Plantagenets tragicall story: or, The death of King Edward the Fourth: with the unnaturall voyage of Richard the Third, through the Red Sea of his nephews innocent bloud, to his usurped crowne. Metaphrased by T.W. Gent.

PLANTAGENETS Tragicall Story.

The first book.

ON Mount Parnassus whil'st I sit to sing Of various accents, from the Thespian spring, Mixt consort flowes, the streams which by me slide, In silver waves their echoing notes divide: The laureate troops in circling rings sit down, Presenting to this History a Crown. Then cease delicious numbers to distill The sowr-sweet dainties of the Paphian hill, Nor blow in fond Poetick rage, that fire Which doth so wantonly loose brests inspire; Nor Fetch Niles Crocodiles dung to blanch the skin Of art-fair Madam, and her usher in:

My wilde Geography ne're stray'd so farre To bring Molucea flints to deck her eare. Deare Muse, disdaine to squander out a toy With Erycina, or the winged Boy; Nor sportive infantine delights recall, But tune Love-sonnets to a Madrigall. Now must we dive unto th'Tartarean cell, Where gnawing Envy, and dire Treason dwell; Where conscience dreads in Soule-betraying weed The black attempts ambitious States-men breed; Where Plottings, Turmoyls, Tempests, horrid Feare Keep Ren-dez-vous in Albions Hemispheare, As through each part they furiously do thunder, Candying th'Isles gastly face in cie wonder; Where times black margent quotes such sad amazes, As makes Heav'ns selfe pale with astonish'd gazes, Thick clouds w^ch lowr'd upon fourth Edwards head, The flaming ardours of his vertues spread;

A restlesse race (who ending still begun New broyss) gave place to this illustrious Sun; To shew the odds 'twixt Heav'ns etheriall light, And gloomy fogs of Hells Cimmerian night. The people (like the Polypus) doffeth hue To ev'ry object choosing alwaies new; Princes are rocks, to which this beast is ty'd, Fetter'd with links of duty to abide; Let this care for him in their brests be found, To give him colour, and still keep him bound. A furious brood of Phansie more then mad, Camelion-like with ev'ry colour clad; Whose senselesse sense (by brainsick humors led) Lies deep enchanted on Ambitions bed. Thus Neptunes subjects in the winter grow Cold in Alleg'ance, wonted duties show But chill respects, by th' Tyrant Frost detain'd, (The Generall of winters forces) chain'd

In ycie shackles; eas'ly made a prey To this encroaching Monster, till the day Farre-coasting Phebus takes a nearer view Of this Vsurper, forced with the crue Of's darts, and arrowes for to quit the field, And to the Element its freedome yeeld. The winters Bassa (mad to see this Rout) Calls from all Quarters his cold Troops about, In thunder-bearing dialect to devour The waters Prince by his united pow'r; Wing'd with shril trupet winds, flank'd with keen puffs They justle so with mutuall counterpuffs, Splitting themselves along the liquid plain, With dreadfull terrour to the groaning main. The winds, waves, Whales, Sharkes, Dolphins, all re∣treat Whilst (clashing) their congealed armours break. The drunken Steel (which was at Wakefield rouz'd) Oft reel'd from field to field, and never hous'd;

Then thundring Mars (the Females horrid dread) Did light this Islands Taper from his bed To Herford, Towton, Exham, Barnet grounds Were rank with noble blood: How many swounds Had fainting England in few yeares! To look On blushing pages of her Crimson book, Might rage an earth quake in a British heart, Reading the Rubricks of his Countries smart. Some stirring Spirits, if not often won, And scowr'd by Favour, rust by Faction: ••o Child-bigge wives and the green-sicknes maid Their nat'rall Course restrain'd) are longing said To seed on chalk, and coals; This loves a slash Cut in the Brawn of her vext husbands flesh; The other pines at Feasts, and leaving all Their wholesome cates, she junkets on a wall, They (phansy-sick of such a strange disease) Have feav'rish palats, still unapt to plase.

The Ship with wrack whē tempest-waves did threat And restles-pity-wanting Stormes had beat, (Th' Abysses jawes wide gaping to devour) Arriv'd at last to her long wish'd for Shoar. Cloud-masked Titan now with splendor cheares The winter Solstice of the peoples teares; Fiercenesse relented, and stern Mars grew mild, Sweet Flora laught, and Ceres was with child Of plenty; Ianus barr'd his Temple, gage, And Justice marched in her roab of State; Ruins rose up before this peacefull Starr, And Venus doves did build in Mars his Carr. Fam'd Edward, envies prayse, whose wel-spread art By Keyes of gentlenesse unlocked hearts, Stifles small factions by his wiser scorn, Which forced them to dye so soon as born: He joyes to see an Olive branch presage That civill bloods late deluge shall asswage.

