The tragicall legend of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed Short-thigh, eldest sonne to William Conqueror. VVith the legend of Matilda the chast, daughter to the Lord Robert Fitzwater, poysoned by King Iohn. And the legend of Piers Gaueston, the great Earle of Cornwall: and mighty fauorite of king Edward the second. By Michaell Drayton. The latter two, by him newly corrected and augmented

THE ARGVMENT OF PEIRS GAVE∣STON.

PEIRS Gaueston, borne in Gascoyne, at a place of that name, his Father a valiant Gentleman and a souldiour, seruing vnder Edward Long∣shancks in his warres, in Fraunce, Scotland, and Wales: This Peirs Gaueston, then bee∣ing a child of singuler beautie and no lesse tow∣ardnesse, was preferd to the place of a Page, to Edward of Carnaruan, the young Prince of Wales: with whom hee became so highlie in fauour, as neuer any thing could remooue his inviolable loue. Gaueston, as he grew in yeers, became most licentious, & by his inticments, drew this toward young Prince, (following this his youthfull Minion) into hate with the Noblemen, and disgrace with the King his Father: who banished this lasciuious corrup∣ter of his Sonne. But after the death of this good King, Edward of Carnaruan comming

to the Crowne, calls him home, creating him Earle of Cornwall, making him Lord Cham∣berlaine, Treasurer & Secretarie, Lord De∣putie of Ireland, and Lord Protector of the Land, in his absence in Fraunce: giuing him the Ile of MAN, with all Queene Elinors dowrie. Hee thus established by the King, becommeth a hater of the Noble men, drow∣ned in pride and ambition, setting mortall de∣bate betwixt the Barrons and the King, who subborned him in all his actions, as a man bewithced by this wicked and vile man. Hee was twice banished the Realme, by meanes of the Barrons who deadly hated him: and yet still the King founde meanes to restore him. At length, the Barrons seeing no remedy, rise in Armes, taking Gaueston at Scarborough in the North, (thether fled as to a refuge frō their furie.) They bring him to Warwicke, where by Guy Beuchamp, the great Earle of Warwicke, he was beheaded at Blacklow bill.

THE LEGENDE OF Piers Gaueston. Entituled To the vvorthie and Honourable Gentleman, Ma. Henrie Cauendish. Esquire.

1

FRom gloomy shaddow of eternall night, Where cole-black darknes keeps his lothsom cel, And frō those ghosts, whose eyes abhor y^e light, From thence I come, a wosull tale to tell: Prepare the Stage, I meane to act my part, Sighing the Scenes from my tormented hart.

2

From Stygian Lake, to gracelesse soules assign'd, And from the flood of burning Acheron, VVhere sinfull spirits, are by fire refin'd, The fearfull ghost of wofull Gaueston: With black-fac'd Furies frō the graues attended, Vntill the tenor of my tale be ended.

3

Wing-footed Fame nowe summons me frō death, In Fortunes triumph to aduaunce my glory, The blessed Heauens againe doe lend me breath, VVhilst I report this dolefull Tragick storie: That soule & body, which death once did sunder Now meete together, to report a wonder.

4

O purple-buskind Pallas, most diuine, Let thy bright Fauchion lend me Cypresse bowes, Be thou assisting to this Poet of mine, And with thy tragick garland girt his browes, Pitying my case, when none would hear me weep, To tell my cares, hath layd his owne to sleepe.

5

You mournfull Maidens of the sacred nine, You Destenies which haunt the shades beneath, To you fayre Muses I my plaints resigne, To you black spirits I my woes bequeath, VVith sable penns of direfull Ebonie, To pen the processe of my tragedie.

6

Drawe on the lines which shall report my life, VVith weeping words distilling from thy pen Where woes abound, and ioyes are passing rife, A verie meteor in the eyes of men, Wherein the world, a wonder-world may see Of heauen-bred ioy, and hell-nurst miserie.

7

Declare my ebb, my often swelling tyde, Now tell my calmes, and then report my showres, My Winters storms, and then my Sommers pride, False Fortunes smiles, then her dissembling lowres, The height wherto my glory did ascend, Then point the period where my ioyes did end.

8

When famous Edward wore the English crowne, Victorious Longshanks, flower of chiualrie, First of his name that raign'd in Albion, Through worlds renown'd to all posteritie: My youth began, and then began my blis, Euen in his daies, those blessed daies of his.

9

O daies, no daies, but little worlds of mirth, O yeeres, no yeeres, time slyding with a trice: O world, no world, a very heauen on earth, O earth, no earth, a verie Paradice: A King, a man, nay more then this was hee, If earthly man, more then a man might be.

10

Such a one hee was, as Englands Beta is, Such as shee is, euen such a one was hee, Betwixt her rarest excellence and his, VVas neuer yet so neere a simpathy, To tell your worth, and to giue him his due, I say my Soueraigne, hee was like to you.

11

His Court a schoole, where Arts were dailie red, And yet a Campe where Armes are exercised, Vertue and learning heere were nourished, And stratagems by souldiers still deuised: Heere skilfull Schoolmen were his Counsailors, Schollers his Captains, Captains Senators.

12

Here sprang the roote of true gentilitie, Vertue was clad in gold, & crown'd with honor, Honor intitled to Nobilitie, Admired so of all that looked on her: Wisdom, not wealth, possessed wisemens roomes Vnfitting base insinuating Groomes.

13

Then were vile worldlings loth'd as filthy toades, And good men as rare pearls were richly prized, The learned were accounted little Gods, The hatefull Atheist, as the plague despised: Desert then gaynd, what vertues merit craues, And Artles Pesants scornd as basest slaues.

14

Pride was not then, which all things ouerwhelms, Promotion was not purchased with gold, Men hew'd their honor out of steeled helms: In those daies fame with blood was bought & sold, No petti-fogger pol'd the poore for pence, These dolts, these dogs, as traytors banisht hence.

15

Then was the Souldier prodigall of blood, His deeds eterniz'd by the Poets pen: VVho spar'd his life to doe his Countrie good, VVhen after death his fame remain'd with men? Then learning liu'd with liberalitie, And men were crownd with immortalitie.

16

Graunt pardon then vnto my wandring ghost, Although I seeme lasciuious in my praise, And of perfection though I vainlie boast, VVhilst here on earth I troad this wearie maze, VVhilst yet my soule in body did abide, And whilst my flesh was pampred here in pride.

17

My valiant Father was in Gascoygne borne, A man at Arms, and matchlesse with his launce, A Souldier vow'd, and to King Edward sworne, VVith whom he seru'd in all his warrs in Fraunce, His goods and lands he pawnd & layd to gage, To follow him, the wonder of that age.

18

And thus himselfe hee from his home exil'd, Who with his sword sought to aduaunce his fame, VVith me his ioy, but then a little chyld, Vnto the Court of famous England came, Whereas the King, for seruice he had done, Made me a Page vnto the Prince his sonne.

19

My tender youth yet scarce crept from the shell, Vnto the world brought such a wonderment, That all perfection seem'd in mee to dwell, And that the heauens me all their graces lent; Some sware I was the quintessence of Nature, And some an Angel, and no earthly creature.

20

The heauens had limm'd my face with such a die, As made each curious eye on earth amazed, Tempring my lookes with loue and maiestie, A miracle to all that euer gazed, So that it seem'd some power had in my birth, Ordained me his Image heere on earth.

21

O beautious varnish of the heauens aboue, Pure grain-dy'd colour of a perfect birth, O fairest tincture, Adamant of loue, Angell-hewd blush, the prospective of mirth, O sparkling luster, ioying humaine sight, Liues ioy, harts fire, loues nurse, y^e soules delight.

22

As purple-tressed Titan with his beames, The sable clowdes of night in sunder cleaueth, Enameling the earth with golden streames, VVhen he his crimson Canapie vpheaueth, Such where my beauties pure translucent rayes, Which cheer'd y^e Sun, & cleerd y^e drouping daies.

23

My lookes, perswading Orators of loue, My speech, diuine infusing harmonie, And every word so well could passion moue, So were my icstures grac'd with modestie, As where my thoughts intended to surprize, I easly made a conquest with mine eyes.

24

A gracious minde, a passing louelie eye, A hand that gaue, a mouth y^e neuer vaunted, A chast desire, a tongue that would not lye, A Lyons hart, a courage neuer daunted, A sweet conceit, in such a cariage placed, As with my iesture all my words were graced.

25

Such was the work which Nature had begun As promised a Iem of wondrous price, This little starre, fore-told a glorious Sunne, This curious plot, an earthly Paradice, This Globe of beauty, wherein all might see An after world of wonders heere in mee.

26

As in th' Autumnall season of the yeere, Some death-presaging Comet doth arise, Or some prodigious meteor doth appeare, Or fearefull Chasma vnto humaine eyes: Euen such a wonder was I to behold, Where heauen seem'd all her secrets to vnfold.

27

If cunnings't pensill-man that euer wrought, By skilfull Arte of secret Sumetrie, Or the diuine Idea of the thought, VVith rare descriptions of high Poesie, Should all compose a body and a minde, Such one was I, the wonder of my kinde.

28

VVith this faire bayte I fisht for Edwards loue, My daintie youth so pleasd his princlie eye: Heere grewe the league, which time could not re∣moue, So deeplie grasted in our infancie, That frend, nor so, nor life, nor death could sunder So seldom seene, and to the world a wonder.

29

O heauenlie concord, musick of the minde, Touching the hart-strings with such harmonie, The ground of nature, and the law of kinde, Which in coniunction doe so well agree, VVhose reuolution by effect doth proue, That mortall men are made diuine by loue.

30

O strong combining chayne of secrecie, Sweet ioy of heauen, the Angels oratorie, The bond of faith, the seale of sanctitie, The soules true blisse, youths solace, ages glorie, And endles league, a bond thats neuer broken, A thing diuine, a word with wonder spoken.

31

With this faire bud of that same blessed Rose, Edward surnam'd Carnaruan by his birth, VVho in his youth it seem'd that Nature chose, To make the like, whose like was not on earth, Had not his lust, and my lasciuious will, Made him and me the instruments of ill.

