The Works of Michael Drayton Edited by J. William Hebel |
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ALICE COUNTESSE OF SALISBURIE TO THE BLACKE PRINCE. |
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 | The Works of Michael Drayton |  |
ALICE COUNTESSE OF SALISBURIE TO THE BLACKE PRINCE.
'Twixt Hope and Feare I doubtfully reply,
A Womans Weakenesse, lest I should discover,
Answering a Prince, and writing to a Lover:
And some say, Love with Reason doth dispence,
And wrests our plaine words to another sense.
Thinke you not then, poore Women had not need
Be well advis'd, to write what Men should read;
When being silent, but to move awry,
Doth often bring us into obloquie?
“Whilst in our Hearts our secret Thoughts abide,
“Th'invenom'd Tongue of Slander yet is ty'd;
“But if once spoke, deliver'd up to Fame,
“In her Report that often is too blame.
Me thinkes I end, ere I can well begin:
When I would end, then something makes me stay,
For then me thinkes I should have more to say,
And some one thing remayneth in my Brest,
For want of Words that cannot be exprest:
What I would say, as said to thee, I faine,
Then in thy Person I reply againe;
And in thy Cause urge all that may effect,
Then, what againe mine Honour must respect.
O Lord! what sundry Passions doe I try,
To set that right, which is so much awry?
The greater reason to obtaine your Love.
That Greatnesse which doth challenge no denyall,
The onely Test that doth allow my tryall;
Edward so great, the greater were his fall,
And my Offence in this were capitall.
“To Men is graunted priviledge to tempt,
“But in that Charter, Women be exempt:
“Against our selves unlesse that we be bent.
“Who doth impute it as a Fault to you?
“You prove not false, except we be untrue;
“It is your Vertue, being Men, to trie,
“And it is ours, by Vertue to denie.
“Your Fault it selfe serves for the Faults excuse,
“And makes it ours, though yours be the abuse.
“Beautie a Beggar, fie it is too bad,
“When in it selfe sufficiencie is had;
“Not made a Lure, t'intice the wand'ring Eye,
“But an Attyre, t'adorne our Modestie:
“If Modestie and Women once doe sever,
“We may bid farewell to our Fame for ever.
Matilda and faire Rosamond for me;
Alike both woo'd, alike su'd to be wonne,
Th'one by the Father, th'other by the Sonne:
Henry obtayning, did our Weakenesse wound,
And layes the fault on wanton Rosamond;
Matilda chaste, in life and death all one,
By her denyall layes the fault on John:
“By these, we prove Men accessarie still,
“But Women onely Principals of Ill.
“What Prayse is ours, but what our Vertues get?
“If they be lent, so much we be in debt;
“Whilst our owne Honors we our selves defend,
“All force too weake, what ever Men pretend:
“If all the World else should suborne our fame,
“'Tis we ourselves that overthrow the same;
“And howsoe'r, although by force you winne,
“Yet on our Weakenesse still returnes the sinne.
And shall I then be guiltie of your Fall?
Now God forbid; yet rather let me die,
Then such a Sinne upon my Soule should lie.
Where is great Edward? Whither is he led,
At whose victorious Name whole Armies fled?
Thus overcome, and vanquish'd with a Glance?
Is that great Heart, that did aspire so hie,
So soone trans-pierced with a Womans Eye?
He that a King at Poictiers Battell tooke,
Himselfe led captive with a wanton Looke?
Twice as a Bride to Church I have beene led,
Twice have two Lords enjoy'd my Bridall Bed:
How can that Beautie yet be undestroy'd,
That yeeres have wasted, and two Men enjoy'd?
Or should be thought fit for a Princes store,
Of which, two Subjects were possest before?
Their Infant Queenes, for Englands Dowager;
That Bloud should be much more then halfe divine,
That should be equall ev'ry way with thine:
Yet Princely Edward, though I thus reprove you,
As mine owne life, so dearely doe I love you.
That gentle Lord, that reverend Mountague,
Ne'r Mothers voyce did please her Babe so well,
As his did mine, of you to heare him tell:
I have made short the Houres, that Time made long,
And chayn'd mine Eares to his most pleasing Tongue;
My Lips have waited on your Prayses worth,
And snatcht his words, ere he could get them forth:
When he had spoke, and something by the way
Hath broke off that he was about to say;
I kept in mind where from his Tale he fell,
Calling on him the residue to tell.