(Gall'd with wars yoak which did their shoulders vex) He layes sost Poultesse to his peoples necks; That peace and plenty might espouse again, Kissing each other through his happy reign; Emperiall vertue guildeth with her flashes Anoble temper on the coursest ashes, It sparkles bravely in a Subjects eye, But beames (Sun-like) incha c'd in Majesty, Diffusing light, and life to lesser fires, Each feels the warmth, and silently admires: So to the lower Levells Zephyr comes, Puffing perfumes of rich Arabian gumms From Spicy mountaines, pleasingly to chear The desert-scorched-tyring Traveller. Thus Blisse distill'd the nectar of her brest, And lull'd our Albion in a smiling rest; No damn'd Assasinate awakes her sleep, Hearts joyn'd with hands a mutual friendship keep,

The Souldier leaves his winter-blasted bed For softer plumes, which crowne his easie head: The rich caparison'd courser dreads no foes, But chaseth Foxes, or the lightfoot Does, Makes emulous starts for wagers on the plains, Thus he more honour, more attendance gains. Canons are charg'd with Muske, and marches turn To rev'ling Masks, for iron Tyssue's worn; In stead of Gunpowder, there now is got Powder of Cypresse; Pistolets for shot. The Trumpet's made to sound a dance, and calls Away the storming siege from stony walls: With musled mouth the thundring Saker rests, And the Granadoes nothing breake but jests. Now Love is Champion, who endures no arms But strict embraces, kisses for alarms, So plundring, by the eye, the heart away, Do's by beleagred Simprings winne the day.

Blunt foyles atone sharp pointed Rapiers now; The pole-axe turnes a coulter for the plough, To wrinkle-brow the Gleab; In comfort sing The feather'd Choristers to the flowry Spring. Peace (breeding teeth apace) brings plenty too, Whil'st golden-bearded eares the Syckle woo To ravish their Virginity, whose tops Doe bend to fill the Swaines barne-filling hopes: The full-stiffe-udder'd Cow comes downe the vale Twice ev'ry day to fill the milkmaids pale; See Merchants Scours (swift gliding with the wind) Plough o're the tradefull billowes for to find An Ophyr coast, with opulency fraught, The rarities from either Pole are brought To frame a delicate, to winne the grace O'th Empresse Albion, whose moist armes embrace The Oceans dowre: Each forain Shoar presents The British Queen with choisest Ornaments.

Thus by Love-tokens Ganges wooes our Thame, Jndus to Severne would espouse her name. As if that GOD by thee (before accurst) Would shew the World how 'twas created first. What though the sweatings of Arabian gumms Embalme nigh Ayre with delications summs Of rich perfumes; if in those weeping groves Millions of Serpents haunt, and poison those (Inflecting torments upon every sense) Which glean that fragrant Balme, and Frankincense? Let th' Eastern Chinese think he grasps within The royall circuit of his vast paquin The quintessenced Good of all aboad, As dreaming that beyond his countries road The World's a barren Fen, and nought can be Worth his vain labour in discovery: And yet how oft amongst them doe they see, Huge balls of fire down bandied from the skie,

To make such fearefulll ravage, as to choake Houses, and send up villages in smoake? Somtimes their Fountain veins (being broached) run Hurry'ing their Streames to inundation. But, England! Could these Salvages repent, Thy blessings (sure) would make them all recant. Natures owne selfe so doteth on thy love, Thinks thee the Diamond in the ring of Jove, Richly fed, coolly fann'd, so nobly stream'd, Wisely aw'd, bravely mann'd, so sweetly beam'd; Thy pregnant soil wrought o're with curious cost, With flow'rs embroid'red, and with woods embost, With bushes purl'd, with streams of silver lac'd, Button'd with Hills, with plaited vallies grac'd, Speakes thee a Tempe, or (as tearm'd by some) A second Edon, or Elysium.

