Poems: by Michaell Draiton Esquire

❧ The sixth Booke of the Barrons warres.

The Argument.

Lord Mortimer made Earle of March; when he And the faire Queene rule all things by their might, The pompe wherin at Nottingham they be, The cost wherewith their amorous Court is dight, Enuide by those their hatefull pride that see, The King attempts the dreadfull caue by night, Entring the Castell, taketh him from thence, And March at London dies for the offence.

1

INforc'd of other accidents to sing, (Bearing faire showes of promised delight, Somewhat to slacke this melancholie string,) That new occasions to our Muse excite, To our conceit strange obiects fashioning, Doth our free numbers liberally inuite, Matter of moment much to be respected, Must by our pen be seriously directed.

2

And now the time more cuuningly redeeming, These fraudfull courses fitly to contriue, How ill so e're, to beare the fairest seeming, For which they now must diligently striue, Casting all waies to gaine the same esteeming, That to the world it prosprously might thriue, This farre gone on, now with the hand of might, Vpon this wrong to build a lasting right.

3

The pompous Synod of these earthly Gods; At Salsbury selected by their King, To set all euen that had beene atods, And into fashion their dissignes to bring, And strongly now to settle their abodes, That peace might after from their actions spring; Firmely t'establish what was well begunne, Vnder which colour mighty things were done.

4

When Mortimer pursuing his desire, Whilst eu'ry engine had his temperate heate, To b'Earle of March doth suddainely aspire, T'increase the honor of his antient seate, That his command might be the more entire; Who now but onely Mortimer is great? Who knew a kingdome as her lot was throwne, Which hauing all, would neuer starue her owne.

5

Now stand they firme as those celestiall Poles, Twixt which the starres in all their course do moue, Whose strength this frame of gouernement vpholds, An argument their wisedomes to approue. Which way soe're the time in motion roles, So perfect is the vnion of their loue; For right is still most absolute alone, Where power and fortune kindely meete in one.

6

Whilst Edwards non-age giues a further speede, To th'antient foe-man to renew the warre, Which to preuent they must haue speciall heede, Matters so strangely manag'd as they are, Which otherwise, if their neglect should breede, Nothing yet made, it might not easily marre, Which with the most, reseruing their estate, Inforc'd to purchase at the deerest rate.

7

So much t'release the homage as suffic'd, Mongst which that deed namde Ragman, of renown, By which the kings of Scotland had deuisde, Their fealty vnto the English crowne, With other Reliques that were highly prizde, As that which forc'd the greatest part to frowne; Th'blacke Crosse of Scotland (men did omenous deeme) Being a Relique of so hie esteeme.

8

To colour which, and to confirme the peace, They make a marrige twixt the Scot and vs, To giue more strength vnto this strange release, Which vnto all men seemd so dangerous Whilst Roberts raigne, and after his decease, The league might euer be continued thus, Dauid the Prince the Lady Iane should take, which twixt the Realms a lasting bond shuld make.

9

When th'Earle of Kent that being one of those, Which in their actions had a powerfull hand, Perceiuing them of matters to dispose, To the subiection of so great a land, Finding the inconuenience that growes Vnder the guidance of their wilfull hand, To shake their power whilst he strangely doth cast, His fatall end too violently doth haste.

10

Which giuing out his brother yet to liue, (Long now supposed the deceased King) Vnto his nephew might that scandall giue, As into question might his title bring: Ill this report beganne, and worse it thriue, Being so foule and dangerous a thing, Which being the motiue of intestine strife, The time not long ere it bereft his life.

11

Whilst Edward takes what late their power did giue, Whose non-age craues their bountifull protection, Which know to rule whilst he must learne to liue, From their experience taking his direction, Which more and more their doubtfull hopes reuiue, When borne to raigne, yet crownd by their election, Th'allegiance duely dooth to him belong, Now makes their faction absolutely strong.

12

Prouiding for protection of the king, Men of most power, and noblest of the Pecres, That no distaste vnto the realme might bring, For ripened iudgement, or well seasoned yeeres, With comelines all matters managing, Yet whilst they row, tis Mortimer that steeres, wel might we think the man were worse than blind, That wanted sea-roome, and could rule the wind.

