Here begynnethe the boke calledde Iohn bochas descriuinge the falle of princis princessis [and] other nobles tra[n]slated i[n]to englissh by Iohn ludgate mo[n]ke of the monastery of seint edmu[n]des Bury ...

Howe the cruell tyraunt Cyrus delited eu•• slaughter and shedynge of blode & so endyd

HEyre by discent to greate astriages Poorly brought forth as made is mencion And had al asie to his gr••ate encres Holdynge that rigne by iust sucession In longe quyete wihtout rebillyon Tyll tyme he thought in full froworde wise The worlde was small to staunch his couetise

He had an Etyke moost contagious Fretinge vpon him for desire of good A dropsie hatefull and ••urious Of frowarde rage that made his herte wode A w••fuy••••••e ••a••ast to shede mannys blode Which ouer••••horted by fals malencolye His 〈…〉〈…〉 into tyrannye

But whan he presumptuously entende To robbe 〈…〉〈…〉 through his pillage God and fortune made him to descende Full sodenly from his 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••••age 〈…〉〈…〉 was a greate auauntage To 〈…〉〈…〉 of very fo••e and might Though 〈…〉〈…〉 of right

To 〈…〉〈…〉 souereyn••e 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 〈1 line〉〈1 line〉 Aboue sad ••••outh and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Which causeth princes from their estate royall Or they be ware to haue es••deyn fall

For the lordshyp of all as•••• Might nat suffise to cirus gredynesse But thought he wolde conquere ••ithia And there werre to encreace his grete richesse Though he no tytle had of rightousnesse Saue a fals lust wherof men shulde haue ruth That wyll in princes shulde oppresse truth

First this cirus all princes dyd excelle Both in conquest victorye and batayle Of gold and tresoure as bokes him tell Kingdoms to wynne he dyd moost preuayle And yit to vyces dyd his herte assayle First couetise euer to encreace in good With a desire to sh••de mennys blode

With two vices he brenneth euer in one That neuer might from his herte twynne Made a greate arme towarde Septemtrion And cast him proudly to set on and begynne Cithia the myghty londe to wynne Quene thamacis there regnynge as I fynde Whoos kingdome Ioyneth vnto ethiopie in ynde

Toward the partye which is orientall The see of suri••e floweth full plentuus Downe to the see called occidentall And southwarde renneth to Concasus And folke of cythie that ben laborious Which tyle the londe hath nat to their lyuynge But only frutys which from the erth springe

The londe of Cithie is rich for the nonys From greyne and frute a londe full couenable Rich of golde peerle and precious stonys Right comodious and wonder delectable But a greate party is nat habytable The people dredful to belde their mancions For feer of deth bycause of the griffoūs

The noble fame nor the highe renoū Was nat ferre knowe nor Isprad aboute Of Thamaris quene of that rigion Nor of hir noblesse within nor without Tyll that kinge Cyrus with a full greate route Into ••••his gan him proudly dresse The hardy quene to spoyle of hir richesse

But she hir fame more to magnifie Gan in great hast with full rich apparayle Full prudently assemble hir chiualrye And toke a feelde if he wolde hir assayle Redy with him to haue a batayel And of hir meyne like as seyth my boke Vnto hir sonne the thryd parte she toke

And yaue him charge in the same place Him silf that day to acquyte lyke a knyght And for to mete Cirus in the face And no thinge drede with him for to fight But whan kinge cirus of him had a sight Cast him that day the yonge prince oppresse Rather by wyles than manhode or prowesse

First he lete stuffe his large pauilions With greate plente of drinkes delectable Dyuers metes and confeccions Rounde aboute vpon euery table And in his menynge passinge deceyuable Lyke as he had in maner dredfull be Toke all his hoste and gan anone to fle

This yonge prince of menynge Innocent Nothinge demynge as by supposayle But that cirus was with his meyne went And fled for fere he durst him nat assaile And whan he fonde such plente of vetayle He and his knightes thrugh misgouernaunce To ete and drynke set all their plesaunce

They had of knighthode lost all the disciplyne Forsoke mars and put him oute of sight And to Bachus their hedes gan enclyne Gorge vpon gorge tyll it drough to nyght And proude Cirus cam on theym anone right With all his oft they oute of theyr armure On bestyall folke made a disconfiture

Cruell cirus left none alyue Of hygh nor lowe made none excepcion They were to feble ageyne his might to stryue For cheef cause of their destruction Was drunkenesse which voideth all relacion And wise men rehercen in sentence Where folke be dronkyn there is no resistence

