I had shewed me of my heauie hap.

The vision first of Stanley late descried: Then mirth so extreame, that neare for ioy I died. Were it, that Swanlike I foresong my death, Or merrie mind foresaw the losse of breath That long it coueted, from this earths annoy, But euen as siker as th' end of woe is ioy, And glorious light to obscure night doth tend: So extreame mirth, in extreame mone doth end.

For why, extreames are haps rackt out of course, By violent might far swinged forth perforce. Which as they are piercing'st while they violent'st moue, For that they are neare to cause that doth them shoue: So soonest fall from that their highest extreame, To th' other contrarie that doth want of meane. So laughed he erst, who laughed out his breath: So laughed I, when I laugh'd my selfe to death.

The pleasing'st meanes bode not the luckiest ends. Not aye, found treasure to like pleasure tends. Mirth meanes not mirth all time, thrice happie hire Of wit, to shun the excesse that all desire. But this I passe, I hie to other like. My palfrey in the plainest paued streete, Thrice bowed his bones, thrice kneeled on the flower Thrice shun'd (as Balams asse) the dreaded Tower.

What? should thinke he had sense of after haps? As beasts foreshow the drought or rainie drops, As humours in them want or else abound, By influence from the heauens, or change of ground? Or do we interpret by successe each signe? And as we fancie of each hap diuine? And make that cause, that kin is to th' effect? Not hauing ought of conse quence respect?

Bucephalus kneeling only to his Lord, Shewed only he was Monarch of the world. Why may not then the steed foreshew by fall, What casuall hap the sitter happen shall? Darius horse by braying brought a Realme. And what letteth, why he ne is (as the asse) Gods meane By speaking signe, to shew his hap to come, Who is dease hearer of his speaking dome?

But forward yet. In Tower-street I stai'd, Where (could I haue seene) loe Haward all bewrai'd: For as I commond with a Priest I met: Away my Lord, quoth he, your time is ne yet To take a Priest. Lo, Sinon might be seene, Had not the Troians hares foolish forthright eyen, But since the time was come that I should die, Some grace it was to die with wimpled eye.

Nay was this all. For euen at Tower-wharfe, Neere to those walles within the which I starfe, Where erst, in sorow soust, and deepe distresse, I emparted all my pining pensiuenesse With Hastings: (so my Purseuant men call) Euen there, the same to meete it did me fall. Who gan to me most dolefully renue, The wofull conference had erst in that lieu.

Hastings (quoth I) according now they fare, At Pomfret this day dying, who caus'd that care. My selfe haue all the world at my will,

With pleasures cloyed, engorged with the fill. God grant it so, quoth he: why doubtest thou tho Quoth I? and all in chafe, to him gan shew In ample wise, our drift with tedious tale: And entred so the Tower to my bale.

What should we thinke of srignes? They are but haps, How may they then, be signes of afterclaps? Doth euery chance foreshew or cause some other? Or ending at it selfe, extend'th no further? As th' ouer flowing floud some mount doth choake, But to his aide some other floud it yoake: So, if with signes thy sinnes once ioyne, beware. Else whereto chances tend, do neuer care.

Had not my sinne deserued my death as wreake, What might my mirth haue hurt? or horses becke? Or Hawards bitter scoffe? or Hastings talke? What meane then foole Astrologers to calke? That twinckling starres fling downe the fixed fate? And all is guided by the starrie state? Perdy a certaine charge assign'd they haue To shine, and times diuide, not fate to graue.

But grant they somewhat giue it at one instant Of euery babe the birth in heauen so scand, That they that restlesse roll, and neuer stay, Should in his life beare yet so violent sway: That, not his actions only next to birth, But all his life and death he swayed therewith? How may one motion make so sundrie affects? Or one impression tend to such respects?

Some rule there is yet. Else, why were defer'd Till now, these plagues, so long ere now deseru'd? If for they are trifles, they ne seeme of care: But toyes with God the stately scepters are. Yet in them too plaine doth appeare foreset, The certaine rule and fatall limits set,

Yet thinke we not, this sure foresetting fate, But Gods fast prouidence for each princely state.

And hath he erst restrain'd his prouidence? Or is he nigard of his free dispence? Or is he vncertaine foreset drifts to driue? That not dame Chance but he all goods may giue? A heathen god they hold whom Fortune keepe, To deale them haps while god they weene asleepe: Mocke-gods they are and many gods induce, Who fortune faine to father their abuse.

How so it be, it might haue warned me, But, what I could not, that in me see ye, Who run in race, the honor like to win, Whose fairest forme nought may deforme but sin, Alas, when most I did defie all dread, By single haire deaths sword hung ouer my head, For hearke the end and listen now my fall: This is the last, and this the fruit of all.

To Counsell chamber come, a while we staid For him without whom nought was done or said: At last he came, and courteously excused, That he so long our patience had abused. And pleasantly began to paint his cheere, And said: My Lord of Elie, would we had heere Some of the strawberries, whereof you haue store: The last delighted me so as nothing more.

Would, what so you wish, I might as well command, My Lord (quoth he) as those. And out of hand His seruant sendeth to Ely place for them. Out goeth from vs the restlesse diuell againe: Belike (I thinke) scarce yet perswaded full, To worke the mischiefe that did mad his scull. At last determin'd, of his bloodie thought And force ordain'd, to worke the wile he sought:

Frowning he enters, with so changed cheare, As for milde May had chopped foule Ianuere: And lowring on me with the goggle eye, The whetted tuske, and fur'wed forehead hie, His crooked shoulder bristlelike set vp, With frothie iawes, whose fome he chaw'd and sup'd, With angrie lookes that flamed as the fire: Thus gan at last to grunt the grimmest fire.

What merit they, whom me, the kingdomes stay, Contriued haue counsell trayterously to slay? Abashed all sate. I thought I might be bold, For conscience clearenesse and acquaintance old, Their hire is plaine, quoth I Be death the least To whoso seeketh your grace so to molest. Withouten stay: the Queene and the whore Shores wife, By witchcraft (quoth he) seeke to waste my life.

Lo heere the withered and be witched arme, That thus is spent by those two Sorceresse charme: And bared his arme and shewed his swinish skin. Such cloakes they vse, that seeke to cloud their sin. But out alas, it serueth not for the raine, To all the house the colour was too plaine: Nature had giuen him many a maimed marke And it amongst to note her monstruous warke.

My doubtfull heart distracted this replie. For th' one I cared not. th' other nipt so nie That whist I could not: but forthwith brake forth. If so it be, of death they are doubtlesse worth. If, traytour quoth he? plai'st thou with ifs and ands? Ile on thy bodie auow it with these hands. And there withall he mightly bounced the bord. In rush'd his bil-men, one himselfe bestird,

Laying at Lord Stanley, whose braine he had surely cleft, Had he not downe beneath the table crept. But Ely, Yorke, and I were taken straight,

Imprisoned they: I should no longer wait, But charged was to shriue me, and shift with hast. My Lord must dine, and now midday was past. The Bores first dish, not the bores head should be. But Hastings head the borish beast would see.

VVhy stay I his dinner? vnto the chappel ioineth A greenish hil, that body and soule oft twineth. There on a blocke my head was stricken off, As Baptists head, for Herod bloudy gnoffe. Thus liu'd I Baldwine, thus dide I, thus I fel, This is the summe, which al at large to tel VVould volumes fil: whence yet these lessons note Ye noble Lords, to learne and ken by rote.

By filthie rising feare your names to staine; If not for vertues loue, for dread of paine. VVhom so the mindes vnquiet state vpheaues, Be it for loue or feare: when fancie reaues Reason her right, by mocking of the wit, If once the cause of this affection flit, Reason preuailing on the vubridled thought: Downe falth he who by fancie climbe aloft.

So hath the riser foule no staie from fall, No not of those that raisd him first of all. His suretie stands in mainteining the cause That heau'd him first, which rest by reasons sawes, Not onely falth he to his former state, But liueth for euer in his princes hate. And marke my Lords, God for adulterie sleath, Though ye it thinke too sweete a sinne for death.

Serue trulie your Prince and feare not rebels might, On Princes halues the mightie God doth fight. O much more then forsweare a forrein foe, Who seeketh your realme and country to vndo. Murther detest, haue hands vnstaind with bloud. Aie with your succour do protect the good.

Chace treason where trust should be wed to your frend Your heart and power, to your liues last end.

Flie tickle credit, shun alike distrust. Too true it is, and credit it you must: The iealous nature wanteth no stormie strife, The simple soule aye leadeth a sower life. Beware of flatterers, friends in outward show: Best is of such to make your open foe. What all men seeke, that all men seeke to saine, Some such to be, some such to seeme, them paine.

Marke Gods iust iudgements, punishing sin by sinne, And slipperie state wherein aloft we swimme. The prouerbe, all day vp if we ne fall, Agreeth well to vs high heaued worldlings all. From common sort vprais'd, in honors weed We shine: while Fortune false (whom none erst feed To stand with stay and forsweare ticklenesse:) Sowseth vs in mire of durtie brittlenesse.

And learne ye Princes by my wronged sprite, Not to misconster what is meant aright, The winged words too oft preuent the wit, When silence ceaseth afore the lips to sit. Alas, what may the words yeeld worthie death? The words worst is, the speakers stinking breath. Words are but winde, why cost they then so much The guiltie kicke, when they too smartly touch.

Forth irreturnable flieth the spoken word, Be it in scoffe, in earnest, or in bourd. Without returne, and vnreceiu'd, it hangs, And at the takers mercie, or rigour stands. Which if he sowerly wrest with wrathfull cheare, The shiuering word turnes to the speakers feare. If friendly courtefie do the word expound, To the speakers comfort sweetly it doth redound.

Euen as the vapour which the fire repels, Turnes not to earth, but in mid aire dwels. Where while it hangeth, if Boreas frostie flawes With rigour rattle it: not to raine it thawes, But thunder, lightnings, ratling haile or snow Sends downe to earth, whence first it rose below; But if faire Phoebus with his countenance sweete Resolue it, downe the dew, or Manna sleete.

(The Manna dew, that in the Easterne lands, Excell'th the labour of the bees small hands.) Else for her Memnon gray Auroras teares, On the earth it stilleth, the partener of her feares. Or sendeth sweet showers to glad their mother earth, Whence first they tooke their first inconstant birth, To so great griefes, ill taken words do grow: Of words well taken, such delights do flow.

This learned, thus be heere at length an end, What since ensued, to thee I will commend. Now farewell Baldwine, shield my torne name, From slanderous trumpe of blasting blacke defame. But ere I part, hereof thou record beare: I claime no part of vertues reckoned heere. My vice my selfe, but God my vertues take. So hence depart I, as I entred nak'd,

Thus ended Hastings both his life and tale, Containing all his worldly blisse and bale. Happie he liued, too happie but for sinne, Happie he died whom right his death did bring. Thus euer happie. For there is no meane Twixt blissefull liues and mortall deaths extreame, Yet feared not his foes to staine his name, And by these slanders to procure his shame.

In rustie armour as in extreame shift, They clad themselues, to cloake their diuellish drift. And forth with for substantiall citizens sent,

Declaring to them, Hastings forged intent Was to haue slaine the Duke: and to haue seised The Kings yong person, slaying whom he had pleas'd. But God of Iustice had withturn'd that fate, Which where it ought, light on his proper pate.

Then practised they by proclamation spread, Nought to forget, that mought defame him dead. Which was so curious, and so clerkely pend, So long withall: that when some did attend His death so yong: they saw that long before The shroud was shaped, then babe to die was bore. So wonteth God to blind the worldly wise, That not to see, that all the world espies.

One hearing it cried out: A goodly cast, And well contriued, foule cast away for hast: Whereto another gan in scoffe replie, First pend it was by enspiring prophecie. So can God rip vp secret mischiefes wrought, To the confusion of the workers thought. My Lords, the tub, that dround the Clarence Duke, Dround not his death, not yet his deaths rebuke.

Your politique secrets gard with trustie loyaltie: So shall they lurke in most assured secrecie. By Hastings death, and after fame ye learne, The earth for murder crieth out vengeance sterne. Flie from his faults, and spare to hurt his fame. The eager hounds forbeare their slaine game, Dead, dead, auaunt Curs from the conquered chase. Ill might he liue who loueth the dead to race.

Thus liued this Lord, thus died he, thus he slept. Mids forward race when first to rest he stept, Enuious death that bounceth as well with mace At Kesars courts, as at the poorest gates: When nature seem'd too slow, by this sloape meane, Conueighed him sooner to his liues extreame.

Happie in preuenting woes that after happ'd, In slumber sweete his liuing lights he lapp'd.

Whose hastie death, if it do any grieue: Know he, he liu'd to die, and dide to liue. Vntimely neuer comes the liues last met. In cradle death may rightly claime his det. Straight after birth due is the fatall beere. By deaths permission the aged linger heere. Euen in the swathbands out commission goeth To loose thy breath, that yet but yongly bloweth.

Happie, thrice happie, who so loos'th his breath, That life he gaineth by his godly death. As Hastings heere. Whom time and truth agree, To engraue by fame in strong eternitie. Who spareth not speaking, with danger of his blood? Yet loe this noble Lord did thinke it good To cleare the innocent not to spare to speake, Although his shoulders with his blood should reake.

Worthie to liue, who liu'd not for himselfe But prised his same more then this worldly pelfe, Whose name and line, if any yet preserue, We wish they liue like honor to destrue. Whether thou seeke by martiall prowese praise, Or Pallas policie high thy name to raise, Or trustie seruice honor to attaine; Hastings foreled: tracke heere his bloodie traine.

FINIS.

Master D.

THE COMPLAINT OF HENRIE DVKE of Buckingham.

WHo trusts too much to honors highest throne, And warily watch not slie dame Fortunes snares: Or who in Court will beare the swing alone, And wisely weigh not how to weild the care, Behold he me, and by my death beware: Whom flattering Fortune falsely so beguilde, That loe she slew, where erst full smooth shee smilde.

And Sackuill sith in purpose now thou hast The wofull fall of Princes to descriue, Whom Fortune both vplift and eke downe cast, To shew thereby th' vnsuretie in this life, Marke well my fall, which I shall shew beliue, And paint it forth, that all estates may know: Haue they the warning, and be mine the woe.

For noble blood made me both Prince and Peere, Yea peerelesse too, had reason purchast place, And God with gifts endow'd me largely heere. But what auailes his gifts where failes his grace? My mothers sire sprung of a kingly race, And call'd was Edmund Duke of Sommerset, Bereft of life ere time by nature set.

Whose faithfull heart to Henrie sixt so wrought That he him nere in weale, or woe forsooke, Till lastly he at Tewkesbury field was cought Where with an axe his violent death he tooke: He neuer could King Edwards partie brooke, Till by his death he voucht that quarrell good, In which his Sire, and Grand-sire spilt their blood.

And such was erst my fathers cruell chance, Of Stafford Earle by name that Humfrey hight Who euer prest did Henries part aduance, And neuer ceast till at Saint Albones fight He lost his life, as then did many a Knight: Where eke my Grandsire, Duke of Buckingham Was wounded sore, and hardly scapt vntane.

But what may boote to stay the Sisters three, When Atropos perforce will cut the thred? The dolefull day was come when you might see Northampton field with armed men orespred, VVhere fate would algates haue my Grandsire dead: So rushing forth amids the fiercest fight, He liu'd, and di'd there in his Masters right.

In place of whom as it befell my lot, Like on a stage, so stept I in straightway, Enioying there but wofully God wot, As he that had a slender part to play: To teach thereby, in earth no state may stay, But as our parts abridge, or length our age, So passe we all while others fill the stage.

For of my selfe the dreerie fate to plaine, I was sometime a Prince withouten peere, VVhen Edward fift began his rufull raigne, Ay me, then I began that hatefull yeare, To compasse that which I haue bought so deare: I bare the swinge, I and that wretched wight, The Duke of Glocester that Richard hight.

For when the fates had reft that Roiall Prince Edward the fourth, chiefe mirrour of that name, The Duke, and I fast ioined euer since, In faithfull loue, our secret dristes to frame: VVhat he thought best, to me so seem'd the same, My selfe not bent so much for to aspire, As to fulfill that greedy Dukes desire.

Whose restlesse minde sore thirsting after rule, When that he saw his nephewes both to bin Through tender yeares as yet vnfit to rule, And rather ruled by their Mothers kin, There sought he first his mischiefe to begin, To pluck from them their Mothers friends assinde, For well he wist they would wistand his minde.

To follow which he ran so headlong swift, With eagre thirst of his desired draught, To seeke their deaths that sought to dash his drift, Of whom the chiefe the Queenes allies he thought, That bent thereto with mounts of mischiefe fraught, He knew their liues would be so sore his let, That in their deaths his onely help he set.

And I most cursed caitiffe that I was, Seeing the state vnstedfast how it stood, His chiefe complice to bring the same to passe, Vnhappie wretch consented to their blood: Yee Kings, and Peeres that swim in worldly good. In seeking bloud the end aduert you plaine, And see if bloud ay aske not bloud againe.

Consider Cyrus in your cruell thought, A matchlesse Prince in riches, and in might, And weigh in minde the bloudy deedes he wrought, In sheading which he set his whole delight: But see the guerdon lotted to this wight, He whose huge power no man might ouerthrow, Tamiris Queene with great despite hath slow.

His head dismembred from his mangled corps, Her selfe she cast into a vessell fraught VVith clottered bloud of them that felt her force. And with these words a iustreward she taught: Drinke now thy fill of thy desired draught. Loe marke the fine that did this Prince befall: Marke not this one, but marke the end of all.

Behold Cambises, and his fatall day, Where murders mischiefe mirrour like is left: While he his brother Mergus cast to slay, A dreadfull thing, his wits were him bereft. A sword he caught, wherewith he pierced eft His bodie gor'd, which he of life benoomes: So iust is God in all his dreadfull doomes.

O bloodie Brutus rightly didst thou rue, And thou O Cassius, iustly came thy fall, That with the sword wherewith thou Caesar slue Murdredst thy selfe, and reft thy life withall. A Mirrour let him be vnto you all That murdrers be, of murder to your meed: For murder cries out vengeance on your seed.

Loe Bessus he that arm'd with murdrers knife, And traytrours heart, against his royall King, With bloodie hands bereft his masters life, Aduert the fine his foule offence did bring: And lothing murder as most lothly thing, Behold in him the iust deserued fall, That euer hath, and shall betide them all.

What booted him his false vsurped raigne? Whereto by murder he did so ascend, When like a wretch led in an iron chaine, He was presented by his chiefest friend, Vnto the foes of him whom he had slaine: That euen they should auenge so foule a gilt, That rather sought to haue his blood yspilt.

Take heed ye Princes and ye Prelats all Of this outrage, which though it sleepe a while And not disclos'd, as it doth seld befall, Yet God that suffereth silence to beguile Such guilts, wherewith both earth and aire ye file, At last descries them to your foule disgrace, You see th' examples set before your face.

And deeply graue within your stony harts, The dreerie dole that mightie Macedo, With tears vnfolded wrapt in deadly smarts, VVhen he the death of Clitus sorowed so, VVhom erst he murdred with the deadly blow Raught in his rage vpon his friend so deare, For which behold loe how his pangs appeare.

The launced speare he writhes out of the wound, From which the purple bloud spins in his face: His heinous guilt when he returned found, He throwes himselfe vpon the corps alas, And in his armes how oft doth he imbrace His murdred friend? and kissing him in vaine, Forth flow the flouds of salt repentant raine.

His friends amaz'd at such a murder done, In fearefull flocks begin to shrinke away: And he therat with heapes of grief fordone, Hateth himselfe, wishing his latter day. Now he likewise perceiued in like stay, As is the wilde beast in the desert bred, Both dreading others and him selfe adred:

He calles for death, and loathing longer life, Bent to his bane, refuseth kindly food: And plung'd in depth of death and dolours strife, Had queld himselfe, had not his friends withstood. Loe he that thus hath shed the guiltlesse bloud, Though he were King and Kesar ouer all, Yet chose he death to guerdon death withall.

This Prince whose Peere was neuer vnder sunne, Whose glistening fame the earth did ouerglide, Which with his power welny the world had wonne, His bloudy hands himselfe could not abide, But folly bent with famine to haue dide: The worthy Prince deemed in his regard, That death for death could be but iust reward.

Yet we that were so drowned in the depth Of deepe desire, to drinke the guiltlesse bloud, Like to the Wolfe, with greedy lookes that lepth Into the snare, to feed on deadly food: So we delighted in the state we stood, Blinded so far in all our blinded traine, That blind we saw not our destruction plaine.

We spared none whose life could ought forlet Our wicked purpose to his passe to come. Foure worthy Knights we headed at Pomfret, Guiltelesse (God wot) withouten law or dome. My heart euen bleedes to tell you all and some, And how Lord Hastings when he feared least, Dispiteously was murdred and opprest.

These rocks vpraught, that threatned most our wreck, We seemd to saile much surer in the streame: And Fortune faring as she were at becke Laid in our lap the rule of all the Realme. The Nephues straight deposde were by the Eame. And we aduanst to that we bought full deere, He crowned King, and I his chiefest Peere.

Thus hauing won our long desired pray, To make him King that he might make me chiefe, Downe throw we straight his silly Nephues tway, From Princes pompe, to wofull prisoners life: In hope that now stint was all further strife. Sith he was King, and I chiefe stroke did beare, Who ioied but we, yet who more cause to feare?

