The Mirror for Magistrates Edited from original texts in the Huntington Library by Lily B. Campbell |
 |
 |
|
Howe the Lord Hastynges was betrayed by trustyng to much
to his evyl counsayler Catesby, and vilanously murdered in
the tower of London by Richarde Duke of Glocestre. |
|
|
 | The Mirror for Magistrates |  |
268
Howe the Lord Hastynges was betrayed by trustyng to much to his evyl counsayler Catesby, and vilanously murdered in the tower of London by Richarde Duke of Glocestre.
Hastynges I am, whose hastned death whoe knewe,
My lyfe with prayse, my death with plaint pursue.
With others, fearyng least my headlesse name
Be wrongd, by partiall bruite of flatteryng fame:
Cleaving my tombe the waye my fame forewent,
Though bared of loanes which body & Fortune lent
Erst my proud vaunt: present present to thee
My honoure, fall, and forced destenye.
My lyfe with prayse, my death with plaint pursue.
With others, fearyng least my headlesse name
Be wrongd, by partiall bruite of flatteryng fame:
Cleaving my tombe the waye my fame forewent,
Though bared of loanes which body & Fortune lent
Erst my proud vaunt: present present to thee
My honoure, fall, and forced destenye.
Ne feare to stayn thy credyt by my tale.
In Laethes floud, long since, in Stigian vale
Selfe love I dreynt. what tyme hath fyned for true,
And ceasseth not, (though stale) styll to renewe:
Recount I wyl. wherof be this the proofe.
That blase I wyll my prayse, and my reproofe.
We naked ghostes are but the verye man.
Ne of our selves more than we ought we skanne.
In Laethes floud, long since, in Stigian vale
Selfe love I dreynt. what tyme hath fyned for true,
And ceasseth not, (though stale) styll to renewe:
Recount I wyl. wherof be this the proofe.
That blase I wyll my prayse, and my reproofe.
We naked ghostes are but the verye man.
Ne of our selves more than we ought we skanne.
269
But doubte distracteth me, yf I should consent
To yeelde myne honourd name a martyrd Saynt.
Yf Martirdome rest in the mysers lyfe
Through tormentes wrongly reft by fatall knyfe:
Howe fortunes Nurslyng I, and dearest babe,
Ought therto stoope, none maye me well perswade.
For howe maye myser martyrdome betyde,
To whome in Cradell Fortune was affyed?
To yeelde myne honourd name a martyrd Saynt.
Yf Martirdome rest in the mysers lyfe
Through tormentes wrongly reft by fatall knyfe:
Howe fortunes Nurslyng I, and dearest babe,
Ought therto stoope, none maye me well perswade.
For howe maye myser martyrdome betyde,
To whome in Cradell Fortune was affyed?
Sée howe this grossest aier infecteth me since,
Forgot have I, of foyaltye to my prynce.
My happye meede is, Martir to be named?
And what the heavens embrace, the world aye blamed:
For, mens vniustyce wreaked but Gods iust Ire,
And by wrong end, turned wreake to Iustice hyre.
O Iudgmentes iust, by vniustice iustice dealt,
Whoe dowteth, of me may learne, the truth who felt.
Forgot have I, of foyaltye to my prynce.
My happye meede is, Martir to be named?
And what the heavens embrace, the world aye blamed:
For, mens vniustyce wreaked but Gods iust Ire,
And by wrong end, turned wreake to Iustice hyre.
O Iudgmentes iust, by vniustice iustice dealt,
Whoe dowteth, of me may learne, the truth who felt.
So therfore, as my fall may many staye:
Aswell the prynce, from violent headlong swaie,
Of noble peeres, from honours throne to dust,
As nobles lesse in tyckle state to trust:
Shonning those synnes, that shake the golden leaves
Perforce from boughes, eare Nature bare the greaves:
So, what my lyfe professed, my death heare teacheth.
And, as with word so with example preacheth.
Aswell the prynce, from violent headlong swaie,
Of noble peeres, from honours throne to dust,
As nobles lesse in tyckle state to trust:
Shonning those synnes, that shake the golden leaves
Perforce from boughes, eare Nature bare the greaves:
So, what my lyfe professed, my death heare teacheth.
And, as with word so with example preacheth.
The hyllye heauens, and valey Earthe belowe,
Yet ryng hys Fame, whose dedes so great dyd grow.
Edward the fourth ye know vnnamed I meane.
Whose noble nature so to me dyd leane,
That I hys staffe was, I his only ioye,
And even what Pandare was to hym of Troy.
Which moved hym fyrst, to create me chamberlayne.
To serve hys sweetes, to my most sower payne.
Yet ryng hys Fame, whose dedes so great dyd grow.
270
Whose noble nature so to me dyd leane,
That I hys staffe was, I his only ioye,
And even what Pandare was to hym of Troy.
Which moved hym fyrst, to create me chamberlayne.
