 | The Works of Michael Drayton |  |
85
The fifth Canto.
The Argument.
Th'imprisoned King his Scepter doth forsake,To quit himselfe of what he was accus'd;
His Foes, him from the Earle of Lester take,
Who their Commission faine would have refus'd;
His Torturers a Mock'rie of him make;
And basely and reprochfully abus'd,
By secret wayes to Berckley he is led,
And there in Prison lastly murthered.
1
The wretched King unnaturally betray'd,By too much trusting to his Native Land,
From Neath in Wales to Kenelworth convay'd,
By th'Earle of Lester, with a mightie Band;
Some few his Favorers, quickly over-wayd:
When straight there went a Parlament in hand,
To ratifie the generall intent,
For resignation of his Government.
2
Falne, through his Frayletie, and intemp'rate Will,That with his Fortune it so weakely far'd,
To undergoe that unexpected Ill,
For his deserved Punishment prepar'd;
Past measure, as those Miseries to fill
To him allotted, as his just reward;
All arm'd with Malice, either lesse, or more,
To strike at Him, who strucke at all before.
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3
It being a thing the Commons still did crave,The Barons thereto resolutely bent,
Such happie Helpes on ev'ry side to have,
To forward that their forcible intent,
So perfect speed to their great Action gave,
Establish'd by the generall consent;
On Edward that such Miseries did bring,
As never were inflicted upon King.
4
Earles, Bishops, Barons, and the Abbots all,Each in due order, as became their state,
By Heralds placed in the Castle Hall;
The Burgesses for Places Corporate,
(Whom the great Businesse at that time did call)
For the Cinque Ports, the Barons convocate
With the Shire Knights, for the whole Body sent,
Both for the South, and for the North of Trent.
5
When Edward, cloathed mournefully in blacke,Was forth before the great Assembly brought,
A dolefull Hearse upon a dead Mans backe,
Whose heavie Lookes express'd his heavie Thought,
In which there did no part of Sorrow lacke,
“True Griefe needs not fayn'd Action to be taught;
His Funerall solemniz'd in his Cheere,
His Eyes the Mourners, and his Legs the Beere.
6
Torlton, as one select to that intent,The best experienc'd in that great Affayre,
A Man grave, subtill, stout, and eloquent,
First, with faire speech th'Assembly doth prepare;
Then, with a grace, austere and eminent,
Doth his Abuse effectually declare,
Winning each sad Eye to a reverend Feare,
To due Attention drawing every Eare.
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7
Urging th'Exactions raysed by the King,With whose full Plentie he his Mynions fed,
Him and his Subjects still impoverishing;
And the much Bloud he lavishly had shed,
A desolation on the Land to bring:
As under him, how ill all Bus'nesse sped;
The losse in Warre, sustayned through his Blame,
A lasting Scandall to the English Name.
8
Withall, proceeding with the future good,That they thereby did happily intend,
And with what upright Policie it stood,
No other Hopes their Fortunes to amend;
The Resignation to his proper Blood,
That might the Action lawfully defend;
The present Want, that will'd it to be so,
Whose Imposition they might not foreslow.
9
Much more he spake; but faine would I be short,To this intent a Speech delivering;
Nor may I be too curious to report,
What toucheth the deposing of a King:
Wherefore I warne thee Muse, not to exhort
The after-Times to this forbidden thing,
By Reasons for it, by the Bishop layd,
Or from my feeling what he might have sayd.
10
The grave deliverie of whose vehement Speech,Grac'd with a dauntlesse, uncontracted Brow,
Th'Assembly with Severitie did teach,
Each word of his Authentike to allow,
That in the Bus'nesse there could be no breach,
Each thereto bound by a peculiar Vow;
Which they in publique gen'rally protest,
Calling the King to consummate the rest.
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11
Whose faire cheekes, cover'd with pale sheets of shame,Neere in a Swound, he his first Scene began,
Wherein his Passions did such Postures frame,
As ev'ry Sense playd the Tragedian,
Truly to shew from whence his Sorrowes came,
Farre from the compasse of a common Man;
As Nature to herselfe had added Art,
To teach Despayre to act a Kingly Part.
12
O Pitie! didst thou live, or wert thou not?(Mortals by such sights have to Stone beene turn'd)
Or what Men have been, had their Seed forgot?