The guiltles bloud which we vniustly shed, The roiall babes deuested from their throne, And we like traytours raigning in their stead, These heauy burdens passed vs vpon, Tormenting vs so by our selues alone, Much like the felon that pursu'd by night, Starts at ech bush, as his foe were in sight.

Now doubting state, now dreading losse of life, In feare of wrack at euery blast of winde, Now start in dreames through dread of murders knife, As though euen then reuengement were assinde, With restles thought so is the guilty minde Turmoild, and neuer feeleth ease or stay, But liues in feare of that which followes aye.

Well gaue that Iudge his doome vpon the death Of Titus Celius that in bed was slaine: When euery wight the cruell murder laieth To his two sonnes that in his chamber laine, The Iudge, that by the proofe perceiueth plaine, That they were found fast sleeping in their bed, Hath deemd them guiltles of this bloud yshed.

He thought it could not be, that they which brake The lawes of God and man in such outrage, Could so forth with themselues to sleepe betake: He rather thought the horrour and the rage Of such an heinous guilt could neuer swage, Nor neuer suffer them to sleepe or rest, Or dreadles breath one breth out of their brest.

So gnawes the griefe of conscience euermore, And in the heart it is so deepe ygraue, That they may neither sleepe nor rest therefore, Ne thinke one thought but on the dread they haue. Still to the death foretossed with the waue Of restles woe, in terrour and despeare, They lead a life continually in feare.

Like to the Deere that stricken with the dart, Withdrawes himselfe into some secret place, And feeling greene the wound about his hart, Startles with pangs till he falt on the grasse, And in great feare lies gasping there a space, Forth braying sighes, as though ech pang had brought The present death, which 〈…〉〈…〉 dread so oft:

So we deepe wounded with the bloodie thought, And gnawing worme that grieu'd our conscience so, Neuer tooke ease, but as our heart out brought The stayned sighes in witnes of our woe, Such restlesse cares our fault did well beknow: Wherewith of our deserued fall the feares In euery place rang death within our eares.

And as ill graine is neuer well ykept, So fared it by vs within a while: That which so long with such vnrest we reapt, In dread and danger by all wit and wile, Loe see the fine, when once it felt the whele Of slipper Fortune, stay it might no stowne, The wheele whurles vp, but straight it whurleth downe.

For hauing rule and riches in our hand, Who durst gaine say the thing that we auer'd? Will was wisdome, our lust for law did stand, In sort so strange, that who was not afeard, When he the sound but of King Richard heard? So hatefull waxt the hearing of his name, That you may deeme the residue of the same.

But what auail'd the terrour and the feare, Wherewith he kept his lieges vnder awe? It rather wan him hatred euery where, And fained faces forc'd by feare of law: That but while Fortune doth with fauour blaw, Flatter through feare: for in their heart lurkes aye A secret hate that hopeth for a day.

Recordeth Dionysius the King, That with his rigour so his Realme opprest, As that he thought by cruell feare to bring His subiects vnder, as him liked best: But loe the dread wherewith himselfe was strest, And you shall see the fine of forced feare, Most Mirrour like in this proud Prince appeare.

All were his head with crowne of gold yspread, And in his hand the royall scepter set, And he with princely purple richly clad; Yet was his heart with wretched cares orefret, And inwardly with deadly feare beset, Of those whom he by rigour kept in awe, And fore opprest with might of tyrants law.

Against whose feare, no heapes of gold and glie, No strength of guard, nor all his hired powre, Ne proud high towres that preased to the skie, His cruell heart of safetie could assure: But dreading them whom he should deeme most sure, Himselfe his beard with burning brand would seare, Of death deseru'd so vexed him the feare.

This might suffice to represent the fine Of tyrants force, their feares, and their vnrest: But heare this one, although my heart repine To let the sound once sinke within my brest: Of fell Phereus that aboue the rest, Such crueltie vpon his people wrought, As (oh alas) I tremble with the thought.

Some he encased in the coats of Beares, Among wilde beasts deuoured so to be: And some for prey vnto the hunters speares, Like sauage beasts withouten ruth to die. Sometime t'encrease his horrid crueltie, The quicke with face to face engraued hee, Each others death that each might liuing see.

Loe what more cruell horror might be found, To purchase feare, if feare could stay his raigne? It booted not, it rather strake the wound Of feare in him to feare the like againe. And so he did full oft, and not in vaine, As in his life his cares could witnesse well, But most of all his wretched end doth tell.

His owne deare wife whom as his life he loued, He durst not trust, nor proch vnto her bed, But causing first his slaue with naked sword To go before, himselfe with trembling dread Straight followeth fast, and whurling in his head His rolling eyne, he searched heere and there The danger deepe that he so sore did feare.

For not in vaine it ran still in his brest, Some wretched hap should hale him to his end. And therefore alway by his pillow prest Had he a sword, and with that sword he wend, In vaine (God wot) all perils to defend. For loe his wife foreirking of his raigne, Sleeping in bed this cruell wretch hath slaine.

What should I more now seeke to say in this, Or one iot further linger forth my tale? With cruell Nero, or with Phalaris, Caligula, Domitian, and all The cruell rout? or of their wretched fall? I can no more, but in my name aduert All earthly powres beware of tyrants heart.

And as our state endured but a throw, So, best in vs the stay of such a state May best appeare to hang on ouer throw, And better teach tyrants deserued hate, Then any tyrants death tofore or late. So cruell seem'd this Richard third to me, That loe my selfe now loth'd his crueltie.

For when alas, I saw the tyrant King Content not only from his nephewes twaine To riue worlds blisse, but also all worlds being, Sauns earthly guilt ycausing both be slaine, My heart agrieud that such a wretch should raigne, Whose bloodie breast so sauag'd out of kind, That Phalaris had nere so foule a mind.

Nay could I brooke him once within my brest, But with the thought my teeth would gnash withall: For though I erst were his by sworne behest, Yet when I saw mischiefe on mischiefe fall, So deepe in blood, to murder Prince and all, Aye then thought I, alas, and welaway, And to my selfe thus mourning would I say:

If neither loue, kindred, nay knot of blood, His owne allegeance to his Prince of due, Nor yet the state of trust wherein he stood, The worlds defame, nor nought could forme him true, Those guiltlesse babes, could they not make him rue? Nor could their youth, nor innocence withall Moue him from reauing them their life and all?

Alas it could not moue him any iot, Nay make him once to rue or wet his eye, Stir'd him no more then that that stirreth not: But as the rocke or stone that will not plie, So was his heart made hard with crueltie, To murder them: alas I weepe in thought, To thinke on that which this fell wretch hath wrought.

That now when he had done the thing he sought, And as he would, complisht and compast all, And saw and knew the treason he had wrought To God and man, to slay his Prince and all, Then seem'd he first to doubt and dread vs all, And me in chiefe, whose death all meanes he might, He sought to worke by malice and by might.

Such heapes of harmes vpharbar'd in his brest, With enuious heart my honor to deface, And knowing he that I which wotted best His wretched drifts, and all his wretched case, If euer sprang within me sparke of grace, Must needs abhorre him and his hatefull race: Now more and more gan cast me out of grace.

Which sudden change when I by secret chance Had well perceiu'd, by proofe of enuious frowne, And saw the lot that did me to aduance Him to a King that sought to cast me downe, Too late it was to linger any stowne: Sith present choice lay cast before mine eye, To worke his death, or I my selfe to die.

And as the Knight in field among his foes, Beset with swords, must slay or there be slaine: So I alas lapt in a thousand woes, Beholding death on euery side so plaine, I rather chose by some sly secret traine To worke his death, and I to liue therby, Then he to liue, and I of force to dye.

Which heauy choice so hastened me to chose, That I in part agrieu'd at his disdaine, In part to wreake the dolefull death of those Two tender babes, his silly nephewes twaine, By him, alas, commanded to be slaine, With painted cheere humbly before his face, Straight tooke my leaue, and rode to Brecknocke place.

And there as close and couert as I might, My purposde practise to his passe to bring, In secret drifts I lingred day and night, All how I might depose this cruell King, That seemd to all so much desirde a thing, As therto trusting I emprisde the same: But too much trusting brought me to my bane.

For while I now had Fortune at my becke, Mistrusting I no earthly thing at all, Vnwares alas, least looking for a checke, She mated me in turning of a ball: When least I feard, then neerest was my fall, And when whole Hosts were prest to stroy my fone, She changed her cheare, and left me post alone.

I had vprais'd a mightie band of men, And marched forth in order of array, Leading my power amid the forrest Dene, Against the tyrant banner to display: But loe my souldiers basely shranke away. For such is Fortune when she list to frowne, Who seemes most sure, him soonest whurles she downe.

O let no Prince put trust in Commontie, Nor hope in faith of giddie peoples mind, But let all noble men take heed by me, That by the proofe too well the paine do find: Loe, where is truth or trust? or what could bind The vaine people, but they will swerue and sway, As chance brings change, to driue and draw that way.

Rome, thou that once aduanced vp so hie, Thy stay, Patron, and flowre of excellence, Hast now throwne him to depth of miserie, Exiled him that was thy whole defence, Nay count'st it not an horrible offence, To reuen him of honor and of fame, That wan it thee when thou hadst lost the same.

Behold Camillus, he that erst reuiued The state of Rome, that dying he did find, Of his owne state is now alas depriued, Banisht by them whom he did thus debt-bind: That cruell folke, vnthankfull and vnkind, Declared well their false vnconstancie, And Fortune eke her mutabilitie.

And thou Scipio, a Mirrour maist thou be To all nobles, that they learne not too late, How they once trust th' vnstable Commontie. Thou that recur'd the torne dismembred state, Euen when the Conquerour was at the gate, Art now exil'd, as though thou not deserued To rest in her, whom thou hadst so preserued.

Ingratefull Rome hast shew'd thy crueltie On him, by whom thou liuest yet in fame, But not thy deed, nor his desert shall die, But his owne words shall witnesse aye the same: For loe his graue doth thee most iustly blame. And with disdaine in marble saies to thee: Vnkind countrey, my bones shalt thou not see.

What more vnworthie then this his exile? More iust then this the wofull plaint he wrote? Or who could shew a plainer proofe the while, Of most false faith, then they that thus forgot His great deserts? that so deserued not. His cinders yet loe, doth he them denie, That him deni'd amongst them for to die.

Milciades, ô happie hadst thou ben, And well rewarded of thy countrey men, If in the field when thou hadst forst to flie, By thy prowesse, three hundred thousand men, Content they had been to exile thee then: And not cast thee in depth of prison so, Laden with gyues, to end thy life in wo.

Alas how hard and steelie hearts had they, That not contented there to haue thee die, With fettred gyues in prison where thou lay, Increast so far in hatefull crueltie, That buriall to thy corps, they eke denie: Ne will they grant the same till thy sonne haue Put on thy gyues, to purchase thee a graue.

Loe Hannibal as long as fixed fate, And brittle Fortune had ordained so: Who euermore aduanst his countrey state Then thou that liu'dst for her and for no mo? But when the stormie waues began to grow, Without respect of thy deserts ere while, Art by thy countrey throwne into exile,

Vnfriendly Fortune shall I thee now blame? Or shall I fault the fates that so ordaine? Or art thou Ioue the causer of the same? Or crueltie her selfe doth she constraine? Or on whom else alas shall I complaine? O trustlesse world I can accusen none, But fickle faith of Commontie alone.

The Polypus nor the Cameleon strange, That turne themselues to euery hue they see, Are not so full of vaine and fickle change, As is this false vnstedfast Commontie, Loe I alas with mine aduersitie Haue tri'd it true, for they are fled and gone, And of an host there is not left me one.

That I alas in this calamitie Alone was left, and to my selfe might plaine This treason, and this wretched cowardie, And eke with teares beweepen and complaine My hatefull hap, still looking to be slaine: Wandring in woe, and to the heauens on hie Cleaping for vengeance of this treacherie.

And as the Turtle that hath lost her mate, Whom griping sorow doth so sore attaint, With dolefull voice and sound that she doth make, Mourning her losse, filles all the groue with plaint: So I alas forsaken, and forfaint, With restlesse foot the wood roame vp and downe, Which of my dole all shiuering doth resowne.

And being thus alone, and all forsake, Amid the thicke, forwandred in despaire, As one dismaid, nay wist what way to take, Vntill at last gan to my mind repaire, A man of mine cal'd Humfrey Banastaire: Wherewith me feeling much recomforted, In hope of succour to his house I fled.

Who being one whom erst I had vp brought Euen from his youth, and lou'd and liked best, To gentrie state aduancing him from nought, And had in secret trust aboue the rest, Of speciall trust now being thus distrest, Full secretly to him I me conuei'd, Not doubting there but I should find some aide.

But out alas on cruell treacherie, When that this caytife once an inkling heard, How that King Richard had proclaim'd, that he Which me descri'd should haue for his reward A thousand pounds, and farther be prefer'd, His truth so turn'd to treason, all distain'd, That faith quite fled, and I by trust was train'd.

For by this wretch I being straight betrayed, To one Iohn Mitton, Sheriffe of Shropshire then, All suddenly was taken, and conuayed To Salisbury, with rout of harnest men, Vnto King Richard there emcamped then, Fast by the Citie with a mightie host: Withouten doome where head and life I lost.

And with these words, as if the axe euen there Dismembred had his head and corps apart, Dead fell he downe: and we in wofull feare Stood mazed when he would to life reuert: But deadly griefes still grew about his heart, That still he lay, sometime reuiu'd with paine, And with a sigh becomming dead againe.

Midnight was come, when euery vitall thing With sweet sound sleepe their wearie limbes did rest, The beasts were still, the little birds that sing, Now sweetly slept, besides their mothers brest: The old and all were shrowded in their nest, The waters calme, the cruell seas did cease, The woods, the fields, and all things held their peace.

The golden stars were whirld amid their race, And on the earth did laugh with twinkling light, When each thing nestled in his resting place, Forgat daies paine with pleasure of the night: The Hare had not the greedy Hounds in sight, The fearfull Deere, of death stood not in doubt, The Partridge drept not of the Falcons foote.

The vgly Beare now minded not the stake, Nor how the cruell mastiues doe him teare, The Stag lay still vnroused from the brake, The fomy Boare feard not the hunters speare: All things were still in desert, bush and breare. With quiet heart now from their trauailes ceast, Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest.

When Buckingham amid his plaint opprest, With surging sorrowes and with pinching paines In sort thus sown'd, and with a sigh he ceast, To tellen forth the trechery and the traines Of Banastaire, which him so sore distraines, That from a sigh he falls into a sounde, And from a sound li'th raging on the ground.

So twiching were the pangs that he assaid, And he so sore with ruthfull rage distraught, To thinke vpon the wretch that him betraid, Whom erst he made a gentleman of naught, That more and more agrieued with this thought, He stormes out sighes, and with redoubled sore, Struck with the furies, rageth more and more.

Whoso hath seene the Bull chased with darts, And with deepe wounds foregald and gored so, Till he oppressed with the deadly smarts, Fall in a rage, and run vpon his foe: Let him I say behold the raging woe Of Buckingham, that in these gripes of griefe, Rageth gainst him that hath betraid his life.

With bloud red eine he stareth here and there, Frothing at mouth, with face as pale as clout: When loe my lims were trembling all for feare, And I amazde stood still in dread and doubt, While I mought see him throw his armes about: And gainst the ground himselfe plunge with such force, As if the life forthwith should leaue the corps.

With smoke of sighs sometime I might behold The place all dimd, like to the morning mist: And straight againe the teares how they down rold Alongst his cheekes, as if the riuers hist: Whose flowing streames ne were no sooner whist, But to the stars such dreadfull shouts he sent, As if the throne of mighty Ioue should rent.

And I the while with sprits welny bereft, Beheld the plight and pangs that did him straine, And how the bloud his deadly colour left, And straight returnd with flaming red againe: When suddenly amid his raging paine He gaue a sigh, and with that sigh hee said, Oh Banastaire, and straight againe he staid.

Dead lay his corps, as dead as any stone, Till swelling sighs storming within his breast Vpraisd his head, that downeward fell anon, With lookes vpcast, and sighs that neuer ceast: Forth streamd the teares records of his vnrest, When he with shrikes thus groueling on the ground, Ybraied these words with shrill and dolefull sound:

Heauen and earth, and ye eternall lamps, That in the heauens wrapt, will vs to rest, Thou bright Phoebe, that clearest the nights damps, Witnesse the plaints that in these pangs opprest, I wofull wretch vnlade out of my brest. And let me yeeld my last words ere I part, You, you, I call to record of my smart.

And thou Alecto feede mee with thy food, Let fall thy serpents from thy snaky heare, For such reliefe well fits mee in this mood, To feede my plaint with horrour and with feare, While rage afresh thy venomd worme areare. And thou Sibylla when thou seest mee faint, Addresse thy selfe the guide of my complaint.

And thou O Ioue, that with the deepe fordoome Dost rule the earth, and raigne aboue the skies, That wreakest wrongs, and giu'st the dreadful doome Against the wretch that doth thy name despise, Receiue these words, and wreake them in such wise, As heauen and earth may witnesse and behold, Thy heapes of wrath vpon this wretch vnfold.

Thou Banastaire, gainst thee I clepe and call Vnto the Gods, that they iust vengeance take On thee, thy bloud, thy stained stocke and all. O Ioue to thee aboue the rest I make My humble plaint, guide me, that what I speake, May be thy will vpon this wretch to fall, On thee Banastaire, wretch of wretches all.

O would to God the cruell dismal day, That gaue me light first to behold thy face, With foule eclipse had reft my sight away: Th' vnhappy hower, the time, and eke the day, The Sunne and Moone, the Stars, and all that was In their aspects helping in ought to thee, The earth and aire, and all accursed be.

And thou caitiffe, that like a monster swarued From kind and kindnes, hast thy master lorne, Whom neither trueth, nor trust wherein thou serued, Ne his deserts could moue, nor thy faith sworne, How shall I curse, but wish that thou vnborne Had beene, or that the earth had rent in tway, And swallowed thee in cradle as thou laie.

To this did I euen from thy tender youth Vouchsafe to bring thee vp? did I herefore Beleeue the oth of thy vndoubted truth? Aduance thee vp, and trust thee euermore? By trusting thee that I should die therfore? O wretch, and worse then wretch, what shall I say? But clepe and curse gainst thee and thine for aye.

Hated be thou, disdaind of euery wight, And pointed at where euer that thou goe: A traiterous wretch, vnworthy of the light Be thou esteemd: and to encrease thy woe, The sound be hatefull of thy name also: And in this sort with shame and sharp reproch, Lead thou thy life, till greater griefe approch.

Dole and despaire, let those be thy delight, Wrapped in woes that cannot be vnfold, To waile the day, and weepe the weary night, With rainy eine and sighes cannot be told, And let no wight thy woe seeke to withhold: But count thee worthy (wretch) of sorowes store, That suffering much; oughtst still to suffer more.

Deserue thou death, yea be thou deem'd to die A shamefull death, to end thy shamefull life, A sight longed for, ioifull to euery eye, When thou shalt be arraigned as a theefe, Standing at bar, and pleading for thy life, With trembling tongue in dread and dolours rage, Lade with white lockes, and fourscore yeares of age.

Yet shall not death deliuer thee so soone Out of thy woes, so happy shalt not be: But to th' eternall Ioue this is my boone, That thou maist liue thine eldest sonne to see Reft of his wits, and in a soule Bores stye To end his daies, in rage and death distrest, A worthy tombe where one of thine should rest.

Yet after this yet pray I more, thou may Thy second sonne see drowned in a dike, And in such sort to close his latter day, As heard or seene erst hath not been the like: Ystrangled in a puddle not so deepe As halfe a foot, that such hard losse of life, So cruelly chanst, may be the greater griefe.

And not yet shall thy dolefull sorrowes cease, Ioue shall not so withhold his wrath from thee, But that thy plagues may more and more encrease, Thou shalt still liue, that thou thy selfe maist see Thy daughter strucken with the leprosie: That she that erst was all thy whole delight, Thou now maist loath to haue her come in sight.

And after that, let shame and sorrowes griefe Feed forth thy yeares continually in woe, That thou maist liue in death, and die in life, And in this sort forwaild and wearied so, At last thy ghost to part thy bodie fro: This pray I Ioue, and with this latter breath, Vengeance I aske vpon my cruell death.

This said, he flung his retchlesse armes abroad, And groueling flat vpon the ground he lay, Which with his teeth he all to gnasht and gnaw'd: Deepe grones he fet, as he that would away. But loe in vaine he did the death assay, Although I thinke was neuer man that knew Such deadly paines, where death did not ensue.

So stroue he thus a while as with the death, Now pale as lead, and cold as any stone, Now still as calme, now storming forth a breath Of smokie sighes, as breath and all were gone. But euery thing hath end: so he anon Came to himselfe, when with a sigh outbrayed, With woefull cheere, these woefull words he said.

Ah where am I, what thing, or whence is this? Who rest my wits? or how do I thus lie? My limbes do quake, my thought agasted is. Why sigh I so? or whereunto do I Thus groule on the ground? and by and by Vprais'd he stood, and with a sigh hath stai'd, When to himselfe returned, thus he said:

Sufficeth now this plaint and this regrete, Whereof my heart his bottome hath vnfraught: And of my death let Peeres and Princes were The worlds vntrust, that they thereby be taught. And in her wealth, sith that such change is wrought, Hope not too much, but in the mids of all Thinke on my death, and what may them befall.