32

With this sweet Prince, the mirror of my blisse, My souls delight, my ioy, my fortunes pride, My youth enioyd such perfect happines, Whilst Tutors care his wandring yeeres did guide, As his affections on my thoughts attended, And with my life, his ioyes began and ended.

33

Whether it were my beauties excellence, Or rare perfections that so pleasd his eye, Or some diuine and heauenly influence, Or naturall attracting simpathy: My pleasing youth became his sences obiect, Where all his passions wrought vpō this subiect.

34

Thou Arke of heauen, where wonders are inroled, O depth of nature, who can looke on thee? O who is he that hath thy doome controuled? Or hath the kay of reason to vndoe thee: Thy works diuine, w^c powers alone doe knowe, Our shallow wits too short for things below.

35

The soule diuine by her integritie, And by the functious agents of the minde, Cleere-sighted, so perceiueth through the eye, That which is pure and pleasing to her kinde, And by her powrfull motions apprehendeth, That w^c beyond our humane sense extendeth.

36

This Edward in the Aprill of his age, Whilst yet the Crowne sate on his Fathers head, My Ioue with me, his Ganimed, his Page, Frolick as May, a lustie life we led: He might cōmaund, he was my Soueraigns son, And what I said, by him was euer done.

37

My words as lawes, autentique hee allow'd, My yea, by him was neuer crost with no, All my conceit as currant hee avow'd, And as my shadow still he serued so, My hand the racket, he the tennis-ball, My voyces eccho, answering euery call.

38

My youth the glasse where he his youth beheld, Roses his lips, my breath sweet Nectar showers, For in my face was Natures fairest field, Richly adorn'd with beauties rarest flowers, My breast the pillow where he layd his head, Mine eyes this brooke, my bosome was his bed.

39

My smiles were life, and Heauen vnto his sight, All his delight concluding my desire, From mine eyes beames he borrowed all his light, And as a flye play'd with my beauties fire, His loue-sick lips, at euery kissing qualme, Cling to my lips to cure their griefe with blame.

40

Like as the wanton Iuie with his twine, VVhen as the Oake his rootlesse body warmes, The straightest saplings strictly doth combine, Clipping the woods with his laciuious armes: Such our imbraces when our sport begins, Lapt in our armes, like Ledas louely twins.

41

Or as Loue-nursing Venus when she sports VVith cherry-lipt Adonis in the shade, Figuring her passions in a thousand sorts, With sights, & teares, or what else might perswade, Her deere, her sweet, her ioy, her life, her loue, Kissing his brow, his cheek, his hand, & his gloue.

42

My beautie was the Load-starre to his thought, My lookes the Pilot to his wandring eye, By me his sences all sleepe were brought, VVhen with sweet loue I sang his lullaby; Nature had taught my tongue her perfect time, VVhich in his eare strooke dulie as a chime.

43

VVith sweetest speech, thus could I Syrenics, Which as strong Philters youths desire could moue, And with such method could I rethorize, My musick played the measures to his loue: In his faire breast, such was my souls impression, As to his eyes, my thoughts made intercession.

44

Thus like an Eagle seated in the Sunne, But yet a Phenix in my Soueraignes eye, VVe act with shame, our Revels are begun, The wise could iudge of our Catastrophe: But we proceed to play our wanton prize, Our mournfull Chorus was a world of eyes.

45

The table now of all delight is layd, Seru'd with what banquets beautie could deuise, She Syrens sing, and false Calipso playd, Our feast is grac'd with youths sweet Comedies. Our looks with smiles, are sooth'd of euery eye, Carrousing loue in bowles of Iuorie.

46

Fraught with delight, and safely vnder saile, Like flight-wing'd Faucons now we take our scope, Our youth and fortune blow a merry gale, VVe loose the Anchor of our vertues hope: Blinded with pleasure in this lustfull game, By over-sight discard our King with shame.

47

My youthfull pranks are spurres to his desire, I held the raynes which rul'd the golden Sunne, My blandishments were fewell to his fire, I had the garland who so euer wonne: I waxt his wings and taught him art to flie, Who on his back might beare me through y^e skie.

48

Here first that Sun-bright temple is defild, VVhich to faire Vertue first was consecrated, This was the fruit wher-with I was beguild, Here first the deed of all my fame was dated: O me, even here from Paradice I fell, From Angels state, frō heauen, cast down to hell.

49

Loe here the very Image of perfection, VVith the black pensell of defame is blotted, And with the vlcers of my youths infection, My innocencie is besmear'd and spotted, Now comes my night, ô now my day is donne, These sable clouds eclipse my rysing sunne.

50

Our innocence, our child-bred puritie Is now defild, and as our dreames forgot, Drawne in the Coach of our securitie. VVhat act so vile that we attempted not; Our sun-bright vertues fountain-cleer beginning, Is now polluted by the filth of sinning.

51

O wit too wilfull, first by heauen ordayn'd, An Antidote by Vertue made to cherish, By filthy vice, as with a mole art stayn'd, A poyson now, by which the sences perish: That made of force, all vices to controule, Defames the life, and doth confound the soule.

52

The Heauen too see my fall doth knit her browes, The valty ground under my burthen groneth, Vnto mine eyes, the ayre no light allowes, The very wind my wickednes bemoneth: The barren earth repineth at my food, And Nature seemes to curse her beastly brood.

53

And thus like slaues we sell our soules to sinne, Vertue forgot by worlds deceitfull trust, Alone by pleasure are we entered in, Now wandring in the labyrinth of lust, For when the soule is drowned once in vice, The sweet of sinne, makes hell paradice.

54

O pleasure thou, the very lure of sinne, The root of woe, our youths deceitfull guide, A shop where all confected poysons bin, The bayre of lust, the instrument of pride, Inchanting Circes, smoothing couer-guile, Alluring Siren, flattering Crocodile.

55

Our Ioue which sawe this Phoebus youth betrayd, And Phaeton guide the Sun-carre in the skyes, Knew well the course with danger hardly stayd, For what is not perceiu'd by wise-mens eyes; He knew these pleasures, posts of our desire, Might by misguiding set his throne on fier.

56

This was a corsiue to King Edwards dayes, These iarring discords quite vntun'd his mirth, This was the paine which neuer gaue him ease, If euer hell, this was his hell on earth: This was the burthen which he groned vnder, This pincht his soule, & rent his hart in sunder.

57

This venom suckt the marrow from his bones, This was the canker which consum'd his yeares, This fearfull vision, fild his sleepe with grones, This winter snow'd downe frost vpon his haires: This was the moth, this was the fretting rust, VVhich so consum'd his glory vnto dust.

58

The humor found, which fed this foule disease, Most needs be stay'd ere help could be deuis'd, The vaine must breath the burning to appease, Hardly a cure the wound not cauteriz'd: That member now where in the botch was risen, Infecteth all not cured by incision.

59

The cause coniectur'd by this Prodigie, From whence this foule contagious sicknes grue, VVisdome alone must giue a remedie, Thus to preuent the danger to insue: The cause must end, ere the effect could cease, Else might the danger daylie more increase.

60

Now they, whose eyes to death enui'd my glory, VVhose safetie still vpon my down-fall stood, These, these, could comment on my youthfull story, These were y^e Wolues which thirsted for my blood: These all vnlade their mischiefes at this bay, And make the breach to enter my decay.

61

These currs which liu'd by carrion of the court, These wide-mouth'd helhounds long time kept at bay, Finding the King to credit their report; Like greedie Rauens follow for their pray: Despightfull Langton fauorit to the King, This was the Serpent stroke me with his sting.

62

Such as beheld this lightning from aboue, My Princely Ioue from out the ayre to thunder: This Earth-quake which did my foundation moue, This boystrous strome, this vnexspected wonder. They thought my Sunne had been eclipsed quite, And all my day now turn'd to Winters night.

63

My youth embowel'd by their curious eyes, VVhose true reports my lyfe anotomis'd: VVho still pursu'd me like deceitfull spyes, To crosse that which I wantonly deuis'd: Perceiue the traine me to the trap had led, And down they come like hailstones on my head

64

My Sunne eclips'd, each starre becomes a Sunne, When Phoebus failes, then Cynthia shineth bright, These furnish vp the Stage, my act is done, Which were but Glo-worms to my glorious light, They erst condemn'd, by my perfections doome, In Phoebus Chariot, now possesse my roome.

65

The Commons swore, I led the Prince to vice, The Noble-men, said I abus'd the King, Graue Matrons, such as lust could not intice, Like women, whispred of another thing: Such as could not aspire vnto my place, These were subborn'd to offer me disgrace.

66

The staffe thus broke, wheron my youth did stay, And like the shaddow all my pleasures gone, Now with the winds my ioyes fleet hence away, The silent night makes musick to my mone, The tatling Ecchoes whispring with the ayre, Vnto my words sound nothing but dispayre.

67

The frowning Heauens are all in sable clad, The Planet of my liues misfortune raineth: No musick serues a dying soule to glad, My wrong to Tirants for redresse complaineth: To ease my paine there is no remedie, So far despayre exceeds extremitie.

68

VVhy doe I quake my down-fall to report? Tell on my Ghost, the storie of my woe, The King commaunds, I must depart the court, I aske no question, he will haue it so: The Lyons roring, lesser Beasts doth feare, The greatest flye, when he approcheth neare.

69

My Prince is now appointed to his gard, As from a Traytor he is kept from me, My banishment alreadie is prepard, Away I must, there is no remedie: On paine of death I may no longer stay, Such is reuenge which brooketh no delay.

70

The skyes with clouds are all inuelloped, The pitchy fogs eclipse my cheerfull Sunne, The geatie night hath all her curtains spred, And all the ayre with vapours ouer-runne. Wanting those rayes whose cleernes lent me light My sun-shine day is turn'd black-fac'd night.

71

Like to the bird of Leda's Lemmans die, Beating his breast against the siluer streame, The fatall Prophet of his destenie, With mourning chants, his death aproching theame So now I sing the dirges of my fall, The Anthemes of my fatall funerall.