Or that for One, another never mourn'd?
In what, so strangely were yee over-shot,
Against your selves, that your owne Frayletie spurn'd?
Or had Teares then abandon'd Humane Eyes,
That there was none to pitie Miseries?
13
His Passion calm'd, his Crowne he taketh to him,With a slight view, as though he thought not on it,
As he were senselesse that it should forgoe him;
And then he casts a scornefull Eye upon it,
As he would leave it, yet would have it woo him:
Then snatching at it, loth to have forgone it,
He puts it from him; yet he would not so,
He faine would keepe, what faine he would forgoe.
14
In this confused Conflict in his Mind,Teares drowning sighes, and sighes repelling Teares:
But when in neyther, that he ease could find,
And to his Wrong no Remedie appeares,
Perceiving none to Pittie there inclin'd,
Besides, the time to him prefixed, weares;
As then his Sorrow somewhat 'gan to slake,
From his full Bosome, thus he them bespake:
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15
If first my Title stedfastly were plantedUpon a true indubitate Succession,
Confirm'd by Nations, as by Nature granted,
Which lawfully deliver'd me Possession;
You must thinke Heaven sufficiencie hath wanted,
And so denie it Power; by your oppression,
That into question dare thus boldly bring
The awfull Right of an anoynted King.
16
That hallowed Unction, by a sacred Hand,Which once was powr'd upon this crowned Head,
And of this Kingdome gave me the Command,
When it, about me, the rich Verdure spred,
Either my Right in greater stead should stand,
Or wherefore then was it so vainely shed?
Whose prophanation, and unrev'rend touch,
Just Heaven hath often punish'd, alwayes much.
17
As from the Sunne, when from our Sov'raigne due,Whose vertuall influence, as the Sourse of Right,
Lends safetie of your livelyhood to you,
As from our Fulnesse taking borrow'd Light;
Which to the Subject being ever true,
Why thus oppugne you, by prepost'rous Might?
But what Heaven lent me, wisely to have used,
It gives to him, that vainely I abused.
18
Then here I doe resigne it to your King;Pawsing thereat, as though his Tongue offended,
With griping Throwes seem'd forth that word to bring,
Sighing a full Point, as he there had ended.
O, how that sound his grieved Heart did wring!
Which he recalling, gladly would have mended.
“Things of small Moment we can scarcely hold,
“But Griefes that touch the Heart, are hardly told.
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19
Which sayd, his Eyes seem'd to dissolve to Teares,After some great Storme, like a show'r of Rayne,
As his Tongue strove to keepe it from his Eares,
Or he had spoke it with exceeding payne;
O, in his Lips how vile that word appeares,
Wishing it were within his Brest againe!
Yet sayth he, Say so to the Man you beare it,
And thus say to him, that you meane shall weare it.
20
“Let him account his Bondage from that day,“That he is with a Diadem invested;
“(A glitt'ring Crowne hath made this Hayre so gray)
“Within whose Circle he is but arrested,
“To true Content, this is no certaine way,
“With sweeter Cates the meane estate is feasted;
“For when his proud Feet scorne to touch the Mold,
“His Head's a Prisoner in a Gaole of Gold.
21
“In numbring Subjects, he but numbers Care;“And when with Shouts the People doe begin,
“Let him suppose, th'Applause but Prayers are,
“That he may scape the Danger he is in,
“Wherein t'adventure, he so boldly dare;
“The Multitude hath multitudes of Sinne,
“And he that first doth cry, God save the King,
“Is the first Man him evill Newes doth bring.
22
“Lost in his owne, mis-led in others Wayes,“Sooth'd with Deceits, and fed with Flatteries,
“Himselfe displeasing, wicked Men to please,
“Obey'd no more then he shall tyrannize,
“The least in safetie, being most at ease,
“With one Friend winning many Enemies;
“And when he sitteth in his greatest State,
“They that behold him most, beare him most hate.
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23
A King was he but now, that now is none,Disarm'd of Power, and here dejected is;
By whose deposing, he enjoyes a Throne,
Who were he naturall, should not have done this:
I must confesse, th'Inheritance his owne;
But whilst I live, it should be none of his:
But the Sonne climbes, and thrusts the Father downe,
And thus the Crowned, goes without a Crowne.