13

To smoothe the path wherein this course was gone, Which as a test might to their actions stand, And giue more full possession of their owne, In being receiued from a soucraine band, Into their bosomes absolutely throwne, Both for the good, and safety of the land: When their proceedings colourd with this care, To the worlds eye so faire an out-side bare.

14

All complement that appertainde to state, By giuing greatnes eu'ry honored rite, To feed those eies that did their houres avvaite; And by all meanes to nourish their delight, That entertaining loue, they welcome hate, And vvith free bounty equally inuite, A Princes wealth in spending still doth spred, Like to a brooke with many fountaines fed.

15

To Nottingham the Norths emperious eye, Which as a Pharus guardes the goodly soile, And armd by Nature danger to defie, There to repose him safely after toile, Where treason least aduantage might espie, Closely conuaies this great in-valued spoile: That by residing from the publique sight, He might more freely relish his delight.

16

Nine score in checke attending in their court, Whom honored Knighthood knitts in mutuall bands, Men most select, of speciall worth and sort, Much might they doe that haue so many hands, Who payes not tribute to this lordly port? This hie-rearde Castell eu'ry way commands; Thus like those Giants gainst great heauen they rise, Which darted Rockes at the emperiall skies.

17

It seemes in him Fame meanes hir power to show, And twixt her wings to beare him through the skies, He might more easly see the things below, Hauing aboue them mounted him so hie, Vnto whose will they meckely seeme to bow, Vnder whose greatnes meaner powers doe ••e: All things concurre with faire succeslefull chance, To raise that man whom Fortune will aduance.

18

Heere all along the flower enameld vales, The siluer. Trent on pearly sand•• dooth slide, And to the medowes telling wanton tales, Her Cristall limbs lasciuiously in pride, (As rauished with the enamored gales,) with often turnings casts from side to side, As loath she were the sweete soyle to for sake, And cast her selfe into the German lake.

19

Neare whom; faire Sherwood wildely bent to roue, Twines her loose armes about the flattering Towers, By the milde shadowes of her scattered groue, Lends winter shelter, and giues' summer bowers, As with the flood in curtesie it stroue, And by repulsing the sharpe Northerne showers: Courts the prowd Castell, who by turning to her, Smiles to behold th'lasciuious wod-nymph wo hir.

20

Who being retirde so strictly to this place, To this faire sted the Princes person drawes, When Fortune seemes their greatnes to embrace, That as a working and especiall cause, Effects each formall ceremonious grace, As by her iust and necessary lawes, That in the towne retaines his kingly seate, With Marches Court the Castle is repleate.

21

Occasiond where, in counsels to debate, And by the king conueniently is met, So soueraigne and magnificent in state, As might all eies vpon his greatnesse set, Prizing his honour at that costly rate, As to the same due reuerence might beget, which as the obiect sundry passions wrought, Stirring strange forms in many a wandring thoght.

22

Could blind ambition find the meanest stay His disproportiond and vaine course to guide, Tassure some safety in that slippery way, Where the most worldly prouident doe slide, Feeling the steep fall threatning sure decay, Besotted in the wantonnesse of pride, The minde assuming absoluter powres, Might checke the fraile mortality of ours.

23

But still in pleasure sitting with excesse, His sauory junkett tasted with delight, Ne're can that glutton appetite suppresse, Where eu'ry dish inuites a licorish sight, Nor hauing much, is his desire the lesle, Till tempted past the compasse of his might, The pampered stomacke more than well suffizde, Casts vp the surfet lately gurmundizde.

24

And when som brook from th'ouer moistned ground By swelling waters prowdly ouer slowd, Stoppeth his ••••rrent, shouldrrth downe his mownd, And from his course dooth quite himselfe vnloade, The bordring meddowes eu'ry where surrownd, Dispersing his owne riches all abroade, Spending the store he was maintained by, Leaues his first channell desolate and dry.

