Englands heroicall epistles. By Michaell Drayton

The Epistle of Rosamond to King Henrie the second.

* The Argument.

Henrie the second of that name, King of England, the sonne of Geffrey Plantaginet, Earle of Aniou, & Maude the Em∣presse, hauing by long sute and princely gifts, wonne (to his vnlawfull desire) faire Rosamond, the daughter of the Lord VValter Clyfford, and to auoyde the danger of Ellinor his iealious Queene, had caused a Labyrinth to be made within his pallace at VVoodstocke; in the center whereof, hee had lodged his beautious paramore. VVhilst the King is absent in his warres in Normandy, this poore distressed Lady, inclosed in this solitarie place, tucht with remorse of conscience, writes vnto the King of her distresse and miserable estate, vrging him by all meanes and perswasions, to cleere himselfe of this infamie, and her of the griefe of minde, by taking away her wretched lyfe.

IF yet thine eyes (great Henry) may endure These tainted lynes, drawne with a hand impure, VVhich faine would blush, but feare keeps blushes back, And therefore suted in dispayring blacke, This in loues name, ô that these lypps might craue, But that sweete name (vile I) prophaned haue;

Punish my fault, or pittie mine estate, Reade it for loue, if not for loue, for hate. If with my shame thine eyes thou faine would'st feede, Heere let them surfeit, on my shame to reede; This scribled paper which I send to thee, If noted rightly, dooth resemble mee: As this pure ground, wheron these letters stand, So pure was I, ere stayned by thy hand; Ere I was blotted with this foule offence, So cleere and spotlesse was mine innocence: Now like these marks, which taint this hatefull scroule, Such the black sinnes, which spotte my leprous soule. O Henry why, by losse thus shouldst thou winne? To get by conquest? to enrich with sinne? VVhy on my name this slaunder doost thou bring, To make my fault renowned by a King? Fame neuer stoopes to things but meane and poore, The more our greatnes, makes our fault the more. Lights on the ground, themselues doe lessen farre, But in the ayre, each small sparke seemes a starre. VVhy on a womans frailetie wouldst thou lay This subtile plot, mine honour to betray? Or thy vnlawfull pleasure should'st thou buy vvith vile expence of kinglie maiestie? T'was not my minde consented to this ill, Then had I beene transported by my will, For what my body was enforst to doe, (Heauen knowes) my soule did not consent vnto; For through mine eyes, had shee her liking seene, Such as my loue, such had my louer beene. True loue is simple, like his mother Truth, Kindlie affection, youth to loue with youth; No sharper corsiue to our blooming yeares,

Then the cold badge of vvinter=blasted haires. Thy kinglie power makes to withstand thy foes, But canst not keepe backe age, with time it growes; Though honour our ambitious sexe doth please, Yet in that honour, age a foule disease. Nature hath her free course in all, and then, Age is alike in Kings, and other men, VVhich all the world will to my shame impute That I my selfe did basely prostitute; And say, that gold was suell to the fire, Gray haires in youth not kindling greene desire. O no; that wicked woman wrought by thee, My temptor was to that forbidden tree; That subtile serpent, that seducing deuill, vvhich bad mee taste the fruite of good and euill: That Circe, by whose magicke I was charm'd, And to this monstrous shape am thus transform'd; That viperous hagge, the foe to her owne kind, That wicked spirit, vnto the weaker minde: Our frailties plague, our natures onely curse, Hells deep'st damnation, the worst euills worse. But Henry, how canst thou affect me thus, T'vvhom thy remembrance now is odious? My haplesse name, with Henries name I found Cut in the glasse with Henries Diamond: That glasse from thence fainc would I take away, But then I feare the ayre would me betray; Then doe I striue to wash it out with teares, But then the same more euident appeares. Then doe I couer it with my guiltie hand, vvhich that names witnes doth against mee stand: Once did I sinne, which memory doth cherrish, Once I offended, but I euer perrish.

VVhat griefe can be, but time dooth make it lesse? But infamy tyme neuer can suppresse. Some-times to passe the tedious irkesome howres, I clymbe the top of Woodstocks mounting towers, VVhere in a Turret secretly I lye To viewe from farre such as doe trauaile by, VVhether (mee thinks) all cast theyr eyes at mee, As through the stones my shame did make them see, And with such hate the harmles walls doe view, As vnto death theyr eyes would mee pursue. The married women curse my hatefull life, VVhich wrong a lawfull bed, a Queene, a wife; The maydens wish I buried quicke may die, The lothsome staine to their virginitie. VVell knew'st thou what a monster I would bee, VVhen thou didst builde this Labyrinth for mee, VVhose strange Meanders turning euery way, Be like the course wherein my youth did stray: Onely a Clue to guide mee out and in, But yet still walke I, circuler in sinne. As in the Tarras heere this other day My maide and I did passe the time away, Mongst manie pictures which we passed by, The silly girle at length hapt to espie Chast Lucrece picture, and desires to know VVhat shee should be herselfe that murdred so; VVhy girle (quoth I) this is that Romaine dame: Not able then to tell the rest for shame, My tougue doth mine owne guiltines betray; VVith that I send the pratling girle away, Least when my lisping guiltie tongue should hault, My lookes should be the Index to my fault. As that life blood which from the hart is sent,