24
Thus having play'd his hard constrayned Part,His Speech, his Reigne, the Day, together ended,
His Brest shot through with Sorrowes deadlyest Dart,
Car'd for of none, not look'd on, unattended,
Sadly returning, with a heavie Heart,
To his strait Lodging strictly recommended,
Left to bemoane his miserable plight,
To the deafe Walls, and to the darkesome Night.
25
Whilst Things were thus disast'rously decreed,Seditious Libels ev'ry day were spred,
(By such as lik'd not of the violent Deed)
That he by force should be delivered:
Whether his Wrong, Remorse in some did breed,
That him (alas) untimely pittied;
Who knew: or, whether but devis'd by some,
To cloake his Murther, afterward to come.
26
And Hate at hand, which heark'ning still did lurke,And still suspitious, Edward was not sure,
Fearing, that Bloud with Leicester might worke,
Or, that him Friends his Name might yet procure,
Which the Queenes Faction mightily did irke;
At Kenelworth, that no way could endure
His longer stay; but cast to have him layd,
Where his Friends least might hope to lend him Ayd.
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27
Of which, when as they had debated long,Of Berckley Castle they themselves bethought,
A place by nature that was wond'rous strong,
And yet farre stronger eas'ly might be wrought;
Besides, it stood their chiefest Friends among,
And where he was unlikelyest to be sought;
And for their Men, to worke what they desyr'd,
They knew where Villaines were, that might be hyr'd.
28
For though the Great, to cover their Intent,Seeme not to know of any that are ill,
Yet want they not a Divellish Instrument,
Which they have readie ever at their will;
Such Men these had, to Mischiefe wholly bent,
In Villanie, notorious for their skill,
Dishonest, desp'rate, mercilesse, and rude,
That dar'd into Damnation to intrude.
29
Vile Gurney and Matrevers were the Men,Of this blacke Scene, the Actors chose to be,
Whose hatefull Deed pollutes my Maiden Pen:
But, I beseech you, be not griev'd with me,
Which have these Names now (that were famous then)
Some Boughes grow crooked from the straightest Tree;
Yee are no way partakers of their Shame,
The Fault is in their Fact, not in their Name.
30
To Kenelworth they speedily dispatch'd,Fitted with each thing that they could desire,
At such a time, as few their comming watch'd,
When of their Bus'nesse none was to enquire:
Well were the Men and their Commission match'd;
For they had their Authoritie entire,
To take the King, his Guardian to acquit,
And to bestow him where they thought it fit.
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31
This Crue of Ribalds, villanous and nought,With their Co-agents in this damned thing,
To Noble Lester their Commission brought,
Commanding the deliv'rie of the King,
Which (with much griefe) they lastly from him wrought;
About the Castle closely hovering,
Watching a time, till Silence, and the Night,
Could with convenience priviledge their Flight.
32
With shamefull Scoffes, and barbarous Disgrace,Him on a leane ill-favor'd Jade they set,
In a vile Garment, beggerly, and base,
Which, it should seeme, they purposely did get;
So carrying him in a most wretched case,
Benum'd, and beaten with the Cold and Wet,
Depriv'd of all Repose, and naturall Rest,
With Thirst and Hunger grievously opprest.
33
Yet still suspitious that he should be knowne,From Beard and Head they shav'd away the Hayre,
Which was the last that he could call his owne:
Never left Fortune any Wight so bare,
Such Tyrannie on King was never showne,
And till that time, with Mortals had beene rare;
His Comfort then did utterly deceive him,
But to his Death, his Sorrowes did not leave him.
34
For when they had him farre from all resort,They tooke him downe from his poore wearie Beast,
And on a Mole-hill (for a State in Court)
With Puddle Water him they lewdly drest,
Then with his wofull Miseries made Sport;
And for his Bason, fitting with the rest,
A rustie Iron Skull: O wretched sight!
Was ever Man so miserably dight?
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35
His Teares increas'd the Water, with their fall,Like a Poole, rising with a sudden Rayne,
Which wrestled with the Puddle, and withall,
A troubled Circle made it to retayne;
His endlesse Griefe which to his Mind did call,
His Sighes made Billowes like a little Maine;
Water and Teares contending, whether should
The Mast'rie have, the hot ones, or the cold.