O, be thy tender Bosome never wreath'd By salvage armes! why's not the Sword still sheath'd

Most barb'rous, civill (most uncivill!) warrs Make Britain bleed in most unnat'rall jarrs. Brave Gallants! Scorn that Romes enchanted palm Should suck the sweatings of our sacred balm, Religions oyle, by Europe once admir'd More then those Gumms from Gileads vales expir'd, Or for to have your bleeding entrails spell'd B' Ignatius Wizards, whose strong charms upheld Saint Peters rivall in a colder sweat Then e're the Goths, or Vandalls could beget. Pluto, chain up this new pestif'rous Train, Let lowest Cells their blasphemies contain, Which now seem loos'd from the Peruvian Stage To act their Butch'ries on the Crimson page Of British story, Slucing forth our blood By th' gushing torrent of a eivill flood. These in the world have more confusion wrought, Then the old Tohu, Bobu could have brought.

Medina, did we scape thy Crescent thus, That our owne bow should be portentuous? What strange Salmoneus or Prometheus taught Cyclopean Artists for to imitate The forge of Iove, within his shops of wonder, By brasen-lunged, and fire-breathing thunder? What metall dev'lls, Angels of death are here, Like firie Bulls of Colchos? Charon feare Th' o'recharg'd Canoo; lank Ghosts by shoals doe thus Float to the crouded shades of Erebus. The fierce-fire-foaming Steeds of Diomede Feed on the remnants of Deucalions seed: Do's Typhon, and Echidna still survive To bring forth monsters? do'nt Medea live To charme this frightfull proginy, and to fill New Constellations by her sacred skill? Whence is't our mines of iron spawn'd such tooles For blood-drunk hands to hunt out guiltles soules?

What Vulcan's here, that gives new life to steel? What Fury? what Erinnys makes a Hell In Albions fields, carving mens bodies out To feast Megera; whilst the dear-bought shot Is paid by endlesse soules, which trembling flie From off the Lip into Eternity?

Unhappy Island! whom Astrea shuns, Late made a prey unto thy hostile sons, Whilst they (like greedy Caniballs) devour Their mothers Off-spring in a dismall hour Making her Lap, the Voider. Ha'nt we seen Some petty Cyclops late in Arms t' have been, Which little skill what GOD, Religion mean, Unlesse by this to swear, and that blaspheme; Oathes are their onely Sacraments, their swords Their deity, and voucher of their words; The table for an Altar stands, the dishes They doe account in stead of Sacrifices.

Their march is swell'd with pride, & when in Arms, They'r ev'n Barbarians, frighting with their harms The quiv'ring peasants into sad beliefe, That they passe Attila the Scythian Chiefe, Knowing no diff'rence in their lustfull sute Twixt marr'ed, virgin, and the prostitute; Playing their gold with full hands, though it be Mens blood exhausted for their Luxury. Lions which ope their thunder-scaring jawes, Bulls goaring through the entrails of the lawes; Doggs worry one another, Vipers hisse, Men in their looks death-bearing Basilisks, Rearing their Trophies in the tear-swoln eyes Of Widowes, and in Orphans Heav'n-pierc'd cries, Nought without Peace is holy. Unkind Fate, Op'ning Pandora's box within our State; Hope onely stayes, which we (fast clos'd) preserve As the best Sear-cloth for a feeble nerve.

Some gratious Dolphin now but yeild his back To save Telemachus from finall wrack; Then we (Vlysses-like) will not pourtray Him onely on our gates, but ev'ry way The ardours of Triumphing hearts shall raise A never dying Pyramid to his praise: Wee'll imp his fame upon an aery wing, Beyond Bootës, and his Teem to sing; Nor that enough, but mounting higher yet, Shall Soare, till't bee in the First mover Set. So, trembling Rome shall quit her Crowns for feare This second Hanniball is coming neare; Which (after many an Age) from British Coast May fully avenge old Carthage angry Ghost.

But sure, scar'd Muse, this Ghost has frighted thee To lose thy Subject in an Extasie! My Theame's unvealed now; Muse, smooth thy browes, And spend no longer on thy stock of woes;

The Sun shal guild our Sphere, and Arms shal cease, And we will Triumph in a Hymne for Peace. No more dead corps shall lard our soil again, Nor Wars make Mummy of the flesh of men; Discords sha'nt hayle down blowes, nor leaden show'rs Fright from embraces in our frolick bowrs; England contemplate this, to ease thy griefe; In field of bloody gules, a sword in chiefe No longer's borne, to charge with civill scars Her argent dy'd in crimson Massacres: Where mutuall fury swelling brests invade, Thrill'd by a Cozen-sword, or Brother-blade; Where Sonne with Father jousts; most horrid fuells Doth from one belly send up cursed duells.