In beauties fielde pitching his Crimson Tent, In louely sanguine sutes the Lilly cheeke, VVhilst it but for a resting place dooth seeke; And changing often-times with sweet delight, Conuerts the white to red, the red to white. The louely blush, the palenes dooth distaine, The palenes makes the blush more faire againe: Thus in my breast a thousand thoughts I carry, vvhich in my passion diuersly doe varry. VVhen as the sunne hales towards the westerne slade, And the trees shadowes three times greater made, Foorth goe I to a little Current neere, VVhich like a wanton trayle creepes heere and there, VVhere with mine angle casting in my baite, The little fishes (dreading the deceit) vvith fearefull nibbling flie th'inticing gin, By nature taught what danger lyes therein. Things reasonlesse thus warnd by nature bee, Yet I deuourd the baite was layd for mee; Thinking thereon, and breaking into grones, The bubling spring which trypps vppon the stones Chides mee away, least sitting but too nie, I should pollute that natiue puritie. Rose of the VVorld, so dooth import my name, Shame of the worlde, my life hath made the same; And to th'vnchast thys name shall giuen bee, Of Rosamond, deriu'd from sinne and mee. The Clyffords take from mee that name of theirs, Famous for vertue many hundred yeeres. They blot my birth with hatefull bastardie, That I sprang not from their Nobilitie; They my alliance vtterly refuse, Nor will a strumpet shall their name abuse.

Heere in the Garden, wrought by curious hands, Naked Diana in the fountaine standes, vvith all her Nimphs got round about to hide her, As when Acteon had by chaunce espvde her: This sacred image I no sooner view'd, But as that meta morphosd man pursu'd By his owne hounds: so by my thoughts am I, vvhich chase mee still, which way so ere I flie. Touching the grasse, the honny-dropping dew, vvhich falls in teares before my limber shue, Vpon my foote consumes in weeping still, As it would say, Why went'st thou vnto ill? Thus to no place in safetie can I goe But euery thing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 giue mee cause of woe. In that faire Casket of such wondrous cost Thou sent'st the night before mine honour lost, Amimone was wrought, a harmelesse maide, By Neptune that adulterous God betrayd; Shee prostrate at his feete begging with prayers, vvringing her hands, her eyes swolne vp with teares; This was not the entrapping baite of men, But by thy vertue gentlie warning then; To shew to mee for what intent it, came, Least I therein should euer keepe my shame. And in this Casket (ill I see it now) VVas loues-loue l-o turnd into a Cowe. Yet was shee kept with Argus hundred eyes, So wakefull still be lunos iealousies; By this I well might haue fore-warned beene, T'haue cleerd my selfe to thy suspecting Queene, vvho with more hundred eyes attendeth mee Then had poore Argus single eyes to see. In this thou righthe imitatest loue,

Into a beast thou hast transformd thyloue. Nay worser farre; (degenerate from kinde) A monster, both in body and in minde. The waxen Taper which I burne by night, vvith his dull vapory dimnes mocks my sight; As though the dampe which hinders his cleere flame, Came from my breath, in that night of my shame, VVhen it did burne as darknesse vglie eye vvhen shot the starre of my virginitie. And if a starre but by the glasse appeare, I straight intreate it not to looke in heere; I am already hatefull to the light, It is enough, betray mee not to night. Then sith my shame so much belongs to thee, Rid mee of that, by onelie murdring mee; And let it iustly to my charge be layd Thy roiall person I would haue betrayd: Thou shalt not neede by circumstance t'accuse mee, If I denie it, let the heauens refuse mee. My lifes a blemish which dooth cloude thy name, Take it away, and cleere shall shine thy fame: Yeeld to my sute, if ouer pitty moou'd thee, In this shewe mercie, as I euer lou'd thee.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Well knewest thou what a monster I would bee, When thou didst builde this Labyrinth for mee.

IN the Cretean Labyrinth a monster was inclosed, called a Mino∣taur, the history wherof is well knowne, but the Labyrinth was framed by Daedalus, w so many intricate waies, y being entred, one could either hardly or neuer return, being in maner of a maze, saue

that it was larger, the waies being walld in on euery side, out of the which Theseus by Ariadnes help (lending him a clue of thred) esca∣ped. Some report that it was a house, hauing one halfe beneath the ground, another aboue, the chamber doores therein so deceit∣fully enwrapped, & made to open so many sundry wayes, that it was held a matter almost impossible to returne.

Some haue held it to haue been an Allegorie of mans life, true it is, that the comparison will hold, for what liker to a Labyrinth then the maze of life? But it is affirmed by antiquitie that there was indeede such a building, though Daedalus beeing a name ap∣plied to the workmans excellencie, make it suspected; for Daedalus is nothing els but ingenious, or artificiall. Heereupon it is vsed a∣mong the auncient Poets for any thing curiously wrought.

Rosamonds Labyrinth, whose ruins together with her well being paued with square stone in the bottom, and also her towre from which the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 did run, (are yet remaining,) was altogether vnder ground, being vanlts arched and waled with brick & stone, almost inextricably wound one within another, by which if at a∣ny time her lodging were layd about by the Queene, she might ea∣sily auoyde perrill imminent, & if neede be, by secrete issues take the ayre abroad, many furlongs round about Wodstocke in Ox∣fordshire, wherein it was situated. Thus much for Rosamands La∣byrinth.

Whose strange Meanders turned euery way.

Maeander is a riuer in Lycia, a Prouince of Natolia or Asia minor, famous for the sinuositie and often turning thereof, rifing frō cer∣taine hills in Maeonia, heereupon are intricate turnings by a trans∣sumptiue and Metonimicall kind of speech, called Maeanders, sor this riuer did so strangely path it selfe, that the foote seemed to touch the head.

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

It might be reported, how at Godstow where this Rose of the world was sumptuously interred, a certaine Bishop in the visitati∣on of his diocese, caused the monument which had been erected to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 honour, vtterly to be demolished, but be that seuere chastise∣ment of Rosamond then dead at this time also ouerpassed, least she should seeme to be the Shame of the world.