25

When now those few that many teares had spent, And long had wept on murthered Edwards graue, Muttring in corners, grieud, and discontent, And finding some a willing care that gaue, Sti•• as they durst, bewraying what they meant, Tending his pride and greatnes to depraue, Vrging withall, what some might iustly do, If things thus borne, were rightly lookt into,

26

Some giue it out, that March by blood to rise, Had cut off Kent, the man might next succeed, And his late treasons falsly did surmise, As a meere colour to this lawlesse deede, That his ambition onely did deuise, In time the royall family to weede, When in account there was but only one, That kept him off from stepping to the throne.

27

And those much busied in the former times, Then credulous that honour was his end, And by the hate they bare to others crimes, Did not his faults so carefully attend, Perceiuing how he desolutely climes, (Hauing thus brought his purpose to an end) With a seuere eye now more strictly looke Into the course that his ambition tooke.

28

All fence the tree that serueth for a shade, Whose large growne body doth repulse the winde, Vntill his wastefull branches do inuade, The straighter plants, and them in prison binde, And as a tyrant to the weaker made; When like a foule deuourer of his kinde, Vnto his roote all put their hands to hew, Whose romth but hinders others that would grow.

29

Thus at his ease whilst he securely sate, And to his will these things assured were, With a wel gouernd and contented fate, Neuer so much freed from suspitious feare, Wel fortifide, and in so good estate, As not admits of danger to be neare, But still we see before a sodaine shower, The sunne shines hotst, and hath the greatest power.

30

Within the Castle hath the Queene deuisde A chamber with choice rarities so frought, As in the same she had imparadizde Almost what man by industrie hath sought, where, with the curious pensill was comprizde, what could with colours by the Arte be wrought, In the most sure place of the Castle there, which she had namde the Tower of Mortimer.

31

An orball forme with pillers small composde, Which to the top like paralels doe beare, Arching the compasse where they vvere inclosde, Fashioning the faire roofe like the hemisphere, In whose partitions by the lines disposde, All the cleere Northerne Asterismes were In their corporeall shapes with starres inchased, As by th'old Poets they in heauen were placed.

32

About which lodgings, towards the vpper face, Ran a fine bordure circularly led, As equall twixt the hi'st point and the base, That as a Zone the waste ingirdled, That lends the sight a breathing or a space, Twixt things neere view, and those farre ouer head; Vnder the which the Painters curious skill, In liuely formes the goodly roome did fill.

33

Heere Phoebus clipping Haycinthus stood, whose liues last drops his snowie breast imbrew, The ones teares mixed with the others blood, That shoul't be blood or teares, no sight could view, So mix'd together in a little flood, Yet heere and there they seu'rally with-drew, The pretty wood-nimphs chafing him with balme, To bring the sweete boy from his deadly qualme.

34

With the Gods Lire, his quiuer and his bow, His golden mantle cast vpon the ground, T'expresse whose geiefe, Art euen her best did show, The sledge so shadowed still seem'd to rebound, To counterfet the vigor of the blow, As still to giue new anguish to the wound, The purple flowre sprung from the blood that run, That opneth since, and closeth with the Sun.

35

By which the heyfer Io, Ioues faire rape, Gazing her new tane figure in a brooke, The water shadow'd to obserue the shape, In the same forme that she on it doth looke: So cunningly to clowde the wanton scape, That gazing eyes, the portrature mistooke, By prospectiue deuisde beholding now, This way a maiden, that way ••t seemde a Cow.

36

Swist Mercury like to a Sheepheards boy, Sporting with Hebe by a fountaine brim, with many a sweete glance, many an amorous toy, He sprinckling drops at her, and she at him; wherein the Painter so explainde their ioy, As though his skill the perfect life could lim; Vpon whose browes the water hung so cleere, As throgh the drops the faire skin might appeare.

37

And Ciffy Cynthus with a thousand birds, whose freckled plumes adorne his bushy crowne, Vnder whose shadow graze the stragling heards, Out of whose top the fresh springs trembling downe, Dropping like fine pearle through his shaggy beards, With mosse and climing Ivie ouer-growne, The Rocke so liuely done in eu'ry part, As Nature could be paterned by Art.