Edward now heard his smiling Fortune call, Come, climbe my wheel, and bee'nt afraid to sall. His Sword which Northward went, returned home From scourging rudest Swaines of Calydon,

Now brandisht is upon a French designe; Rather to tast the Gallick blood, then wine; And make their Flowr-de-luces stand in awe Of being torne by th' English Lyons pawe: Whil'st that dissembling Lewes tries his wits On idle toyes, at which brave Honour spits. The eager hearted Subject, vent'ring stands Attentive, listning when the Prince commands; Feeling within his brest a vig'rous heat, Causing his healthfull Pulses for to beat A Call to this employment; tedious growne To heare of others acts and not his owne. Proud valour leads the vanguard, in this strife Each would be formost in the losse of life. Thus have I seen with Steel, and Fury arm'd A gallant squadron, who their brests had warm'd With a full shout, to sing the Dirge of Foes, And scarce can stay till they have leave for blowes.

Brave Sp'rits! It were an Enemies pride to die Under your shining Steel, 'twere Victory; If I must fall, give me the bravest hand To broach my brest, in all the Romane Band, So the same glorious Nard persumes his blade, Sweetens my ashes in the lower shade. But what their boasting Phansie thought so sure, Sly-pilfting Death robb'd in that instant houre.

Vast joyes are dang'rous, thron'd in blisses prime, Fourth Edward finds the weights of his set time Not far from ground, & deaths sharp pangs invade His throbbing heart through ev'ry vein convey'd; She had before but some short Sallies made, Some Skirmish did his Fort of clay invade; But now layes downright siege, untill it must (Shaken with Feavers batt'ry) fall to dust. Thus all his warlike preparations turne Into the peacefull ashes of his Urne.

'Tis safe to walke, as if we trod on yee, Upon the slipp'ry worlds prosperities; And alwaies handling them like Crystall glasse, Fearing they'll breake i'th' lustre of their rayes. So may you view the white-swell'd sails advancing From Eastern Inds, o'th'Stately Vessell dancing On Thetis lap secure; eye-pleasing Calms Echo in consort with Melodious Shalmes; The eare-art racted Dolphin nimbly hyes, The sporting Porpuse meets him, Proteus flies O're Neptunes watry Bulworks, gently greeting The Merchants pride, on English narrowes fleeting: The srollick Master spreads his Flagge abroad In Triumph for the now seen English road; The Seamen now prepare their sev'rall Catches To satisfy with joy the blubberd Watches Of longing wives: The goblets swell with pride To poure a health unto each others Bride,

But whilst they brag their loadstar shines most fair, Their cheated Hopes make Shipwrack on despair: Proud Neptune swells with rage, who smil'd before, Haunted with Aeolus Furies from the shoare; From Gulphs to mountains the maz'd ship is hurt'd From thence again down to the deeps is worr'd; They cut the sayles, unlade, but all in vain, To stay the infolence o'th' boyling Main; The pale complaining mariner kneeling lifts His hands, his eyes, employes his latest shifes, Still beating on his breast with crossed arms, In dolefull sound strikes drearie deaths Alarms; With his salt teares brines the Seas saltnesse more, His sighes, with winds, force all her bowels roar, Till wrathfull Neptunes uncontrolled lawer, Rushes the ship on Syll's devouring jawes. Faln Heav'n's Hell doubled: To be swallow'd up, Ingeminates the woe, i'th' Cape of Hope.

The Courtiers throbs move Edward to desire The borr'wing still of more life-quickning fire, Wishing sometimes his tender Sonnes unborne, Then from the brests of his protection torne In their soft-blooming spring; Vertue i'th bud May soon be blasted ere it spread abroad, Ere sharper fighted reason can discry The Trayterous nets, with maskes of policy.

Most fitly sutes with a severer frowne

The glitt'ring ardours of a sacred Crowne. A cradled Scepter speakes the Kingdomes sin, Hence mischiefes rock the Realme, Harpies within Doe prey upon the Crowned babe, unmeet To chase such rav'nous Vulturs from his feet. The mountebank of State will now inspire His limbeck full of that ethereall fire Prometheus filch'd from Jove, resolv'd thereby Some rare extractions Chymical! to try,

More gainfull then that purse-corroding Stone, Woo'd oft by sundry, wedded yet by none. Pyrenees on the Alps these Gyants heap, And cause mount Pelion upon Ossa leap, To mount the height of Scepters: Envy stands Gnawing her chain by all the Nobles hands. Ambition breeds strange Tympanies; the law Goes under baile, fees them who keep't in awe. Poore martyr'd Client! I'm distract to see That great mens sins are so reveng'd on thee, Thy goods, thy life, thy soule is punished, When thy seduced Leaders are misled. So some have heard Getulian lions roare O're guiltlesse Lambs, which (silent) stand before The King of beasts, and dare not quech, lest then They should be made repasture for his den.

