The Works of Michael Drayton :: :: University of Virginia Library

Me thinks, not knowing who these Lines should send,
Thou straight turn'st over to the latter end;
Where, thou my Name no sooner hast espy'd,
But in disdaine my Letter casts aside:
Why, if thou wilt, I will my selfe deny,
Nay, I'le affirme and sweare, I am not I;
Or if in that thy shame thou do'st perceive,
Lo, for thy deare sake, I my Name will leave.
And yet, me thinkes, amaz'd thou shouldst not stand,
Nor seeme so much appalled at my Hand;
For my Misfortunes have inur'd thine Eye,
(Long before this) to Sights of Miserie:
No, no, reade on, 'tis I, the very same,
All thou canst reade, is but to reade my shame.
Be not dismay'd, nor let my Name affright,
The worst it can, is but t'offend thy sight;
It cannot wound, nor doe thee deadly harme,
It is no dreadfull Spell, no Magick Charme;
If she that sent it, love Duke Humphrey so,
Is't possible her Name should be his Foe?

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Yes, I am El'nor, I am very shee,
Who brought for Dower a Virgins Bed to thee;

Noting the extreme Hate that Cardinall Beauford had ever borne to her.

Though envious Beuford slander'd me before,
To be Duke Humphreyes wanton Paramour.
And though indeed I can it not deny,

Elinor Cobham was accused by some, that sought to withstand, and misliked her Marriage with Duke Humphrey, that she practised to give him Philters, and such poysoning Potions, to make him love her; as she was slandered by Cardinall Beauford, to have lived as the Dukes Lemman: against the which Cardinall, she exclaymeth in this Epistle, in the Verse before.

To Magick once I did my selfe apply;
I wonne thee not, as there be many thinke,
With poys'ning Philters, and bewitching Drinke;
Nor on thy person did I ever prove
Those wicked Potions, so procuring Love.

I cannot boast, to be rich Hollands Heire,
Nor of the Bloud and Greatnesse of Baveire;

This was the chiefe and onely thing that ever touched the reputation of this good Duke, that dotingly he married Jacomin, or as some call her, Jaquet, Daughter and Heire to William Bavier, Duke of Holland, before married, and lawfull Wife to John, Duke of Brabant, then living: which after, as it is shewed in this Verse following,

Yet El'nor brought no forraine Armies in,
To fetch her backe, as did thy Jacomin;
Nor clam'rous Husband follow'd me that fled,
Exclayming, Humphrey to defile his Bed;
Nor wast thou forc'd, the Slander to suppresse,
To send me backe as an Adulteresse:

Caused great Warres, by reason, that the Duke of Burgoyne tooke part with Brabant, against the Duke of Gloucester; which being arbitrated by the Pope, the Ladie was adjudged to be delivered backe to her former Husband.

Brabant, nor Burgoyne, claymed me by force,
Nor su'd to Rome, to hasten my Divorce;
Nor Belgia's Pompe, defac'd with Belgia's fire,
The just reward of her unjust desire:

John, Duke of Bedford, that Scourge of France, and the Glorie of the Englishmen, married Anne, sister to the Duke of Burgundie, a vertuous and beautifull Ladie: by which Marriage, as also by his Victories attained in France, he brought great Strength to the English Nation.

Nor Bedfords Spouse, your Noble Sister Anne,
That Princely-issued great Burgonian,
Need stand with me, to move a Womans strife,
To yeeld the place to the Protectors Wife;
If Cobhams Name my Birth can dignifie,
Or Sterborough renowne my Family.

That faire and goodly Palace of Greenwich, in Kent, was first builded by that famous Duke: Whose rich and pleasant situation might remaine an assured Monument of his Wisedome, if there were no other memorie of the same.

Where's Greenwich now, thy El'nors Court of late,
Where she with Humphrey held a Princely State?
That pleasant Kent, when I abroad should ride,
That to my pleasure laid forth all her pride?
The Thames, by Water when I tooke the ayre,
That danc'd my Barge, in lanching from the stayre?
The anch'ring Ships, which when I pass'd the Road,
Were wont to hang their chequ'red Tops abroad?
How could it be, those that were wont to stand,
To see my Pompe, so Goddesse-like to Land,

217

Should after see me mayl'd up in a Sheet,
Doe shamefull Penance three times in the Street?
Rung with a Bell, a Taper in my Hand,
Bare-foot to trudge before a Beadles Wand;
That little Babes, not having use of Tongue,
Stood pointing at me, as I came along.