38

The naked Nimphs some vp and downe descending, Small scattering flowers at one another flung, With nimble turnes their limber bodies bending, Cropping the blooming branches lately sprung, (Vpon the briers their coloured mantles rending) Which on the Rockes grew heere and there among; Some combe their haire, some making garlands by, As with delight might satisfie the eye.

39

There comes prowde Phaeton tumbling through the clowdes, Cast by his Palfraies that their raines had broke, And setting fire vpon the welked shrowdes, Now through the heauen run madding from the yoke, The elements together thrust in crowdes, Both Land and Sea hid in a reeking smoke, Drawne with such life, as some did much desire, To warme themselues, some frighted with the fire.

40

The riuer Po, that him receiuing burnde, His seauen sisters standing in degrees, Trees vnto women seeming to be turnde, As the gods turnde the women into trees, Both which at once so mutually that mournde, Drops from their boughs, or tears fell from their eyes, The fire seemde to be water, water flame, Such excellence in shewing of the same.

41

And to this lodging did the light inuent, That it should first a naturall course reflect, Through a short roome into the window sent, Whence it should come expressiuely direct, Holding iust distance to the lineament, And should the beames proport onably proiect; And being thereby condensated and graue, To eu'ry figure a sure colour gaue.

42

In part of which, vnder a golden Vine, Whose broad leau'd brauches cou'ting ouer all, Stood a rich bed, spred with this wanton twine, Doubling themselues in their lasciuious fall, Whose rip'ned clus••ers seeming to decline, VVhereas among the naked Cupids sprawle, Some at the sundry coloured birds do shute, Some swaruing vp to plucke the purple fruite.

43

On which a Tissue counterpoint was cast, Arachnes web the same did not surpasse, Wherein the story of his fortunes past, In liuely pictures neatly handled was; How he escap'd the Tower, in France how grac'd, with stones embroyd'red of a wondrous masse; About the border in a curious fret, Emblems, Empresas, H••••oglifiques set.

44

This flattering calme, congeales that thickned shower, Which the full clowdes of poisnous enuy fed, whose desolution waits th vnhappy hower, To let the fury on his hatefull head, which now was of that violence and power, As his delights yet not imagined, when men suppose in safety most to stand, Then greatest dangers are the neer'st at hand.

45

Yet finding the necessitie is such, To execute what he doth vndertake, And that his crowne it did so neerely tuch, If they too soone his sleeping power awake; Th'attempt was great, the danger was as much, Must secretly prouide some course to take, By which he might th'enterprise effect, And most offend, where he might least suspect.

46

A deepe blacke caue low in the earth is found, whose duskie entrance like pale Morpheus Cell, with strange Meanders windeth vnder ground, where sooty darkenes euermore doth dwell; That with such dread and horror doth abound, As might be deemde an entrance into hell; which Architects to serue the Castell made, Whenas the Dane this Iland did inuade.

47

Now on along this cranckling path doth keepe, Then by a rocke turnes vp another way, Now rising vp, now falling towards the deepe, As the ground leuell, or vnlevell lay; And now direct, now angular doth creepe, Nor in the course keepes any certaine stay, Till in the Castell in a secret place, He casts the fowle maske from his clowdy face.

48

By which the King with a selected crew, Of such as he with his intent acquainted, And well affected to this action knew, That in reuenge of Edward neuer fainted, And to their vtmost zealously pursue, Such, whose cleere blood no time had euer tainted; Aduentures now this labirinth t'assay, To rowze the beast which kept them all at bay.

49

What time the Sunne with this day-laboring teames, Is driuing downe vnto the West apace, T'refresh his cauples in the Ocean streames, And coole the feruor glowing in his face, Which now appeares by his hic-coloured beames, To rest him from our Hemisphere a space, Leauing fowle darkenesse to possesse the skies, The fittest times for bloody tragedies.

50

With torches now attempting the sad caue, Which at their entrance seemeth in a fright, At the reflection that the brightnesse gaue, As till that time it neuer saw the light; Where light and darknesse with the power they haue, Strongly for the preheminence do fight, And each confounding other, both appeare, As to their owne selues they contrary were.