A Crown is envies Butt; each Pearle's an eye. Like those of Argus, the Cow-keeping-spie)

Whose rayes (like Titans beames) around the world, From Center, to Circumference are whirld. That (borne in nature) Heav'ns so just decree Read in th' illustr'ous brow of Majesty; That (Atlas like) all great supporting birth, Speakes Kings no lesse then mighty Gods on earth. A vaunt then from this Cradle ye who curse The just Astrea, Princely Babies nurse; Hence Belknap, hence Trisilian, come not neare To stisle Justice in the Princes eare; Stand off bold Green, and Bushey, who by stealth Dare gain a Patent for the peoples wealth, And farme no lesse then Kingdoms to beguile The needy widow, and the Orphan spoile: Hence Spencer, Gaviston, no room for you To lead your Sov'raign by a wanton Clue: Fortune, usurp no more such lofty stages For vitious Scenes, lest thou in future ages

Bee'st tearm'd a Goddesse most unjust, and blind, To let Sinne lead, and vertue lagge behind. Keep off all Catholick Locusts from the Court, Which (like Torpedo) mak't your onely sport With pleasing Charmes t'intice, secure, beguile The sleeping senses of the Crocodile, Whil'st slie Ichneumon (the Italian rat) Eates throw the bowells both of Church, & State. Avaunt, lascivious Gallant, perfum'd Sir, Of lust, and of thy selfe, Idolater: Thou compound of all Nations, Fashions, sinnes, Chiefe Lord of Anticks, Prince of conjurings; Strange moulds of nature, which confounds to tell Whether with Birds, or Beasts, or Men to dwell: No deity's acknowledg'd but the Face Of thy shee Saint, nor no externall grace That marts not in her Cheek; From Venus eye He doth Astronomize. Loves winged Boy!

Great Emperour of wreathed Armes! Goe beck Some scorching Beldame for the neighing neck Of such luxurious Stallions. Where's the scars Of honour showne, fresh bleeding from the wars, For Kingdomes Fame? Perchance your musky skin Is bramble-scratched with your Ladies pin. Raise not 'gainst Princes eares your lustfull charms, Impetuous shadowes, whom no spirit warms: What Metamorphosis more wondred at Then for to see a King by you turn'd gnat! Whose mouth-spear goars fond blood, whose Trū∣pet-wing Sounds an Alarum to each triviall thing; As if wise Solomon should tune a jigge, Or mighty Hercules goe whip a gigge.

Such Comets, so malignant to a Nation, Are matter of our Edwards Reformation; Who (dying now) his wisdome does prepare To guard his Kingdome with a Trench of care:

Such Oracles bequeathing (as its Fence) Gain'd to himselfe by gray experience: So, to the Seamen, doth a Pilot lend His clew of reason, how their course to bend; When by the Lee shoar, when to launch toth' deep, When to cast Anchor, and the vessell keep From eating Silts, rocks, gulphs, and when to saile With a full gale, and when the top-faile vaile. The pensive Lords, encircling round his bed, He drawes the curtaines which impal'd his head, Which from his restlesse pillow his displac'd, And thus began (having them all embrac'd.)

"My Lords, Right trusty, and belov'd Allies, "Behold the fainting Couch where Honour lies; "What cause, Ambition, for thee to be proud "Whose life's a Pilgrim to a silly Shrowd! "Vainglory builds us Palaces of wind "Upon quicksilver founded, where we find

"Like Sodoms fruits the Palms, and Laurels grow, "Which into ashes turn when we them wooe "For solid touch. 'Twas wisest Solons breath: "No man commenceth happy untill death. "How truly may my meanest Subjects sing, "In Birth, in Ayre, in Death we match the King! "And after death who can distinction find "'Twixt blended skulls of Swains, with Princes join'd? "O, how our balls are tost of quickned clay "Into a thousand hazards! Ev'ry day "Presents new Scenes to short spectators eyes, "Like Masquers vizards, Comick Tragedies. "I have the dawning, and the setting seen "Of some prodigious Comets, which have been "I'th' Firmament of States; which fiercely hurl'd "Firebrands, with blood commixt, about the world, "Whose proudest Items, to this totall Summ "Onely amounts, a darke three-cubit room!