Where then was Humphrey, where was his Command?
Wast thou not Lord Protector of the Land?
Or for thy Justice, who could thee denie
The Title of the good Duke Humphrey?
What Bloud, extract from famous Edwards Line,
Could boast it selfe to be so pure as thine?
Who else, next Henry, should the Realme preferre,
If it allow the Line of Lancaster?
But Rayners Daughter must from France be fet,
And with a vengeance on our Throne be set;
Mauns, Maine, and Anjou, on that Begger cast,
To bring her home to England in such haste:
And what for Henry thou hadst laboured there,
To joyne the King with Arminack's rich Heire,
Must all be dash'd, as no such thing had beene.
Poole needs must have his Darling made a Queene,
How should he with our Princes else be plac'd,
To have his Earleship with a Dukedome grac'd;
And rayse the Off-spring of his Bloud so hie,
As Lords of us and our Posteritie?

O, that by Sea when he to France was sent,
The Ship had sunke, wherein the Traytor went;
Or that the Sands had swallow'd her, before
She e'r set foot upon the English Shore!
But all is well, nay, we have store to give,
What need we more, we by her Lookes can live:
All that great Henry by his Conquests heapt,
And famous Bedford to his glorie kept,
Is given backe to Rayner all in post;
And by this meanes, rich Normandie is lost.
Those which have come as Mistresses of ours,
Have into England brought their goodly Dow'rs,

218

Which to our Coffers yeerely Tribute brings,
The Life of Subjects, and the strength of Kings;
The meanes whereby faire England ever might
Rayse Power in France, to backe her ancient Right:
But she brings Ruine here to make aboad,
And cancels all our lawfull Clayme abroad;
And she must recapitulate my Shame,
And give a thousand by-words to my Name,
And call me, Beldam, Gib, Witch, Night-mare, Trot,
With all despight that may a Woman spot.

O, that I were a Witch but for her sake!
Yfaith her Queeneship little Rest should take;
I would scratch that Face, that may not feele the Ayre,
And knit whole Ropes of Witch-knots in her Hayre:
O, I would Hag her nightly in her Bed,
And on her Brest sit like a lumpe of Lead,
And like a Fairie pinch that daintie Skin,
Her wanton Bloud is now so cocker'd in;
Or take me some such knowne familiar shape,
As she my Vengeance never should escape.
Were I a Garment, none should need the more
To sprinkle me with Nessus poys'ned Gore;
It were ynough, if she once put me on,
To teare both Flesh and Sinewes from the Bone:
Were I a Flower, that might her Smell delight,
Though I were not the poys'ning Aconite,
I would send such a Fume into her Brow,
Should make her mad, as mad as I am now.

It should seeme, that there were two Ilands, both of them called Mona, though now distinguished, the one, by the Name of Man, the other, by the Name of Anglesey; both which, were full of many infernall Ceremonies: as may appeare by Agricolaes Voyage, made into the hithermost Man, described by his sonne in law, Cornelius Tacitus. And as Superstition, the Daughter of Barbarisme, and Ignorance; so, amongst those Northerly Nations, like as in America, Magicke was most esteemed.

Druidæ were the publique Ministers of their Religion, as thorowly taught in all Rites thereof: Their Doctrine concerned the Immortalitie of the Soule, the Contempt of Death, and all other Points which may conduce to Resolution, Fortitude, and Magnanimitie: Their aboade was in Groves and Woods, whereupon they have their Name: their Power extended it selfe to master the Soules of Men deceased, and to conferre with Ghosts, and other Spirits, about the successe of Things.

Plutarch, in his profound and learned Discourse of the defect of Oracles, reporteth, That the outmost British Iles were the Prison of I wot not what Demi-gods: But it shall not need to speake any farther of the Druidæ, then that which Lucan doth:

Et vos barbaricos ritus, moremque sinistrum
Sacrorum, Druidæ positis repetistis ab armis.

They say, the Druides once liv'd in this Ile,
This fatall Man, the place of my Exile,
Whose pow'rfull Charmes such dreadfull Wonders wrought,
Which in the Gotish Island Tongue were taught;
O, that their Spels to me they had resign'd,
Wherewith they rays'd and calm'd both Sea and Wind!
And made the Moone pawse in her paled Sphere,
Whilst her grim Dragons drew them through the Ayre:
Their Hellish Power, to kill the Plow-mans Seed,
Or to fore-speake whole Flocks, as they did feed;

219

To nurse a damned Spirit with humane Bloud,
To carry them through Earth, Ayre, Fire, and Floud:
Had I this skill, that Time hath almost lost,
How like a Goblin I would haunt her ghost?
O pardon, pardon my mis-govern'd Tongue,
A Womans strength cannot endure my Wrong.