36
Vile Traytors, hold off your unhallowed Hands,His Brow, upon it, Majestie still beares;
Dare yee thus keepe your Sov'raigne Lord in Bands?
And can your Eyes behold th'Anoynted's Teares?
Or if your Sight all Pittie thus withstands,
Are not your Hearts yet pierced through your Eares?
“The Mind is free, what ere afflict the Man,
“A King's a King, doe Fortune what she can.
37
“Dare Man take that which God himselfe hath given?“Or Mortall spill the Spirit by him infus'd,
“Whose pow'r is subject to the Pow'r of Heaven?
“Wrongs passe not unreveng'd, although excus'd.
Except that thou set all at six and seven,
Rise Majestie, when thou art thus abus'd;
Or for thy Refuge, which way wilt thou take,
When in this sort thou do'st thy selfe forsake?
38
When in Despight, and Mock'rie of a Crowne,A Wreath of Grasse they for his Temples make:
Which when he felt, then comming from a swowne,
And that his Spirits a little gan to wake;
Fortune (quoth he) thou do'st not alwayes frowne,
I see thou giv'st, as well as thou do'st take,
That wanting naturall covert for my Braine,
For that defect, thou lend'st me this againe.
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39
To whom, just Heaven, should I my Griefe complayne,Since it is onely Thou, that workest all?
How can this Bodie naturall strength retayne,
To suffer things so much unnaturall?
My Cogitations labour but in vaine,
'Tis from thy Justice that I have my Fall,
That when so many Miseries doe meet,
The change of Sorrow makes my Torment sweet.
40
Thus they to Berckley brought the wretched King,Which, for their purpose, was the Place fore-thought.
Yee Heavenly Pow'rs, doe yee behold this thing,
And let this Deed of Horror to be wrought,
That might the Nation into question bring!
But O, your Wayes with Justice still are fraught!
But he is hap'd into his Earthly Hell,
From whence he bad the wicked World farwell.
41
They lodg'd him in a melancholy Roome,Where, through strait Windows, the dull Light came farre,
(In which, the Sunne did at no Season come)
Which strength'ned were with many an Iron Barre,
Like to a Vault under some mightie Tombe,
Where Night and Day wag'd a continuall Warre;
Under whose Floore, the common Sewer past
Up to the same, a loathsome stench that cast.
42
The ominous Raven often he doth heare,Whose croking, him of following Horror tells,
Begetting strange imaginarie Feare,
With heavie Ecchoes, like to passing Bells;
The howling Dogge a dolefull Part doth beare,
As though they chym'd his last sad burying Knells;
Under his Eave, the buzzing Shreech-Owle sings,
Beating the Windowes with her fatall Wings.
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43
By Night affrighted, in his fearefull Dreames,Of raging Fiends and Goblins that he meets,
Of falling downe from steepe Rocks into Streames,
Of Deaths, of Buryals, and of Wynding Sheets,
Of Wand'ring Helpelesse, in farre forraine Realmes,
Of strong Temptations by seducing Sprights;
Wherewith awak'd, and calling out for aid,
His hollow Voyce doth make himself afraid.
44
Then came the Vision of his bloudie Raigne,Marching along with Lancasters sterne Ghost,
Twentie eight Barons, either hang'd, or slaine,
Attended with the rufull mangled Hoast,
That unreveng'd did all that while remayne,
At Burton Bridge, and fatall Borough lost;
Threat'ning with Frownes, and quaking ev'ry Lim,
As though that piece-meale they would torture him.
45
And if it chanc'd, that from the troubled Skyes,The least small Starre through any Chinke gave light,
Straightwayes on heapes the thronging Clouds did rise,
As though that Heaven were angry with the Night,
That it should lend that comfort to his Eyes;
Deformed Shaddowes glimpsing in his sight,
As Darkenesse, that it might more ugly bee,
Through the least Cranny would not let him see.
46
When all th'affliction that they could imposeUpon him, to the utmost of their Hate,
Above his Torments, yet his strength so rose,
As though that Nature had conspir'd with Fate;
When as his watchfull and too warie Foes,
That ceas'd not still his Woes to aggravate,
His further Helpes suspected, to prevent,
To take away his Life, to Berckley sent.