"I some of you have rais'd; as now y'are great "From me, to Mine be henceforth greatefull; yet "If otherwise, plagues shall revenge the blot "Of Perjury; If Honours Spring's damm'd up, "The borrow'd streams so on must with ebbing dry "That flow your Channells now with dignity. "The Ancients limm'd the Graces hand in hand, "Shewing, no gift should unrequited stand: "Farre be it from a noble soule, to let "The thankfull tribute of a benefit "Expect a Gaole deliv'ry, to enlarge "Th' ingenuous freedome of good natures charge. "Death cancells my receipts; I leave my sonne "A King more by your love, then by his throne. "But what availes it, should ye love the King, "If 'mongst each other privy hatreds spring? "The greatest Ill, or Blessing of this Land, "Doth in your discord, or your concord stand.

"Your civill jarres, have caus'd uncivill rents, "Close not my reigne with such bad Presidents. "How many bloody sweats, and deadly blowes "Have rise about the colours in the Rose? "Giving no reason why those thousands bled, "But that this Rose was White, and that was Red: "Like as you see some Parents fondly love "The Male children, whenas the Females prove "The Mothers Idols; this 'cause't hath his nose, "The other that, because she doth suppose "It hath her gate, and speech; One house thus rears "Altar, 'gainst Altar, whil'st the Father swears "That he her little Deity will not spare, "Unlesse the grudging mother incense beare "To his. Let Callets scold, and Pages draw, "Who cannot spell the sense of Honours law "For one misplaced Comma, thinking better "Might have been left out one Essentiall letter:

"They're Valours Schismaticks, w^ch thus have vext "With their base Comments such a noble Text. "Wash deep in Lethe. Come, let's all ascend "The hill of Pardons (joyning hand in hand) "Lest worser Factions, by the postern gate, "Usurp the lofty Stories of the State. "Love seems to me that beauteous chain of gold, "Which doth the world in Courteous fetters hold; "How much more strictly that your hearts it ties, "The more 'twill fasten your Felicities. "Be tender how you cloud a morning Star, "Whose beams may long enrich your Hemisphear, "If no Cometick furious gleams withstand "Its blessed influence on this happy land. "Rome speake thy fainting fits under the hands "Of Cesars Legions, meeting Pompeyes Bands "Enrag'd with blood: Let Latium here define "The deadly feud o'th' Guelph, and Gibelline.

"Expiring France had blood scarse left to write "Of Orleance Gall, and the Burgundian Spite. "The Grecian beares by his discording force "The desolate foot-prints of the Ottoman horse. "And wher's that British heart, which hath not bled "By th' prickly Roses in our English bed? "Ah! factious Ambition is a field "Where th' Combatants are mad, & fury yield "Them Arms, the prize but Smoak, the full carreer "On glassy yce, whose utmost bounds appear "Steep Precipices! But deaths fatall cords "Pinion the licence of my halting words! "I faint, my Lords Farewell!

He more wou'd say When th' Angell came to fetch his soule away: Then rucking to his pillow, with fix'd eyes (Which fail'd his sight) gaz'd on their rufull cries. The Peeres join'd hands in love, begg'd lifes reprief; Th' Ayre eccho'd out (with Sympathy) their grief.

Have you beheld bright Phebus Chariot whirl'd By fiery Steeds, to chear the drooping world; The proud-topd Cedars with Shrub humble pile Are blest by th' influence of his radiant Smile; The Coloworts, and the Lettice thrive as well As th' amorous Lilly, or the Daffodell; Each stalk (whil'st forth he stalks) to kisse his feet, Is proud with Pomp, and prodigall with sweet; All parts with Verdour doth his beauty crown From his ascending, to his going down: But whil'st all do at upon his wish'd aboad, Behold him gotten to th' Hesperian road; Now Hesper (ush'ring Luna) bids night shroud Sols frontlet, with an ore-spread sable cloud: The crest-faln F••owrs hang their dejected tops Down heavy, pickled in their, dew-faln drops: Heav'n's hang'd with Blacks, as if it meant t'inter All Sublunarials in Sols sepulcher.