So long as Fortune would permit the same, I liu'd in rule and riches with the best: And past my time in honor and in fame, That of mishap no feare was in my breast: But false Fortune whom I suspected least, Did turne the wheele, and with a dolefull fall Hath me bereft of honor, life, and all.

Loe what auailes in riches flouds that flowes? Though she so smil'd, as all the world were his. Euen Kings and Kesars bidden Fortunes throwes, And simple sort must beare it as it is. Take heed by me that blith'd in balefull blisse: My rule, my riches, royall blood and all, When Fortune frown'd the feller made my fall.

For hard mishaps that happens vnto such, Whose wretched state erst neuer fell no change, Agreeue them not in any part so much, As their distresse to whom it is so strange, That all their liues nay passed pleasures range: Their sudden woe that aye weild wealth at will, Algates their he arts more piercingly must thrill.

For of my birth, my blood was of the best, First borne an Earle, then Duke by due descent: To swing the sway in Court among the rest, Dame fortune me her rule most largely lent: And kind with courage so my corps had blent, That loe on whom but me did she most smile? And whom but me loe, did she most beguile?

Now hast thou heard the whole of my vnhap, My chance, my change, the cause of all my care: In wealth and woe, how Fortune did me wrap, With world at will, to win me to her snare. Bid Kings, bid Kesars, bid all states beware, And tell them this from me that tri'd it true: Who recklesse rules, right soone may hap to rue.

FINIS.

T. Saxuist.

HOW COLLINGBOVRNE WAS CRVELLY EXECVTED FOR making a Rime.

BEware, take heed, take heed, I say, beware, You Poets you, that purpose to rehearce By any art what tyrants doings are. Erynnis rage is growne so fell and fearce, That vitious acts may not be toucht in verse: The Muses freedome, granted them of eld, Is bar'd, slie reasons treasons hie are held.

Be rough in rime, and then they say you raile, As Iuuenal was, but that doth make no matter: With Ieremie you shall be had to iaile, Or forc'd with Martial, Caesars faults to flatter. Clerkes must be taught to claw, and not to clatter: Free Helicon and franke Parnassus hilles, Are hellie haunts, and ranke pernicious illes.

Touch couertly in termes, and then you taunt, Though praised Poets alway did the like, Controll vs not, else traytour vile auaunt, What passe we what the learned do mislike? Our sinnes we see, wherein to swarme we seeke. We passe not what the people say or thinke: Their shittle hate makes none but cowards shrinke.

We know (say they) the course of Fortunes wheele, How constantly it whitleth still about, Arrearing now, while elder headlong reele, How all the riders alway hang in doubt. But what for that? we count him but a lout That stickes to mount, and basely like a beast Liues temperatly, for feare of blockam feast.

Indeed we would of all be deemed gods What ere we do: and therefore partly hate Rude Preachers, that dare threaten plagues and rods, And blase the blots whereby we staine our state: But nought we passe what any such do prate; Of course and office they must say their pleasure, And we of course must heare, and mend at leasure.

But when these pelting Poets in their rimes Shall taunt, or iest, or paint our wicked workes, And cause the people know and curse our crimes, This vgly fault, no tyrant liues but irkes. Wherfore we loath such taunters worse then Turkes, Whose meaning is to make vs know our misse, And so to mend: but they but dote in this.

We know our faults as well as any other, We also doubt the dangers from them due: Yet still we trust so right to rule the rother, That scape we shall the scourges that ensue. We thinke we know more shifts then other knew. In vaine therefore for vs are counsels writ: We know our faults, and will not mend a whit.

These are the feats of the vnhappie sort, That prease for honors, wealth, and pleasures vaine. Cease therefore Baldwine, cease I thee exhort, Withdraw thy pen, for nothing shalt thou gaine Saue hate, with losse of paper, inke, and paine. Few hate their faults, all hate of them to heare, And faultiest, from fault would seeme most cleare.

Th' intent I know is honest, plaine, and good, To warne the wise, to fray the fond from ill: But wicked worldlings are so witlesse wood, That to the worst they all things construe still. With rigour oft they recompence good will: They racke the words till time their sinewes burst, In dolefull senses strayning still the worst.

A painfull proofe taught me the truth of this, Through tyrants rage, and Fortunes cruell tourne: They murdred me, for meetring things amisse. For wot'st thou what? I am that Collingbourne Which made the rime, whereof I may well mourne. The Cat, the Rat, and Louell our Dog, Do rule all England vnder a Hog.

Whereof the meaning was so plaine and true, That euery foole peceiued it at furst: Most liked it, for most that most things knew, In hugger mugger muttred what they durst. The tyrant Prince of most was held accurst, Both for his owne, and for his counsels faults, Of whom were three the naughtiest of all naughts.

Catesby was one, whom I did call a Cat, A craftie Lawyer, catching all he could. The second Ratcliffe, whom I nam'd a Rat, A cruell beast to gnaw on whom he should. Lord Louell barkt and bit whom Richard would, Whom I therefore did rightly tearme our Dog, Wherewith to rime I call'd the King a Hog.

Till he the Crowne had caught, he gaue the Bore, In which estate would God he had deceased, Then had the Realme not ruined so sore, His nephewes raigne should not so soone haue ceased, The noble blood had not been so decreased. His Rat, his Cat, and Blood hound had not noied Such liegemen true, as after they destroyed.

Their lawlesse acts good subiects did lament, And so did I, and therefore made the rimes, To shew my wit how well I could inuent, To warne withall the carelesse of their crimes. I thought the freedome of the ancient times Stood still in force: Ridentem dicere verum Quis vetat? Nay, nay. Veritas est pessuma rerum.

Belike no tyrants were in Horace daies, And therefore Poets freely blamed vice, Witnesse their Satyrs sharpe, and tragicke plaies, With chiefest Princes chiefely had in price. They name no man, they mixe their gall with spice, No more do I, I name no man outright, But riddle wise, I meane them as I might.

When bruite had brought this to their guiltie eares, Whose right surnames were noted in the rime, They all conspired like most greedie Beares, To charge me straight with this most grieuous crime: And damned me the gallow tree to clime, And strangled then, in quarters to be cut, Which should on high ore London gates be put.

This iudgement giuen so vehement and sore, Made me exclame against their tyranny: Wherewith incenst, to make my paine the more, They practised a shamefull villanie: They cut me downe aliue, and cruellie Ript vp my panch and bulke, to make me smart, And lingred long ere they tooke out my hart.

Heere tyrant Richard plai'd the eager Hog, His grashing tuskes my tender gristles shore: His blood hound Louell plai'd the hungrie Dog, His woluish teeth my guiltlesse carkasse tore: His Rat and Cat did what they might, and more, Cat Catesby claw'd my guts to make me smart, The Rat Ratcliffe gnawed me to the hart.

If Iewes had kill'd the iustest King aliue, If Turkes had burnt vp Churches, gods and all, What greater paine could cruell hearts contriue, Then that I suffred for this trespasse small? I was no Prince nor Peere, but yet my fall Is worthie to be thought vpon for this, To see how cankard tyrants malice is.

To teach also all subiects to take heed They meddle not with Magistrates affaires, But pray to God to mend them if it need: To warne also all Poets that be strayers, To keepe them close in compasse of their chayers, And when they touch that they would wish amended, To sauce them so, that few need be offended.

And so to mixe their sharpe rebukes with mirth, That they may pierce, not causing any paine, Saue such as followeth euery kindly birth, Requited straight with gladnesse of the gaine. A Poet must be pleasant, not too plaine, Faults to controule, ne yet to flatter vice, But sound and sweet, in all things ware and wise.

The Greekes do paint a Poets office whole In Pegasus, their fained horse with wings, Whom shaped so Medusaes blood did foale, Who with his feet strake out the Muses springs, From flintie rockes to Helicon that clings. And then flue vp into the starrie skie, And there abides among the gods on hie.

For he that shall a perfect Poet be, Must first be bred out of Medusaes bloud: He must be chast and vertuous as was she. Who to her powre the Ocean God withstood. To th' end also his doome be iust and good, He must (as she) looke rightly with one eye Truth to regard, and write nothing awrie.

In courage eke he must be like a horse, He may not feare to register the right. What though some frowne? there of he may not force, No bit nor reine his tender iawes may twight, He must be armde with strength of wit and sprite, To dash the rocks, darke causes and obscure, Till he attaine the springs of truth most pure.

His hooues also must pliant be and strong, To rieue the rocks of lust and errors blind, In brainlesse heads, that alway wander wrong: These must he bruse with reasons plaine and kind, Till springs of grace doe gush out of the mind: For till affections from the fond be driuen, In vaine is truth told, or good counsell giuen.

Like Pegasus a Poet must haue wings, To flie to heauen, or where him liketh best: He must haue knowledge of eternall things, Almightie Ioue must harbour in his brest: With worldly cares he may not be opprest, The wings of wit and skill must heaue him hier, With great delight to satisfie desier.

He must also be lusty, free, and swift, To trauaile far, to view the trades of men, Great knowledge oft is gotten by this shift: Things that import he must be quicke to pen, Reprouing vices sharply now and then. He must be swift when touched tyrants chafe, To gallop thence, to keepe his carkas safe.

If I had well these qualities considered, Especially that which I touched last, With speedie flight my feet should haue deliuered My feeble bodie from most boistrous blast, They should haue caught me, ere I had bin cast. But too much trusting to a tyrants grace, I neuer shrunke, nor changed port or place.

I thought the Poets ancient liberties For pleas had been allowed at the bar: I had forgot how new found tyrannies With truth and freedome were at open war, That lust was law, that might did make and mar, That among tyrants t'is and euer was, Sic volo, sic iubeo, stet pro ratione voluntas.

Where lust is law it booteth not to pleade, No priuiledge nor liberties auaile. But with the learn'd, whom law and wisdome leade, Although through rashnesse Poets hap to raile, A plea of dotage may all quarels quaile: Their old licence their writings to expound, Doth quit them cleare from faults by Momus sound.

This freedome old ought not to be debard From any wight that speaketh ought, or writeth: The Authors meaning should of right be heard, He knoweth best to what end he enditeth: Words sometime beare more then the heart behiteth. Admit therefore the Authors exposition, If plaine, for truth: if forc'd, for his submission.

In case of slander, lawes require no more, Saue to amend that seemed not well said: Or to vnsay the slanders said afore, And aske forgiuenesse for the hastie braid: To Heretikes no greater paine is laid, Then to recant their errours or retract: And worse then these can be no writers act.

Yes (quoth the Cat) thy railing words be treason, And treason is far worse then heresie. Then must it follow by this awkeward reason, That Kings be more then God in maiestie, And soules be lesse then bodies in degree. For heretikes both soules and God offend, Traytours but seeke to bring mans life to end.

I speake not this t'abase the hainous fault, Of trayterous acts abhor'd by God and man, But to make plaine their iudgement to be naught, That heresie for lesser sinne do ban. I curse them both as deepe as any can, And alway did: yet through my foolish rime, They stayned me with that most hatefull crime.

I neuer meant the King or Counsell harme, Vnlesse to wish them safetie were offence. Against their power I neuer lifted arme, Nor pen, nor tongue, for any ill pretence. The rime I made, though rude, was sound in sence, For they therein whom I so fondly named, So ruled all, that they were foule defamed.

This was no treason, but the very troth, They ruled all, none could deny the same: What was the cause then why they were so wroth? What, is it treason in a riming frame To clip, to stretch, to adde, or change a name? And this reseru'd, there is no rime nor reason, That any craft can clout to seeme a treason.

For where I meant the King by name of Hog, I only alluded to his badge the Bore: To Louels name I added more our Dog, Because most dogs haue borne that name of yere. These metaphors I vs'd with other more, As Cat, and Rat, the halfe names of the rest, To hide the sense that they so wrongly wrest.

I pray you now what treason find you heere? Enough: you rub'd the guiltie on the gaule, Both sense and names do note them very neere. I grant that was the chiefe cause of my faule, Yet can you find therein no treason at all: There is no word against the Prince or State, No harme to them whom all the Realme did hate.

But sith the guiltie alwaies are suspicions And dread the ruine that must sue by reason, They cannot chuse but count their counsell vicious That note their faults, and therefore call it treason. All grace and goodnesse with the leaud is geason. This is the cause why they good things do wrest, Whereas the good take ill things to the best.

And therefore Baldwine boldly to the good Rebuke their fault, so shalt thou purchase thankes: As for the bad, thou shalt but moue their mood, Though pleasantly thou touch their naughty prankes. Warne Poets all, no wise to passe the bankes Of Helicon, but keepe within the bound: So shall their freedome to no harme redound.

THE WILFVLL FALL OF THE BLACK-SMITH, AND THE foolish end of the Lord Awdeley, in Iune, Anno Dom. 1496.

WHo is more bold then is the Bayard blind? Where is more craft then in the clouted shone? Who catch more harme then do the bold in mind? Where is more guile then where mistrust is none? No plaisters helpe before the griefe be knowne, So seemes by me who could no wisdome leare, Vntill such time I bought my wit too deare.

Who being boystrous, stout, and brainlesse bold, Puft vp with pride, with fire and furies fret, Incenst with tales so rude and plainly told, Wherein deceit with double knot was knit, I trapped was as silly fish in net, Who swift in swimming, carelesse of deceit, Is caught in gin wherein is laid no bait.

Such force and vertue hath this dolefull plaint, Set forth with sighes and teares of Crocodile, Who seemes in sight as simple as a Saint, Hath laid a baite the warelesse to beguile, And as they weepe they worke deceit the while, Whose rufull cheere the rulers so relent, To worke in haste that they at last repent.

Take heed therefore yee Rulers of the Land, Be blind in sight, and stop your other care: In sentence slow, till skill the truth hath scand, In all your doomes both loue and hate forbeare, So shall your iudgement iust and right appeare. It was a southfast sentence long agoe, That hastie men shall neuer lacke much woe.

Is it not truth? Baldwine what saiest thou? Say on thy mind: I pray thee muse no more: Me thinke thou star'st and look'st I wot not how, As though thou neuer saw'st a man before: Belike thou musest why I teach this lore, Else what I am, that heere so boldie dare, Among the prease of Princes to compare.

Though I be bold I pray thee blame not mee, Like as men sow, such corne needs must they reape, And nature planted so in each degree, That Crabs like Crabs will kindly crawle and creepe: The suttle Fox vnlike the silly sheepe. It is according to my education, Forward to prease in rout and congregation.

Behold my coate burnt with the sparkes of fire, My leather apron fild with horse shooe nailes, Behold my hammer and my pinsers here, Behold my lookes, a marke that seldome failes: My cheekes declare I was not fed with quailes, My face, my cloathes, my tooles with all my fashion, Declare full well a Prince of rude creation.

A Prince I said, a Prince I say againe, Though not by birth, by crafty vsurpation. Who doubts but some men princehood do obtaine, By open force, and wrongfull domination? Yet while they rule are had in reputation. Euen so by me, the while I wrought my feate, I was a Prince, at least in my conceite.

I dare the bolder take on me the name, Because of him whom here I leade in hand, Tychet Lord Awdley one of birth and fame, Which with his strength and power seru'd in my band, I was a Prince while that I was so mand: His Butterfly still vnderneath my shield Displaied was, from Welles to Blackeheath field.

But now behold he doth bewaile the same: Thus after wits their rashnes do depraue. Behold dismaid he dare not speake for shame, He lookes like one that late came from the graue, Or one that came forth of Trophonius caue, For that in wit he had so litle pith, As he a Lord to serue a traytour Smith.

Such is the courage of the noble hart, Which doth despise the vile and baser sort, He may not touch that sauours of the cart, Himlisteth not with each Iack lout to sport, He lets him passe for pairing of his port: The iolly Eagles catch not litle flees, The courtly silkes match seeld with homely frees.

But surely Baldwine if I were allow'd To say the troth, I could somewhat declare: But clerkes will say, this Smith doth waxe too proud, Thus in precepts of wisdome to compare. But Smiths must speake that Clerkes for feare ne dare. It is a thing that all men may lament, When Clerkes keepe close the truth lest they be shent.

The Hostler, Barbar, Miller and the Smith, Heare of the sawes of such as wisdome ken, And learne some wit, although they want the pith, That Clerkes pretend: and yet both now and then, The greatest Clerkes proue not the wisest men: It is not right that men forbid should bee To speake the truth, all were he bond or free.

And for because I vs'd to fret and some, Not passing greatly whom I should displease, I dare be bold a while to play the mome, Out of my sacke some others faults to lease, And let mine owne behind my backe to pease. For he that hath his owne before his eie, Shall not so quicke anothers fault espie.

I say was neuer no such wofull case, As is when honor doth it selfe abuse: The noble man that vertue doth embrace, Represseth pride, and humblenes doth vse, By wisdome workes, and rashnesse doth refuse. His wanton will and lust that bridle can, Indeed is gentle both to God and man.

But where the Nobles want both wit and grace, Regard no rede, care not but for their lust, Oppresse the poore, set will in reasons place, And in their words and doomes be found vniust, Wealth goeth to wracke till all lie in the dust: There Fortune frownes, and spite begins to grow, Till high, and low, and all be ouer throw.

Then fith that vertue hath so good reward, And after vice so duely waiteth shame, How hap'th that Princes haue no more regard, Their tender youth with vertue to inflame? For lacke whereof their wit and will is lame, Infect with folly, proue to lust and pride, Not knowing how themselues or theirs to guide.

Whereby it hapneth to the wanton wight, As to a ship vpon the stormie seas, Which lacking sterne to guide it selfe aright, From shore to shore the winde and tide to tease, Finding no place to rest or take his ease, Till at the last it sinke vpon the sand: So fare they all that haue no vertues scand.

The plowman first his land doth dresse and tourne, And makes it apt or ere the seed he sow, Whereby he is full like to reape good corne, Where otherwise no seed but weed would grow: By which ensample men may easely know, When youth haue wealth before they can well vse it, It is no wonder though they do abuse it.

How can he rule well in a commonwealth, Which knoweth not himselfe in rule to frame? How should he rule himselfe in ghostly health, Which neuer learn'd one lesson for the same? If such catch harme their parents are too blame: For needs must they be blind, and blindly led, Where no good lesson can be taught or read.

Some thinke their youth discreet and wisely taught, That brag, and boast, and weare their feather braue, Can roist and rout, both loure and looke aloft, Can sweare and stare, and call their fellowes knaue, Can pill and poll, and catch before they craue, Can card and dice, both cog and foist at fare, Play on vnthriftie, till their purse be bare.

Some teach their youth to pipe, to sing and dance, To hauke, to hunt, to choose and kill their game, To wind their horne, and with their horse to praunce, To play at tenis, set the lute in frame, Run at the ring, and vse such other game: Which feats although they be not all vnfit, Yet cannot they the marke of vertue hit.

For noble youth, there is nothing so meete As learning is, to know the good from ill: To know the tongues and perfectly endite, And of the lawes to haue a perfect skill, Things to reforme as right and iustice will: For honour is ordeined for no cause, But to see right maintained by the lawes.

It spites my heart to heare when noble men Cannot disclose their secrets to their frend, In sauegard sure, with paper, inke, and pen, But first they must a secretary find, To whom they shew the bottome of their mind: And be he false or true, a blab or close, To him they must their counsaile needs disclose.

And where they rule that haue of law no skill, There is no boote, they needes must seeke for ayd: Then rul'd are they, and rule as others will, As he that on a stage his part hath plaid: But he was taught, nought hath he done or said. Such youth therfore seek science of the sage, As thinke to rule when that ye come to age.

Where youth is brought vp in feare and obedience, Kept from ill company, bridled of their lust, Do serue God duly and know their allegiance, Learne godly weale which time nor age can rust: There Prince, people, and Peers needes prosper must. For happy are the folke, and blessed is that land, Where truth and vertue both haue got the ouer hand.

I speake this Baldwine of this rufull Lord, Whom I perforce do heere present to thee, He faints so sore he may not speake a word: I pleade his cause without reward or fee, And am enforc'd to speake for him and mee: If in his youth he had been wisely tought, He should not now his wit so deare haue bought.

For what is he that hath but halfe a wit, But may well know that rebels cannot speed? Marke well my tale, and take good heed to it, Recount it well, and take it for good reed, Proue it vntrue I will not trust my creed: Was neuer rebell heretofore or since, That could or shall preuaile against his Prince.

For ere the subiect purpose to rebell, Within himselfe let him consider well, Foresee the danger, and beare in his braine, How hard it is his purpose to obtaine: For if he once be entred to the breares, He hath a raging wolfe fast by the eares.

And when he entred is to rule the rout, Although he would, he can no way get out: He may be sure none will to him resort, But such as are the vile and rascall sort: All honest men, as well the most as lest, To taste of treason vtterly detest.

Then let him waigh how long he can be sure, Where faith nor friendship may no while endure: He whom he trusteth most, to gaine a groate Will fall him from, and seeke to cut his throate: Among the knaues and slaues where vice is rooted, There is no other friendship to be looked.

With foolish men so falsehood is in price, That faith is sinne, and vertue counted vice. And where the quarell is so vile and bad,

What hope of aid then is there to be had? Thinkes he that men will run at this or that, To do a thing they know not how or what?

Nor yet what danger may thereof betide, VVhere wisdome would they should at home abide, Rather then seeke, and know not what to find. VVise men will first debate this in their mind: Full sure they are if that they go to wrecke, Without all grace they lose both head and necke.

They lose their lands and goods, their child and wife VVith griefe and shame shall leade a wofull life: If he be slaine in field he dieth accurst, VVhich of all wreckes we should account the worst: And he that dieth defending his liege Lord, Is blest and blest againe by Gods owne word.