51

The craggy cleeues which crosse them as they go, Make as their passage they would haue denide, And threatning them their iourney to forslow, As angry with the path that was their guide, As they their griefe and discontent would show, Cursing the hand that did them first diuide; The combrous falls and risings seeme to say, This wicked action could not brooke the day.

52

The gloomy lamps this troope still forward led, Forcing shadowes follow on their backe, Are like the mourners waiting on the dead, And as the deede, so are they vgly blacke; Hate goes before, confusion followed, The sad portents of blood-shed, and of wracke; These faint dim-burning lights as all amazed, At those deformed shades whereon they gazed.

53

The clattering armes their maisters seeme to chide, As they would reason wherefore they should wound, And striking with the points from side to side, As though euen angry with the hallow ground, That it this vile and ruthlesse act should hide, whose stony roofe lock'd in their dolefull sound, And hanging in the creekes, draw backe againe, As willing them from murther to refraine.

54

Now waxing late, and after all these things, Vnto her chamber is the Queene withdrawne, To whom a choice Musitian plaies and sings, Reposing her vpon a state of Lawne, In night attire diuinely glittering, As th'approaching of the cheerefull dawne, Leaning vpon the breast of Mortimer, Whose voice more then the musick pleas'd her eare.

55

Where her faire breasts at liberty are let, where violent veines in curious branches flow, where Venus Swans and milkie Doues are set, Vpon the swelling mounts of driuen snow, where Loue whilst he to sport himselfe doth get, Hath lost his course nor findes which way to goe, Inclosed in this Labyrinth about, Where let him wander still, yet ne're get out.

56

Her loose golde haire, O gold, thou arte too base, were it not sinne to name those silke threeds haire, Declining downe to kisse her fairer face, But no word faire enough for thing so faire, O what hie wondrous epethite can grace, Or giue the due praise to a thing so rare! But where the pen failes, pensill cannot show it, Nor can be knowne vnlesse the mind do know it.

57

She laies those fingers on his manly cheeke, The gods pure Scepters, and the dartes of loue, which with a touch might make a tygre meeke, Or the maine Atlas from his place remoue, So so••t, so feeling, delicate, and sleeke, As Nature ware the lillies for a gloue, As might beget life where was neuer none, And put a spirite into the flinty stone.

58

The fire of precious wood the lights perfume, vvhose perfect cleerenesse on the painting shone, As eu'ry thing to sweetnes did consume, Or eu'ry thing had sweetnes of it owne, And to it selfe this portrayed did resume, The smell wherewith his naturall is growne, That light gaue colour on each thing it fell, And to the colour the perfume gaue smell.

59

Vpon the sundry pictures they deuise, And from one thing they to another runne, Now they commend that body, then those eyes, How well that bird, how well that flowre was done, Now this part shadowed, and how that doth rise, This top is clouded, and that traile is spunne, The landskip mixtures, and delineatings, And in that Arte a thousand curious things.

60

Looking vpon prowde Phaeton wrapt in fire, The gentle Queene doth much bewaile his fall, But Mortimer more praising his desire, To loose a poore life, or to gouerne all; And though he did ambitiously aspire, And by his minde is made prowde Fortunes thrall, Yet in despight when she her worst hath done, He perisht in the chariot of the Sunne.

61

The Queene saith Phoebus is much forcde by Arte, Nor can she find how his embraces be, But Mortimer now takes the Painters part, Why thus great Empresse, thus, and thus, quoth he, Thus holdes the boy, thus clips his fainting hart, Thus twine their armes, and thus their lips you sec: You shalbe Phoebus, Hyacinthus I, It were a life thus eu'ry houre to die.

62

By this time neere, into the vpper hall, Is rudely entred this disordered rowt, When they within suspecting least of all, Dischargde the guard that should haue watcht without O see how mischiefe sodainely doth fall, And steales vpon vs, being freest from doubt. How ere the life, the end is euer sure, And oft in death fond man is most secure.