72

Or as the faithfull Turtle for her make, VVhose youth enioyd her deare virginitie, Sits shrouded in some melancholly brake, Chirping fotth accents of her miserie. Thus halfe distracted sitting all alone, With speaking sighs to vtter forth my mone.

73

My beautie sdayning to behold the light, Now weather-beaten with a thousand storms, My dainty lims must trauaile day and night, Which oft were luld in princely Edwards armes. Those eyes where Beautie sat in all her pride, VVith fearefull obiects fild on euery side.

74

The Prince so much astonisht with the blowe, So that it seem'd as yet he felt no paine, Vntil at length awakned by his woe, He sawe the wound by which his ioyes were slaine, His cares fresh bleeding fainting more and more, No Cataplasma now to cure the sore.

75

Now weepe mine eyes, and lend me teares at will, You sad-musd sisters help me to indite, And in your faire Castalia bathe my quill, In bloodie lines whilst I his woes recite, Inspire my Muse, â Heauens, now from aboue, To paint the passions of a princely loue.

76

His eyes about their rowling Globes doe east, To find that Sunne frō whom they had their light, His thoughts doe labour for that sweet repast, VVhich past the day, and pleasd him all the night: He counts the howers, so slolie how they runne. Reproues the day, & blames the loytring Sunne.

77

As gorgious Phoebus in his first vprise, Discouering now his Scarlet-coloured head, By troublous motions of the lowring skies, His glorious beames with foggs are ouer-spread, So are his cheerfull browes eclips'd with sorrow, w^t cloud y^t shine of his youths-smiling morrow.

78

Now showring downe a flood of brackish teares, The Epithemas to his hart-swolne griefe, Then sighing out a vollue of despayres, VVhich only is th'afflicted mans reliefe: Now wanting sighes, & all his teares were spent, His tongue brake out into this sad lament.

79

O breake my hart (quoth he) ô breake and dye, Whose Infant thoughts were nurst with sweet de∣light; But now the Inne of care and miserie, VVhose pleasing hope is murthered by despight: O end my dayes, for now my ioyes are done, VVanting my Piers, my sweetest Gaueston.

80

Farewell my Loue, companion of my youth, My soules delight, the subiect of my mirth, My second selfe if I report the truth, The rare and only Phenix of the earth; Farwell sweet friend, with thee my ioyes are gon, Farewell my Piers, my louely Gaueston.

81

VVhat are the rest but painted Imagrie, Domb Idols made to fill vp idle roomes, But gaudie Anticks, sports of foolerie, But fleshly Coffins, goodly gilded toombs, But Puppets which with others words replie, Like pratling Ecchoes soothing euery lie?

82

O damned world, I scorne thee and thy worth, The very source of all iniquitie: An ougly dam that brings such monsters forth, The maze of death, nurse of impietie, A filthy sinke where lothsomnes doth dwell, A Labyrinth, a Iayle, a very hell.

83

Deceitfull Syren Traytor to my youth, Bane to my blisse, false theese that steal'st my ioyes, Mother of lyes, sworne enemie to truth, The ship of fooles fraught all with gauds & toyes, A vessell stuft with foule hypocrisie, The very temple of Idolatrie,

84

O earth-pale Saturne most maleuolent, Combustious Planet, tyrant in thy raigne, The sword of wrath, the root of discontent, In whose ascendant all my ioyes are slaine: Thou executioner of foule bloody rage, To act the will of lame decrepit age.

85

My life is but a very map of woes, My ioyes the fruit of an vntimely birth, My youth in labour with vnkindly throwes, My pleasures are like plagues that raigne on earth, All my delights like streams that swiftly runne, Or like the dewe exhaled by the Sunne.

86

O Heauens why are you deafe vnto my mone? Sdayne you my prayers, or scorne to heare my misse, Cease you to moue, or is your pitty gone; Or is it you which rob me of my blisse? What are you blind, or wink and will not see? Or doe you sport at my calamitie?

87

O happy climat what so ere thou be, Cheerd with those sunnes the fair'st that euer shon, Which hast those Starrs which guide my destenie, The brightest Lamps in all the Horizon. O happy eyes that see what most I lack, The pride and beautie of the Zodiack.

88

O blessed Fountaine, source of all delight, O sacred spark that kindlest Vertues fier? The perfect obiect of the purest sight, The superficies of true loues desire, The very tuchstone of all sweet conceite, On whom all graces euer-more awaite.

89

Thus whilst his youth in all these storms was tost, And whilst his ioyes lay speechlesse in a trance, His sweet content with such vnkindnes crost, And lowring Fortune seem'd to looke a skance, Too weake to swim against the streamfull time, Fore-told their fall w^c now sought most to clime.

90

Camelion-like, the world thus turnes her hue, And like to Proteus puts on sundry shapes, One hastes to clime, another doth ensue, One falls, another for promotion gapes: Flockmell they swarme like flies about the brim, Some drown, whilst others w^t great danger swim.

91

And some on whom, the Sunne shone passing faire, Yet of their Sommer nothing seeme to vaunt, They sawe their fall presaged by the ayre, If once this Planet were predominant. Thus in their gate they flew with wings of feare, And still with care doe purchase honor deare.

92

Thus restlesse Time that neuer turnes againe, VVhose winged secte are slyding with the Sunne, Brings Fortune in to act another Scene By whom the Plot already is begunne: The argument of this black tragedie, Is vertues fall to raise vp infamie.

93

The brute is blowne, the King doth now pretend, A long-look'd voyage to the Holy-land, For which his Subiects mighty sums doe lend, And whilst the thing is hotly thus in hand, Blind Fortune turnes about her fickle wheele, And breaks y^e prop, which maks y^e building reele.

94

I feare to speake, yet speake I must perforce, My words be turn'd to teares euen as I write, Mine eyes doe yet behold his dying course, And on his Hearse me thinks I still indite: My paper is hard sable Ebon wood, My pen of Iron, and my Inke is blood.

95

Loe here, the time drew on of Edwards death, Loe here the dolefull period of his yeares, O now he yeeldeth vp that sacred breath, For whom the Heauens do shower down floods of teares, For whom the Sun, euen mourning hides his face, For whom the earth, was all too vile and base.

96

May I report his dolefull obsequie, VVhen as my Ghost doth tremble at his name, Faine would I vvrite, but as I vvrite I die, My ioynts apald vvith feare, my hand is lame, I leaue it to some sacred Muse to tell, Vpon whose life a Poets pen might dwell.

97

No sooner was his body vvrapt in lead, And that his mournfull Funerals vvere done, But that the Crowne vvas set on Edwards head, Sing I-o now my Ghost, the storme is gone: The wind blows right, loe yonder breaks my day Caroll my Muse, and now sing care away.

98

Carnaruan now calls home vvithin a vvhile, Whom vvorthy Long-shanks hated to the death, Whom Edward swore should dye in his exile, He vvas as deere to Edward as his breath. This Edward lou'd, that Edward loued not, Kings wils perform'd, & dead mens words forgot.

99

Now waft me wind vnto the blessed Ile, Rock me my ioyes, loue sing me with delight, Now sleepe my thoughts, cease sorrow for a while, Now end my care, come day, farwell my night, Sweet sences now act euery one his part, Loe here the balme that hath recur'd my hart.

100

Loe now my Ioue in his ascendant is, In the Aestiuall solstice of his glorie, Now all the Stars prognosticate my blis, And in the Heauen all eyes may read my storie, My Comet now, worlds wonder thus appeares, Foretelling troubles of ensuing yeares.

101

Now am I mounted with Fames golden wings, And in the tropick of my fortunes height, My flood maintayned with a thousand springs, Now on my back supporting Atlas weight. All tongues and pens attending on my prayse, Surnamed now, the wonder of our dayes.

102

VVho euer sawe the kindest Romaine dame, VVith extreame ioy yeeld vp her latest breath, VVhen from the wars her Sonne triumphing came, And stately Rome had mourned for his death: Her passion here might haue exprest a right, VVhen once I came into the Princes sight.

103

VVho euer had his Lady in his arms, Which hath of loue but felt the miserie, Touching the fire that all his sences warms, Now clips with ioy her blushing Iuorie, Feeling his soule in such delights to melt, Ther's none but he can tell the ioyes we felt.

104

Like as when Phoebus darting forth his rayes, Glydeth along the swelling Ocean streams, And whilst one billow with another playes, Reflecteth back his bright translucent beams, Such was the conflict then betwixt our eyes, Sending forth looks as tears doe fall and rise.

105

It seem'd the ayre deuisd to please my sight, The whistling wind makes musick to my tale, All things on earth doe feast me with delight, The world to me sets all her wealth to sale; VVho now rules all in Court, but I alone, VVho highly grac'd, but onely Gaueston?

106

Now, like to Mydas, all I touch is gold, The clowds doe showre downe gold into my lap, If I but winck, the mightiest are controld, Plac'd on the turret of my highest hap; My Cofers now, euen like to Oceans are, To whom all floods by course doe still repare.

107

With bountie now he franckly seales his loue, And to my hands yeelds vp the Ile of Man, By such a gift his kingly mind to proue, Thys was the earnest where-with he began; Then Wallingford, Queene Elnors stately bower, With many a towne, and many a goodly tower.

108

And all those summs his Father had prepard, By way of taxes for the Holy-land, He gaue me franckly, as my due reward, In bountie thus it seem'd he pleasd his hand, Which made the world to wonder euery howre, To see me drowned in this golden showre.

109

Determin'd now to hoyse my saile amaine, The Earle of Cornwall he created me, Of England then the Lord high Chamberlaine, Cheese Secretarie to his Maiestie: VVhat I deuisd, his treasure euer wrought, His bountie still so answered to my thought.

110

Yet more to spice my ioyes with sweet delight, Bound by his loue apprentice to my pleasure, VVhose eyes still leueld how to please my sight, VVhose kindnes euer so exceeded measure, Deuisd to quench my thirst with such a drink, As from my quill drops Nectar to my inck.