And where the souldiers wages is vnpai'd, There is the Captaine slenderly obey'd: And where the souldier's out of feare and dreed, He will be lacke when that there is most need, And priuately he seekes his ease and leasure, And will be rul'd but at his will and pleasure.

And where some draw forth, other do draw backe, There in the end must needs be woe and wracke: To hope for aid of Lords it is but vaine, Whose foretaught wit of treason knoweth the paine: They know what powre a Prince hath in his hand, And what it is with rebels for to stand.

They know by treason honor is defaced, Their ofspring and their progenie disgraced. They know to praise is not so worthie a thing, As to be true and faithfull to their King. Aboue cognisance or armes, or pedigree a far, An vnsported coat is like a blasing star:

Therefore the rebell is accurstand mad, That hopes for that which rebell neuer had: Who trusting still to tales doth hang in hope, Till at the last he hang fast by the rope. For though that tales be told that hope might feed, Such foolish hope hath still vnhappie speed.

Is is a custome neuer will be broken, In broiles the bag of lies is euer open: Such lying newes men daily will inuent, As can the hearers fancie best content: And as the newes do run and neuer cease, So more and more they daily do encrease.

And as they 'ncrease, they multiplie as fast, That ten is ten hundred, ten thousand at the last. And though the rebell had once got the field, Thinkes he thereby to make his Prince to yeeld? A Princes power within his owne region, Is not so soone brought to confusion.

For Kings through God are strong and stoutly harted, That they of subiects will not be subuerted: If Kings would yeeld, yet God would them restraine, Of whom the Prince hath grace and power to raigne: Who straitly chargeth vs aboue all thing, That no man should resist against his King.

Who that resisteth his dread soueraigne Lord; Doth damne his soule, by Gods owne very word, A Christian subiect should with honor due, Obey his Soueraigne though he were a Iew: Whereby assur'd when subiects do rebell, Gods wrath is kindled, and threatneth fire and hell.

It is soone knowne when Gods fierce wrath is kindled, How they shall speed with whom he is offended: If God giue victorie to whom he liketh best, Why looke they for it whom God doth most detest? For treason is hatefull, and abhor'd in Gods sight, Example of Iudas that most wicked wight:

Which is the chiefe cause no treason preuailes, For ill must he speed whom Gods wrath assailes. Let traytours and rebels looke to speed then, VVhen Gods mightie power is subiect to men. Much might be said that goeth more neere the pith, But this sufficeth for a rurall Smith.

Baldwine when thou hear'st reason in this case, Belike thou think'st I was not very wise, And that I was accurst, or else wanted grace, Which knowing the end of my fond enterprise, VVould thus presume against my Prince to rise: But as there is a cause that moueth euery woe, Somewhat there was whereof this sore did grow:

And to be plaine and simple in this case, The cause why I such matter tooke in hand, VVas nothing else but pride and lacke of grace, Vaine hope of helpe, and tales both false and fond: By meane whereof I did my Prince withstand, Deni'd the taxe assest by conuocation, To maintaine warre against the Scottish nation.

VVhereat the Cornish men did much repine, For they of gold and siluer were full bare, And liued hardly, digging in the mine, They said they had no money for to spare: Gan first to grudge, and then to sweare and stare, Forgot their due obeysance, and rashly fell to rauing, And said they would not beare such polling and such shauing.

They first accus'd the King as author of their griefe, And then the Bishop Morton, and Sir Reinold Bray: For they then were about the King most chiefe, Because they thought the whole fault in them lay: They did protest to rid them of the way. Such thanke haue they that rule aboue a Prince, They beare the blame of other mens offence.

VVhen I perceiu'd the Commons in a rore, Then I and Flamoke both agreed together, To whom the people resorted more and more, Lamenting and crying, helpe vs now or neuer, Breake bondage now, then are we free for euer: VVhereat inflam'd in hope to purchase fame, To be their captaines tooke on vs the name.

Then might you heare the people make a shout, God saue the captaines, and send vs all good speed: Then he that fainted counted was a lout, The ruffians ran to sow seditious seed: To call for company there was no need, For euery man his brother did entice, To be partaker of his wicked vice.

Then all such newes as made for our auaile, Was brought to me, but such as sounded ill, VVas none so bold to speake or yet bewaile: Each one so wedded was vnto his will, That forth they cri'd with bowes, with sword, and bill. And what the rufler spake the lout tooke for a verdite, For there the best was worst, worst best regarded.

For when men rebell, there still the viler sort Conspire together, and will haue all the sway: And be it well or ill, they beare the port, As they will do, the rest must needs obay. They prattle and prate as doth the Popingay: They crie vnto the rest to keepe th' array, Whiles they may range and rob for spoile and pray.

And when we had prepared euery thing, VVe went to Tawnton with all our prouision, And there we slew the Prouost of Peniyn, For that he there did sit in high Commission: He was not wise, nor yet of great discretion, That durst approch his enmies in their rage, VVhen wit nor reason could their ire asswage.

From thence we went to Wels, and were receiued Of this Lord Awdely as our chiefe captaine, He had the name, but yet he was deceiued, For I indeed did rule the clubbish traine, My cartly Knights true honour did disdaine: For like doth loue his like, t'will be none other, A chorle will loue a chorle, before he will his brother.

From Wels and Winchester, to Blackheath field, And there encamped looking for more aid, But when none came, we thought our selues beguild. Such Cornishmen as knew they were betraid, From vs by night away together straid: There might we learne how vaine it is to trust Our fained friends, in quarels so vniust.

But we that thought our power was strong; Were bent to try what euer should betide. We were the bolder, for the King so long Deferred fight: which so increast our pride, That sure we thought the King himselfe did hide Within the City, and with courage hault, We did intend the City to assault.

But he contrary to our expectation, Was fully bent to let vs run our race, Till we were farthest from our habitation, Where that of aid or succour was no place, And then be plagu'd as it should please his grace: All doubtfull plaints, how euer they did sound, To our best vaile we alway did expound.

When that the King saw time, with courage bold He sent a power to circumuent vs all: Where we enclosd as simple sheepe in folde, Were slaughtered all as beasts in butchers stall: The King himselfe, what euer might befall, VVas strongly arm'd within Saint Georges field, And there abode till that he heard vs yeeld.

Then downe we kneeld, and cride to saue our life, It was too late our folly to bewaile: There were we spoild of armour, coate, and knife: And we which thought the City to assaile, Were led as prisners naked as my naile. Of vs two thousand they had slaine before, And we of them three hundred and no more.

My Lord and we the Captaines of the West, Took Inne at Newgate, fast in fetters tide, Where after doome we had but litle rest. My Lord through London was drawne on a slide, To Tower hill, where with an axe he dide, Clad in his armour painted all in paper, Torne and reuers'd in spite of his behauer.

With Flamoke I and other of our bent, As traytours at Tiburne our iudgement did obay: The people lookt I should my fault lament, To whom I spake, that for my fond assaie, I should haue fame that neuer should decay: Wherby ye may perceiue vaine glory doth enflame As well the meaner sort, as men of greater name.

But as the fickle patient, sometime hath desire, To tast the things that Physick hath denide, And hath both paine and sorrow for his hire: The same to mee right well may be applide, Which while I raught for fame on shame did slide, And seeking fame, brought forth my bitter bane, As he that fierd the temple of Diane.

I tell thee Baldwine, I muse oft, to see How euery man for wealth and honour gapeth, How euery man would climbe aboue the skie, How euery man th' assured meane so hateth, How froward Fortune oft their purpose mateth: And if they hap their purpose to obtaine, Their wealth is woe, their honour care and paine.

VVe see the seruant happier then his Lord, VVe see him liue when that his Lord is dead, He sleepeth sound, is merry at his bord, No sorow in his heart doth vex his head: Happie is he that pouertie can wed. VVhat gaine the mightie men when they be dead, By all the spoile, and blood that they haue shed?

The loftie towre where honor hath his seat, Is high on rockes more slipper then the ice, VVhere still the whirling winde doth roare and beat, VVhere sudden qualmes and perils still arise, And is beset with many sundrie vice, So strange to men when first they come thereat, They be amas'd, and do they wot not what.

He that preuailes, and to the towre can clime, VVith toile and care must needs abridge his daies: And he that slides may curse the houre and time He did attempt to giue so fond assaies, And all his life to griefe and shame obaies. Thus slide he downe, or to the top ascend, Assure himselfe repentance is the end.

Baldwine therefore do thou record my name, For president to such as credit lies, Or thirst to suck the sugred cup of fame, Or do attempt against their Prince to rise: And charge them all to keepe within their sise. VVho doth assay to wrest beyond his strength, Let him be sure he shall repent at length.

At my request admonish thou all men, To spend the talent well which God hath lent, He that hath one, let him not toile for ten, For one's too much, vnlesse it be well spent: I haue had proofe, therefore I now repent, Thrice happie are those men, yea blest is hee, VVho can contented serue in his degree.

M. Cauil.

HOW THE VALIANT KNIGHT SIR NICHOLAS Burdet, Chiefe Butler of Normandie, was slaine at Pontoise, Anno Dom. 1441.

IF erst in Kings affaires we counted were of trust, To fight in waged warres, as Captaines gainst the foes, And might therefore aliue receiue the guerdon iust, Which aye his Maiestie employ'd on those: Why should we so keepe silence now, and not disclose Our noble acts to those remaine aliue, T' encourage them the like exploits t'atchiue?

For if when as we warr'd, for Prince and publike weale, We might to each for both haue time and place to speake, Then why not now, if we to both appeale? Sith both well know our dealings were not weake. We claime as right, in truth our minds to breake, The rather eke we thinke to speake we franchiz'd are, Because we seru'd for peace and di'd in Princes warre.

VVhich granted so, and held deserued due, I may full well on stage supplie the place a while, Till I haue plainly laid before your view That I haue cause, as these, to plaine of Fortunes guile, VVhich smirking though at first, she seeme to smooth and smile, (If Fortune be) who deem'd themselues in skies to dwell, She thirleth downe to dread the gulfes of gastly hell.

But heere I let a while the Ladie Fortune stay, To tell what time I liu'd, and what our warres were then, The great exploits we did, and where our armies lay, Eke of the praise of some right honorable men, VVhich things with eyes I saw, call'd now to mind agen. VVhat I performed present in the fight, I will in order and my fall recite.

In youth I seru'd that roiall Henry fift the King, Whose praise for martiall feats eternall fame reteines, When he the Normanes stout did in subiection bring, My selfe was vnder then his ensignes taking paines. With loial hart I fought, pursu'd my Prince his gaines, There dealt I so that time my fame to raise, French writers yet my name and manhood praise.

And erst as Burdets diuers warlike wights (In Warwicke shire their lands in Arrow ar) Were for good seruice done made worthy Knights, Whose noble acts be yet recounted far: Euen so my selfe well fram'd to peace or war, Of these the heire by due discent I came, Sir Nicholas Burdet Knight, which had to name.

That time the noble Iohn of Bedford Duke bare sway, And feared was in France for courage stout and fell, He lou'd me for my fight and person, (though I say) And with reuenues me rewarded yearely well. I plaid the faithfull subiects part, the truth to tell, And was accounted loiall, constant still, Of stomack, worship great, and warlike skill.

But then (O greefe to tell) ere long this peerelesse King, When he restored had his right vnto the Crowne The Duchie all of Normandy, eke subiect bring The Frenchemen all, and set Lieutenants in each towne High Regent made of France, then Fortune gan to frowne, He then departed life, too soone alas: Some men suppose his grace empoisond was.

Thou Fortune slie, what meanst thou thus, these prancks to play? False Fortune blere ey'd blind, vnsteady startling still, What meanst thou turning thus thy flattering face away, Inconstant where thou bearest most good will? Is it thy nature then? or ist thy wonted skill? It cost thee nought, they say it comes by kind, As thou art bisme, so are thine actions blind.

I nothing doubt then thou thy selfe shalt fall. I trust to see the time when thou shalt be forgot. For why thy pride, and pompe and power must vanish all, Thy name shall die for aye, and perish quite I wot. And when thou shalt be counted but a sot, The noble wights which liu'd and dide in worthy fame, In heauen and earth shall find an euerlasting name.

But words of course are these of Fortune had, When vnto Princes haps chance good or ill: God sends to euery sort these tempests sad, VVhen from his word they swarue and heauenly will. Men must endeuour then to please his goodnesse still, And then come life or death, come ioy, come smart, No Fortunes frowne can daunt the doughty hart.

The famous King so dead, his son but nine months old Henry the sixt, of England was proclaimed King: And then the Frenchmen waxt more stout and bold, His youth occasion gaue them to conspire the thing, Which might them all from due subiection bring. On which the Counsell cald a Parliament: Of French that might the treasons high preuent.

VTherein the Duke of Bedford my good Lord and frend VVas Regent made the Prince his deputy in France: The Duke of Glocester Protectour was, to th' end To rule in cases such at home might hap to chance: They chose to gard the Prince in honour to aduance Henry Benford Bishop of VVinchester, And Thomas the noble Duke of Excester.

But here before those things could well be setled sure, (As great affaires of Kingdomes longer time doe take) The Frenchmen did by treason, force, and coine procure Some townes which English were in France their faith forsake. A long discourse it were of all recitall make: But of my chance that time, recite will I, VVhich seru'd in warres my Prince in Normandy.

Before the Mount S. Michael as in siege I lay, In confines of the Normans and the Britons land, From townesmen famisht nigh we vitailes kept away, And made them oft in danger of dis-Mounting stand: But it being strong and also stoutly man'd, Euen by our losses they gate heart of grasse, And we declining saw what Fortune was.

Yet nerethelesse we thought by famine make them yeeld, Eke they by fight or succours hopte the siege to raise, T'accomplish which they rusht on sudden out to feeld, As bent to die or win the wanted food with praise: And we as readie were for them at all assaies. These eager impes whom food want feaz'd to fight amaine, VVe forc'd them die, fall, flie, to take their fort againe.

VVhere I in chase pursu'd them euen to the towne, Tane prisoner was, a while for ransome lay: But then the worthie Duke the Regent of renowne, Did for me quite disburse the price requir'd to pay. The siege we rais'd, from thence we went our way, And I redeemed bare this blanke in mind, Till of requite I might occasion find.

VVhich thus ere long befell, to this a while giue eare: VVhen Arthur Earle of Richmond to S. Iaques came De Beuuron where my selfe and other Captaines were, VVhich had repared well and fortifi'd the same, VVe made him flie, to his immortall shame: Euen thus to him and fortie thousand moe, Fiue hundred English gaue the ouerthroe.

Long while he batterie laid against the wall, Thereby to make a breach for them to enter in: But well perceiuing still his shot to profit small, And that we weigh'd not of his power a pin, On euery side afresh he did th' assault begin: Yet we so bare them off, and beate them downe, They durst not seaze or enter on the towne.

But wearied with the siege and fault they pausd a while, Consulting what were best, and so did we likewise: They found the feate, they thought should surely vs beguile, And in an euening came t'accomplish th' enterprise. A sharp assault they gaue. Alarme my mates we rise: On both the sides they scald, the fort to gaine: But from the scales and walkes we flang them downe amaine.

It was my charge that time to keepe a bulwarke bace, Where Britons came along to enter by a strait: T'was in a bottome low, a pond was by the place, By which they needes must passe vp to a posterne gate. I meant to make them fish the poole without a bait, Protesting ere they there should get the wall We would as English die, or giue our foes the fall.

The trumpets sound tan tara, tan tan tara right, The guns were shot founce-founce-founce, fomp-fum, fow-pow∣thow, The drums went downe-dun downe, the fluits fit-fite-fit-fite, The weapons clish-clash and the captaines now-now now. With billes we beat thē downe, with shafts we shot them throw. The gory ground did groane, the smoky shot and cries Dimd all the aire, and thundred through the skies.

S. Denise cride the French, and Britons glahe-lahee, S. George the English cride, fight-fight-fight, kill-kill-kill: Fight-fight (quoth I) come on, they flee, they flee, they flee. And therewithall we vse a point of warlike skill, We causd the men within to cry vnto vs still, Fight Suffolke now, fight-fight and Salsbury: Fight fight you noble Earles, the Britons flee they flee.

With that amazed all the Britons gan recoile, Some drowned in the pond, wherin they ran for feare, And I pursu'd the flight, to wrecke my captiue foile, We paid them in the chase disordred as they were, Seuen hundred slew, tooke fifty prisners there, Gaind eighteene standerds, and one banner more: Yet I and mine not fully were fourescore.

Of this exploit when th' Earle of Richmond heard, Which gaue an hot assault on th' otherside the towne, No lesse was he displeasde, amazed, then affeard, To heare the names of those two Earles of high renowne, His guilty courage quaild, his heart was danted downe, He causde the trumpets sound retrait away: To scale our walles he durst no longer stay.

At midnight he dislodgd, from siege he made depart The Constable of France (late Earle of Richmond) fled, And toward Fougiers sped, with such as tooke his part, For haste perhaps with feare lest he should lose his head. They left two hundred pipes of flowre and bisket bread, Greate gunnes fourteene, three hundred pipes of wine, Two hundred frailes of figs and raisons fine.

Fiue hundred barrels they of herring left beside, Of pouder for our gunnes full forty barrels more, They fled without their tents, the dasterds durst not bide, For feare they could not stay, to take away their store. Haue you oft heard the like, of cowards such before? Those forty thousand, Britons, French, and Scots, Foure score them foiled, made them flee like sots.

When this, that noble man, the Duke of Bedford heard, How I did quit my selfe, and seru'd my Prince so well, He me procured of the King as great reward As my deserts could wish, and more the truth to tell, Chiefe Butlership of Normandy vnto me fell, Reuenues eke in Normandy of lands, A thousand crownes came yearely to my hands.

I after this was sent to make inrode Vpon the coast of Britaine, for to bate their pride, A band of horsemen tooke without abode, The Duke of Sommerset made me their guide, To many townes about their bounds we ride: Set them on fire, or made them ransom pay, Tooke store of prisners, wrought them much decay.

Returned victours safe to Normandy, With good successe, for why the cause was good: And of our Prince were guerdond gratefully With laud and gifts, as for our seruice stood. This makes the Captaines venture life and blood, And souldiers serue with heart in what they may, Which are assur'd of honour, praise, and pay.

Yee worthy wights aliue, which loue your Countreis weale, And for your Princes port such warres doe vndertake, Learne so for Countrey yours with forraine foes to deale, See that of manhood good, so great accounts ye make. It nothing vailes in peace, to sweare, stur, face or crake: In warres he winnes the fame of noble wight Who warlike deales, for Prince and publique right.

Yf you so pointed be, to serue your Prince in war, As erst was I, and must before the muster take, Retaine such souldiers as well made, strong, seemely ar, Brought vp to labour hard, of such account doe make: These able are at neede to stand and keepe the stake, When facing foisters fit for Tiburne fraies Are food-sick faint, or hart-sicke run their waies.

At whom a man may find a number euery day, Which weare their weapons still, as all the world were war, And keepe a coile to beare the best of blades away, VVith bucklers braue at backs, to shew what men they are. In peace at home they sweare, stare, foist, roist, fight, and iar: But when abroad they feare of warres the smart, Some better souldiers proue from driuing cart.

In warres to serue (as we) and weapons haue VVhen warlike stormes do rage beseemes a warlike man: In pleasant peace who sets himselfe to banding braue, And facing fares at home, abroad doe nothing can, (Though nere so much he boast) fie on him coward than: For not in gauntlet, sword, targ, oathes, haire, staring eyes: But in the breast, good courage, vertue lies.

But here perhas (you say) I fall a note too low, Beneath the persons of these worthy Peeres and me. Tis true indeed, and yet such fruite hereof may grow: As eke the meane hereby, his iarring out may see. Without good meane, the song can neuer sweetly gree. Leaue out the meane, or let him keepe no tune: And you shall sing when Easter falles in Iune.

Euen so, if meaner sorts doe iangle here and iar To languish vnder Mars, but fill good peace with fight, As discord foule in musicke, fit they for the war: They neuer can atchieue the victory aright. Lead such as square or feare, then farewell all, good night. A sheepe is euen as good to starting stand and bea: As he that iangles, wrangles, rangles, runnes awea.

Then whoso deales for warre, must wisely make his mart, And choose such souldiers stout will stiffe in warfare stand. If he not recke what ruffian roisters take his part, He weeldes vnwisely then the mace of Mars in hand. He must be able eke, to deeme for sea and land What men may serue, to best aduantage make, And them instruct fine warlike points to take.

With skilfull knowledge fraight he must be void of feare, Of wisedom so discreete, so sober, graue and sage, To deeme, perceiue, abide, aduentures both to beare As may in all exploits of fight with Fortune wage: He must haue art in vre, and vse not rule by rage: Wise dealing sets the souldiers sure in ray, Wilde ouer rashnesse casteth all away:

The cause, ground, place and time, the order of their fights, The valour of his foes, and what is their intent, The weather faire or foule, occasion of the nights, What witty wiles and policies may them preuent, And how the time or store of th' enmies hath been spent: All these (I say) must well be waide before, By him that sets in warres of credit store.

In all which points that noble Duke his grace did passe, I meane the Regent good, for chusing, vsing men, By nature fram'd thereto, he wondrous skilfull was, And friendly vsed all, instructing now and then Not only Captaines stout, that were his countrie men, But also sundrie souldiers as occasion came, And taught them how to warres themselues to frame.