63

Whilst his lou'd Neuill, and deere Turrington, Amongst the Ladies that attended there, Relating things that antiently were done, With such discourse as women loue to heare, Staying delight, whilst time so fast doth runne, Thus in the Lobby as they freely were, Chargde on the sodaine by this armed traine, Both in the entrance miserably slaine.

64

As from the snow-crownd Skidos lofty cleeues, Som fleet wingd haggard towards the euening houre, Stooping amongst the More-bred Mallard driues, And th'aire of all her featherd flockes doth skowre, when backe vnto her former pitch she striues, The feely fowle all prostrate to her powre: Such a sharp shreek doth ring through all the vault, Made by the Ladies at the first assault.

65

March now vnarmde (she onely in his armes, Too faire a shield, not made for fouler blowes) That least of all exspected these alarmes, And to be thus intrapped by his foes, When he is most improuident of harmes, O, had he had but weapons like his woes, Either his valure had his breath redeemde, Or in her sight dide happily esteemde.

66

Amongst the others looking for the king, In this blacke shew that (he assures him) is, Though much disguisde, yet him imagining By the most perfect lineaments of his, Quoth he, the man thee to the Crowne did bring, Might at thy hands the least haue lookt for this, And in this place, vnseeming of the rest, Where onely sacred solitude is blest.

67

Her presence frees th'offender of his ill, And as the essence makes the place diuine, What strong Decree can countermaund the will, That gaue to thee the power that now is thine, And in her armes preseru'd in safety still, As the most pure inuiolable shrine, Though thou thus irreligiously despise, And dar'st profane these halowed liberties.

68

But as when Illion fatally surprisde The Grecians issuing from the woodden horse, Their rage and fury prowdly exercisde, Opening the wide gates, letting in their force, Putting in act what was before deuisde, Without all sence of pitty or remorce, With cries, shreekes, rumors in confused sound, words are broken off, complaints abruptly drownd.

69

Dissolu'd to drops she followes him, O teares, Elixar like turne all to pearle you touch, To weepe with her the building scarce forbeares, The sorrowes that she vttereth are such, Able to wound th'impenitrabl'st eares, Her plaints so piercing, and her woes so much, when with th'abundance words wold hardly come, Her eyes in silence spake when lips were dumbe.

70

Sweete sonne (quoth she) let not that blood be spilt, Once prizd so deere as did redeeme thy Crowne, Whose purity if ••ainted now with guilt, The cause thereof efficiently thine owne, That from the ruines of thy country built, (Razde with dissentions) thy substantiall throne, And broke those bounds thy kingdomes once con∣finde, Into large France, to exercise thy minde.

71

For the deere portion of that naturall blood, Which lends thee heate, and nutriment of life, Be not a nigg••rd of so small a good, Where bounty should be plentifully rife, Begg'd on those knees at which thou oft hast stood, In those armes circles might co〈…〉〈…〉re this strife, O God! that breath from such a bosome sent, Should thus in vaine be prodigally spent.

72

When in this vproare with the sodaine fright, Whilst eu'ry one for ••afety seekes about, And none regarding ••o preserue the light, Which being wasted sadly goeth out, Now in the midst and terrour of the night, At the departure of this armed rowt, The Queene alone (at least if any neare) Her wretched women, yet halfe dead with feare.

73

When horror, darkenes, and her present woe, Begin to worke on her afflicted minde, And eu'ry one his tyranny doth show, Euen in the fulnes of his proper kinde, In such ••x〈…〉〈…〉sse her accusations flow, This liberty vnto their power assignde, Racking her conscience by this torture due, It selfe t'accuse with whatsoere it knew.

74

O God, to thinke (that not an houre yet past) Her greatnes, freedome, and her hopes so hie, The sweet content wherein her thoughts were placde, Her great respect in eu'ry humbled eye, How now she is abused how disgracde, Her present shame, her after misery, When eu'ry woe could by despaire be brought, Presents his forme to her distracted thought.

75

To London now a wretched prisner led, London where oft he triumpht with the Queene; And but for spite of no man followed, Scarcely thought on, who had for many beene, Of all regard and state impou'rished, Where in excesse he often had bin seene: Which at his fall doth make them wonder more, Who sawe the pompe wherein he liu'd before.