Noting the prodigious and fearefull signes that were seene in England, a little before her comming in: which Elinor expresseth in this Epistle, as fore-shewing the Dangers which should ensue upon this unluckie Marriage.

Did not the Heavens her comming in withstand,
As though affrighted, when she came to Land?
The Earth did quake, her comming to abide,
The goodly Thames did twice keepe backe his Tide,
Pauls shooke with Tempests, and that mounting Spire,
With Lightning sent from Heav'n, was set on fire;
Our stately Buildings to the ground were blowne,
Her Pride by these prodigious signes were showne;
More fearefull Visions on the English Earth,
Then ever were at any Death, or Birth.
Ah Humfrey, Humfrey, if I should not speake,
My Brest would split, my very Heart would breake.
I, that was wont so many to command,
Worse now then with a Clap-dish in my hand;
A simple Mantle covering me withall,
The very'st Leper, of Cares Hospitall;
That from my State a Presence held in awe,
Glad here to kennell in a Pad of Straw;
And like an Owle, by Night to goe abroad,
Roosted all day within an Ivy Tod,
Among the Sea-Cliffes, in the dampie Caves,
In Charnell-Houses, fit to dwell in Graves.

Saw'st thou those Eyes, in whose sweet cheerefull Looke
Duke Humphrey once such joy and pleasure tooke,
Sorrow hath so despoyl'd them of all grace,
Thou couldst not say, this was my El'nors face:
Like a foule Gorgon, whose dishevel'd Hayre
With every blast flyes glaring in the Ayre;
Some standing up like Hornes upon my Head,
Even like those Women that in Coos are bred:
My lanke Brests hang like Bladders left unblowne,
My Skin with lothsome Jaundize over-growne;

220

So pin'd away, that if thou long'st to see
Ruines true Picture, onely looke on mee.
Sometime, in thinking of what I have had,
I from a sudden Extasie grow mad:
Then, like a Bedlam, forth thy El'nor runnes,
Like one of Bacchus raging frantike Nunnes;
Or like a Tartar, when in strange disguise,
Prepar'd unto a dismall Sacrifice.

That Prelate Beauford, a foule ill befall him,
Prelate said I! nay, Devill I should call him:
Ah God forgive me, if I thinke amisse,
His very Name, me thinkes, my Poyson is:
Ah that vile Judas, our professed Foe,
My Curse pursue him, wheresoe'r he goe;
That to my Judgement, when I did appeare,
Laid to my charge those things that never were:
That I should know of Bullenbrookes Intents,

The Instruments which Bullenbrooke used in his Conjurations, according to the divellish Ceremonies and Customes of these unlawfull Arts, were dedicated at a Masse, in the Lodge in Harnsey Parke, by Southwell, Priest of Westminster.

The hallowing of his Magicke Instruments;
That I procured Southwell to assist,
Which was by Order consecrate a Priest;
That it was I should cover all they did,
Which but for him had to this day beene hid.
Ah that vile Bastard, that himselfe dare vaunt,
To be the Sonne of thy brave Grandsire Gaunt,
Whom he but father'd of meere Charitie,
To rid his Mother of that Infamie;
Who, if report of elder Times be true,
Yet to this day his Father never knew.
He that by Murthers blacke and odious Crime,
To Henries Throne attempted once to clime,

This was one of the Articles that Duke Humphrey urged against the Cardinall Beauford, That he conspired the death of Henry the fifth, by conveying a Villaine into his Chamber, which in the Night should have murthered him: but what ground of Truth he had for the same, I leave to dispute.

Having procur'd by hope of golden gaine,
A fatall Hand his Soveraigne to have slaine;
Whom to his Chamber closely he convay'd,
And for that purpose fitly there had layd;
Upon whose Sword that famous Prince had dy'd,
If by a Dogge he had not beene descry'd.

But now the Queene, her Minion Poole, and he,
As it please them, ev'n so must all things be;

221

England's no place for any one beside;
All is too little to maintaine their pride.
What, of a King, hath Henry, but the Name;
And now scarse that, so publike his defame?
And I pray God, I doe not live the day,
To see his Ruine, and the Realmes decay:
And yet as sure as Humphrey seemes to stand,
He be preserv'd from that vile Traytors hand.
From Glosters Seat I would thou wert estrang'd,
Or would to God that Dukedomes Name were chang'd,
For it portends some after-ill to us;
Ah Humphrey, Humphrey, it is ominous:
Yet rather then thy hap so hard should be,
I would thou wert here banished with me.
Humphrey adiew, farewell true Noble Lord,
My wish is all thy El'nor can afford.