111

O sacred Bountie, mother of Content, Prop of renowne, the nourisher of Arts, The Crowne of hope, the roote of good euent, The trump of Fame, the ioy of noble harts, Grace of the heauens, diuinitie in nature, Whose excellence doth so adorne the creature.

112

Hee giues his Neece is marriage vnto me, Of royall blood, for beautie past compare, Borne of his Sister was this Bellamie, Daughter to Gilbert, thrice renowned Clare, Cheefe of his house, the Earle of Glocester, For princly worth that neuer had his Peere.

113

Like heauen-dy'd Andromeda the faire, In her embrodered Mantle richly dight, With starrie traine inthronis'd in the ayre, Adorns the Welken with her glittering light, Such one shee was, who in my bosome rested, w^t whose sweet loue, my youthful yeres wer fested

114

As when faire Ver, dight in her flowrie rayle, In her new-coloured liuerie decks the earth, And glorious Tytan spreads his sun-shine vaile, To bring to passe her tender infants birth, Such was her beautie which I then possest, With whose imbracings all my youth was blest.

115

Whose purest thoughts, and spotles chast desire, To my affections still so pleasing were, Neuer yet toucht with sparke of Venus fire, As but her breast, I thought no heauen but there, To none more like then faire Idea, she, The perfect Image of pure chastitie.

116

O chastitie, thou gyft of blessed souls, Comfort in death, a crowne vnto the life, VVhich all the passions of the minde controuls, Adorns the mayde and beautifies the wife: That grace, the w^c nor death nor time attaints, Of earthly creaturs making heauenly Saints.

117

O Vertue, which no Muse can poetize, Faire Queene of England which w^t thee doth rest, VVhich thy pure thoughts doe onely exercize, And is impressed in thy royall brest, VVhich in thy life disciphred is alone, VVhose name shall want a fit Epitheron.

118

The Heauens now seeme to frolick at my feast, The Starrs as hand-mayds seruing my desiers, Now loue full fed with beautie, takes his rest, To whom content, for safetie thus retiers: The ground was good, my footing passing sure, My dayes delightsome, and my life secure.

119

Loe, thus ambition creeps into my breast, Pleasing my thoughts with this emperious humor, And with this deuill beeing once possest, Mine ears are fild with such a buzzing rumor, As onely pride my glorie doth await, My sences sooth'd with euery selfe-conceit.

120

Selfe-loue, Prides thirst, vnsatis-fied desire, A flood that neuer yet had any bounds, Times pestilence, thou state-consuming fire, A mischiefe which all Common weals confounds, O plague of plagues, how many kingdōs rue thee? Happy those Empires which yet neuer knew thee

121

And now reuenge which had been smothred long, Like piercing lightning flasheth from mine eyes, This word could sound so sweetly on my tonge, And with my thoughts such stratagems deuise, Tickling mine eares with many a pleasant storie, VVhich promise wonders, & a world of glorie.

122

For now began the bloody-rayning broyles Betweene the Barrons of the Land and me: Labouring the state with Ixion-endles toyles, Twixt my ambition, and their tyrannie, Such was the storme this deliuge first begun, With which this Ile was after ouer-run.

123

O cruell discord, foode of deadly hate, O mortall corsiue to a common weale, Death-lingring consumption to a state, A poysned sore that neuer salue could heale, O foule contagion, deadly killing feuer, Infecting oft, but to be cured neuer.

124

By courage now imboldned in my sinne, Finding my King so surely linckt to mee, By circumstance I finely bring him in, To be an actor in this Tragedie, Perswading him the Barrons sought his blood, And on what tearms, these earth-bred giants stood

125

And so aduauncing to my Princes grace, The baser sort, of factious qualitie, As beeing raised vnto such a place, Might counterpoize the proude Nobilitie, And as my Agents, on my part might stand, Still to support what ere I tooke in hand.

126

Suborning Iesters still to make me mirth, Vile Sycophants, at euery word to sooth me, Time-fawning Spaniels, Mermayds on the earth, Trencher-fed fooles, with flatteries to smooth me, Base Parasits, these elbow-rubbing mates, A plague to all lasciuious wanton states.

127

O filthy Monkies, vile and beastly kinde, Foule pratling Parrats, byrds of Harpie broode, A corasiue to euery noble minde, Vipers, that suck your mothers decrest blood, Mishapen Monster, worst of any creature, A foe to Art, an enemie to nature.

128

His presence grac'd what ere I went about, Best pleasd with that which most contented me, VVhat ere I did, his powre still bare mee out, And where I was, there euer-more was hee, By birth my Soueraigne, but by loue my thrall, King Edwards Idoll all men did mee call.

129

Oft would hee set his crowne vpon my head, And in his chayre sit dovvne vpon my knee, And when his eyes with loue were fully fed, A thousand times hee sweetly kissed mee; When did I laugh, and he not seene to smile? If I but frownd, he silent all the while.

130

But Fortune now vnto my ouer-throw, Intic'd me on with her alluring call: And still deuising how to worke my woe, One baite tane vp, shee let another fall, Thus Syren-like, she brings me to the bay, VVhere long before shee plotted my decay.

131

For now the King to Fraunce doth him prepare, For marriage with the Princesse Isabell, Daughter to Phillip, then surnam'd the faire, And shee, like him, in beautie did excell, Of tylts and tryumphs euery man reports, And the vniting of these famous Courts.

132

To raise me now to honors highest stayre, Hee makes mee Lord-protector of the Land, And placing me in his imperiall chayre, Yeelds vp his Scepter wholy to my hand, Deuising still how hee to passe might bring, That if hee died, I might succeed as King.

133

His treasure now stood absolute to mee, I dranck my pleasurs in a golden cup, I spent a world, I had aboundantlie, As though the earth had throwne her bowels vp. My reckonings cast, my summes were soone en∣roled I was by no man once to controled.

134

Now being got as high as I could clime, And Fortune made my foot-cloth as I gest, I paint mee braue with Tagus golden slime, Because I would enioy what I possest; Alluding still, that he is mad, and worse, Which playes the nyggard w^t a Princes purse.

135

And now the King returning with his traine, I summond all the chiefe Nobilitie, And in my pompe went soorth to entertaine The Peers of Fraunce in all thys ioylitie: Where, in my carriage were such honors placed, As with my presence, all the showes were graced.

136

Guarded with troupes of gallants as I went, The people crouching still with cap and knee, My port and personage so magnificent, That (as a God) the Commons honored mee, And in my pride, loe thus I could deuise, To seeme a wonder vnto all mens eyes.

137

In richest Purple rode I all alone, VVith Diamonds imbrodered and bedight, VVhich like the starrs in Gallaxia shone, VVhose luster still reflecting with the light, Presented heauen to all that euer gazed, Of force to make a world of eyes amazed.

138

Vpon a stately Iennet soorth I rode, Caparizond with Pearle-enchased plumes, Trotting, as though the Measures he had trode, Breathing Arabian Ciuit-sweet perfumes: Whose rarenes seem'd to cast men in a traunce, Praised of England, but admir'd of Fraunce.

139

Like trident-maced Neptune in his pride, Mounted vpon a Dolphin in a storme, Vpon the tossing billows forth doth ride, About whose trayne a thousand Trytons swarme, When Phoebus seemes to set the waues on fire, To shew his glorie, and the Gods desire.

140

Or like vnto the fiery-faced Sunne, Vpon his vvagon prauncing in the West, Whose blushing cheeks w^t flames seeme ouer-run, Whilst sweating thus he gallops to his rest, Such was the glory wherein now I stood, Which makes y^e Barons sweat their deerest blood

141

Foolish Narcissus, with thy selfe in loue, Yet but to be thy selfe thou canst not see, Remoue thy sight, which shall that sight remoue, VVhich doth but seeme, & yet not seeming thee: A shaddow, shaddowed vnderneath a waue, Which each thing can destroy, & nothing saue.

142

Bridle ambition fretting in desire, At least disguise her in humilitie, This were a perfect method to aspire, By certaine rules of grounded policie: The bending knee in safetie still doth goe, When others stumble, as too stiffe to bow.

143

One euill still another doth beget, Pride drawes on vengeance, vengeance, hath no meane, Enuy let in, doth in more mischiefes let, Vaine-glory neuer temperance doth retaine, Chance liues not long, time festeth & time morns Solace and sorrow haue thier certaine turns.

144

Coyne modest temperance, vaile thy saile of state, Paint pale disdaine, and make her louely fayre, In meeknes maske the most distempred hate, Ere sharpest phisick come, mildly prepare, Vse instruments to draw thy purpose on, The surest means, is surel'est built vpon.

145

Vertue and vice, immortall enemies, Both this & that, gainst this and that opposed, Euill and good in contrarieties, One by the other vtterly transposed: Now were the skill to make them both agree, Thys seeming that, that seeming this to bee.

146

Thus when the gallant companies were met, The King heere present with his louely Queene, The Noblemen in comly order set, To heare and see, what could be heard & seene, Loe here that kindnes easly is discride, That faithfull loue which he nor I could hide.

147

Euen like as Castor when a calme begins, Beholding then his starry-tressed brother, With mirth and glee these Swan-begotten twins, Presaging ioy, the one embrace the other: Thus one the other in our armes we fold, Our breasts for ioy our harts could scarcly hold.

148

Or like the Nimph beholding in a VVell, Her deerest loue, & wanting words to wooe him, About his neck with clipped arms shee fell, Where by her faith the Gods conioynd her to him. Such was y^e loue which now by signes we break, Whē ioy had tied our tongs we could not speak.

149

Thus arme in arme towards London on we rid, And like two Lambs, we sport in euery place, VVhere neither ioy, nor loue, could well be hid That might be seal'd with any sweet embrace: So that his Queene might by our kindnes proue, Though shee his wife, yet I alone his loue.

150

The Barrons now ambitious at my raigne, As one which stoode betwixt them and the Sun, They vnderhand pursue mee with disdaine, Playing the game which I before had won, And malice now so hard the bellowes blew, That through mine eares the sparks of fire flewe.