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47
And to that end a Letter fashioning,Which in the words a double sense did beare;
Which seem'd to bid them, not to kill the King,
Shewing with all, how vile a thing it were;
But by the Pointing, was another thing,
And to dispatch him, bids them not to feare;
Which taught to find, the Murth'rers need no more,
Being thereto, too readie long before.
48
When Edward hap'd a Chronicle to find,Of those nine Kings, which did him here precede,
Which some, there lodg'd, forgotten had behind,
On which, to passe the How'rs, he fell to read,
Thinking thereby to recreate his Mind;
But in his Brest, That did sore Conflicts breed:
“For when true Sorrow once the Fansie seizeth,
“What ere we see, our Miserie increaseth.
49
And to that Norman, entring on this Ile,Cal'd William Conqueror, first his time he plyes,
The Fields of Hastings how he did defile
With Saxon Bloud, and Harold did surprize,
And those, which he so could not reconcile,
How over them he long did tyrannize;
Where he read, how the Strong o'ercame the Strong,
As God oft-times makes Wrong to punish Wrong.
50
How Robert then, his eldest Sonne, abroad,Rufus, his second, seiz'd on his Estate,
His Fathers steps apparantly that trode,
Depressing those who had beene conquer'd late:
But as on them he layd a heavie Load,
So was he guerdon'd by impartiall Fate;
For whilst Mens Roomes for Beasts he did intend,
He in that Forrest had a beastly end.
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51
Henry, his young'st, his Brother William dead,Taketh the Crowne from his usurping Hand,
Due to the eldest, good Duke Robert's Head,
Not then returned from the Holy Land;
Whose Power was there so much diminished,
That he his Foe not able to withstand,
Was ta'en in Battell, and his Eyes out-done;
For which, the
King Henries sonnes drowned, as they were comming by Sea out of France into England, to keepe the Feast of Christmas with their Father.
52
To Maud the Empresse he the Scepter leaves,His onely Daughter, whom (through false Pretext)
Stephen , Earle of Bulloyn, from the Kingdome heaves:
The Conquerors Nephew, in Succession next,
By which, the Land a stranger Warre receives,
Wherewith it long was miserably vext;
Till Stephen fayling, and his Issue gone,
The Heire of Maud steps up into the Throne.
53
Henry the second, Maud the Empresse Sonne,Of th'English Kings, Plantaginet the first,
By Stephens end, a glorious Reigne begun;
But yet his Greatnesse strangely was accurst,
By his Sonne Henries Coronation:
Which to his Age much Woe and Sorrow nurst;
When His, whom he had labor'd to make Great,
Abroad his Townes, at home usurp'd his Seat.
54
Richard, his Sonne, him worthily succeeds;Who not content with what was safely Ours,
(A Man, whose Mind sought after glorious Deeds)
Into the East transports the English Powers;
Where, with his Sword whilst many a Pagan bleeds,
Relentlesse Fate doth haste on his last Houres,
By one, whose Syre he justly there had slaine,
With a sharpe Arrow shot into the Braine.
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55
Next followed him his faithlesse Brother John,By Arthurs Murther (compass'd by his Might)
His Brother Geffrey, th'Earle of Britaines Sonne;
But he by Poyson was repay'd his Spight:
For whilst he strove to have made all his owne,
(For what he got by Wrong, he held his Right)
And on the Clergie tyrannously fed,
Was by a Monke of Swinsted poysoned.
56
Henry his Sonne, then crowned very young,For hate the English to the Father bare,
The Sonne's here raigning was in question long,
Who thought, on France t'have cast the Kingdomes care:
With whom the Barons, insolent and strong,
For the old
Which his long Raigne did with much Care molest,
Yet with much Peace went lastly to his Rest.
57
Of him descends a Prince, stout, just, and sage,(In all things happie, but in him, his Sonne)
In whom, wise Nature did her selfe ingage,
More then in Man, in Edward to have done;
Whose happie Raigne recur'd the former Rage,
By the large Bounds he to his Empire wonne:
O God (quoth he) had he my Patterne bin,
Heav'n had not powr'd these Plagues upon my sinne.