His princely grace and gesture yet me thinkes I see, And how he bare himselfe, to deale for warre or peace: In warre full Mars-like, hardie, sterne, and bold was he: And meek and prudent, merciful, when stormes of wars did cease: Whom pitie mou'd as much inflicted paines to release, As euer wight in whom the broiles of warre Or force of fights, had entred in so far.

VVhich if againe to rue the losse of such a friend, In sight with plaints, of teares the fountaines out might flow So all lamenting Muses would me wailings lend, The dolours of my heart in sight again to show: I would deplore his death, and Englands cause of woe, With such sad mourning tunes, and such sobs, sighes, and teares As were not seene for one, this ten times twentie yeares.

For why this noble Prince, when we had needed most, To set the states of France and England in a stay, That feared was of foes in euery forren coast, Too soone (alas) this Duke was taken hence away. In France he di'd, he lasse lament his losse we may, That Regent regall, rule of publique right. Loe how my hurts afresh beweepe this wanted wight.

"With that his wounds (me thought) gan freshly bleed, "And he waxt faint and fell, and my salt teares "Ran downe my rufull cheekes, with trickling speed, "(For who could chuse that such cause sees and heares?) "O worthie Knight (quoth I) whose loyall faith appeares: "Cease wailes, rise vp, instruct my quiuering pen, "To tell the rest of Fortunes doublings then.

I haue (quoth he) not Fortunes flatterie to accuse, Nor Fate nor Destinie, nor any fancie faind: I haue no cause t'affirme that these could ought misuse This noble Prince, whose life & acts such fame and honour gaind, But our deserts, our sinnes, and our offences staind This noble Ile and vs, our sinnes (I say) Offending God, he tooke this Prince away.

He lasse how loth can I returne, and leaue this pearle in Roane My Lord Iohn Duke of Bedford, there his corps yet lies Enclosd with costly tombe, wrought curiously of stone, By North the altar high (delighting many Martiall eyes) Within our Ladie Church, where fame him lifts to skies, By daily view his name renoum'd exalted is, And soule, I trust, full sweetly sweames in blisse.

Needs must I enterline my talke a while with this: And then I will returne to tell you how I sped. When once the French men saw this noble Duke to misse, Which English armies all gainst foes with fortunes led They liu'd at large, rebeld against their soueraigne head, Forsooke their oathes, allegeance all denide, And English men with all their force defide.

While he did liue, they durst not so to deale, They durst not dare with th' English oft to fraie, They found it was not for their owne of publique weale, To rise against their Lord the Regent in arraie. Soone after he was dead, departed hence away Both French and Normanes close to win did close, And we diuided were, our rights abroad to lose.

The feend (I thinke) deuisde a way to make the breach, By enuie bred in breasts of two right noble Peeres, Which mischiefe hatcht in England, then may teach All noble men that liue, hence many hundred yeares, Beware of Enuie blacke, how far she deares. Euen their examples tell, how true our Christ doth say: Each realme, towne, house, in ciuil strife, shall desolate decay:

Perdie the Duke of Yorke was Regent made of France, At which the Duke of Sommerset did much repine, He thought they rather ought him so t'aduance King Henries kin, for honour of his Princely line: But marke the grape which grew on this vngracious vine, I will not say it after stroid their lines and houses nie, But this I say, we daily saw dishonour came thereby.

For though the hauty Duke were worthy it to haue, As well for courage good as vertues honour due: Yet sith to'th Duke of Yorke th' election first it gaue, And he the saddle mist, what needed he to rue? When tumults great and sturres in France yet daily grew, He nild the Regent hence dispatcht in many daies: That losse might win him hurt, or long dispraise.

Wild wengand on such ire, wherby the realme doth lose, What gaine haue they, which heaue at honour so? At home disdaine and greefe, abroad they friend their foes. I must be plaine in that which wrought my webs of woe, My webs (quoth I?) would God they had wrought no moe. It was the cause of many a bleeding English brest, And to the French, their end of woefull warres addrest.

I dare auouch if they had firme in friendship bode, And soothly as beseemd ioin'd frendly hand with hands, They had not felt defame in any forraine rode, Nor had not so beene sent, with losse from Gallia strands: They might possession kept, still of their conquerd lands, And able been to tride themselues so true, As might haue made their enmies still to rue.

For while the Duke of Sommerset made here so great delaies, That into France the succours small and slackly came, Not only Paris then was lost, within few daies, That famous flowre of France, of far renowned fame, The French (I say) not onely gat and kept the same, But by this meanes, in France we daily felt such smart, As might with pitie pierce an adamantine hart.

O great mishap, the noble Duke of Bedford once being dead, Our wealth went backe, by discords foule despite we lost Not only townes in France, and Captaines armies led, But many souldiers eke with labour, spence and cost: And though full oft we made the French men smell of the rost, Yet in the end we gaine of fight the fame, And they by craft and treason gate the game.

What resteth more, it were, perdie, too long to tell, Of battels great and broiles which happened daily still, The stories eke declare aduentures which befell: Although (God wot) the writers wanted points of skill, Of whom to speake a while, digresse againe I will, And partly shew what one he ought to be, Which takes on him to write an Historie.

A Chronicler should well in diuers tongues be seene, And eke in all the arts he ought to haue a sight, Whereby he might the truth of diuers actions deeme, And both supplie the wants, correct that is not right: He should haue eloquence, and full and fitly write, Not mangle stories, snatching heere and there: Nor glose to make a volume great appeare.

He should be of such countenance and wit, As should giue witnesse to the Histories he writes, He should be able well his reasons so to knit, As should continue well the matter he recites: He should not praise, dispraise, for fauour or despites, But should so place each thing in order due, As might approue the stories to be true.

But this may haps the time may seeke at length redresse, And then such stories now and noble acts as die, May come againe to light (at least defaced lesse) If from the Britaines first antiquities they trie. In great defects if they the truth supplie, Then shall the readers fuller stories find, And haue whereby to recreate the mind.

But now returne I must, and briefly heere declare Before my death, what sundrie haps we had. In warres right variously the states of Captaines fare, Now well, now woe, now ioyfull, now right sad. But who well ends, though all his haps were bad, Let him erst sinke or swim, lose, win, be slaine, die, fall, If he die well, h'is thrice and foure times blest of all.

In France eight leagues from Paris, Pontoise stands, (Tweene that and Roane) which we had won before: And so we held it English safely in our hands. For to our Prince the men allegeance swore, And they remain'd obedient euermore, Till from their neckes to reaue the English yoke, They might find meanes by whom to strike the stroke.

When these saw Paris lost, and cities moe beside, And what in France and Normandie reuolts had done, They thought no longer subiect to abide, But sought occasion how they might by French be won. As of our losse reports did daily to them run, So with King Charles th' agreed when to betray the towne, And force the English flee, or yeeld, or beate them downe.

For why, the powre of France could not with mightie host Performe to win by force from vs th' assaulted towne, Them scaling often from the walles we tost. On euery side full fast we flang the French men downe. Our noble acts before had gotten such renowne, And Fortune erst had past with vs so farre, They had small hope to win our forts by warre.

Wherefore King Charles assai'd the secret saut, Not by his force of French, but by his golden fee, Corrupting diuers Burgeses to make the faut, Whereby an entrie should to his oppugning bee: And they (as erst is said) were willing to agree, Like periur'd theeues conspir'd by secret fine deuice, Gaue Pontoise vp, and tooke the promist price.

But in Nouember next when it was sharpe and cold, And daily frost had dri'd and parched hard the ground, We were in hope againe to get of Pontoise hold, Which erst the townesmen sold, for gaine of many a pound The snow fell fast, lay thicke, and couered well the ground, And ditches were so hard about the towne befrore, That on the ice by euery side we safely might get ore.

The Lord Iohn Clifford was chiefe Captaine then, Which with vs Captaines did this policie deuise, That we in clothing white and souldiers euery man, Should in our armour finely vs disguise: The next night so we should to the assault arise, And passe the frozen ditch vnto the wall, With ladders scale, and kill the watchmen all.

We so prepar'd our selues as time occasion gaue, And drest in white coats trim, it ioy'd our hearts to see How fine we past the ditch, what good successe we haue: How on the walles we find the watch nigh frozen bee: As noble Greekes on Troy, on Pontoise season'd wee, We slew the watch, we beat the souldiers downe, Some prisners tooke, and tooke withall the towne.

Of stately Captaines French, was Iohn de Ʋillers one Within the taken towne, and Narrabon a Knight Burgunion: yet they fled, away they gate them gone: They durst not bide against the blanched boyes to fight. We paid the periur'd knaues the Burgesses that night, And gat as much of honor and renowne As they gat shame and losse, which bought and sold the towne.

Marke well the French mens foiles in all our worthie warre In these two regall Henries times, and you shall see How we surpast the French in valour farre: And bend for Prince and Realme so valiant for to bee: Which if ye shall, and deale in seruice as did wee, I nothing doubt renowne and fame shall say, That noble England beares for warres the palme away.

But When King Charles had heard how Pontoise men had sped, His armie straight assembled he therefore againe, Wherewith to win this towne afresh th' assault he led, He piners set to trench and vndermine amaine, Made bastiles for defence, yet all this toile was vaine. For batterie of our walles he spent his powder still, Made freshly French assaults, but did no ill.

The noble Duke of Yorke discharged late before, When now the Earle of Warwicke chanst at Roane to die, Being Regent chosen once againe of France, as yore, (Th' Earle of Warwicke Regent was two yeares perdie) Arriu'd in France, to rouse the French King he did hie, (Which lay besieging Pontoise, as I said) VVith him to fight, and eke to bring vs aide.

The French King fled, for haste he left his store behind: VVhen he was once assur'd the Duke of Yorke drue neare, He durst not stay to bide the time or place assign'd To fight our Regent with, but fled away for feare. By these assaies you see what men in France they were, Discourag'd oft, slaine, put to flight and fall: By sight, force, fight, and names of numbers small.

There when the Duke had fortifi'd our Pontoise towne, Then he pursu'd the French King erst that fled, To Poyssy, where he lay with Lords of French renowne. Before which towne, the Duke his noble armie led: The French King durst not out of Poyssy put his head: And yet there came to skirmish out French gentlemen, Of which some slaine, foure tane, the rest retir'd agen.

The Duke to bid him battell did pretend, If he could there encounter with him tho: But forth againe he durst not come nor send, For feare he should receiue the foile and ouerthro. On which the Duke dislodg'd, departing Poyssy fro, To Maunt, and Roane, from thence his grace did hie, T'appease the broiles of strife in Normandie.

But then the French King calling vnto mind his losse, His charges in the siege, his bastiles trenches made, How erst we did them thence, sans bag and bagage tosse, Eke how from siege he durst not stay the store to lade, And how their Fortunes oft, in fight went retrograde, How neighbours ill to Paris, we of Pontoise were: He cast aside his French and fainting feare.

The rather yet, for why, Parisiens aye did raile, They said he wanted courage good, he durst not fight, He lackt no souldiers good, his feeble heart did faile: Le Roy (quoth they) du France, les Anglois point nennit: Le Roy ne ose pas pour Pontoise faire pour suit: Le Roy est Lourd, sans cueur: car peu de gens, Fait nostre Roy & pais faire grande dispens.

On this King Charles return'd with mightie host, To vindicate this great reproch and shame: And vnto Pontoise gaue assault in post Full hotly, when we feared least the same. Whereon, to fight against him all our force we frame, But number great at th' entrie got such hand, We could not forth againe their force aband.

VVith trumpets sounding, tan tan-tar'aloud The larum bell we rung, our selues to trie dispose, To make them pay the price of our distresse we vow'd, Before we would possession got, of Pontoise lose: In euery street we met the strength of all our foes, And made them passe by deadly dint away, VVhich ventured first our English mates to slay.

VVhy now my friends, for England fight, I cri'd: If euer English hearts your noble brests possest, I promise you to make them flinch, if I may bide: Mates follow me. Amongst my foes I rusht before the rest: O heere come on (quoth I) now fight we for the best. And therewithall I vs'd such courage, force and might: As made my foes to fall, and souldiers fitly fight.

If we do leese (quoth I) the French men shall not gaine: So if we win, tis worth the while to keepe array. If ye stand stifly to't, weele make them peaze the paine, And leade with losse of liuely limbes the laud away. Although they fiercely fight, in hope vs all to slay: Loe sixe to one they fall, and dead they lie: We English men, in triumph fight, and honor die.

With bloodie broiles of warre, the haplesse towne did smoke, The children saw their fathers deare, to bleed their last: The wiues be wailed much the fatall stroke, Which forst their husbands bleed, fall, die so fast: Helas the women cri'd, the wofull streets that past: (When so they saw the channels bloodie streame) What plague is this, that pesters so our Reame?

Is no remorce of life, but kill, kill, kill? (he lasse) Kill, kill the English ctie, and valiantly they fight: What hap had we to see these mischiefes come to passe? Helas le sang de nous amis, la mort helas: The maidens crie, the widowes waile, and aged mourne, With wringing hands vplift, and wish themselues vnborne.

Of vs one thousand English men within the towne, Sustain'd the force, the powre and puissance of their King: And of the French that fought, we beate three thousand downe, We slew no lesse, for all the number he did bring. If this vntrue shall seeme, disere dit mine to ring, A French Historian writing for themselues shall say: Three thousand French men there, were slaine that day.

Foure hundred English men that time were slaine in fight, My selfe was one, with losse they wan the towne perdie: But if I might haue liu'd t'haue tri'd our right, With one for euery seuen, by ods as we did die: I doubt not (so the rest, would done their parts as I.) But that King Charles, his Lords, nor all his men, Should scarce haue tane the towne of Pontoise then.

VVhat need I more debate of these things here, In England was the fault, though we did feele the smart. VVhile they at home, at bate and strife for honors were, They lost abroad of Normandie the greater part. To thinke on this torments againe my wounded hart, That Lords at home, should striue about the name, And lose abroad their countries weale and fame.

Let English Peeres abandon such contentious strife, It hurts the publike weale, decayes the State: It reaues the yeares too soone of longer life: It frets the brest with rust of baend debate: It giues the checke to him that giues the mate: Then thus I end, that wight of all is blest VVhich liues in loue with God, his Prince and countrie best.

So Higins if thou write, how this my fall befell; Place it in Baldwines Mirrour with the rest. From crazed scull sith heere my mind I tell: Sith bleeding heart these rufull rimes exprest: This mangled tale beseemes my person best. Do so (quoth he) and let it passe euen thus: Viuit (quoth I) post funer a virtus.

Iohn Higins.

HOW SHORES WIFE, KING EDWARD THE FOVRTHS CONCVBINE, WAS by King Richard despoiled of all her goods, and forced to doe open penance.

AMong the rest, by Fortune ouerthrowne, I am not least, that most may waile her fate: My fame and brute, abroad the world is blowne, VVho can forget, a thing thus done so late? My great mischance, my fall, and heauie state, Is such a marke, whereat each tongue doth shoot, That my good name, is pluckt vp by the root.

This wandring world, bewitched me with wiles, And won my wits, with wanton sugred ioyes: In Fortunes frekes, who trusts her when she smiles, Shall find her false, and full of fickle toyes, Her triumphes all, but fill our eares with noise, Her flattring gifts, are pleasures mixt with paine, Yea, all her words, are thunders threatning raine.

The fond desire, that we in glorie set, Doth thirle our hearts, to hope in slipper hap: A blast of pompe, is all the fruit we get, And vnder that, lies hid a sudden clap. In seeking rest, vnwares we fall in trap, In groping flowres, with nettles stung we are, In labring long, we reape the crop of care.

Oh darke deceit, with painted face for sho, Oh poisned bait, that makes vs eager still, Oh fained friend, deceiuing people so, Oh world, of thee, we cannot speake too ill: Yet fooles we are, that bend so to thy skill. The plague and scourge, that thousands daily feele, Should warne the wise, to shun thy whirling wheele.

But who can stop, the streame that runnes full swift? Or quench the fire, that is crept in the straw? The thirstie drinkes, there is no other shift, Perforce is such, that need obeyes no law. Thus bound we are, in worldly yokes to draw, And cannot stay, nor turne againe in time, Nor learne of those, that sought too high to clime.

My selfe for proofe, loe heere I now appeare, In womans weed, with weeping watred eyes, That bought her youth, and her delights full deare, Whose loud reproch, doth sound vnto the skies, And bids my corse, out of the graue to rise, As one that may, no longer hide her face, But needs must come, and shew her pitious case.

The sheete of shame, wherein I shrowded was, Did moue me oft, to plaine before this day, And in mine cares did ring the trumpe of brasse, Which is defame, that doth each thing bewray. Yea though full dead, and low in earth I lay, I heard the voice, of me what people said, But then to speake, alas I was afraid.

And now a time, for me I see prepar'd, I heare the liues, and falles of many wights: My tale therefore, the better may be har'd, For at the torch, the little candle lights. Where pageants be, small things fill out the sights. Wherefore giue eare, good Churchyard do thy best, My tragedie, to place among the rest.

Because the truth, shall witnes well with thee, I will rehearse, in order as it fell, My life, my death, my dolefull destinie, My wealth, my woe, my doing euery deale, My bitter blisse, wherein I long did dwell: A whole discourse, by me Shores wife by name, Now shalt thou heare, as thou hadst seene the same.

Of noble blood, I cannot boast my birth, For I was made out of the meanest mold, Mine heritage, but seuen foot of th' earth, Fortune ne gaue, to me the gifts of gold: But I could brag, of nature if I wold, Who fil'd my face, with fauour fresh and faire, Whose beautie shone, like Phoebus in the aire.

My shape some said, was seemely to each sight, My countenance, did shew a sober grace, Mines eyes in lookes, were neuer proued light, My tongue in words was chast in euery case. Mine eares were deafe, and would no louers place, Saue that, alas, a Prince did blot my brow, Loe, there the strong, did make the weake to bow.

The maiesty, that Kings to people beare, The stately port, the awfull cheere they show, Doth make the meane, to shrink and couch for feare, Like as the hound, that doth, his master know: What then? since I, was made vnto the bow, There is no cloke, can serue to hide my fault: For I agreed, the fort he should assault.

The Eagles force, subdues ech bird that flies, What metall may, resist the flaming fire? Doth not the Sun, dazell the clearest eies, And melt the ice, and make the frost retire? Who can withstand, a puissant Kings desire? The stiffest stones, are pierced through with tooles, The wisest are, with Princes made but fooles.

If kinde had wrought, my forme in common frames, And set me forth, in colours blacke and browne, Or beautie had, beene percht in Phoebus flames, Or shamefast waies, had pluckt my fethers downe, Then had I kept, my fame and good renowne: For natures gifts, were cause of all my griefe. A pleasant prey, entiseth many a thiefe.

Thus woe to thee, that wrought my peacocks pride, By clothing me with natures tapestry: Woe worth the hew, wherein my face was dide, Which made me thinke, I pleased euery eye. Like as the starres, make men behold the skie, So beauties shew, doth make the wise full fond, And brings free harts, full oft to endlesse bond.

But cleare from blame, my frends can not be found, Before my time, my youth they did abuse: In mariage, a prentise was I bound. Then that meere loue, I knew not how to vse. But wel away, that cannot me excuse, The harme is mine, though they deuisde my care, And I must smart, and sit in slandrous snare.

Yet giue me leaue, to plead my cause at large: If that the horse, do run beyond his race, Or any thing that keepers haue in charge, Do breake their course, where Rulers may take place: Or meat be set, before the hungries face, Who is in fault? th' offender yea or no, Or they that are, the cause of all this wo.

Note well what strife, this forced mariage makes, What lothed liues, do come where loue doth lacke, What scratching breers, do grow vpon such brakes, What common weales, by it are brought to wracke, What heauie loade, is put on patients backe, What strange delights, this branch of vice doth breed, And marke what graine, springs out of such a seed.

Compell the hauke, to sit that is vnman'd, Or make the hound, vntaught to draw the Deere, Or bring the free, against his will in band, Or moue the sad, a pleasant tale to heere, Your time is lost, and you no whit the neere: So loue ne learnes, of force the knot to knit, She serues but those, that feele sweet fancies fit.

The lesse defame, redounds to my dispraise, I was entist, by traines, and trapt by trust: Though in my powre, remained yeas and nayes, Vnto my friends, yet needs consent I must, In euery thing, yea lawfull or vniust. They brake the boughes, and shakte the tree by sleight, And bent the wand, that might haue growne full streight.

What helpe in this, the pale thus broken downe, The Deere must needs, in danger run astray: At me therefore, why should the world so frowne? My weaknesse made, my youth a Princes pray. Though wisdome should, the course of nature stay, Yet trie my case, who list, and they shall proue, The ripest wits, are soonest thralles to loue.

What need I more, to cleare my selfe so much? A King me wan, and had me at his call, His royall state, his princely grace was such, The hope of will, that women seeke for all, The ease and wealth, the gifts which were not small, Besieged me, so strongly round about, My powre was weake, I could not hold him out.

Duke Hannibal, in all his conquest great, Or Caesar yet, whose triumphs did exceed, Of all their spoiles, which made them toile and sweat, Were not so glad, to haue so rich a meed, As was this Prince, when I to him agreed, And yeelded me, a prisner willingly, As one that knew, no way away to flie.

The Nightingale, for all his merry voyce, Nor yet the Larke, that still delights to sing, Did neuer make, the hearers so reioyce, As I with words, haue made this worthie King: I neuer iar'd, in tune was euery string, I tempred so, my tongue to please his eare, That what I said, was currant euery where.