151

VVhere, in reuenge, the tryumphs they deuisd To entertaine the King with wondrous cost, VVere by my malice suddainly surprizd, The charge, their summons, & theyr honors lost; Which in their thoughts, reuenge so deeply raised, As with my blood they vow'd shold be appeased

152

As when within the soft and spungie soyle, The wind doth peirce the intrals of the earth, VVhere hurly burly with a restlesse coyle, Shakes all the Center, wanting issue sorth, Till w^t the tumor townes & mountains tremble, Euen such a meteor doth their rage resemble.

153

Or when the shapeles huge Leuiathan Hath thrust himselfe vpon the sandie shore, VVhere (Monster like) affrighting euery man, Hee belloweth out a fearfull hidious rore, Euen such a clamor through the ayre doth thūder The doleful presage of some fearfull wonder.

154

Thus as a plague vnto the gouernment, A very scourge to the Nobilitie, The cause of all the Commons discontent, The Image of all sensualitie, I was reproched openly of many, VVho pittied none, not pittied now of any.

155

And as a vile misleader of the King, A wastfull spender of his coyne & treasure, A secret thiefe of many a sacred thing, A Cormorant, in whom was neuer measure; I seemed hatefull now in all mens eyes, Buzzing about me, like a swarme of flyes.

156

Light-footed mischiefe, messenger of death, Sharp spur of vengeaunce, piercing edge of hate, Blood poysoning plague, repiner at our breath, Thou foule infector of all humaine state, Post to destruction running on with vs, Night-haunting ghost, our euill Genius.

157

O foule fore-teller of my fouler fall, Still following fury, neuer pyttying fiend, Of my destruction onely principall, Curse of our birth, and Curser of our end; Our frailties scourge, our vices purgatory, Thou fatall worker of our fatall storie.

158

Like as a clowde, foule, darke, and vgly black, Threatning the earth with tempest euery howre, Now broken w^t a fearful thunder-crack, Straight poureth downe his deepe earth-drenching showre, Thus for their wrongs now rise they vp in arms, Or to reuenge, or to amend their harms.

159

The King perceiuing how the matter stood, Himselfe, his crowne in thys extremety, And still the Barrons thirsting for my blood, And seeing now no other remedy, But I some vile vntimely death must die, Or thus must be, exiled presentlie.

160

A thousand thoughts he hammereth in his head, Thinking on this, and now againe on that: As one deuise is come, another fled, Some thing he would, & now he knowes now what. To help me now, a thousand means he forgeth, Whilst still w^t sighs his sorrows he disgorgeth.

161

And for I was his very soules delight, He thought on this, the onely way at last, In Ireland to hide mee out of sight, Vntill these storms were somwhat ouer-past, And in meane time, t'appease the Barrons hate, And so reduce mee to my former state.

162

As one whose house in danger to be burn'd, Which he hath builded with exceeding cost, And all his wealth to earth-pale ashes turn'd, Taking one Iewell which he loueth most, To some safe place doth with the same retyre, Leauing the rest to the mercy of the fire.

163

Or as a Nurse within besieged walls, Dreading each houre the souldiers slaughtring knife VVithin some place as fittest there befalls, Hides her sweet babe, in hope to saue his life, Loe, thus the King prouideth now for me, The ioy and pride of his felicitie.

164

Hee wanted words t'expresse what hee sustaind, Nor could I speake to vtter halfe my wrong, To shew his griefe, or where I most was paind, The time too short, the tale were all too long: Taking my leaue with sighs, away I went, He streams of tears vnto my farewell sen••••

165

Dispatching lookes (Embassadors of loue) VVhich as our posts could goe & soone retire, By whose quick motion we alone might proue, Our equall loue, did equall like desire, And that the fire in which we both did burne, VVas sooner quencht in hope of safe returne.

166

O hope, how cunning with our cares to gloze, Griefes breathing point, the truce man to desire, The rest in sighs, the very thoughts repose, As thou art milde, oh wert thou not a lyer, Faire speaking flattry, subtill soothing guile, Ah how in thee our sorrows sweetly smile.

167

Like to a vessell with a narrow vent, VVhich is fild vp with liquor to the top, Although the mouth be after down-ward bent, Yet is it seene not to distill a drop. Euen thus our breasts brim-full with pensiue care, Stopping our tongues, with griefe we silent are.

168

But when my want gaue breath vnto his mone, And that his teares had now vntide his tongue, VVith drery sighes dispersd and ouer-blowne, Which erst (like Fountains) in aboundance sprung, Vnto himselfe he thus complaines his griefe, Sith now the world could yield him no reliefe.

169

O cursed stars (quoth he) which guide my birth, Infernall Torches, Comets of misfortune, Or Genius here which haunts me on the earth, Or hellish Fiend that doest my woes importune; Fate-guiding Heauens, in whose vnlucky mouing, Stands th'effect of my mishaps approuing.

170

Sky-couering clouds, which thus doe ouer-cast, And at my noone-tide darken all my Sunne, Blood-drying sicknes, which my life doost wast, VVhen yet my glasse is but a quarter runne: My ioy but a phantasma and elusion, And my delights intending my confusion.

171

VVhat Planet raignd in the vnluckie hower, VVhen first I was inuested in the Crowne? Or hath in my natiuitie such power, Or what vile furie doth attend my Throne? Or els, what hellish hags be these that haunt me? Yet if a King, why should misfortune daunt me?

172

Am I a Prince, yet to my people subiect, VVhich should be lou'd, yet thus am left forlorne, Ordaynd to rule, respected as an abiect, Liue I to see mine honour had in scorne? Base dunghill mind, that doest such slauery bring, To liue a Pesant, and be borne a King.

173

The purest steele doth neuer turne at lead, Nor Oake doth bow at euery wind that blowes, Nor Lyon from a Lamb doth turne his head, Nor Eagle frighted with a flock of Crowes: And yet a King want courage in his brest, Trembling for feare to see his woes redrest.

174

It rather fits a villaine then a State, To haue his loue on others lykings placed, Or set his pleasures at so base a rate, To see the same by euery slaue disgraced; A King should euer priuiledge his pleasure, And make his Peers esteeme it as their treasure.

175

Then raise thy thoughts, & w^t thy thoughts thy loue Kings want no means t'accōplish what they would, If one doe saile, yet other maist thou proue. It shames a King, to say, If that I could. Let not thy loue, such crosses then sustaine, But rayse him vp, and call him home againe.

176

Sweet Gaueston, whose prayse the Angels sing, Maist thou assure thee of my loue the while? Or what maist thou imagin of thy King, To let thee lyue in yonder brutish Ile? My deare, a space, this wearie time prolong, He liues, that can, and shall reuenge thy wrong.

177

Thus like a man growne lunatick with paine, Now in his torments casts him on his bed, Then out he runnes into the fields againe, And on the ground doth rest his troubled head. With such sharp passions is the King possest. Which day nor night doth let him take his rest.

178

As Lyon-skind Alcides, when he lost

His louely Hylas on his way from Thrace, Follows y^e quest through many an vnknown Coast, With plaints and out-cryes, wearying euery place, Thus louely Edward fils each place with mone, VVanting the sight of his sweet Gaueston.

179

Thus like a Barge that wants both steere & sailes, Forc'd with the wind against the streamfull tyde, From place to place with euery billow hailes, And (as it haps) from shore to shore doth ryde. Thus doth my case, thus doth my fortune stand, Betwixt the King, and Barrons of the Land.

180

Instruct thy dangers whilst they be but yong, And like a teacher trayne them to obay, That growing cunning as they doe growe strong, They may guide thee with safety on the way. Thus find out wisdoms true mortallitie, Philosophies more deepe Philosophie.

181

VVith sweetest mildnes guide thine humble eye, Thy mind aloft, thy semblance carried downe, Vaine-glory fondly gazeth on the skye, He on the ground that aymeth at a crowne: Thy thoughts & sight not leueld both together, Wher y^u woldst be, thine eie not bending thether.

182

VVith mind more clearer, then with eyes we see, That followed best whose proofe brings cōfidence, Let words vnto thy thoughts but watch-words be, Thy speech no whit alyed to thy pretence; Feed fooles with toyes, but wise-men with regard The breath thou spar'st, for thy aduantage spar'd.

183

The Fates far of fore-seene, come gently neare, Doubt takes sure footing in the slipperest wayes, Sasetie, most safe, when she is kept with feare, And quietnes the only Nurse of ease: Ambition frantick, stabbeth still atthrones, Honour, and enuie, be companions.

184

On this Dilemma stood my tickle state, Thus Pro et contra all men doe dispute, Precisely balanc't twixt my loue and hate, Some doe affirme, some other doe confute: Vntill my King, (sweet Edward now at last, Thus strikes the stroke which makes thē all agast.

185

Now calling such of the Nobilitie, As he supposed on his part would stand, By their consent he makes me Deputie, And being seated thus in Ireland, Of gold and siluer sendeth me such store, As made the world to vvonder more and more.

186

Like great gold-coyning Crassus in his health, Amidst his Legion long-maintayning store, The glory of the Romane Common-wealth, Feasting the rich, and gyuing to the poore. Such was th'aboundance which I then possest, Blessed with gold, (if gold could make me blest.)

187

VVhere, (like Lucullus,) I maintaind a port, As great God Bacchus had been late come downe, And in all pomp, at Dublin kept my Court, As I had had th'reuenewes of a Crowne. In trayne, in state, and euery other thing. Attended still, as I had been a King.

188

Of this my wondrous hospitalitie, The Irish yet, vntill this day doe boast, Such was the bountie of my King to me, His Chequer then could scarce defray the cost. His gifts were great, I ioyd in what he sent, He freely gaue, and I as freely spend.

189

Few daies there past, but some the channell crost, VVith kindest Letters enterlind with loue, VVheras I still receiu'd by euery Post, His Riug, his Bracelet, Garter, or his Gloue: VVhich I in hostage of his kindnes kept, Of this pure loue, which liu'd and neuer slept.