To serve hys sweetes, to my most sower payne.
Wherein, to iustly praysed for secretnesse
(For now my guylt with shrykyng I confesse)
To hym to true, to vntrue to the Queene,
Suche hate I wanne, as lasted longe betweene
Oure familyes. Shores wyfe was my nyce cheate.
The wholye whore, and eke the wyly peate.
I fedd his lust with lovely peces so,
That Gods sharpe wrath I purchased, my iust woe.
(For now my guylt with shrykyng I confesse)
To hym to true, to vntrue to the Queene,
Suche hate I wanne, as lasted longe betweene
Oure familyes. Shores wyfe was my nyce cheate.
The wholye whore, and eke the wyly peate.
I fedd his lust with lovely peces so,
That Gods sharpe wrath I purchased, my iust woe.
See here of Nobles newe the dyverse source.
Some vertue rayseth, some clyme by sluttyshe sortes.
The fyrst, though onely of them selves begonne,
Yet circlewyse into them selues doe ronne.
With in theyr Fame theyr force vnyted so,
Both endelesse is, and stronger gaynst theyr foe.
For, when endeth hit that neuer hath begonne?
Or by what force, maye circled knot be vndone?
Some vertue rayseth, some clyme by sluttyshe sortes.
The fyrst, though onely of them selves begonne,
Yet circlewyse into them selues doe ronne.
With in theyr Fame theyr force vnyted so,
Both endelesse is, and stronger gaynst theyr foe.
For, when endeth hit that neuer hath begonne?
Or by what force, maye circled knot be vndone?
Thother, as by wycked meanes they grewe,
And raygned by flattery or violence: so sone rue.
First tomblyng stepp from honoures old, is vyce.
Which once discended, some lynger, none aryse
To former type. but they catch vertues spraye,
Which mounteth them that clyme by lawfull waye.
Beware to ryse by serving princely lust.
Surely to stand, one meane is rysyng iust.
And raygned by flattery or violence: so sone rue.
First tomblyng stepp from honoures old, is vyce.
Which once discended, some lynger, none aryse
271
Which mounteth them that clyme by lawfull waye.
Beware to ryse by serving princely lust.
Surely to stand, one meane is rysyng iust.
Which learne by me. whome let it helpe to excuse,
That ruthfull nowe my selfe I do accuse.
And that my prynce I ever pleased with suche,
As harmed none, and hym contented much.
In vyce, som favoure, or lesse hate let wynne,
That I ne wryed to worser end my sinne.
But vsed my favoure to the safetye of such,
As furye of Later warre to lyue dyd grutche.
That ruthfull nowe my selfe I do accuse.
And that my prynce I ever pleased with suche,
As harmed none, and hym contented much.
In vyce, som favoure, or lesse hate let wynne,
That I ne wryed to worser end my sinne.
But vsed my favoure to the safetye of such,
As furye of Later warre to lyue dyd grutche.
For as on durt (though durty) shyneth the sonne:
So, even amyds my vyce, my vertue shoane.
My selfe I spared with any his cheate to stayne,
For love and reverence so I could refrayne.
Gisippus wyfe erst Tytus would desyre
With frendshyps breach. I quenchd that brutyshe fyre.
Manly hit is, to loth the fawnyng lust.
Small vaunt to flye, what of constraynt thou must.
So, even amyds my vyce, my vertue shoane.
My selfe I spared with any his cheate to stayne,
For love and reverence so I could refrayne.
Gisippus wyfe erst Tytus would desyre
With frendshyps breach. I quenchd that brutyshe fyre.
Manly hit is, to loth the fawnyng lust.
Small vaunt to flye, what of constraynt thou must.
These therfore rased, yf thou myne offyce skanne,
Loe none I hurt but furdered every manne.
My chamber England was, my staffe the law:
Wherby sauns rygoure, all I held in awe.
So lovyng to all, so beloued of all,
As, (what ensued vppon my bloudy fall
Though I ne felt) yet surely this I thynke.
Full many a tricklyng teare theyr mouthes did drynke.
Loe none I hurt but furdered every manne.
My chamber England was, my staffe the law:
Wherby sauns rygoure, all I held in awe.
So lovyng to all, so beloued of all,
As, (what ensued vppon my bloudy fall
Though I ne felt) yet surely this I thynke.
Full many a tricklyng teare theyr mouthes did drynke.
272
Disdayne not prynces easye accesse, meeke cheare.
We knowe, then Angells statelyer port ye beare
Of God hym selfe: to massye a charge for sprytes.
But then, my lordes, consyder, he delyghts
To vayle his grace to vs poore earthely wants,
To symplest shrubbes, and to the dunghyll plantes.
Expresse hym then, in myght and mercyes meane.
So shall ye wynne, as now ye welld, the realme.
We knowe, then Angells statelyer port ye beare
Of God hym selfe: to massye a charge for sprytes.