So sets Plantagenet, who shin'd bright here, When our blest Albion was his Hemisphere; Fig'ring his vertues on each Subjectsbrest, As Iris beares Sols image on her crest. Hee's set, and hushes all in blackest night, When (Persian-like) they most ador'd his light: Was not the Fatall Spinster something thrifty, To cut his thread, and make the knot at Fifty? When as the rare-spread Snow scarce shew'd it fall Upon his almost grizled Capitol? Why might not it, with time, have whit'ned there? Too soon, ah; thaw'd it in each Subjects teare! Whose drops distilling from alembick eyes, Did in their Crystall mirrours Sympathize. Thou Coward Death, why met'st him not in field, Who made thy proudest Trophies there to yeeld? (Casting his Gantlet down) did there outbrave Thee, then no Conq'rer, but a yeelding slave;

Whil'st gallant feats did breed couragious strife, To try in doubtfull jarres a carelesse life: In those extreams thy ambushments were vaine, His seething blood parboyl'd his flesh unslain; When He, in midd'st of ruins, there defi'd Hail-show'rs of iron, trampling on thy pride, As if he were immortall, or could cause Lives to spring up as plentifull as Bayes; Then farre from him thou sneak'dst, & did admire; Swearing, he had no earth, but all was fire.

Tymanthes, vaile thy cunning here, t'impart Plantagenet to th' life, by thy weake Art: His Wisdome, Valour, Counsell did so flame, That, who the Concrete speakes prophanes his name. As States-man, view him first, and now conceit You see the Legats of each forein State, Postilions flying with their winged speed, Their packets op'ned, Secretaries read,

This King, i'th' midd'st, whole nights untired kept To rock the cradle, whil'st his Subjects slept.

If as a Souldier, from the Arms of's Nurse Behold him thrown into the forge of Mars; Suppose you saw the ranged Battells plac'd, A thorny wood of Pikes, with Shot enchac'd, And echoing Drums, with fired Vollies thunder, And dying groans which rend the Aire in sunder; Then think you see this Prince, in Front, inspire Each Troop with his super-heroick fire. Cesar for warlike lessons might croud in, (Wrapt like Alcides in th' impiercive skin Of high resolve) his tedious travells stand Like dwarfs, and pygmies at his high Command. The Veni-vici, which was Cesars word, But offall was to th' stomach of his sword. Count all the honours that Gustavus got, The bold Hungarian, or the Epirot;

He them out-poizes with his Sterling soule, Though three such more should tugge the other scole.

Now were my Muse in travell of such lines As Ovid minted, or those lofty Twinnes, Homer, and Virgill; and could soar as high As th' Empyreum of their Poetrie, To weave for Edwards brows, now crown'd with stars, A glorious Chaplet of Hexameters, With slow-pac'd Spondies, and quick Dactylls wove, Where curious Art, with quaint invention strove; Should I pluck sprigs of Laurell from the browes Of all the Heroes, which their storehouse showes, And plant them here, to feel no month but May, Screening his Tomb with a whole Grove of Bay; Or here present you with a Captaine bold, Backing a Steed, caparison'd with gold, His back apparel'd in a glitt'ring Coat Of Lightning, bearing Thunder in his throat;

Where myriads of armed men reeruit His Legions, at the Stamping of his foot, Till musick of the Drums, and Clarions meet To woo them to Battalia at his feet: And then an Eagles ventrous pinion take, Circling the world through ev'ry Clime, and make Known to the Artick, and Antartick Pole, The influence of his diviner soule; Then say 'tis Edward; 'las! I should but strive, As foolish Actors in their plots contrive; Presenting on the Stage for to be seen, A goodly fellow, in a Lions skin, Saying 'tis mighty Hercules, and dub His sinewy shoulders with a massy club, When all deride this goodly shew at length, As but a Pygmey to Alcides strength. If that be true the Pythagorean holds, The suppos'd transmigration of souls,

Think those of Hector, and Achilles brake Forth from the reliques of their dust, and spake His high-born name; all gallant souls in him, Of by-past Heroes, held their Sanhedrim. Now, now the Grecian, and the Trojan Prince Repent their duell for that foolish wench, Wishing that they had let their Standards fall, To serve in pay so brave a Generall: Homer, and Virgil, sha'nt excuse their fate, (Although their Muse did supererogate) Which shall confine them unto Purgatory, Till they revive on earth to sing his Story. Now to summe up his Princely Courtesies; Conceive a thousand potent enemies, Not humbled low at his Triumphant feet, But freely by him at his table set, Nay, in the same Caroch, nay guesse y'are led To see them smiling on the selfe same bed.