190

VVith many a rich and statelie Ornament, Worne by great Kings, of high & wondrous price, Or Iewell that my fancie might content, With many a Robe of strange and rare deuice. That all which saw & knew this wondrous wast, Perceiu'd his treasure long time could not last.

191

And thus whilst Fortune friendly cast my dice, And tooke my hazard, and threw at the maine, I saw it was but solly to be nice, That chanceth once, which seldome haps againe. I knew such bountie had been seldom seene, And since his time, I thinke hath neuer beene.

192

And now the Barrons which repynd before, Because I was too lauish of the treasure, And saw my wast consuming ten times more, Which doth so far exceed all bonds of measure, This (as a knife) their very hart-strings cuts, And gnawes them like the Collick in the guts.

193

Thus (all in vaine) they seeke to stop the source, For presently it ouer-flowes the bounds, Yet well perceiue, if thus it held his course, No question then, the Common-wealth it drowns; And thus like men which tread an endlesse maze, Whilst Fortune sports, y^e world stands at a gaze.

194

Like Souldiers in a Towne surpriz'd by night, Ouer their heads the houses set on fire, Sure to be slayne in issuing out to fight, Or else be burned if they doe retire: Som curse y^e time, some other blame their fortune, whilst black dispair their deths doth stil importune

195

This gracious King, (which seemd to sleep y^e while) Finding the yron thus fully had his heat, VVith sweet perswasions fitly frames his stile: VVhich in their wits doth such a temper beat, With kindest lookes, & sweetest vowes of loue, As were of force a Rock of flint to moue.

196

His cloudy frownes be turn'd to Sun-shine smiles, And those on whom he lowerd, he friendly graces, Their moody cheere, with sporting he beguiles, His Lyons lookes be turnd to sweet imbraces: That w^t his will, their thoughts seeme to accord, Such is the loue of Subiects to their Lord.

197

O Maiestie, how thy desire commands, How doth thy presence humble euery eye, Thy words, haue words, thy hand, hath many hands And thus with all things hast communitie: How thy great power of gouerning estate Is still imperious ouer loue and hate.

198

And hauing found his kindnes tooke effect, This agent failes not to prefer his sute, Nor day, nor night, once doth the same neglect, Vntill his trauell yields desired fruite: And that the Barrons all with might and maine, Now condiscend to call me home againe.

199

O fraile and slyding state of earthly things, Blind Fortune, chance, worlds mutabilitie, Aduancing Pesants, and debasing Kings, Od hap, good luck, or star-bred destenie Which still doest fawne, and flatter me so oft, Now casts me downe, then sett'st me vp aloft.

200

In all post-hast, the King to Ireland sent His Princely Letters for my safe returne, To England now I must incontinent, It seemes that time all malice hath out-worne. The Coast is cleere, occasion calls away, The gale stands right, & driues me from the Bay.

201

My whistling sayles make musick with the wind, The boystrous waues doe homage to mine eyes, The brutish sort of Eols Imps seeme kind, And all the clouds abandoning the skyes: Now louely Laedas Eg-born twins appeer, Towards Albyons cliues faire Fortune guides my steer.

202

The King is come to Chester, where he lyes, The Court prepared to receiue me there, In all the pomp that wit could well deuise: As since that time was seldome seene else-where. Where setting once my dainty foot on land, He thought him blest w^c might but kisse my hand.

203

In pleasures there we spend the nights and dayes, And with our Reuels entertaine the time, VVith costly Banquets, Masks, & stately Playes, Paynting our loues in many a pleasing rime. VVith rarest Musick, and sweet-tuned voyces, (In which the soule of man so much reioyces.)

204

Like as the famous braue Egyptian Queene, Feasted the Romane great Mark Anthony, VVith Pearl-dissolu'd carrouses, seldom seene, Seru'd all in vessell of rich Iuory: Such was the sumptuous banquets he prepard, In which no cost or curious thing was spard.

205

Or like the Troyan Priam, when as he Beheld his long-lost Sonne returne to Troy, Tryumphing now in all his iolitie. Proud Ilyon smokes with th'o••ges of his ioy, Such are our feasts & stately tryumphs here, VVhich with applauses, found in euery eare.

206

Nothing seene fearefull, we the most might feare, Great'st mists aryse, before the greatest rayne, The water deep'st, where we least murmure heare, In fayrest Cups, men temper deadliest bayne. The nearer night, the ayre more calme and still, The nearer to our deaths, least fearing ill.

207

Short howres work long effects, minuts haue change Whilst pleasure withers, paine more ripe doth groe, Fortune in turning to her selfe is strange, Ioy is forgetfull, weale thinks not of woe. Prosperitie a flatterer is found, Delight is fearelesse, till it feele the wound.

208

The Beast and Bird can prophecie of stormes, The ayre of tempest, doth foretell the eye, And sencelesse things oft Augurs of mens harmes, Stones sore-shew rayne, by their humiditie. They mourne for vs, we not their mourning see, To men without sence, all things sencelesse be.

209

Departing thence from Chesters pleasant side, Towards London now we trauell with delight, VVhere euery Citty likewise doth prouide To entertaine vs, with some pleasing sight: Till all our trayne at length to London comes, Wher naught is hard but trumpets, bels & drums.

210

As when Paulus Aemilius entred Roome, And like great Ione, in stan like tryumph came, Honoured in Purple by the Senats doome, Laden with gold, and crowned with his fame. Such seemes our glory now in all mens eyes, Our friendship honored with applaudities.

211

Or when old Phillips still-vvondred Son, In his vvorlds conquest surfetting vvith spoiles, The scourge of Kings returnes to Babilon, To sport and banquet after all his toiles; Such is our glory in our London Court, Whereto all Nations daylie make resort.

212

The trumpets sound but as in Tragedies, VVhen as the Actors on the Stage appeere, The drums strike Larums to our miseries, The dolefull bells but call vs to our Beere: They be not tryumphs which delight vs so, But noyse, when men to execution goe.

213

Be deafe, nor feele, nor tast, nor smell, nor see, Sencelesse our bodies, sencelesse be our minds, Lets frame our bodies, like our minds to be, And rightly let them be in their owne kinds: Be sencelesse sences, and no pleasures feele, Our minds as sencelesse, as is flint or steele.

214

And thus blind Fortune luls me in her lap, And rocks me still, with many a Syrens song, Thus plac'd me on the Atlas of my hap, From which she means to cast me down ere long; Black vgly Fiend, ô foule mishapen euill, In shew an Angell, but in deed a diuell.

215

Euen as a Lyon got into his pawes The silly Lamb, seemes yet a while to play, Till seeking to escape out of his iawes, This beastly King now tares if for his pray. Thus hauing got me in her armes so fast, Determins now to feed on me at last.

216

Or as the slaughter-man doth fat the beast, Which afterward he meaneth shall be slayne, Before prouided to some solemne feast, The more therby he may increase his gayne, Loe, thus proud Fortune feeds me for the knife, For which (it seemes) she had prepard my life.

217

For thus ere long, betweene the King and me, Euen as before, our Reuels thus begin, And now the Barrons tast their miserie, Opening their eyes which makes them see their sin. The plague once past, they neuer felt the sores, Till now againe it haps within their dores.

218

Times old transgression, light-beleeuing trust, Too late repentance, follies fonds forecast, Our minds foule surfeit, and our humors lust, Our goods consumption, our good fortunes wast. Euen by my spirit, here let your griefes be showne Who haue been gracelesse to foresee mine owne.

219

By patient sufferance, could we midly beare, VVith Fortune yet we equally might share, And ouer-comming that, which all doe feare, By present cure, preuent ensuing care. Vaine sounds of pleasure we delight to heare, But counsell iarre, as discords in our care.

220

The Horse hath raines to rule him in his course, The Ship an Ankor, to with-stand the flood, The wrestler sleight, which counterchecketh force, The battering Engine is by strength with-stood. The Hound a lease, wherby to hold him in, But we no meanes, once to controle our sin.

221

Like as a man made drunk with foule excesse, Drowning his soule in this vile lothlie vice, Once being sober, sees his beastlinesse, Buying repentance with so deere a price? Thus they perceiue the bondage they possest, In condiscending to the Kings request.

222

The damned Furies here vnbong the source, From whence the Lethe of my vertues burst, The black-borne Fates here labour in that course, By which my life and fortune came accurst. My death in that star-guiders doome conceled, Now in the browes of heauen may be reueled.

223

My youth spurs on my fraile vntam'd desire, Yielding the raines to my lasciuious will, Vpon the Ice I take my full careyre, The place too slippery, and my mannage ill: Thus like a Colt, in danger to be cast, Yet still runne on, the deuill driues so fast.

124

Now wandring in a Labyrinth of error, Lost in my pride, no hope of my returne, Of sin and shame my life a perfect mirror, No sparke of vertue once is seene to burne. Nothing there was could be discernd in me, But beastly lust, and sensualitie.

225

Black Hecate chaunts on her night-spell charmes, VVhich cast me first into this deadly sleep, VVhilst fier-eyd Ate clips me in his armes, And hales me downe to the infernall deep: Foule sleep-god Morpheus, curtains vp the light, And shuts my fame in euerlasting night.

226

The fixed starres in their repugnacie, Had full concluded of these endlesse iarres, And Nature by some strange Antipathie, Had in our humors bred continuall warres, Or the star-ceeled heauens by fatall doome, Ordaind my troubles in my Mothers woomb.

227

Some hellish hag in this inchaunted cup, Out of the Tun of pride this poyson drew, And those hote cinders which were raked vp, Into the nostrils of the Nobles blew. VVho now carroused to my Funerall, And (with a vengeance) I must pledge them all.

228

And now brake out that execrable rage, Which long before had boyled in their blood, Which neither time nor reason could aswage, But like to men growne lunatick and vvood. My name and fame, they seeke to scandalize, And roote the same from all posterities.

229

They all affirme, my Mother was a Witch, A filthie hag, and burnt for sorcerie: And I her Sonne, and fitting with her pitch, She had bequeath'd her damned Art to me. This rumor in the peoples eares they ring, That (for my purpose) I bewitcht the King.