I ioyn'd my talke, my gestures and my grace, In wittie frames, that long might last and stand, So that I brought, the King in such a case, That to his death, I was his chiefest hand. I gouern'd him, that ruled all this Land: I bare the sword, though he did weare the Crowne, I strake the stroke, that threw the mightie downe.

If iustice said, that iudgement was but death, With my sweete words, I could the King perswade, And make him pause, and take therein a breath, Till I with suite, the faultors peace had made: I knew what way, to vse him in his trade, I had the art, to make the Lion meeke, There was no point, wherein I was to seeke.

If I did frowne, who then did looke a wrie? If I did smile, who would not laugh outright? If I but speake, who durst my words denie? If I pursude, who would forsake the flight? I meane, my powre, was knowne to euery wight. On such a height, good hap had built my bowre, As though my sweete, should nere haue turnd to sowre.

My husband then, as one that knew his good, Refusde to keepe, a Princes Concubine, Forseeing th' end, and mischiefe as it stood, Against the King did neuer much repine: He saw the grape, whereof hee dranke the wine. Though inward thought, his heart did still torment, Yet outwardly, he seemd he was content.

To purchase praise, and win the peoples zeale, Yea rather bent, of kinde to do some good, I euer did, vphold the common weale, I had delight, to saue the guiltlesse blood: Each suters cause, when that I vnderstood, I did prefer, as it had bene mine owne, And help them vp, that might haue been orethrowne.

My powre was prest, to right the poore mans wrong, My hands were free, to giue where need required: To watch for grace, I neuer thought it long, To do men good, I need not bee desired. Nor yet with gifts, my heart was neuer hired. But when the ball, was at my foote to guide, I plaid to those, that Fortune did abide.

My want was wealth, my woe was ease at will, Ny robes were rich, and brauer then the sunne: My Fortune then, was far aboue my skill, My state was great, my glasse did euer runne. My fatall threed, so happely was spunne, That then I sate, in earthly pleasures clad, And for the time, a Goddesse place I had.

But I had not, so soone this life possest, But my good hap, began to slip aside: And Fortune then, did me so sore molest, That vnto plaints, was turned all my pride. It booted not, to row against the tide: Mine oares were weake, my heart and strength did saile, The winde was rough, I durst not beare a saile.

What steps of strife, belong to high estate? The climing vp, is doubtfull to endure, The seat it selfe, doth purchase priuie hate, And honors fame, is fickle and vnsure, And all she brings, is flowres that be vnpure: Which fall as fast, as they do sprout and spring, And cannot last, they are so vaine a thing.

We count no care, to catch that we do wish, But what we win is long to vs vnknowen: Till present paine, be serued in our dish, We scarce perceiue, whereon our griefe hath growen: What graine proues well, that is so rashly sowen? If that a meane, did measure all our deeds, In steed of corne, we should not gather weeds.

The setled mind, is free from Fortunes power, They need not feare, who looke not vp aloft: But they that climbe, are carefull euery hower, For when they fall, they light not very soft. Examples haue, the wisest warned oft, That where the trees, the smallest branches bere, The stormes do blow, and haue most rigour there.

Where is it strong, but neere the ground and roote? Where is it weake, but on the highest sprayes? Where may a man, so surely set his foote, But on those bowes, that groweth low alwayes? The little twigs, are but vnstedfast stayes, If they breake not, they bend with euery blast, Who trusts to them, shall neuer stand full fast.

The winde is great, vpon the highest hilles, The quiet life, is in the dale below: Who treads on ice, shall slide against their willes, They want not cares, that curious arts would know. VVho liues at ease, and can content him so, Is perfect wise, and sets vs all to schoole, VVho hates this lore, may well be call'd a foole.

VVhat greater griefe, may come to any life, Then after sweete, to taste the bitter sowre? Or after peace, to fall at warre and strife, Or after mirth, to haue a cause to lowre? Vnder such props, false Fortune builds her bowre, On sudden change, her flittering frames be set, Where is no way, for to escape the net.

The hastie smart, that Fortune sends in spite, Is hard to brooke, where gladnesse we embrace: She threatens not, but suddenly doth smite, Where ioy is most, there doth she sorow place. But sure I thinke, this is too strange a case, For vs to feele, such griefe amid our game, And know not why, vntill we taste the same.

As erst I said, my blisse was turn'd to bale, I had good cause, to weepe and wring my hands, And shew sad cheare, with countenance full pale: For I was brought, in sorowes wofull bands. A pirrie came, and set my ship on sands. What should I hide, or colour care and noy? King Edward di'd, in whom was all my ioy.

And when the earth, receiued had his corse, And that in tombe, this worthie Prince was laid, The world on me, began to shew his force, Of troubles then, my part I long assai'd: For they of whom, I neuer was afrai'd, Vndid me most, and wrought me such despite, That they berest, me from my pleasure quite.

As long as life, remain'd in Edwards brest, Who was but I? who had such friends at call? His bodie was, no sooner put in chest, But well was he, that could procure my fall: His brother was, mine enmie most of all, Protector then, whose vice did still abound, From ill to worse, till death did him confound.

He falsely fain'd, that I of counsell was, To poison him, which thing I neuer ment: But he could set, thereon a face of brasse, To bring to passe, his leaud and false intent. To such mischiefe, this tyrants heart was bent, To God, ne man, he neuer stood in awe, For in his wrath, he made his will a law.

Lord Hastings blood, for vengeance on him cries, And many moe, that were too long to name: But most of all; and in most wofull wise, I had good cause, this wretched man to blame, Before the world, I suffred open shame, Where people were, as thick as is the sand, I penance tooke, with taper in my hand.

Each eye did stare, and looke me in the face, As I past by, the rumours on me ran, But patience then, had lent me such a grace, My quiet lookes, were prais'd of euery man: The shamefast blood, brought me such colour than, That thousands said, which saw my sober cheere, It is great ruth, to see this woman heere.

But what preuail'd, the peoples pitie there? This raging wolfe, would spare no guiltlesse blood. Oh wicked wombe, that such ill fruit did beare, Oh cursed earth, that yeeldeth forth such mud: The hell consume, all things that did thee good, The heauens shut, their gates against thy spreete, The world tread downe, thy glorie vnder feete.

I aske of God, a vengeance on thy bones, Thy stinking corps, corrupts the aire I know: Thy shamefull death, no earthly wight bemones, For in thy life, thy workes were hated so, That euery man, did wish thy ouerthro: Wherefore I may, though partiall now I am, Curse euery cause, whereof thy bodie came.

Woe worth the man, that fathered such a child, Woe worth the houre, wherein thou wast begate: Woe worth the brests, that haue the world beguil'd, To nourish thee, that all the world did hate. Woe worth the gods, that gaue thee such a fate, To liue so long, that death deseru'd so oft. Woe worth the chance, that set thee vp aloft.

Yee Princes all, and Rulers euery chone, In punishment, beware of hatreds ire. Before yee scourge, take heed, looke well thereon: In wroths ill will, if malice kindle fire, Your hearts will burne, in such a hot desire, That in those flames, the smoke shall dim your sight, Yee shall forget, to ioyne your iustice right.

You should not iudge, till things be well discerned, Your charge is still, to maintaine vpright lawes: In conscience rules, ye should be throughly learned, Where clemencie, bids wrath and rashnes pause, And further saith, strike not without a cause: And when ye smite, do it for iustice sake, Then in good part, each man your scourge wil take.

If that such zeale, had mou'd this tyrants mind, To make my plague, a warrant for the rest, I had small cause, such fault in him to find, Such punishment, is vsed for the best: But by ill will, and powre I was opprest, He spoil'd my goods, and left me bare and poore, And caused me, to beg from dore to doore.

What fall was this, to come from Princes fare, To watch for crums, among the blind and lame? When almes were delt, I had an hungrie share, Because I knew not, how to aske for shame, Till force and need, had brought me in such frame, That starue I must, or learne to beg an almes, With booke in hand, to say S. Dauids Psalmes.

Where I was wont, the golden chaines to weare, A paire of beads, about my necke was wound, A linnen cloth, was lapt about my heare, A ragged gowne, that trayled on the ground, A dish that clapt, and gaue a heauie sound, A staying staffe, and wallet therewithall, I bare about, as witnesse of my fall.

I had no house, wherein to hide my head, The open streete, my lodging was perforce: Full oft I went, all hungrie to my bed, My flesh consum'd, I looked like a corse. Yet in that plight, who had on me remorse? O God thou know'st, my friends forsooke me then, Not one holpe me, that succred many a man.

They froun'd on me, that faun'd on me before, And fled from me, that followed me full fast: They hated me, by whom I set much store, They knew full well, my fortune did not last. In euery place, I was condemn'd and cast, To pleade my cause, at barre it was no boote, For euery man, did tread me vnder foote.

Thus long I liu'd, all wearie of my life, Till death approcht, and rid me from that woe: Example take, by me, both maid and wife, Beware, take heed, fall not to follie so. A mirour make, by my great ouerthro, Defie the world, and all his wanton waies, Beware by me, that spent so ill her daies.

Tho. Churchyard.

HOW THOMAS WOL∣SEY DID ARISE VNTO GREAT authoritie and gouernment, his manner of life, pompe and dignitie, and how he fell downe into great disgrace, and was arrested of high treason. Anno, 1530.

SHall I looke on, when States step on the stage, And play their parts before the peoples face? Some men liue now, scarce fourescore yeares of age, Who in time past, did know the Cardnals Grace. A gamesome world, when Bishops run at bace, Yea, get a fall, in striuing for the gole, And bodie lose, and hazard silly sole.

Ambitious mind, a world of wealth would haue, So scrats and scrapes, for scorfe and scornie drosse: And till the flesh and bones be hid in graue, Wit neuer rests, to grope for mucke and mosse. Fie on proud pompe, and gilded bridles bosse: O glorious gold, the gaping after thee, So blinds mine eyes, they can no danger see.

Now note my birth, and marke how I began, Behold from whence, rose all this pride of mine, My father but, a plaine poore honest man, And I his sonne, of wit and iudgement fine, Brought vp at schoole, and prou'd a good Diuine: For which great gifts, degree of schoole I had, And Batchler was, and I a little lad.

So, tasting some, of Fortunes sweete concaits, I clapt the hood, on shoulder, braue as Son, And hopte at length, to bite at better baits, And fill my mouth, ere banquet halfe were don. Thus holding on, the course I thought to ron: By many a feast, my belly grew so big, That Wolsey streight, became a wanton twig.

Loe what it is, to feed on daintie meate, And pamper vp, the gorge, with suger plate: Nay, see how lads, in hope of higher seate Rise early vp, and studie learning late. But he thriues best, that hath a blessed fate, And he speeds worst, that world will nere aduance, Nor neuer knowes, what meanes good lucke nor chance.

My chance was great, for from a poore mans son, I rose aloft, and chopt and chang'd degree: In Oxford first, my famous name begon, Where many a day the scholers honor'd mee. Then thought I how, I might a courtier bee: So came to Court, and feathred there my wing, With Henrie th' eight, who was a worthie King.

He did with words, assay me once or twice, To see what wit, and readie sprite I had: And when he saw, I was both graue and wise, For some good cause, the King was wondrous glad. Then downe I lookt, with sober countnance sad, But heart was vp, as high as hope could go, That suttle fox, might win some fauour so.

We worke with wiles, the minds of men like wax, The fawning whelp, gets many a piece of bred: We follow Kings, with many cunning knacks, By searching out, how are their humours fed. He haunts no Court, that hath a doltish hed: For as in gold, the pretious stone is set, So finest wits, in Court the credit get.

I quickly learn'd to kneele and kisse the hand, To wait at heele, and turne like top about, To stretch out necke, and like an Image stand, To taunt, to scoffe, and face the matter out, To prease in place, among the greatest rout: Yet like a Priest, my selfe did well behaue, In faire long gowne, and goodly garments graue.

Where Wolsey went, the world like Beeswould swarme, To heare my speech, and note my nature well. I could with tongue, vse such a kind of charme, That voice full cleare, should sound like siluer bell. When head deuis'd, a long discourse to tell, With stories strange, my speech should spised be, To make the world, to muse the more on me.

Each tale was sweet, each word a sentence waid, Each eare I pleas'd, each eye gaue me the view, Each Iudgement markt, and paused what I said, Each mind I fed, with matter rare and new, Each day and houre, my grace and credit grew: So that the King, in hearing of this newes, Deuised how, he might my seruice vse.

He made me then, his Chaplaine, to say Masse Before his grace, yea twice or thrice a weeke: Now had I time, to trim my selfe by glasse, Now found I meane, some liuing for to seeke, Now I became, both humble, milde, and meeke, Now I appli'd, my wits and senses throw, To reape some corne, if God would speed the plow.

Whom most I saw, in fauour with the King, I follow'd fast, to get some hap thereby: But I obseru'd, another finer thing, That was, to keepe, me still in Princes eye. As vnder wing, the hawke in winde doth lie, So for a prey, I prowled heere and there, And tried friends, and fortune euery where.

The King at length, sent me beyond the seas, Embastour then, with message good and great: And in that time, I did the King so pleas, By short dispatch, and wrought so fine a feat, That did aduance my selfe to higher seat, The Deanrie then, of Lincolne he me gaue: And bountie shew'd, before I gan to craue.

His Amner too, he made me all in haste, And threefold gifts, he threw vpon me still: His counsler straight, likewaies was Wolsey plaste. Thus in short time, I had the world at will: VVhich passed far, mans reason, wit, and skill. O hap, thou hast, great secrets in thy might, VVhich long lie hid, from wily worldlings sight.

As shewres of raine, fall quickly on the grasse, That fading flowres, are soone refresht thereby: Or as with Sun, the morning dew doth passe, And quiet calme, makes cleare a troubled skie: So Princes powre, at twinkling of an eye Sets vp aloft, a fau'ret on the wheele, When giddy braines, about the streets doe reele.

They are but blind, that wake where Fortune sleepes, They work in vaine, that striue with streame and tide: In double gard, they dwell, that destny keepes, In simple sort, they liue that lacke a guide: They misse the marke, that shoot their arrowes wide, They hit the pricke, that make their flight to glance So neere the white, that shaft may light on chance.

Such was my lucke, I shot no shaft in vaine, My bow stood bent, and brased all the yeere: I waited hard, but neuer lost my paine: Such wealth came in, to beare the charges cleere. And in the end, I was the greatest peere Among them all, for I so rulde the land, By Kings consent, that all was in my hand.

Within on yeare, three Bishoprickes I had, And in small space, a Cardnall I was made: With long red robes, rich Wolsey then was clad, I walkt in Sun, when others sate in shade: I went abroad, with such a traine and trade, With crosses borne, before me where I past, That man was thought, to be some God at last.

With sonnes of Earles, and Lords I serued was, An hundred chaines, at least were in my traine: I daile dranke in gold, but not in glas, My bread mas made, of finest flowre and graine: My dainty mouth, did common meates disdaine, I fed like Prince, on fowles most deare and strange, And bankets made, of fine conceits for change.

My hall was full, of Knights, and Squires of name, And gentlemen, two hundred told by pole: Tale yeomen too, did hourely serue the same, Whose names each weeke, I saw within check role, All went to church, when seruice bell did knole, All dinde and supt and slept, at Cardnals charge, And all would wait, when Wolsey tooke his barge.

My household stuffe, my wealth and siluer plate, Might well suffice, a Monarke at this day: I neuer fed, but vnder cloth of state, Nor walkt abroad, till Vshars cleard the way. In house I had, musitions for to play, In open streete, my trumpets loud did sound, Which pearst the skies, and seem'd to shake the ground.

My men most braue, marcht two and two in ranke, Who held in length, much more then halfe a mile: Not one of these, but gaue his master thanke, For some good turne, or pleasure got some while. I did not feed, my seruants with a smile, Or glosing words, that neuer bring forth fruite, But gaue them gold, or els preferd their suite.

In surety so whiles God was pleasd, I stood, I knew I must, leaue all my wealth behinde: I saw they lou'd, me not for birth or blood, But seru'd a space, to try my noble minde. The more men giue, the more indeed they finde Of loue, and troth, and seruice, euery way: The more they spare, the more doth loue decay.

Iioide to see, my seruants thriue so well, And go so gay, with little that they got: For as I did in honour still excell, So would I oft, the want of seruants note: Which made my men, on master so to dote, That when I said, let such a thing be done, They would indeed, through fire and water ronne.

I had in house, so many off'cers still, Which were obaid, and honourd for their place, That carelesse I, might sleepe or walke at will, Saue that sometime, I weigh'd a poore mans case, And salu'd such sores, whose griefe might breed disgrace. Thus men did wait, and wicked world did gaze, On me and them, that brought vs all in maze.

For world was whist, and durst not speake a word Of that they saw, my credit curbd them so: I waded far, and passed ore the foord, And minded not, for to returne I troe. The world was wise, yet scarce it selfe did knoe, When wonder made, of men that rose by hap: For Fortune rare, fals not in each mans lap.

I clim'd the clouds, by knowledge and good wit, My men sought chance, by seruice or good lucke, The world walkt low, when I aboue did sit, Or downe did come, to trample on this mucke: And I did swim, as dainty as a ducke, When water serues, to keepe the body braue, And to enioy, the gifts that Fortune gaue.

And though my pompe, surpast all Prelates now, And like a Prince I liu'd and pleasure tooke: That was not fure, so great a blur in brow, If on my workes, indiffrent eyes doe looke. I thought great scorne, such ••••uings heere to brooke, Except I built, some houses for the poore, And order tooke, to giue great almes at doore.

A Colledge faire, in Oxford I did make, A sumptuous house, a stately work indeede. I gaue great lands, to that, for learning sake, To bring vp youth, and succour scholers neede. That charge of mine, full many a mouth did feede, When I in Court, was seeking some good turne, To mend my torch, or make my candell burne.

More houses gay, I built, then thousands do That haue enough, yet will no goodnes shoe: And where I built, I did maintaine it to, With such great cost, as few bestowes I troe. Of buildings large, I could rehearse a roe, That by mischance, this day haue lost my name, Whereof I do, deserue the only fame.

And as for sutes, about the King was none So apt as I, to speake and purchase grace. Though long before, some say Shores wife was one, That oft kneeld downe, before the Princes face For poore mens sutes, and holpe their woefull case, Yet she had not, such credit as I gate, Although a King, would heare the parret prate.

My words were graue, and bore an equall poies, In ballance iust, for many a weightie cause: She pleasd a Prince, with pretty merry toies, And had no sight, in state, nor course of lawes: I could perswade, and make a Prince to pawes, And take a breath, before he drew the sword, And spie the time, to rule him with a word.

I will not say, but fancy may do much, Yet world will grant, that wisdome may do more: To wanton girls, affection is not such, That Princes wise, wil be abusde therfore: One sute of mine, was surely worth a score Of hers indeed, for she her time must watch, And at all howres, I durst go draw the latch.

My voice but heard, the dore was open streight, She might not come, till she were cald or brought: I rul'd the King, by custome, art and sleight, And knew full well, the secrets of his thought. Without my mind, all that was done was nought, In wars or peace, my counsell swaied all, For still the King, would for the Cardnall call.

I kept a court, my selfe, as great as his, (I not compare, vnto my master here) But looke my Lords, what liuely world was this, That one poore man, became so great a peere? Yet though this tale, be very strange to here, Wit wins a world: and who hath hap and wit, With triumph long, in princely throne may sit.

What man like me, bare rule in any age, I shone like Sun, more cleare then morning star: Was neuer part, so plaid, in open stage As mine, nor fame, of man flew halfe so far. I sate on bench, when thowsands at the bar Did plead for right: for I in publique weale Lord Chancelor was, and had the great broad seale.

Now haue I told, how I did rise aloft, And sate with pride, and pomp, in golden hall, And set my feete, on costly carpets soft, And plaid at goale, with goodly golden ball: But after, Lord, I must rehearse my fall. O trembling heart, thou canst not now for teares Present that tale, vnto the hearers eares.

Best weepe it out, and sudden silence keepe, Till priuy pangs, make pinched heart complaine: Or cast thy selfe, into some slumbring sleepe, Till wakened wits, remembrance bring againe. When heauy teares, do hollow cheekes distaine, The world will thinke, thy sprits are growne so weake, The feeble tongue, hath sure no power to speake.

A tale by signes, with sighes and sobs set out, Moues peoples mindes, to pity plagued men: With howling voice, do rather crie and shout, And so by arte, shew forth thy sorrow then. For if thou speake, some man will note with pen What Wolsey said, and what threw Wolsey downe, And vnder foote, flings Wolseis great renowne.

What force of that, my fall must needs be herd, Before I fell, I had a time to rise: As fatall chance, and Fortune me preferd. So mischiefe came, and did my state despise. If I might plead, my case among the wise, I could excuse, right much of mine offence: But leaue a while, such matter in suspence.

The Pope, or pride, or peeuish parts of mine, Made King to frowne, and take the seale from me: Now seru'd no words, nor pleasant speeches fine, Now Wolsey, lo, must needes disgraced be. Yet had I leaue (as dolefull prisner free) To keepe a house (God wot) with heauy cheere, Where that I found, no wine, ne bread, nor beere.

My time was come, I could no longer liue, What should I make, my sorrow further knowne: Vpon some cause, that King that all did giue Tooke all againe, and so possest his owne. My goods, my plate, and all was ouerthrowne, And looke what I, had gathred many a day, Within one houre, was cleanly swept away.