In short, he was the best accomplish'd Lord That ever gain'd a Diadem by th' sword, If that a life so pretious might have been Kept from corruption by his subjects brine; He had been rank'd amongst the royall founders Of Britains glory, in a wreath of wonders. One might in's Physiognomy have read A pleasing combate fought 'twixt love, and dread. Here's both the costly-furred Ermine Stole. And humble haircloth of a gentle soule. So like to Mars he was, in Arms, & love, Bellona 'nd Venus for his person strove; His love did banish, and Tourney with his eye, As quick, as lightning through the squad tons flie. Writers agree, this was his chiefest blot, He rather drunk, then sipp•••• of pleasures pot His roling eye oft stray'd from being led By chast, sweet lures to his more lawfull bed.

Charity' instructs me that he wou'd have mended His other faults, had not quick death prevented; God (where the deed, cannot it selfe be sent) Accepts the Proxy of a true Intent. Thus let him sleep, untill the pow••rfull found Of th' great Tar-ran-tar-ra shall broach the ground, And dust (long crumbled from the sides of men) Shall find its scatt'red sands, and rally, then May Englands Kings, awake their drowsy eyes Out of their sear-cloth shrouds, and gently rise, To see the Three in One this Knight install With Heav'ns bright Garter, and the golden Ball.

Now would I take my work out of the Looms, Did not the piteous Fate of Edwards sons Add a fresh storm unto my blubberd Muse, And more sad Tydes to my drench'd quill infuse; Which lagging homewards, with a heavy chear, From the Entombed Fathers Sepulcher,

Meets horrid Glosters spectrum by the way With Tyrrels cursed Ghost! who, bid me stay, Whom, when I name, my Muse doth seek a shroud To hide her visage in a sable cloud. Yet will we chain these hellish Fiends in Rhymes, That whil'st their names are read in after times, They both, on earth may in such torments live, As Stygian Furies underneath it give. Let Ignominie henceforth feise upon Their Persons, and with terrour dragge them down Into despair, commanding Hope to fly For ever, ever, to Eternity!

Men, turn'd to Monsters, I shall bring to view; Such uncouth Births, as Africk never knew: Eye-pois'ning Troops of Basilisks, brought o're From Lybian deserts, toth' Egyptian shoare By foggy Auster, with a counter blast, Are hither sent, our Island to infest.

Infernall Hags here furnish bloody feasts, Wolvish Lycaon, Lestrigon are guests; Carrousing cups of royall blood, brimfull, Quaffing gore up in fierce Medusa's skull! The Throne is hers'd in black, and does appear Now, for th Kings, soone, for the Princes beer! Erinnys with swarth pinions broods the seat Emperiall; o'th' walls dire slaughters sweat: Death, bowes his Sithe over the Nobles heads, And with as Tragick paces proudly treads, As when he (in Commission) fought for pay Under Mezentius, or Caligula.

Dar'st (thou false Duke) so soon betray thy trust, And blend thy faith with thy dead Brothers dust! Unnat'rall Tyrant! should our land now see A Juncto of accursed Sauls, like thee, The blood of us, their Vassalls, would not last A draught, and all our flesh scarce break their fast.

When thou, at Bosworth, shalt the earnest feel, Which veng'ance wil powre down from Richmonds steel; The pety sinks of People, then shall throw Thy Fame into the common Sewer; so To wreck thy Mem'ry, in as deep a Shame As e're was suff'red from so high born name. Reproach thy shround, Hate shall thy Herauld be, And blood thy Balm, thy Grave black Obliquy.

Notes

• The ma∣ny Rebel∣lions in the begin∣nig of his reign, and sometime before.
• Simile.
• Simile.
• Simile,
• The bles∣sings of Peace.
• Allud∣ing to the late un∣happy warrs in England.
• Lewes the ele∣venth
• Simile.
• Simile.
• Simile.
• Two cor∣rupt Ju∣stices in the reigne of Rich. the 2.
• The ••wo evill: counsel∣lors of Edward the 2.
• Simile.
• Simile.
• Richard Duke of Gloster, Brother to Edw. the 4. & after him usur∣ping the Crowne, by the name of Rich. the 3.
• Henry Earle of Rich∣mond that stew K. Rich. at the battell of Bosworth & after obtain'd the Crown by the name of Houry the 7.