Oft he would say, How sweet a Prince is hee!
When I have prays'd him but for praysing thee;
And to proceed, I would intreat and woo,
And yet to ease him, helpe to prayse thee too.
Offred by him, whom she hath lov'd so long?
Nay, I will tell, and I durst almost sweare,
Edward will blush, when he his Fault shall heare.
And Reason mildly quench the fire of Rage;
By upright Justice let my cause be try'd,
And be thou Judge, if I not justly chide.
A thing incredible, that any Prince should be so unjust, to use the Fathers meanes for the corruption of the Daughters Chastitie, though so the Historie importeth; her Father being so honourable, and a Man of so singular desert: though Polydore would have her thought to be Jane, the Daughter to Edmund, Earle of Kent, uncle to Edward the third, beheaded in the Protectorship of Mortimer, that dangerous Aspirer.
When on his Knee he beg'd me with his Teares,
By no perswasions possibly could winne,
To free himselfe, from prompting me to sinne;
The Woe for me my Mother did abide,
Whose sute (but you) there's none could have deny'd,
Your lustfull Rage, your Tyrannie could stay,
Mine Honours Ruine further to delay.
Have I not lov'd you? let the Truth be showne,
That still preserv'd your Honour with mine owne.
Had your fond Will your foule Desires prevail'd,
When you by them my Chastitie assail'd;
(Though this no way could have excus'd my Fault,
“True Vertue never yeelded to Assault:)
Besides the Ill of you that had beene said,
My Parents sinne had to your charge beene laid;
Roxborough is a Castle in the North, mis-termed by Bandello, Salisburie Castle, because the King had given it to the Earle of Salisburie: in which, her Lord being absent, the Countesse by the Scots was besieged; who, by the comming of the English Armie, were removed. Here first the Prince saw her, whose Libertie had beene gained by her shame, had she beene drawne by dishonest Love to satisfie his Appetite: but by her most prayse-worthie Constancie, shee converted that humour in him to an Honourable purpose, and obtained the true reward of her admired Vertues.
To save my Life, made shipwracke of my Name.
To thy brave Ensignes, on the Northerne Plaines?
And to thy Trumpets, sounding from thy Tent,
Mine oft againe thee heartie Welcome sent,
And did receive thee as my Soveraigne Liege,
Comming to ayd me, thus me to besiege,
To rayse a Foe, that but for Treasure came,
To plant a Foe, to take my honest Name;
Under pretence to have remov'd the Scot,
And would'st have wonne more then he could have got;
That did ingirt me, readie still to flie,
But thou layd'st Batt'rie to my Chastitie:
O Modestie, didst thou me not restraine,
How could I chide you in this angrie vaine!
To have those Honours Edwards Spouse should have,
In my chaste Brest to harbour such a Thought,
As to be worthie to be made a Bride,
A Piece unfit for Princely Edwards side;
Of all, the most unworthie of that grace,
To wait on her that should injoy that place.
But if that Love, Prince Edward doth require,
Equall his Vertues, and my chaste desire;
If it be such as we may justly vaunt,
A Prince may sue for, and a Lady graunt;
If it be such as may suppresse my Wrong,
That from your vaine unbridled Youth hath sprong;
That Faith I send, which I from you receive:
Lest any thing be left out which were worth the Relation, it shall not be impertinent, to annex the Opinions that are uttered concerning her, whose Name is said to have beene Ælips: but that being rejected, as a Name unknowne among us, Froisard is rather beleeved, who calleth her Alice. Polydore contrariwise, as before is declared, names her Jane, who by Prince Edward had Issue, Edward dying young, and Richard the Second, King of England, though (as hee sayth) shee was divorced afterwards, because within the degrees of Consanguinitie, prohibiting to marrie: The truth whereof, I omit to discusse. Her Husband, the Lord Mountague, being sent over into Flanders by King Edward, was taken Prisoner by the French; and not returning, left his Countesse a Widdow: in whose Bed, succeeded Prince Edward; to whose last and lawfull Request, the rejoycefull Ladie sends this loving Answere.
| The Works of Michael Drayton | |