58
Turning the Leafe, he found as unawares,What day young Edward, Prince of Wales, was borne;
Which Letters look'd like conjuring Characters,
Or to despight him, they were set in scorne,
Blotting the Paper like disfiguring skarres:
O, let that Name (quoth he) from Bookes be torne,
Lest in that place the sad displeased Earth
Doe loath it selfe, as slandered with my Birth.
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59
Be thence hereafter Humane Birth exil'd,Sunke to a Lake, or swallow'd by the Sea;
And future Ages asking for that Child,
Say 'twas abortive, or 'twas stolne away:
And lest, O Time, thou be therewith defil'd,
In thy un-numbred Houres devoure that Day;
Let all be done, that Pow'r can bring to passe,
To make forgot, that such a one there was.
60
The troubled Teares then standing in his Eyes,Through which, he did upon the Letters looke,
Made them to seeme like Roundlets, that arise
By a Stone cast into a standing Brooke,
Appearing to him in such various wise,
And at one time such sundry fashions tooke,
As like deluding Goblins did affright,
And with their foule shapes terrifie his sight.
61
And on his Death-bed sits him downe at last,His fainting Spirits fore-shewing Danger nie,
When the Doores forth a fearefull howling cast,
To let those in, by whom he was to die:
At whose approach, whilst there he lay agast,
Those ruthlesse Villaines did upon him flie;
Who seeing none, to whom to call for ayd,
Thus to these cruell Regicydes he sayd:
62
O be not Authors of so vile an Act,My Bloud on your Posteritie to bring,
Which after-Time with Horror shall distract,
When Fame shall tell it, how you kil'd a King;
And yet more, by the manner of the Fact,
Mortalitie so much astonishing,
That they shall count their Wickednesse scarce sinne,
Compar'd to that, which done by you hath bin.
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63
And since you deadly hate me, let me live;Yee this advantage angry Heaven hath left,
Which, except Life, hath ta'en what it did give,
But that Revenge should not from you be reft,
Me yet with greater Miserie to grieve,
Hath still reserv'd this from its former Theft;
That this, which might of all these Plagues prevent me,
Were I depriv'd it, lasteth to torment me.
64
Thus spake this wofull and distressed Lord,As yet his Breath found Passage to and fro,
With many a short Pant, many a broken word,
Many a sore Groane, many a grievous Throw,
Whilst him his Spirit could any strength afford
To his last gaspe, to move them with his Woe;
Till over-mast'red by their too much strength,
His sickly Heart submitted at the length.
65
When 'twixt two Beds they clos'd his wearied Coarse,Basely uncovering his most secret Part,
And without Humane Pittie, or Remorse,
With a hot Spit they thrust him to the Heart.
O that my Pen had in it but that force,
T'expresse the Paine! but that surpasseth Art;
And that, the Soule must even with trembling doe,
For words want weight, nor can they reach thereto.
66
When those (i'th'depth and dead time of the Night)Poore simple People, that then dwelled neare,
Whom that strange Noyse did wond'rously affright,
That his last Shreeke did in his parting heare,
As pittying that most miserable Wight,
(Betwixt Compassion and obedient Feare)
Turn'd up their Eyes, with Heavinesse opprest,
Praying to Heaven, to give the Soule good Rest.
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67
Berckley, whose Seat hath bin famous long,Let thy sad Ecchoes shreeke a deadly sound,
To the vast Ayre complayne his grievous Wrong,
And keepe the Bloud that issued from his Wound,
The Teares that drop'd from his dead Eyes among,
In their blacke foot-steps printed on the ground,
Thereby that all the Ages that succeed,
May call to mind the foulenesse of their Deed.
68
Let thy large Buildings still retayne his Grones,His sad Complaints by learning to repeat,
And let the dull Walls, and the senselesse Stones,
By the impression of his Torment sweat,
And for not able to expresse his Mones,
Therefore with Paine and Agonie repleat,
That all may thither come, that shall be told it,
As in a Mirror clearely to behold it.
69
And let the Genius of that wofull PlaceBecome the Guide to his more frightfull Ghost,
With Hayre dishevel'd, and a gastly Face,
And haunt the Prison where his Life was lost,
And as the Den of Horror, and Disgrace,
Let it be fearefull over all the Coast;
That those hereafter, that doe travell neare,
Never may view it, but with heavie cheare.
The end of the fifth Canto.
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