76

O misery! where ••nce thou doost infest, How soone thy vile contagion alters kinde, That like a Circe metamorphisest The former habite of the humane minde, That euen from vs doost seeme our selues to wrest, Striking our fraile and fading glories blinde, And with thy vicious presence in a breath, Chain'st vs as slaues vnto pale fainting Death.

77

At Westminster a Parliment decreed, To th'establishing the safetie of the Crowne, Where to his end they finally proceede, All laying hand to dig this mountaine downe, To which Time wills they haue especiall heede, Now whilst the Fates thus angerly doe frowne, The blood of Edward, and the Spensers fall, For their iust vengeance hastily doe call.

78

The death of Kent that foule and loathsome blot, Th'assuming of the Wardes and Liueries, With Ione the Princesse married to the Scot, he summes oft seized to his treasuries, And that by this might well haue beene forgot, The signe at Stanhope to the enemies, Or what else ript from the records of Time, That any way might aggrauate his crime.

79

O dire Reuenge, when thou in time arte rakde, From the r••de ashes which preseru'd thee long, In the dry cindars where it seemde as slakde, Matter to feed it forcde with breath of wrong, How soone his hideous fury is awakde, From the small sparks what flames are quickly sprong, And to that top dooth naturally aspire, Whose weight and greatnes once represt his fire.

80

And what auailes his answer in this case, Which now the time doth generally distast? Where iudgement lookes with so seuere a face, And all his actions vtterly disgrac'd, What fainting bosome giues him any place, From out the faire seate of opinion cast? With pen and incke his sorrowes to deceiue, Thus of the faire Queene takes his latest leaue.

81

Most mighty Empresse s'daine not to peruse, The Swan like dirges of a dying man, Vnlike those raptures of the fluent Muse, In that sweete season when our ioyes began, That did my youth with glorious fire infuse, When for thy gloue at Tilt I prowdly ran; Whereas my start••ing Courser strongly set, Made fire to flie from Hartfords Burgone••.

82

The King your sonne, which hastneth on my death, (Madam) you know I tendred as mine owne, And when I might haue grasped out his breath, I set him gently on his fathers throne, Which now his power too quickly witnesseth, Which to this height and maiesty is growne; But our desert forgot, and he forgiuen, As after death we wish to liue in heauen.

83

And for the sole rule whereon thus he stands, Came bastard William but himselfe on shore, Or borrowed not our fathers conqu'ring hands, Which in the field our ancient ensignes bore, (Guarded about with our well ordred bands) Which his prowd Leopards for their safety wore, Raging at Hastings like that ominous Lake, From whose dread waues our glorious name we take

84

Had I beene chargde vpon mine armed horse, As when I came vnto the walles of Gaunt, Before the Belgike and Burgonian force, There challenging, my Countries Combattant, Borne from my seate in some robustious course, That of my spoiles the enemy might vaunt, Or had I falne vnder my battered shield, And lent mine honour to some conquered field.

85

I haue not followed Fortun like a slaue, To make her bounty any whit the lesse, By my desert her iudgement to depraue, Nor lent me aught I freely not confesse, And haue returnd with intrest what she gaue, A minde that suted with her mightinesse, He twice offends which sinne in flattry beares, Yet eu'ry houre he dies that euer feares.

86

I cannot feare what forceth others quake, The times and I haue tuggd together so, Wonting my way through sword and fire to make, So oft constraind against the streame to rowe, To doubt with Death a couenant to make, When I am growne familiar with my woe: And nothing can th'afflicted conscience grieue, But he can pardon, that doth all forgiue.

87

And thus thou most adored in my heart, Whose thoghts in death my humbled sprite doth raise Lady most faire, most deere, of most desart, Worthy of more than any mortall praise, Condemned March, thus lastly doth depart From her, the greatest Empresse of her dayes: Nor in the dust mine honor I interre, Thus Caesar dide, and thus dies Mortimer.