But harken now, how that my Fortune fell, To Yorke I must, where I the Bishop was: Where I by right, in grace a while did dwell, And was in stawle, with honour great to passe. The Priors then, and Abbots gan to smell, How Cardnall must, be honourd as he ought, And for that day, was great prouision brought.

At Cawood then, where I great buildings made, And did through cause, expect my stawling day, The King deuisde, a secret vnder shade, How Cardnall should, bee rest and brought away. One Wealsh a Knight, came downe in good aray, And seasned sure, because from Court hee came, On Wolsey wolfe, that spoiled many a lambe.

Then was I led, toward Court, like dog in string, And brought as biefe, that Butcher-row must see. But still I hopte, to come before the King, And that repaire, was not denide to me. But he that kept, the Towre, my guide must be. Ah there I saw, what King thereby did meane, And so I searcht if conscience now were cleane.

Some spots I found, of pride and popish parts, That might accuse, a better man then I: Now Oxford came, to minde, with all their arts, And Cambridge too, but all not worth a flie: For schoolemen can, no foule defects supplie. My sauce was sowre, though meate before was sweete, Now Wolsey lackt, both cunning, wit, and spreete.

A deepe conceit, of that, possest my head, So fell I sicke, consum'd as some did thinke. So tooke in haste, my chamber and my bed, On which deuice, perhaps the world might winke. But in the heart, sharpe sorrow so did sinke, That gladnes sweete, (forsooke my senses all) In those extremes, did yeeld vnto my fall.

O let me curse, the popish Cardnall hat, Those miters big, beset with pearle and stones, And all the rest, of trash I know not what, The saints in shrine, their flesh and rotten bones, The maske of Monkes, deuised for the nones, And all the flocke, of Freers, what ere they are, That brought me vp, and left me there so bare.

O cursed priests, that prate for profits sake, And follow floud, and tide, where ere it floes: O merchants fine, that do aduantage take Of euery graine, how euer market goes. O fie on wolues, that march in masking cloes, For to deuoure, the lambs, when shepherd sleepes, And woe to you, that promise neuer keepes.

You said I should, be reskude if I need, And you would curse, with candell, booke and bell: But when ye should, now serue my turne indeed, Yee haue no house, I know not where ye dwell. O Freers and Monkes, your harbour is in hell, For in this world, ye haue no rightfull place, Nor dare not once, in heauen shew your face.

Your fault not halfe, so great as was my pride, For which offence, fell Lucifer from skies: Although I would, that wilfull folly hide, The thing lies plaine, before the peoples eies, On which hie heart, a hatefull name doth ries. It hath been said, of old, and daily will, Pride goes before, and shame comes after still.

Pride is a thing, that God and man abores, A swelling tode, that poisons euery place, A stinking wound, that breedeth many sores, A priuie plague, found out in stately face, A painted bird, that keeps a peacoks pace, A lothsome lout, that lookes like tinkers dog, A hellish hownd, a swinish hateful hog.

That grunts and groanes, at euery thing it sees, And holds vp snowt, like pig that coms from draffe. Why should I make, of pride all these degrees, That first tooke roote, from filthy drosse and chaffe, And makes men stay, vpon a broken staffe? No weaknesse more, then thinke to stand vpright, When stumbling blocke, makes men to fall downe right.

He needs must fall, that lookes not where he goes, And on the starres, walkes staring gozling like: On sudden oft, a blustering tempest bloes, Then downe great trees are tumbled in the dike. Who knowes the time, and houre when God will strike? Then looke about, and marke what steps ye take, Before you pace, the pirgrimage yee make.

Run not on head, as all the world were yours, Nor thrust them backe, that cannot bide a shocke: Who striues for place, his owne decay procures: Who alwaies braules, is sure to catch a knocke: Who beards a King, his head is neere the blocke: But who doth stand, in feare, and worldly dreed, Ere mischiefe comes, had need to take good heed.

I hauing hap, did make account of none, But such as fed, my humour good or bad. To fawning dogs, sometimes I gaue a bone, And flung some scraps, to such as nothing had: But in my hands, still kept the golden gad, That seru'd my turne, and laught the rest to scorne, As for himselfe was Cardnall Wolsey borne.

No, no, good men, we liue not for our selues, Though each one catch, as much as he may get: We ought to looke, to those that digs and delues, That alwaies dwell, and liue in endlesse det. If in such sort, we would our compasse set, We should haue loue, where now but hate we find, And headstrong will, with cruell hollow mind.

I thought nothing, of dutie, loue, or feare, I snatcht vp all, and alwaies sought to clime: I punisht all, and would with no man beare, I sought for all, and so could take the time. I pli'd the Prince, whiles Fortune was in prime, I fill'd the bags, and gold in hoord I heapt, Thought not on those, that thresht the corne I reapt.

So all I lost, and all I gate was nought, And all my pride, and pompe lay in the dust: I aske you all, what man aliue had thought, That in this world, had been so little trust? Why, all things heere, with time decline they must. Then all is vaine, so all not worth a flie, If all shall thinke, that all are borne to die.

If all be base, and of so small account, VVhy do we all, in folly so abound? VVhy do the meane, and mightie seeke to mount, Beyond all hope, where is no suretie found, And where the wheele, is alwaies turning round? The case is plaine, if all be vnderstood, VVeare so vaine, we know not what is good.

Yet some will say, when they haue heapes of gold, VVith flockes of friends, and seruants at their call, They liue like Gods, in pleasure treble fold, And haue no cause, to find no fault at all. O blind conceit, these glories are but small, And as for friends, they change their minds so mich, They stay not long, with neither poore nor rich.

VVith hope of friends, our selues we do deceaue, VVith feare of foes, we threatned are in sleepe: But friends speake faire, yet men alone they leaue To sinke or swim, to mourne, to laugh, or weepe. Yet when foe smiles, the snake begins to creepe, As world falles out, these daies in compasse iust, VVe know not how, the friend or foe to trust.

Both can betray, the truest man aliue, Both are to doubt, in matters of great weight, Both will sometime, for goods and honor striue, Both seemeth plaine, yet both can shew great sleight, Both stoopes full low, yet both can looke on height, And best of both, not worth a cracked crowne: Yet least of both, may lose a walled towne.

Talke not of friends, the name thereof is nought, Then trust no foes, if friends their credit lose; If foes and friends, of one bare earth were wrought, Blame nere of both, though both one nature showes. Grace passeth kind, where grace and vertue flowes, But where grace wants, make foes and friends alike, The one drawes sword, the other sure will strike.

I prou'd that true, by triall twentie times, When Wolsey stood, on top of Fortunes wheele, But such as to the height of ladder climes, Know not what lead, lies hanging on their heele. Tell me my mates, that heauie Fortune feele, If rising vp, breed not a giddie braine, And falling downe, be not a grieuous paine.

I told you how, from Cawood I was led, And so fell sicke, when I arrested was; VVhat needeth now more words herein be sed, I knew full well, I must to prison passe, And saw my state, as brittle as a glasse: So gaue vp ghost, and bad the world farewell, VVherein, God wot, I could no longer dwell.

Thus vnto dust, and ashes I return'd, VVhen blaze of life, and vitall breath went out, Like glowing coale, that is to cinders burn'd; All flesh and blood, so end, you need not doubt. But when the brute of this was blowne about, The world was glad, the Cardnall was in graue, This is of world, loe all the hope we haue.

Full many a yeare, the world lookt for my fall, And when I fell, I made as great a cracke, As doth an oake, or mightie tottering wall, That whirling winde, doth bring to ruine and wrack, Now babling world, will talke behind my backe, A thousand things, to my reproch and shame, So will it too, of others do the same.

But what of that? the best is we are gone, And worst of all, when we our tales haue told, Our open plagues will warning be to none, Men are by hap, and courage made so bold: They thinke all is, their owne they haue in hold. Well, let them say, and thinke what thing they pleas, This weltring world, both flowes, and ebs like seas.

Tho. Churchyard.

HOW THE LORD CROMWELL EXALTED FROM MEANE ESTATE, was after by the enuie of the Bishop of Winchester and other his complices brought to vntimely end, Anno Dom. 1540.

AWak'd, and trembling betwixt rage and dread With the loud slander (by the impious time) That of my actions euery where is spread, Through which to honor falsely I should clime, From the sad dwelling of th' vntimely dead, To quit me of that execrable crime, Cromwell appeares his wretched plight to show, Much that can tell, one much that once did know.

Roughly not made vp in the common mould, That with the vulgar vilely I should die, What thing so strange of Cromwell is not told? What man more prais'd? who more condemn'd then I? That with the world when I am waxed old, Most t'were vnfit that same of me should lie With fables vaine my historie to fill, Forcing my good, excusing of my ill.

You that but hearing of my hated name, Your ancient malice instantly bewray, And for my sake your ill deserued blame Vpon my legend publikely shall lay;

Would you forbeare to blast me with defame, Might I so meane a priuiledge but pray, He that three, ages hath endur'd your wrong, Heare him a little that hath heard you long.

Since Romes sad ruine heere by me began, Who her Religion pluckt vp by the root, Of the false world such hate for which I wan, Which still at me her poisned'st darts doth shoot; That to excuse it, do the best I can, Little I feare my labour me will boot: Yet will I speake my troubled heart to ease, Much to the mind, her selfe it is to please.

O powerfull number, from whose stricter law Heart-mouing musicke did receiue the ground Which men to faire ciuilitie did draw With the brute beast when lawlesse he was found: O if according to the wiser saw There be a high diuinitie in sound, Be now abundant prosp'rously to aide The pen prepar'd my doubtfull case to pleade.

Putney the place made blessed in my brith, Whose meanest cottage simplie me did shrowd, To me as dearest of the English earth; So of my bringing that poore village prou'd, Though in a time when neuer lesse the dearth Of happie wits, yet mine so well allow'd That with the best she boldly durst confer Him that his breath acknowledged from her.

Twice flow'd proud Thames as at my comming wood, Striking the wondring borderers with feare, And the pale Genius of that aged flood Vnto my mother labouring did appeare, And with a countenance much distracted stood, Threatning the fruit her pained wombe should beare: My speedie birth being added thereunto, Seem'd to foretell that much I came to do.

That was reserued for those worser daies, As the great ebbe vnto so long a flow, VVhen what those ages formerly did raise, This when I liu'd did lastly ouerthrow, And that great'st labour of the world did seaze, Only for which immedicable blow Due to that time me dooming heauen ordain'd, VVherein confusion absolutely raign'd.

Vainly yet noted this prodigious signe, Often predictions of most fearefull things, As plagues, or warre, or great men to decline, Rising of Commons, or the death of Kings; But some strange newes though euer it diuine, Yet forth them not immediatly it brings, Vntill th' effects men afterward did learne, To know that me it chiefly did concerne.

VVhil'st yet my father by his painfull trade, VVhose laboured Anuile only was his fee, VVhom my great towardnesse strongly did perswade In knowledge to haue educated mee: But death did him vnluckily inuade, Ere he the fruits of his desire could see, Leauing me yong, then little that did know How me the heauens had purpos'd to bestow.

Hopelesse as helpelesse most might me suppose, Whose meannesse seem'd their abiect breath to draw: Yet did my breast that glorious fire inclose, VVhich their dull purblind ignorance not saw, VVhich still is setled vpon outward showes, The vulgars iudgement euer is so raw, VVhich the vnworthiest sottishly do loue In their owne region properly that moue.

Yet me my fortune so could not disguise, But through this cloud were some that did me know, VVhich then the rest more happie or more wise, Me did relieue when I was driuen low,

Which as the staier by which I first did rise, When to my height I afterward did grow, Them to requite my bounties were so hie, As made my fame through euery eare to flie.

That height and Godlike puritie of minde Resteth not still, where titles most adorne With any, nor peculiarly confinde To names, and to be limited doth scorne: Man doth the most degenerate from kinde, Richest and poorest both alike are borne; And to be alwaies pertinently good, Followes not still the greatnes of our blood.

Pitie it is that to one vertuous man That marke him lent to gentrie to aduance, Which first by noble industrie he wan, His baser issue after should inhance, And the rude slaue not any good that can, Such should thrust downe by what is his by chance: As had not he been first that him did raise, Nere had his great heire wrought his grandsires praise.

How weake art thou that makest it thy end To heape such worldly dignities on thee, When vpon Fortune only they depend, And by her changes gouerned must bee? Besides the dangers still that such attend, Liuel'est of all men purtraied out in mee, When that for which I hated was of all, Soon'st from me fled, scarse tarrying for my fall.

You that but boast your ancestors proud stile, And the large stem whence your vaine greatnes grew, When you your selues are ignorant and vile, Nor glorious thing dare actually pursue, That all good spirits would vtterly exile, Doubting their worth should else discouer you, Giuing your selues vnto ignoble things; Base I proclaime you though deriu'd from Kings.

Vertue but poore, God in this earth doth place Gainst the rude world to stand vp in his right, To suffer sad affliction and disgrace, Not ceasing to pursue her with despight: Yet when of all she is accounted base, And seeming in most miserable plight, Out of her power new life to her doth take, Least then dismai'd when all do her forsake.

That is the man of an vndaunted spirit, For her deare sake that offereth him to dye, For whom, when him the world doth disinherit, Looketh vpon it with a pleased eye, What's done for vertue thinking it doth merit, Daring the proudest menaces defie, More worth then life, how ere the base world rate him, Belou'd of heauen, although the earth doth hate him.

Iniurious time, vnto the good vniust, O how may weake posteritie suppose Euer to haue their merit from the dust, Gainst them thy partialitie that knowes! To thy report ô who shall euer trust, Triumphant arches building vnto those Allow'd the longest memorie to haue, That were the most vnworthie of a graue?

But my cleere mettle had that powerfull heat, As it not turn'd with all that Fortune could: Nor when the world me terriblest did threat, Could that place win which my hie thoughts did hold, That waxed still more prosperously great, The more the world me stroue to haue control'd, On my owne Columnes constantly to stand, Without the false helpe of anothers hand.

My youthfull course thus wisely did I steere, T'auoid those rockes my wracke that else did thret: Yet some faire hopes from farre did still appeere, If that too much my wants me did not let:

Wherefore my selfe aboue my selfe to beare, Still as I grew I knowledge stroue to get, To perfect that which in the Embryon was, Whose birth I found time well might bring to passe.

But when my meanes to faile me I did finde, My selfe to trauell presently betooke, As much distastfull to my noble minde, That the vile world into my wants should looke, And of my selfe industriously inclinde, To measure others actions with my booke, I might my iudgement rectifie thereby, In matters that were difficult and hie.

When loe it hapt that fortune as my guide, Of me did with such prouidence dispose, That th' English Merchants then who did reside At Antwerpe, me their Secretarie chose, (As though in me to manifest her pride) Whence to those principalities I rose, To pluck me downe, whence afterward she fear'd Beyond her power that almost she had rear'd.

When first the wealthie Netherlands me traind In wise commerce most proper to the place, And from my countrie carefully me wain'd, That with the world did chiefly winne me grace, Where great experience happily I gaind; Yet here I seem'd but tutor'd for a space, For hie imploiment otherwise ordaind, Till which the time I idely entertaind.

For hauing Boston businesse in hand, The charge thereof on Chambers being laid, Comming to Flanders hapt to vnderstand Of me whom he requested him to aid; Of which when I the benefit had scand, Weighing what time at Antwerpe I had staid, Quickly me wonne faire Italy to trie, Vnder a cheerefull and more luckie skie:

For what the meanest cleerely makes to shine, Youth, wit, and courage, all in me concurre In euery proiect, that so powerfull trine By whose kind working brauely I did sturre, Which to each hie and glorious designe (The time could offer) freely did me spurre, As forcing fate some new thing to prepare (Shewing successe) t'attempt that could me dare:

Where now my spirit got roomth it selfe to show, To the fair'st pitch doth make a gallant flight, From things that too much earthly were and low, Strongly attracted by a genuine light, Where higher still it euery day did grow; And being in so excellent a plight, Crau'd but occasion happily to proue How much it sate each vulgar spirit aboue.

The good successe th' affaires of England found, Much prais'd the choice of me that had been made: For where most men the depth durst hardly sound, I held it nothing boldly through to wade My selfe, and through the strait'st waies I woond. So could I act, so well I could perswade As meerely Iouiall, me to mirth applie, Compos'd of freedome and alacritie.

Not long it was ere Rome of me did ring (Hardly shall Rome so full daies see again) Of freemens catches to the Pope I sing, Which wan much licence to my countrimen, Thither the which I was the first did bring, That were vnknowne to Italy till then: Light humours them when iudgement doth direct, Euen of the wise win plausible respect.

And those from whom that pensions were allow'd, And heere did for intelligence remaine, Vnder my power themselues were glad to shroud, Russell and Pace yea oftentimes were faine,

When as their names they durst not haue auow'd, Me into their societie t'retaine, Rising before me mightie as they were, Great though at home, yet did they need me there.

In forraine parts nere friends I yet forsake That had before been deeply bound to mee, And would againe I vse of them should make, But still my starres command I should be free, And all those offers lightly from me shake, Which to requite I fettred else might bee, And though that oft great perils me oppungne, And meanes were weak, my mind was euer strong.

And those great wants fate to my youth did tie Me from delights of those rich countries driue, Thereby inforc'd with painfull industrie Against affliction manfully to striue Vnder her burthen faintly not to lie, But since my good I hardly must deriue, Vnto the same to make my selfe a way Through all the power against me she could lay.

As a Comedian where my life I led, For so a while my need did me constraine, With other my poore countrimen (that plai'd) Thither that came in hope of better gaine, Whereas when Fortune seem'd me low to tread Vnder her feet, she set me vp againe, Vntill the vse me bad her not to feare Her good and ill that patiently could beare.

Till Charles the fift th' emperiall power did bend Gainst Rome, which Burbon skilfully did guide, Which sore declining Italy did rend; For th' right that him her holinesse denide, Wholly her selfe enforced to defend Gainst him that iustly punished her pride, To which my selfe I lastly did betake, Seeing thereof what Fortune ment to make.

And at the siege with that great Generall seru'd, When he did girt her stubborne waste with steele, Within her walles who well neer being staru'd, And that with faintnes she began to reele, Shewing her selfe a little as she swaru'd: First her then noting I began to feele, She whose great power so far abroad did rome, What in her selfe she truly was at home.

That the great schoole of the false world was then, Where her's their subtill practises did vie, Amongst that mightie confluence of men, French plots propt vp by English policie, The German powers, false shuffling, and agen All countermin'd by skilfull Italy, Each one in possibility to win, Great rests were vp and mightie hands were in.

Here first to worke my busie braine was set, (My inclination finding it to please This stirring world which strongly still did whet) To temper in so dangerous assaies, Which did strange formes of policies beget; Besides in times so turbulent as these, Wherein my studies hopefully did bend Vnto that point the wisest made their end:

And my experience happily me taught Into the secrets of those times to see, From whence to England afterward I brought Those slights of state deliu'red vnto me, In t'which were then but very few that sought, Nor did with th' umour of that age agree, After did great and fearfull things effect, Whose secret working few did then suspect:

When though t'were long it hapned yet at last Some hopes me homeward secretly allur'd, When many perils strangely I had past, As many sad calamities endur'd

Beyond the Moone, when I began to cast By my rare parts what place might be procur'd, If they at home were to the mightie knowne, How they would seeme compared with their owne.

Or if that there the great should me neglect, As I the worst that vainely did not feare, To my experience how to gaine respect In other countries that doe hold it deare, And now occasion seemed to reiect, Whil'st still before me other rising were, And some themselues had mounted to the skie, Little before vnlike to thriue as I.

When now in England Bigamie with blood Lately begot by luxurie and pride, In their great'st fulnes peremptorie stood; Some thereunto that diligently pri'd, Stillie were fishing in that troubled flood For future changes wisely to prouide, Finding the world so rankly then to swell, That till it brake it neuer could be well.

But floting long vpon my first arriue, Whil'st many doubts me seemed to appall, Like to a barke that with the tide doth driue, Hauing not left to fasten it withall, Thus with the time by suffring I doe striue Vnto that harbor doubtfull yet to fall; Vntill inforc'd to put it to the chance, Casting the fair'st my fortune to aduance.

Making my selfe to mightie Wolsey knowne, That Atlas which the gouernment vpstai'd, Which from meane place in little time was growne Vp vnto him, that weight vpon him lai'd, And being got the neerest to his throne, He the more easly the great kingdome swai'd, Leaning thereon his wearied selfe to breath, Whil'st euen the greatest farre sat him beneath.

Where learned More and Gardiner I met, Men in those times immatchable for wit, Able that were the dullest spirit to whet, And did my humour excellently fit, Into their ranke that worthily did get There as their proud competitor to sit, One excellence to many is the mother, Wit doth as creatures one beget another.

This Founder of the palaces of Kings, Whose veines with more then vsuall spirit were fild, A man ordained to the mighti'st things, In Oxford then determining to build To Christ a Colledge, and together brings All that thereof the great foundation wills, There me imploies, whose industrie he found Worthie to worke vpon the noblest ground.

Yet in the entrance wisely that did feare Coyne might fall short, yet with this worke on fire, Wherefore such houses as Religious were Whose being no necessitie require, But that the greater very well might beare, From Rome the Card'nall cunningly did hire, Winning withall his Soueraigne to consent, Both colouring with so holy an intent.

This like a symptome to a long disease Was the forerunner to this mightie fall, And but too vnaduisedly did sease Vpon the part that ruinated all, Which had the worke been of so many daies And more againe, recouer hardly shall: But loe it sunke which time did long vphold, Where now it lies euen leueld with the mould.