And whan this slaughter by relacion Reportyd was and brought to the presence Of Thamaris quene of that region Vnto hir herte it dyd full greate offence But of ire and greate impacience Seynge hir sonne slayne in tendre age For sorowe almoost she fyll into a rage

But for all hir wofull dedly peyne She shewed no tokyn of femynyte But of prudence hir wepyi•• gan restreynt And cast hir pleynly avenged for to be Vpon kinge cirus and on his cruelte Sente out meyne tespien his passage If she him finde might at auauntage

And with hir meyne gan feyne amaner flyght Vp to the mounteynes dredefull and terrible And cirus after gan hast him anone right In hope to take hir if it were possible Amonge which hilles more than it is credyble Been craggy roches moost hidous of enteyle Perilous of passage and vode of all vitayle

And cirus there fyll in greate daungere All vnpurueyed of drogemen or of guyde To fostre his people vitayle was none there Erringe as bestes vpon euery syde And they of cithie gan for him so prouide Wherof their quene god wote was full fayne At greate myscheef that all his men were slayne

None of all was take to raunson Nor he him silf escaped nat hir boundes Such wayte was layde to theyr distruction And he through percyd with many mortall woundes On pecis rent as b••ers been with houndes The quene comaundynge whan he lay thus to torne To hir presence this body to be borne

First she hath charged to smyte of his hede Whan she hath thus the victory of him wonne And in a bath that was all blode rede She ganne it throwe within a lytell tonne And of despyte right thus she hath begonne Moost tirauntly in hir wofull rage To dede cirus to haue this langage

O thou cirus that whilom were so wode And so thrustleugh in thy tyrannye Ageyne nature so to shede mannys blode So wuluysshe was thyn hatfull dropsye That mercy non myght it modefye Thyn etike ioyned gredy and vnstable With thrust of slaughter ••p to be vengeable

It is an horrour in maner for to thinke So greate a prince rebuked for to be Of a woman mannys blode to drinke For to disclaundre his roiall maieste Out gladly euer vengaeble cruelte Bf right requireth with vnware violence Blode shed for blode iustly to recompence

OF mighty cirus the imperiall nablesse Was by a woman vēquesshed and borndoun God made her chastise his furious wodnesse And for to oppresse his famous highe renoun For where vengeaunce hath domynacion In worldly princes playnly to deuise With vnware stroke god can theym well chastise

The ende of cirus can bere full well recorde Howe god withstondith folee that been vengeable Lordship and mercy whan they been at discorde Right wil nat suffre their state to stonde stable And for this cirus was so vnmerciable He with vnmercy punysshed was in dede Deth quyt for deth lo here his fynall mede

In slaughter and blode he dyd him moost delite For in tho thweyne was his repast in dede He fonde no mercy his vengeaunce to respite Where he fonde mater any blode to shede Such ioy he had by deth to se folke blede And for the sight dyd him so moch gode His fatall ende was for to swymme in blode

Lo here thexequies of this mighty kinge Lo here the ende of his estate roiall There were no flawmes nor brondes clere shynynge To brenne his body with fyres funerall Nor obseruaunces nor offringes marciall Nor toumbe of golde with stonys rich and fyne Was none ordeyned that day to make his shryne

Epithaphie there was none red nor sunge Be no poete with their poetries Nor of his triumphes there was no bell rung•• Nor no wepers with subbinge tragedyes None attendaunce but of his enmyes Which of hatred in their cruell rage Cast out his cateyn to bestes moost sauage

Lo here of cirus the fynall auenture Which of all asie was whilom emperoure Nowe lyth he abiect with oute sepulture Of high nor lowe he fonde no better fauour Lo here the fyne of all worly laboure Namely of tyrauntys which list nat god to drede But set their lust to slaughter and blode to shede

Lenuoye.

RIght noble princes concidre in your sight The fyne of Cirus pitous and lamentable Howe god punysshth of equite and right Tyrauntys echone cruell and vengeable For in his sight it is abhomynable That a prince as philosophers write In slaughter of men shulde him silf delite

This sayde cirus was a full manly knight In begynnynge right famous and notable Nature yaue him semlynesse and myght For in conquest was none seen more able Tyll tyrannye the serpent deceyueable Merciles his corage dyd atwyte In slaughter of men whan him gan delite

Wherfore ye princes remembre both day and night Tafforce youre noblesse and make it {per}durable To gete you fauour and loue of euery wight Which shall youre statys conserue and kepe stable For there is conquest none so honourable In gouernaunce as vengeaunce to respite Mercy preferrynge in slaughter nat delite