88

To Nottingham this Letter brought vnto her, Which is subscribde with her Emperious stile, Puts her in minde how once that hand did wooe her, With this short thought to please herselfe a while, Thus sorrow can so subtilly vndooe her, That with such flattery doth her sence beguile. To giue a sharper feeling to that paine, Which her grieu'd heart was shortly to sustaine.

89

Putting her fingers to vnrip the seale, Cleaning to keepe those sorrowes from her eyes, As it were loth the tidings to reueale, Whence griefe should spring in such varieties; But strongly vrg'd doth to her will appeale, When the soft waxe vnto her touch implies, Sticking vnto her fingers bloody red, To shew the bad newes quickly followed.

90

Thus by degrees she easly doth begin, As the small fish plaies with the baited hooke, Then more and more to swallow sorrow in, As threatning death at eu'ry little looke; Where now she reades th'expences of her sin, Sadly set downe in this blacke dreadfull booke, And those deere summes were like to be desray'd, Before the same were absolutely pay'd.

91

An hoast of woes her suddainely assaile, As eu'ry letter wounded like a dart, As though contending which should most preuaile, Yet eu'ry one doth pierce her to the hart, As eu'ry word did others case bewaile, And with his neighbour seemde to beare a part, Reason of griefe each sentence is to her, And eu'ry line a true remembrancer.

92

Greefe makes her reade, yet straitwaies bids her leaue, With which ore-charg'd she neither sees nor heares, Her sences now their Mistris so deceiue, The words do wound her eyes, the sound her eares, And eu'ry organe of the vse bereaues, When for a fescue she doth vse her teares; That when some line she loosely ouer-past, The drops do tell her where she left the last.

93

O now she sees, was neuer such a sight, And seeing, curs'd her sorrow-seeing eye, Yet thinkes she is deluded by the light, Or is abusde by the orthography; And by some other t'is deuisde for spight, Or pointed false, her schollership to try; Thus when we fondly sooth our owne desires, Our best conceits oft proue the greatest liers.

94

Her trembling hand as in a feauer shakes, Wherewith the paper doth a little stirre, Which she imagines at her sorrow shakes, And pitties it, who she thinkes pitties her, Each small thing somwhat to the greater makes, And to the humor something doth infer; Which when so soone as she her tongue could free, O worthy Earle, deere loued Lord quoth shee.

95

I will reserue thy ashes in some Vrne, Which as a relique I will onely saue, Mixt with the teares that I for thee shall mourne, Which in my deere breast shall their buriall haue, From whence againe they neuer shall returne, Nor giue the honor to another graue, But in that Temple euer be preserued, Where thou a Saint religiously art serued.

96

When she breakes out to cursing of her sonne, But March so much still runneth in her mind, That she abruptly ends what she begunne, Forgets her selfe, and leaues the rest behind, From this she to another course doth runne, To be reuengde in some notorious kind: To which she deepely doth ingage her troth, Bound by a strong vow and a solemne oth.

97

For pen and incke she calles her maides without, And the kings dealings will in griefe discouer, But soone forgetting what she went about, She now begins to write vnto her louer, Heere she sets downe, and there she blotteth out. Her griefe and passion doe so strongly moue her: When turning backe to reade what she had writ, She teares the paper, and condemnes her wit.

98

And thus with contrarieties araised, As waters chilnesse wakeneth from a swownd, Comes to her selfe, the agony appeased, When colder blood more sharpely feeles the wound, And griefe her so incurably hath seized, That for the same no remedie is found, As the poore refuge to her restlesse woes, This of her griefe she lastly doth dispose.

99

That now vnkinde King as thou art my sonne, Leauing the world, some legacie must giue thee, My harts true loue the dying March hath wonne, Yet that of all I will not quite bereaue thee; The wrong and mischiefe to thy mother done, I thee bequeathe, so bound that they out liue thee, That as my breast it hourely doth torment, Thou maist enjoy it by my Testament.

100

Henceforth within this solitary place, Abandoning for euer generall sight, A priuate life I willingly embrace, No more rejoycing in the obuious light, To consumate the weary lingering space, Till death inclose me with continuall night: Each small remembrance of delight to flie, A conuertite and penitently die.