230

They say, that I conuayd beyond the Sea, The Table and the tressels of pure gold, King Arthurs reliques, kept full many a day, The which to Windsor did belong of old. In whose faire margent (as they did surmize,) Merlin ingraued many prophecies.

231

Some slaunderous tongues, in spightful maner said That here I liu'd in filthy Sodomie, And that I was King Edwards Ganimed, And to this sinne he was intic'd by mee; And more, to wreck their spightfull deadly teene, Report the same to Isabell the Queene.

232

A Catalogue of tytles they begun, With which I had the Noble men abused, VVhich they auoucht I neuer durst haue done, If by the King I had not been excused. And vrg'd, that he maintaind against the state, A monster, which both God and man did hate.

233

They swore the King subbornd my villanie, And that I was his instrument of vice, The means whereby he wrought his tyranny, That to his chaunce I euer cast the dice, And with most bitter exerations ban, The time in which, our friendship first began.

234

Loe, here drawes on my drery dismall hower, The dolefull period of my destinie, Heere doth approch the black and vglie shower, Hence flowes the Deluge of my misery. Heere comes the clowde y^t shuts vp all my light, My lowring Winter, and eternall night.

235

The angry Barrons now assembled were, And no man left that on my side durst stand, Before the Popes pernitious Legate there They forced me thus to abiure the Land: Vrging the King to further their intent, By solemne oth vpon the Sacrament.

236

Vpon the holy Sacrament hee swears, Although (God knowes) ful much against his will, So ouer-come with silence, sighs, and tears, To make a sword, the which himselfe should kill, And beeing done, (in doing then not long,) He seemes to curse his hand, his hart, his tongue.

237

Like to a man which walking in the grasse, Vpon a Serpent suddainly doth tread, Plucks backe his foote, & turns away his face, His culler fading pale as hee were dead: Thus he the place, thus hee the act doth shun, Lothing to see what hee before had done.

238

Or as a man mistaking a receite, Some death-strong poyson happilie doth tast, And euery howre the vigor doth await, Appald with feare, now standeth all agast, Thus stands he trembling in an extasie, Too sick to liue, and yet too strong to die.

239

Hee takes his Crowne, and spurns it at his feete, His princly roabs hee doth in peeces teare, He straight cōmaunds the Queene out of his sight, He tuggs and rents his golden-tressed haire, He beats his breast, & sighs out pittious grones, Spending the day in tears, the night in mones.

240

Like as the furious Palidine of Fraunce, Forsaken of Angelica the saire, So like a Bedlam in the fields doth daunce, VVith shouts and clamors filling all the ayre, Tearing in peeces what so ere hee caught, VVith such a furie is the King distraught.

241

Or when the wofull Thrace-borne Hecuba, Saw Troy on fire, and Pryams fatall doome, Her sonnes all slaine, her deere Polixina There sacrifized on Achilles tombe, Euen like a Bore her angry tusks doth wher, Scratching and byting all that ere shee met.

242

VVith fearfull visions frighted in his bed, VVhich seemes to him a very thornie brake, VVith vgly shapes which way he turns his head: And when from sleepe he euer doth awake, Hee then again with weeping mournfull cryes, In griefe of soule complains his miseries.

243

Hee wants digestion, and refrains his rest, His eyes ore-watched, like eclipsed sunnes, With bitter passion is his soule opprest, And through his eyes, his braine disolued runnes. And after silence, when with paine he speakes, A suddaine sigh his speech in sunder breakes.

244

Hee starteth vp, and Gaueston doth call, Then stands he still, and lookes vpon the ground, Then like one in an Epileps doth fall, As in a Spasma, or a deadly swound; Thus languishing in paine, and lingring euer, In the Symptoma of this pyning feuer.

245

Like to a flower that droupeth in a frost, Or as a man in a Consumption pyning, Staynd like a cloth that hath his culler lost, Or Poets-worne Lawrell, whē it is declyning, Or like a Peacock washed in the rayne, Trayling adowne his starry-eyed trayne.

246

To Belgia I crosse the narrow seas, And in my breast a very sea of greefe, Whose tyde-full surges neuer giue me ease, For heauen and earth haue shut vp all releefe, The ayre doth threaten vengeance for my crime, Clotho drawes out the thred of all my time.

247

Like as that wicked brother-killing Caine, Flying the presence of his mighty God, Accurst to die, forbidden to bee slaine, A vagabond, and wandring still abroade. In Flaunders thus I trauell all alone, Still seeking rest, yet restles finding none.

248

Or as the Monarch of great Babylon, VVhose monstrous pride the Lord did so detest, As he out-cast him from his princly throne, And in the field hee wandred like a beast: Companion with the Oxe and lothlie Asse, Staru'd with the cold, and feeding on the grasse.

249

Thus doe I change my habite and my name, From place to place I passe vnknowne of any, But swift report so farre had spred my fame, I heare my life and youth contrould of many; The bouzing Flemings in their boistrous tongue Still talking on me as I passe along.

250

O wretched, vile, and miserable man, Besotted so with worldy vanitie, VVhen as thy life is but a very span, Yet euerie howre full of calamities; Begot in sinne, and following still the game, Lyuing in lust, and dying oft with shame.

251

Now working means to haue intelligence, By secret Letters from my Lord the King, How matters stood since I departed thence, And of the tearms and state of euery thing, I cast about which way I might deuise, In spight of all, once more to play my prize.

252

And still relying on King Edwards loue, To whom before my life had beene so deere, Whose constancie my fortune made me proue, And to my Brother, Earle of Glocoster, And to my wife, who labored tooth and naile, My abiuration how she might repeale.

253

I now embarck mee in a Flemish Hoy, Disguised in the habite of a Muffe, Attended thus with neither man nor boy, But on my backe a little bagge of stuffe: Like to a souldier, which in Campe of late Had been imployd in seruice with the State.

254

And safely landed on this blessed shore, Towards Windsor thus disguisd I tooke my way, VVhereas I had intelligence before, My wife remaind, and there my Edward lay, My deerest wife, to whom I sent my ring, Who made my comming known vnto the king.

255

As when old-youthfull Aeson in his glasse, Saw from his eyes the cheerfull lightning sprung, VVhen as Art-spell Medea brought to passe, By hearbs & charms, againe to make him young. Thus stood King Edward, rauisht in the place, Fixing his eyes vpon my louely face.

256

Or as Muse-meruaile Hero, when she clips Her deere Leanders byllow-beaten limms, And with sweet kisses seazeth on his lips, When for her sake, deepe Hellespont she swimms, Thus we, by tender deere imbracings proue, Faire Heros kindnes, and Leanders loue.

257

Or like the twifold-twyned Geminy, In their star-gilded gyrdle strongly tyed, Chaynd by their Saffrond tresses in the sky, Standing to guard the Sun-coch in his pride, Like as the Vine, his loue the Elme imbracing, With nimble arms our bodies interlacing.

258

O blinded Reason, reasonles in this, Vnrulie will, of vnrul'd appetite, Could our discretion moderate our blisse, It might more easlie moderate their spight, But wee are carried with the winds away, To violent the Gulfe of our decay.

259

O wondrous loue, were then a meane in thee, Reason might vnderstand what thou dost meane, But for thou wouldst not comprehended bee, Our vnderstanding thou doost but disdaine: Thou mind-transforming monster, monstrous ill, Which hating saues, but cherrishing doth kill.

260

But all thy meane (fond loue) is in extreames, Thy heed is rashnes, thy fore-cast thy fall, Thy wit is follie, and thy hopes are dreames, Thy counsell madnes, and thy rule is thrall; And onelie this, thou art not what thou art, And of thy selfe, thou art not any part.

261

The Barrons hearing how I was arriued, And that my late abiurement naught preuailed, By my returne, of all their hopes depriued, Their bedlam rage no longer now concealed, But as hote coles once puffed with the wind, Into a flame out-breaking by their kind.

262

Like to a man, whose foote doth hap to light Into the nest where stinging Hornets lie, Vext with the spleene, and raging with despight, About his head these winged spirits flie: Thus rise they vp with mortall discontent, By death to end both life and banishment.

263

Or like to souldiers in a towne of warre, VVhen Sentinell the enemie discries, Affrighted with this vnexpected iarre, All with the fearfull Larun-bell arise, Thus muster they, (as Bees doe in a hyue, The idle Drone out of their combes to dryue.)

264

It seem'd the earth with heauen grew male-content Nothing is heard but warrs & Armors ringing, Now none but such as stratagems inuent, The whisling phife, the warlike trumpet singing, Each souldier now, his crested plume aduaunces, On barbed horses prest, with swords & launces.

265

Thus whilst our hopes should thriue, they do dimi∣nish, Our early rising, makes our set too soone, Euen as it dooth begin, it soone dooth finish, Our night is come before it should be noone, Our down-fall haps as wee should mount on hie, So short and fraile is our felicitie.

266

Mens haps by heauen be fram'd preposterous, Now with eternall good, now temporall ill, And oft againe contrary vnto vs, Our good but short, our euill during still, To shew, that heauens euer-waking powers, Doe rule as Lords, both ouer vs and ours.

267

Lyke as the Ocean chafing with his bounds, VVith raging billows flyes against the Rocks, And to the shore sends forth his hidious sounds, Making the earth to tremble with his shocks, Euen thus the murmure flies from shore to shore Like to the Cannons battering fearefull rore.

268

By day and night attended still with Spyes, The Court become the cause of all our woes, The Countrie now a Campe of enemies, The Citties are be-peopled with our foes, Our very beds, are snares made to enwrap vs, Our surest guard (as Traytors) do intrap vs.

269

Like to a cry of roring-mouthed hounds, Rouzing the long-liu'd Stagge out of his layre, Pursue the chase through vastie forrest grounds, So like a thunder ratling in the ayre, Thus doe they hunt vs still from Coast to Coast, Most hated now, of those we fauored most.