Thus thou great Rome here first wast ouerthrowne, Thy future harmes that blindly couldst not se, And in this worke they only were thine owne, Whose knowledge lent that deadly wound to thee,

Which to the world before had they not showne, Nere had those secrets been descri'd by mee, Nor by thy wealth so many from the plow Worne those hie types wherein they florish now.

After when as the Cardinall againe Into hie fauour with the King mee brought, VVith whom my selfe so well I did demeane, As that I seem'd to exercise his thought, And his great liking strongly did retaine With what before my Master me had taught, From whose example by those Cels were small Sprang the subuersion lastly of them all.

Yet many a let was cast into the way, VVherein I ran so steddily and right, And many a snare my aduersaries lay, Much wrought they with their power much with their slight, Wisely perceiuing that my smallest stay Fully requir'd the vtmost of their might, To my ascendant hasting me to clime, There as the first predomining the time,

Knowing what wealth me earnestly did wooe, VVhich I through Wolsey hapned had to finde, And could the path most perfectly vntoo, The King thereafter earnestly inclin'd, Seeing besides what after I might doe If so great power mee fully were assign'd, By all their meanes against me strongly wrought, Lab'ring as fast to bring their Church to nought.

Whil'st to the King continually I sue, And in this businesse faithfully did stirre Strongly t'approue my iudgement to be true Gainst those who most supposed me to erre, Nor the least meanes which any way I knew Might grace me, or my purposes preferre Did I omit, till wonne I had his eare, Most that me mark'd when least he seem'd to heare.

This wound to them thus violently giuen, Enuie at me her sharpest darts doth roue, Affecting the supremacie of heauen, As the first Giants warring against Ioue, Heap'd hils on hils, the Gods till they had driuen The meanest shapes of earthly things to proue: So must I shift from them against me rose, Mortall their hate, as mightie were my foes.

But their great force against me wholly bent Preuail'd vpon my purposes so farre, That I my ruine scarsely could preuent, So momentarie worldly fauours are, That till the vtmost of their spight was spent, Had not my spirit maintain'd a manly warre, Risen they had when laid I had been low, Vpon whose ruine after I did grow.

When the great King their strange reports that tooke That as pernitious as they potent were, Which at the faire growth of my fortune strooke, Whose deadly malice blame me not to feare, Me at the first so violently shooke, That they this frame were likely downe to beare, If resolution with a setled brow Had not vpheld my peremptorie vow.

Yet these encounters thrust me not awry, Nor could my courses force me to forsake, After this shipwrack I againe must trie Some happier voiage hopefull still to make, The plots that barren long we see did lie, Some fitting season plentifully take, One fruitfull haruest frankly doth restore What many winters hindred had before.

That to account I strictly call my wit How it this while had managed my state, My soule in counsell summoning to sit, If possible to turne the course of fate,

For waies there be the greatest things to hit, If men could find the peremptorie gate, And since I once was got so neere the brinke More then before, t'would grieue me now to sinke.

Bedford whose life (some said) that I had sau'd In Italy, one me that fauoured most, And reuerend Hayles who but occasion crau'd To shew his loue, no lesse that I had cost, VVho to the King perceiuing me disgrac'd, VVhose fauour I vnluckily had lost, Both with him great, a foot set in withall If not to stay, to qualifie my fall.

High their regard, yet higher was their hap, Well neere quite sunke recouer me that could, And once more get me into Fortunes lap, VVhich well my selfe might teach me there to hold, Escap'd out of so dangerous a trap, VVhose praise by me to ages shall be told, As the two props by which I only rose, VVhen most supprest, most trod on by my foes.

This me to vrge the premunire wonne, Ordain'd in matters dangerous and hie, In t'which the heedlesse Prelacie were runne, That backe vnto the Papacie did flie, Sworne to that sea, and what before was done Due to the King, dispensed were thereby, In t'which first entring offred me the meane That to throw downe alreadie that did leane.

This was to me that ouerflowing fourse, From whence his bounties plentifully spring, VVhose speedie current with vnusuall force Bare me into the bosome of the King, By putting him into that readie course VVhich soone to passe his purposes might bring, Where those which late emperiously control'd me Pale strooke with feare stood trembling to behold me.

When state to me those ceremonies show'd That to so great a fauorite were due, And Fortune still with honors did me load, As though no meane she in my rising knew, Or heauen to me more then to man had ow'd, (What to the world vnheard of was and new) And was to other sparing of her store Till she could giue, or aske I could no more.

Those high preferments he vpon me laid, Might make the world me publikely to know Such as in iudgement rightly being wai'd, Seemed too great for me to vndergo, Nor could his hand from powring on be stai'd Vntill I so abundantly did flow, That looking downe whence lately I was cloame, Danger bid feare if further I should roame.

For first from Knighthood rising in degree, The office of the Iewell house my lot, After the Roles he frankely gaue to mee, From whence a priuie Counseller I got, Chose of the Garter: and the Earle to bee Of Essex: yet sufficient these not But to the great Vicegerencie I grew, Being a title as supreame as new.

So well did me these dignities befit, And honor so me euery way became, As more then man I had been made for it, Or as from me it had deriu'd the name: Where was that man whose loue I not requit Beyond his owne imaginarie aime, Which had me succour'd neerely being driuen As things to me that idlely were not giuen?

What tongue so slow the tale shall not report Of hospitable Friscobald and mee, And shew in how reciprocall a sort My thankes did with his courtesie agree,

When as my meanes in Italy were short That me relieu'd, lesse great that would not bee, When I of England Chancellor was made, His former bounties librally repai'd?

The maner briefly gentler Muse relate, Since oft before it wisely hath been told, The sudden change of vnauoided fate, That famous Merchant reuerend Friscobald Grew poore, and the small remnant of his state Was certaine goods to England he had sold, Which in the hands of Creditors but bad, Small hope to get, yet lesser meanes he had.

Hither his wants him forciblie constrain'd, Though with long trauell both by land and seas, Led by this hope that only now remain'd, Whereon his fortune finally he laies, And if he found that friendship heere were fain'd, Yet at the worst it better should him please, Farre out of sight to perish heere vnknowne, Then vnrelieu'd be pitied of his owne.

It chanc'd as I toward Westmister did ride, Mongst the great concourse passing to and fro, An aged man I happily espide, Whose outward looks much inward griefe did show, Which made me note him, and the more I ey'd Him, me thought more precisely I should know, Reuoluing long it came into my mind, This was the man to me had been so kind:

Was there withall so ioyed with his sight, (With the deare sight of his so reuerend face) That I could scarcely keepe me from t'alight, And in mine armes him openly embrace; Weighing yet (well) what some imagine might, He being a stranger and the publike place Checkt my affection, till some fitter hower On him my loue effectually might shower.

Neuer, quoth I, was Fortune so vniust As to do wrong vnto thy noble hart, VVhat man so wicked could betray the trust Of one so vpright of so good desart? And though obey necessitie thou must, As when the great'st the same to me thou art, Let me alone the last be left of all, That from the rest declin'd not with thy fall.

And calling to a Gentleman of mine, VVise and discreet that well I knew to bee, Shew'd him that stranger, whose deiected eyne Fixt on the earth nere once lookt vp at mee, Bid yonder man come home to me and dine (Quoth I) bespeake him reuerently (you see) Scorne not his habit, little canst thou tell How rich a mind in those meane rags doth dwell.

He with my name that kindly did him greete, Slowly cast vp his deadly-mouing eye, That long time had been fixed on his feete, To looke no higher then his miserie, Thinking him more calamitie did greete, Or that I had supposed him some spye, VVith a deepe sigh that from his heart he drew, Quoth he, his will accomplisht be by you.

My man departed and the message done, He whose sad heart with strange impressions strooke, To thinke vpon this accident begun, And on himselfe suspitiously to looke, Into all doubts he fearefully doth run, Oft himselfe cheering, oft himselfe forsooke: Strangely perplext vnto my house doth come, Not knowing why iudg'd nor dreading yet his doome.

My seruants set his comming to attend, That were therein not common for their skill, VVhose vsage yet the former did amend: He hop'd not good, nor guiltie was of ill,

But as a man whose thoughts were at an end, Fortune (quoth he) then worke on me thy will, Wiser then man I thinke he were that knew Whence this may come, or what thereof ensue.

His honored presence so did me enflame, That though being then in presence of my Peeres, Daine not the lesse to meet him as he came, (That very hardly could containe my teares) Kindly salute him, call him by his name, And oft together aske him how he cheares, With still along maintaining the extreame; Yet thought the man he had been in a dreame.

At length t'awake him gently I began With this demaund, if once he did not know One Thomas Cromwell a poore English man, By him relieu'd when he was driuen low: When I perceiu'd he my remembrance wan, Yet with his teares it silently did show: I wept for woe to see mine host distrest, But he for ioy to see his happie guest.

Him to the Lords I publisht by my praise, And at my table, carefully him set, Recounting them the many sundrie waies I was vnto this gentleman in debt, How great he was in Florence in those daies, With all that grace or reuerence him might get: Which all the while yet silently he heares, Moisting (among) his viands with his teares.

And to lend fulnesse lastly to his fate Great summes I gaue him, and what was his due Made knowne, my selfe became his aduocate, And at my charge his creditors I sue, Recouering him vnto his former state: Thus he the world began by me anew, That shall to all posteritie expresse His honored bountie, and my thankfulnesse.

But Muse recount, before thou further passe, How this great change so quickly came about, And what the cause of this sad downefall was, In euery part the spatious Realme throughout, Being effected in so little space, Leaue not thereof posteritie to doubt, That with the world obscured else may bee, If in this place reuealed not by thee.

If the whole land did on the Church relie, Hauing full power Kings to account to call, That to the world read only policie, Besides heauens keyes to stop or let in all, Let me but know from her supremacie How she should come so suddenly to fall: T'was more then chance sure put a hand thereto, That had the power so great a thing to do.

Or ought there were had biding vnder Sunne, Who would haue thought those edifices great, Which first religion holily begunne, The Church approu'd, and wisdome richly seate, Deuotion nourish'd, faith allowance wonne, And all that them might any way compleate, Should in their ruines lastly buried lie, But that begun and ended from the skie?

And the King late obedient to her lawes, Against the Clerke of Germany had writ, As he that first stirr'd in the Churches cause, Against him greatliest that oppugned it, And wan from her so gratefull an applause, Then in her fauour chiefly that did sit, That as the prop, whereon she only stai'th, Him she instil'd Defender of the faith.

But not their power, whose wisdomes them did place In the first ranke, the oracles of state, Who that opinion strongly did embrace, Which through the land receiued was of late,

Then ought at all preuailed in this case, O powerfull doome of vnauoided fate, Whose depth not weake mortalitie can know, Who can vphold what heauen will ouerthrow?

VVhen time now vniuersally did show The power to her peculiarly annex'd, VVith most abundance then when she did flow, Yet euery hower still prosp'rously she wex'd, But the world poore did by loose riots grow, VVhich serued as an excellent pretext, And colour gaue to plucke her from her pride, VVhose only greatnesse suffred none beside.

Likewise to that posteritie did doubt Those at the first not rightly did adore, Their fathers that too credulous deuout Vnto the Church contributed their store, And to recouer only went about VVhat their great zeale had lauished before, On her a strong hand violently lai'd, Preying on that, they gaue for to be prai'd.

And now the King set in a course so right, VVhich I for him laboriously had tract, (VVho till I learn'd him, did not know his might) I still to prompt his power with me to act, Into those secrets got so deepe a sight, That nothing lastly to his furtherance lackt, And by example plainly to him showne, How all might now be easly ouerthrowne.

In taking downe yet of this goodly frame He suddenly not brake off euery band, But tooke the power first from the Papall name, After a while let the Religion stand, When limbe by limbe he daily did it lame, First tooke a leg, and after tooke a hand, Till the poore semblance of a bodie left, But all should stay it, vtterly bereft.

For if some Abbey hapned void to fall By death of him that the superiour was, Gaine that did first Church libertie enthrall, Only supreame, promoted to the place, Mongst many bad the worst most times of all, Vnder the colour of some others grace, That by the slander from his life should spring, Into contempt it more and more might bring.

This time from heauen when by the secret course, Dissension vniuersally began, (Preuailing as a planetarie sourse) I'th Church belieuing, as Mahumitan, When Luther first did those opinions nurse, Much from great Rome in little space that wan, It to this change so aptly did dispose, From whose sad ruine ours so great arose.

That heere that fabrique vtterly did faile, Which powerfull fate had limited to time, By whose strong law it naturally must quaile, From that proud height to which it long did clime, Letting gainst it the contrarie preuaile, Therein to punish some notorious crime, For which at length iust dooming heauen decreed, That on her buildings ruine heere should feed.

Th' authoritie vpon her she did take, And vse thereof in euery little thing, Finding her selfe how oft she did forsake, In her owne bounds her neuer limiting, That awfull feare and due obedience brake Which her reputed holinesse did bring, From slight regard soone brought her into hate With those that much disliked her estate.

And that those parts she cunningly had plai'd, Beliefe vnto her miracles to win, Vnto the world were euery day be wrai'd, From which the doubt did of her power begin,

Damnation yet to question what she said Made most suspect the faith they had been in, When their saluation easly might be bought, Found not this yet the way that they had sought.

When those ill humours ripened to a head, Bred by the ranknesse of the plentious land, And they not only strangely from her fled, Bound for her ancient libertie to stand, But what their fathers gaue her being dead, The sonnes rap'd from her with a violent hand, And those her buildings most of all abus'd, That with the waight their fathers coffins bruis'd.

The wisest and most prouident but build, For time againe too wastfully destroy, The costly piles and monuments we guild, Succeeding time shall reckon but a toy, Vicissitude impartially wild, The goodliest things be subiect to annoy, And what one age did studiously maintaine, The next againe accounteth vile and vaine.

Yet time doth tell, in some things they did erre, That put their helpe her brauery to deface, When as the wealth, that taken was from her, Others soone raised, that did them displace, Their titles and their offices conferre On such before, as were obscure and base, Who would with her they likewise downe should go, And o'rthrew them that her did ouerthrow.

And th' Romish rites that with a cleerer sight The wisest thought they iustly did reiect, They after saw that the receiued light Not altogether free was from defect, Mysterious things being not conceiued right, Thereof bred in the ignorant neglect, For in opinion something short doth fall, Wants there haue been and shall be still in all.

But negligent securitie and ease Vnbridled sensualitie begat, That only sought his appetite to please, As in the midst it of abundance sat, The Church not willing others should her praise That she was leane, when as her lands were fat, Her selfe to too much libertie did giue, Which some perceiu'd that in those times did liue.

Pierce the wise Plowman in his vision saw Conscience sore hurt, yet sorer was affraid The seuen great sins to hell him like to draw, And to wise Clergie mainly cri'd for aid; Falne ere he wist (whom perill much did awe) On vncleane Priests whil'st faintly he him staid, Willing good Clergie t'ease his wretched case, Whom these strong Giants hotly had in chase.

Clergie call'd Friers which neere at hand did dwell, And them requests to take in hand the cure, But for their Leechcraft that they could not well, He listed not their dressing to endure, VVhen in his eare Need softly him did tell (And of his knowledge more did him assure) They came for gain their end which they did make, For which on them the charge of soules they take.

And voluntarie pouertie profest, By food of Angels seeming as to liue; But yet with them th' accounted were the best That most to their fraternitie doe giue, And beyond number that they were increas'd: If so (quoth Conscience) thee may I beleeue, Then t'is in vaine more on them to bestow, If beyond number like they be to grow.

The Frier soone feeling Conscience had him found, And hearing how Hypocrisie did thriue, That many Teachers euery where did wound, For which Contrition miserably did grieue:

Now in deceit to shew himselfe profound, His former hopes yet lastly to reuiue Gets the Popes letters, whereof he doth shape Him a disguise from Conscience to escape.

And so towards goodly Vnitie he goes, A strong-built Castle standing very hie, VVhere Conscience liu'd to keepe him from his foes, VVhom lest some watchfull Centinell should spie, And him vnto the garrison disclose, His cowle about him carefully doth tie, Creepes to the gate and closely thereat beate, As one that entrance gladly would intreate.

Peace the good porter readie still at hand It doth vnpin, and praies him God to saue, And after saluing kindly doth demand VVhat was his will, or who he there would haue? The Frier low lowting crossing with his hand, Speak with Contrition (quoth he) I would craue. Father (quoth Peace) your comming is in vaine, For him of late Hypocrisie hath slaine.

God shield (quoth he) and turning vp the eyes, To former health I hope him to restore, For in my skill his sound recouerie lies, Doubt not thereof if setting God before. Are you a surgeon, Peace againe replies; Yea (quoth the Frier) and sent to heale his sore: Come neere (quoth Peace) and God your comming speed, Neuer of help Contrition had more need.

And for more haste he haleth in the Frier, And his Lord Conscience quickly of him told, VVho entertain'd him with right friendly cheere: O Sir (quoth he) intreate you that I could To lend your hand vnto my Cosin deare Contrition, whom a sore disease doth hold, That wounded by Hypocrisie of late, Now lieth in most desperate estate.

Sir (quoth the Frier) I hope him soone to cure, Which to your comfort quickly you shall see, Will he a while my dressing but endure; And to contrition therewith commeth hee, And by faire speech himselfe of him assure, But first of all going thorough for his fee: VVhich done (quoth he) if outwardly you show Sound, t'not auailes if inwardly or no.

But secretly assoiling of his sin, No other med'cine will vnto him lay, Saying that heauen his siluer him should win, And to giue Friers was better then to pray, So he were shrieu'd what need he care a pin. Thus with his patient he so long did play, Vntill contrition had forgot to weepe, This the wise plowman shew'd me from his sleepe.

He saw their faults, that loosly liued then, Others againe our weaknesses shall see: For this is sure he bideth not with men That shall know all to be what they should bee: Yet let the faithfull and industrious pen Haue the due merit; but returne to mee, Whose fall this while blind Fortune did deuise, To be as strange as strangely I did rise.

Those secret foes yet subt'ly to deceiue, That me maligning lifted at my state, The King to marry forward still I heaue, (His former wife being repudiate) To Anne the sister of the Duke of Cleaue, The German Princes to confederate, To backe me still gainst those against me lay, Which as their owne retain'd me here in pay.

Which my destruction principally wrought, When afterward abandoning her bed, Which to his will to passe could not be brought, So long as yet I beare about my head

The only man her safetie that had sought, Of her againe and only fauoured, Which was the cause he hasted to my end, Vpon whose fall hers likewise did depend.

For in his high distemprature of blood Who was so great whose life he did regard? Or what was it that his desires withstood He not inuested were it nere so hard? Nor held he me so absolutely good, That though I crost him yet I should be spar'd, But with those things I lastly was to go, Which he to ground did violently throw.

When Winchester with all those enemies Whom my much power from audience had debarr'd, The longer time their mischiefes to deuise, Feeling with me how lastly now it far'd, When I had done the King that did suffice, Lastly thrust in against me to be heard, When all was ill contrarily turn'd good, Making amaine to th' shedding of my blood.

And that the King his action doth deny, And on my guilt doth altogether lay, Hauing his riot satisfied thereby, Seemes not to know how I therein did sway, What late was truth conuerted heresie: When he in me had purchased his pray, Himselfe to cleere and satisfie the sin, Leaues me but late his instrument therein.

Those lawes I made, my selfe alone to please, To giue me power more freely to my will, Euen to my equals hurtfull sundrie waies, (Forced to things that most do say were ill) Vpon me now as violently ceaze, By which I lastly perisht by my skill, On mine owne necke returning (as my due) That heauie yoke wherein by me they drew

My greatnesse threatned by ill-boding eyes, My actions strangely censured of all, Yet in my way my giddines not sees The pit wherein I likely was to fall: O were the sweets of mans felicities Often amongst not temp'red with some gall, He would forget by his ore weening skill, Iust heauen aboue doth censure good and ill.

Things ouer rancke do neuer kindly beare, As in the corne the fluxure, when we see Fill but the straw when it should feed the eare, Rotting that time in ripening it should bee, And being once downe it selfe can neuer reare: With vs well doth this similie agree, (By the wise man) due to the great in all, By their owne weight b'ing broken in their fall.

Selfe louing man what sooner doth abuse, And more then his prosperitie doth wound? Into the deepe but fall how can he chuse That ouer-strides whereon his foot to ground? Who sparingly prosperitie doth vse, And to himselfe doth after-ill propound, Vnto his height who happily doth clime, Sits aboue Fortune, and controlleth time.

Not chusing that vs most delight doth bring, And most that by the generall breath is freed, Wooing that suffrage; but the vertuous thing Which in it selfe is excellent indeed, Of which the depth and perfect managing Amongst the most, but few there be that heed, Affecting that agreeing with their blood, Seldome enduring neuer yet was good.

But whil'st we striue too suddenly to rise By flattring Princes with a seruill tong, And being soothers to their tyrannies, Worke our more woes by what doth many wrong,

And vnto others tending iniuries, Vnto our selues it hapneth oft among In our owne snares vnluckily are caught, Whil'st our attempts fall instantly to naught.

The Counsell Chamber place of my arrest, Where chiefe I was, when greatest was the store, And had my speeches noted of the best, That did them as hie Oracles adore: A Parliament was lastly my enquest, That was my selfe a Parliament before, The Tower hill scaftold last I did ascend: Thus the great'st man of England made his end.

Michael Drayton.

FINIS.