The Mirror for Magistrates Edited from original texts in the Huntington Library by Lily B. Campbell |
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How the lord Clyfford for his straunge and abhominable
cruelty, came to as straunge and sodayne a death. |
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 | The Mirror for Magistrates |  |
192
How the lord Clyfford for his straunge and abhominable cruelty, came to as straunge and sodayne a death.
Open confession axeth open penaunce,
And wisedome would a man his shame to hide:
Yet sith forgeuenes cummeth through repentaunce
I thinke it best that men their crimes ascried,
For nought so secrete but at length is spied:
For couer fire, and it wil neuer linne
Til it breake furth, in like case shame and sinne.
And wisedome would a man his shame to hide:
Yet sith forgeuenes cummeth through repentaunce
I thinke it best that men their crimes ascried,
For nought so secrete but at length is spied:
For couer fire, and it wil neuer linne
Til it breake furth, in like case shame and sinne.
As for my selfe my faultes be out so playne
And published so brode in every place,
That though I would I can not hide a grayne.
All care is bootles in a cureles case,
To learne by others griefe sum haue the grace,
And therfore Baldwin write my wretched fall,
The brief wherof I briefly vtter shall.
And published so brode in every place,
That though I would I can not hide a grayne.
All care is bootles in a cureles case,
To learne by others griefe sum haue the grace,
And therfore Baldwin write my wretched fall,
The brief wherof I briefly vtter shall.
193
I am the same that slue duke Richardes childe
The louely babe that begged life with teares.
Wherby my honour fowly I defilde.
Poore selly lambes the Lyon neuer teares:
The feble mouse may lye among the beares:
But wrath of man his rancour to requite,
Forgets all reason, ruth, & vertue quite.
The louely babe that begged life with teares.
Wherby my honour fowly I defilde.
Poore selly lambes the Lyon neuer teares:
The feble mouse may lye among the beares:
But wrath of man his rancour to requite,
Forgets all reason, ruth, & vertue quite.
I mean by rancour the parentall wreke
Surnamde a vertue (as the vicious say)
But litle know the wicked what they speake,
In boldning vs our enmyes kin to slay,
To punish sinne, is good, it is no nay.
They wreke not sinne, but merit wreke for sinne,
That wreke the fathers faultes vpon his kyn.
Surnamde a vertue (as the vicious say)
But litle know the wicked what they speake,
In boldning vs our enmyes kin to slay,
To punish sinne, is good, it is no nay.
They wreke not sinne, but merit wreke for sinne,
That wreke the fathers faultes vpon his kyn.
Because my father lord John Clifford died
Slayne at S. Albons, in his princes ayde,
Agaynst the duke my hart for malyce fryed,
So that I could from wreke no way be stayed.
But to avenge my fathers death, assayde
All meanes I might the duke of Yorke to annoy.
And all his kin and frendes to kill and stroy.
Slayne at S. Albons, in his princes ayde,
Agaynst the duke my hart for malyce fryed,
So that I could from wreke no way be stayed.
But to avenge my fathers death, assayde
All meanes I might the duke of Yorke to annoy.
And all his kin and frendes to kill and stroy.
194
This made me with my bluddy daggar wound.
His giltles sunne that never agaynst me sturde:
His fathers body lying dead on ground,
To pearce with speare, eke with my cruell swurd
To part his necke, and with his head to bourd,
Envested with a paper royal crowne,
From place to place to beare it vp and downe.
His giltles sunne that never agaynst me sturde:
His fathers body lying dead on ground,
To pearce with speare, eke with my cruell swurd
To part his necke, and with his head to bourd,
Envested with a paper royal crowne,
From place to place to beare it vp and downe.
But cruelty can never skape the skourge
Of shame, of horror, and of sodayne death.
Repentaunce selfe that other sinnes may pourge,
Doth flye from this, so sore the soule it slayeth,
Dispayre dissolves the tirauntes bitter breath:
For sodayne vengeaunce sodaynly alightes
On cruell heades, to quite thier cruel spightes.
Of shame, of horror, and of sodayne death.
Repentaunce selfe that other sinnes may pourge,
Doth flye from this, so sore the soule it slayeth,
Dispayre dissolves the tirauntes bitter breath:
For sodayne vengeaunce sodaynly alightes
On cruell heades, to quite thier cruel spightes.
This find I true, for as I lay in stale
To fight agaynst duke Richardes eldest sonne,
I was destroyed not far from Dintingdale:
For as I would my gorget haue vndoen
To event the heat that had me nye vndoen,
An headles arrow strake me through the throte
Wherthrough my soule forsooke his filthy coate.
To fight agaynst duke Richardes eldest sonne,
I was destroyed not far from Dintingdale:
For as I would my gorget haue vndoen
To event the heat that had me nye vndoen,
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Wherthrough my soule forsooke his filthy coate.
Was this a chaunce? no suer, gods iust award,
Wherin due iustice playnly doth appere:
An headles arrowe payed me my reward,
For heading Richard lying on the bere.
And as I would his child in no wise heare,
So sodayn death bereft my tounge the power,
To aske for pardon at my dying hower.
Wherin due iustice playnly doth appere:
An headles arrowe payed me my reward,
For heading Richard lying on the bere.
And as I would his child in no wise heare,
So sodayn death bereft my tounge the power,
To aske for pardon at my dying hower.
Wherfore good Baldwin warne the bluddy sort,
To leave their wrath, their rigour to refrayne:
Tell cruel iudges, horror is the port
To which they sayle through shame, & sodayn payne:
Hel haleth tirauntes downe to death amayne.
Was never yet nor shalbe cruell deede,
Left vnrewarded with as cruel meede.
To leave their wrath, their rigour to refrayne:
Tell cruel iudges, horror is the port
To which they sayle through shame, & sodayn payne:
Hel haleth tirauntes downe to death amayne.
Was never yet nor shalbe cruell deede,
Left vnrewarded with as cruel meede.
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