270

This gracious Prince loe thus becoms my guide, And with a conuoy of some chosen friends, Brings me to Yorke, where being fortified, To Balioll the King of Scots hee sends, And to the Welchmen, crauing both their ayde, That by their help the Barrons might be staid.

271

But they, which in their busines neuer slept, And (as it seem'd) had well fore-seene this thing, Cause all the Ports and Marches to be kept, That none should enter to assist the King: And by disswasiue Letters still deuise, To stay their neighbours from this enterprize.

272

Loe, in this sort the King and I betrayd, And to their wills thus left as wofull thrals, And finding now no further hope of ayde, VVee shut vs vp within Yorks aged walls, Vntill we knew the Barrons full intent, And what all thys rude hurly burlie ment.

273

This gracious King, wanting his wonted rest, And toyling still in this perplexitie, VVith greeuous sicknes is so sore opprest And growne by this to such extremitie, As hee is forced to depart away, A while to purge this humor at the sea.

274

From Bedford now (the synod of their shame, The counsell-house of all their villanie,) These bloody Barrons with an Armie came, Downe vnto Yorke, where they besieged mee, VVhere now not able to resist their might, Am forst persorce, to flye away by night.

275

To Scarborough, with speed away I post, With that small force the Citty then could lend me The strongest Castell there in all the Coast, And (as I thought) the surest to defend mee, VVhereas I might with-stand thē by my power, Hoping the Kings returning euery howre.

276

But now, like to a sousing suddaine raine, Forc'd by a strong and sturdie Easterne blast, Or like a hayle storme, down they come amaine, And in the Castell girt mee now so fast, No way to scape, no hope for mee to flye, My choyse was hard, or yeeld my selfe, or dye.

277

Away thus like a prysoner, am I led, My costlie roabs in peeces rent and torne, Bound hand and foote, my haire disheuiled, Naked and bare as euer I was borne: Saue but for shame, to stop the peoples cryes, Am basely clothed of mine enemies.

278

Along the Land toward Oxford they conuay mee, Like bauling curres, they all about me houle, VVith words of foule reproch they now repay mee VVondring my shame, as byrds doe at an Owle, Cursing my life, my manners and my birth, A scourge of God, ordain'd to plague the earth.

279

The King now hearing how I was arested, And knew my quarrell cause of all this strife, Hee writes, he sends, he sues, he now requested, Vsing all meanes he could to saue my life, VVith vowes & othes, that al should be amended If that my death alone might be suspended.

280

And being brought to Dedington at last, By Aymer Valence, Earle of Pembrooke then, VVho toward King Edward rode in all the haft, And left me guarded safely by his men: This gentle Earle w^t meere compassion moued, For Edwards sake, whom he so deerely loued.

281

But now Guy Beuchamp, whom I feared still, The Earle of VVarwick, whom I called curre, Hauing fit time to execute his will, The Fox thus caught, he vowes to teare my furre. And hee for whom so oft hee set the trap, By good ill luck, is fallen into his lap.

282

This bloody Beuchamp, (I may tearme him so,) For this was he which onely sought my blood, Now at the vp-cast of mine ouer-throw, And on the chaunce whereon my fortune stood, To Dedington by night came, where I lay, And by his power conuay'd me thence away.

283

To Warwick thus fast bound he doth me bring, Imprisoning me within the Castell there, And doubting now my succor from the King, Hee raiseth vp the power of VVarwickshire, By whom forth-with to Blacklow I was led, And on a scaffold there, I lost my head.

284

LOe heere the poynt and sentence of my time, My liues full stop, my last Catastrophe, The stipend of my death-deseruing crime, The Scene that ends my wofull Tragedie, My latest farwell, knitting my conclusion, Mine vtter ruine, and my fames confusion.

285

Like as Adonis wounded with the Bore, From whose fresh hurt the life-warme blood doth spin, Now lieth wallowing in his purple gore, Stayning his faire and Allablaster skin, My headles body in the blood is lest, Heere lying brethles, of all life bereft.

286

O now my Muse, put on thy Eagles wings, O lend some comfort to my tyred ghost, And with Apollos dolefull-tuned strings, Now helpe at need, for now I need thee most. Sorrow possesse my hart, myne eyes, mine eares, My breth consume to sighs, my braine to teares.

287

My soule now in the heauens eternall glasse, Beholds the scarrs and botches of her sin, How filthy, vglie and deformd shee was, The lothsome dunghill that she wallowed in, Her pure Creator sitting in his glory, VVith eyes of iustice to peruse her story.

288

Like as a Stagge at bay amongst the hounds, The bloody Moat sounding in his eares, Feeling his breth diminish by his wounds, Poures downe his gummy life-preseruing tears: Euen thus my soule, now bayted by my sin, Consuming, shewes the sorrow shee is in.

289

Thus comfortles, forsaken and alone, All worldly things vnstable, and vnsure, By true contrition flyes vnto his throne, In whose compare, the heauens are most impure. By whose iust doome, to blessed soules reuealed, She gets her pasport to his mercy sealed.

290

And by repentance, finds a place of rest, Where passing to the faire Elisian plaine, Shee is alow'd her roome amongst the blest, In those Ambrosian shadowes to remaine: Till summond thus by Fame, she is procur'd, To tell my life, which hath been long obscur'd.

291

Thys Monster now, thys many-headed beast, The people, more vnconstant then the wind, VVho in my life, my life did so detest, Now in my death, are of another mind, And with the fountains from their tearfull eyes, Doe honour to my latest obsequies.

292

Star-holding heauen hath shut vp all her light, Nature becom a step-dame to her owne, The mantled truch-man of the Rauen-hu'd night, In mournfull sables clad the Horizon: The sky-borne Plannets seeming to conspire, Against the ayre, the water, earth and fire.

293

Pearle-paued Auon, in her streamfull course, VVith heauie murmure floting on the stones, Mou'd with lament to pitty and remorse, Attempering sad musick to my mones, Tuning her billowes to sweet Zephyrs breath, In watrie language doth bewaile my death.

294

Oke-shadowed Arden, fild with bellowing cryes, Resounding through her holts and hollow grounds, To which the Eccho euer-more replyes, And to the fields sends forth her hidious sounds, And in her Siluan rude vntuned songs, Makes birds & beasts for to expresse my wrongs.

295

The heauen-dyed slowers in this happy clime, Mantling the Medowes in their Sommers pride, As in the wofull frostie winter time, Drouping with faintnes hold their heads aside. The boistrous storms, dispoile y^e greenest greues, Stripping the Trees staik naked of their leaues.

296

Death cald in liueries of my louely cheeks, Layd in those beds of Lillies and of Roses, Amaz'd with meruaile, here for wonders seeks, VVere he alone a Paradice supposes, Grew male content, and with himselfe at strife, Not knowing now if he were death or life.

297

And shutting vp the casements of those lights, Which like two suns, so sweetly went to rest, In those faire Globes he saw those heauenly sights, In which alone he thought him onely blest. Cursing himselfe, who had depriued breath, From that which thus, could giue a life in death.

298

VVith palenes touching that faire rubied lip, Now waxing purple, like Adonis flower, Where Iuory walls those rocks of Currall keep, From whence did slow y^t Nectar streaming shower. There earth-pale Death refresht his tyred lims, Where Cupid bath'd him in those Christall brims.

299

And entring now into that house of glory, That Temple with sweet Odors long perfumed, VVhere Nature had ingraued many a story, In Letters, which by death were not consumed. Accursed now, his crueltie he curst, That Fame should liue, when death had done his worst.

300

Now when the King had notice of my death, And that he saw his purpose thus preuented, In greeuous sighes he now consumes his breath, And into teares his very eyes relented: Cursing that vile and mercy-wanting age, And breakes into this passion in his rage.

301

O heauens (quoth he) lock vp the liuing day, Cease Sunne to lend the world thy glorious light, Starres, flye your course, and wander all astray, Moone, lend no more thy siluer shine by night. Heauen, Stars, Sun, Moone, cōioyne you al in one, Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston.

302

Earth, be thou helplesse in thy creatures birth, Sea, breake thou sorth from thy immured bound, Ayre, with thy vapours poyson thou the earth, Wind, break thy Caue, & all the world confound. Earth, Sea, Ayre, Wind, conioyne you all in one, Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston.

303

You Sauage beasts, which haunt y^e waylesse woods, You Birds delighted in your Siluan sound, You scaly Fish, which swim in pleasant floods, You hartlesse Wormes, which creep vpon y^u ground, Beasts, birds fish, worms, each in your kind alone, Bewaile the death of my sweet Gaueston.

304

Faire Medowes, be you withered in the prime, Sun-burnt and bare, be all the goodly Mountains, Groues, be you leauelesse in the Sommer time, Pitchy and black be all the Christall Fountains: All things on earth, each in your kind alone, Bewaile the death of my sweet Gaueston.

305

You damned Furies, breake your Stigian Cell, You wandring spirits, in water, earth, and ayre, Lead boyled Ghosts which liue in lowest hell, Gods, deuils, men, vnto mine ayde repayre, Come all at once, conioyne you all in one, Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston.

306

Eyes neuer sleepe, vntill you see reuenge, Head, neuer rest, vntill thou plot reuenge, Hart, neuer think, but tending to reuenge, Hands, neuer act, but acting deepe reuenge. Iust-dooming heauens, reuenge me from aboue, That men vnborne may wonder at my Loue.

307

You peerlesse Poets of ensuing times, Chaunting Herioque Angell-tuned Notes, Or humble Pastors Nectar-filled lines, Driuing your flocks with musick to their Cotes. Let your high-flying Muses still bemone, The wofull end of my sweet Gaueston.

308

My earth-pale body now enbalmd with tears, To famous Oxford solemnly conuaid, There buried by the ceremonious Friers, Where for my soule was many a Trentall said. With all those rites my obsequies behoued, Whose blind deuotion, time & truth reproued.

309

But ere two yeeres were out and fully dated, This gracious King who still my fame respected, My wasted bones to Langley thence translated, And ouer me a stately Tombe erected. VVhich world-deuouring Time, hath now out-worne, As but for Letters, were my name forlorne.

FINIS.