But then, my lordes, consyder, he delyghts
To vayle his grace to vs poore earthely wants,
To symplest shrubbes, and to the dunghyll plantes.
Expresse hym then, in myght and mercyes meane.
So shall ye wynne, as now ye welld, the realme.
But all to long I feare I do delaye
The many meanes, wherby I dyd bewraye
My zelous wyll, to earne my prynces grace.
Least thou differ, to thynke me kynde percace
As nought may last, so Fortunes weathery cheare
With powtyng lookes gan lower on my Syre,
And on her wheele, advaunsd hye in hys roome
The Warwick Earle, mase of Chrystendoome.
The many meanes, wherby I dyd bewraye
My zelous wyll, to earne my prynces grace.
Least thou differ, to thynke me kynde percace
As nought may last, so Fortunes weathery cheare
With powtyng lookes gan lower on my Syre,
And on her wheele, advaunsd hye in hys roome
The Warwick Earle, mase of Chrystendoome.
Besydes the temptyng prowesse of the foe,
His traytor brother dyd my prynce forgoe.
The cause was lyked, I was hys lynked alye.
Yet, nor the cause, nor brothers trecherye,
Nor enmyes force, ne band of myngled bloude:
Made Hastynges beare hys prynce other mynd then good.
But tane and scaped from Warwicks gripyng pawes,
With me he fled through fortunes frowardst flawes.
His traytor brother dyd my prynce forgoe.
The cause was lyked, I was hys lynked alye.
Yet, nor the cause, nor brothers trecherye,
Nor enmyes force, ne band of myngled bloude:
Made Hastynges beare hys prynce other mynd then good.
But tane and scaped from Warwicks gripyng pawes,
With me he fled through fortunes frowardst flawes.
To London come, at large we might have seemed,
Had not we then the realme a pryson deemd.
Ech bush a barre, eche spray a banner splayed,
Eche house a fort our passage to haue stayed.
To Linne we leape, where whyle we awayt the tyde,
My secrete fryndes in secrete I supplyed,
In mouth to mayntayne Henry syxt theyr kynge,
By deede to devoyre Edward to bryng in.
Had not we then the realme a pryson deemd.
Ech bush a barre, eche spray a banner splayed,
Eche house a fort our passage to haue stayed.
273
My secrete fryndes in secrete I supplyed,
In mouth to mayntayne Henry syxt theyr kynge,
By deede to devoyre Edward to bryng in.
The restles tyde, to bare the empty baye,
With waltryng waves roames wamblyng forth. Away
The mery maryner hayles. The braggyng boye,
To masts hye top vp hyes. In signe of ioye
The wauering flagge is vaunsd. The suttle Seas
Theyr swellyng ceasse: to calmest even peace
Sinkth down theyr pride. with dronkennes gainst al care
The Seamen armed, awayte theyr noble fare.
With waltryng waves roames wamblyng forth. Away
The mery maryner hayles. The braggyng boye,
To masts hye top vp hyes. In signe of ioye
The wauering flagge is vaunsd. The suttle Seas
Theyr swellyng ceasse: to calmest even peace
Sinkth down theyr pride. with dronkennes gainst al care
The Seamen armed, awayte theyr noble fare.
On Bord we come. The massye Anchors weyed,
One Englyshe shippe, two Hulkes of Holland, ayde
In suche a pynche. So small tho was the trayne,
Such his constraynt. that nowe, that one with payne
Commaund he myght, whoe erst mought many moe:
Then brought the ghastlye Greekes to Tenedo.
So nought is ours that we by happe maye lose,
What nearest seems, is farthest of in woes.
One Englyshe shippe, two Hulkes of Holland, ayde
In suche a pynche. So small tho was the trayne,
Such his constraynt. that nowe, that one with payne
Commaund he myght, whoe erst mought many moe:
Then brought the ghastlye Greekes to Tenedo.
So nought is ours that we by happe maye lose,
What nearest seems, is farthest of in woes.
As banished wightes, such ioyes we mought have made.
Easd of aye thretnyng death, that late we dradde.
But once our countreyes syght (not care) exempt,
No harboure shewyng, that mought our feare relent,
No covert cave, No shrubbe to shroud our lyves,
No hollow wodde, no flyght, that oft depryves
The myghty hys pray, no Sanctuary left
For exyled prynce, that shroudes eche slave from theft:
Easd of aye thretnyng death, that late we dradde.
But once our countreyes syght (not care) exempt,
No harboure shewyng, that mought our feare relent,
No covert cave, No shrubbe to shroud our lyves,
No hollow wodde, no flyght, that oft depryves
The myghty hys pray, no Sanctuary left
For exyled prynce, that shroudes eche slave from theft:
274
In pryson pent, whose woddye walles to passe
Of no lesse peryll than the dying was:
With the Oceane moated, battered with the waves,
(As chaynd at Oares the wretched Galley slaves,
At mercy sit of Sea and enmyes shott,
And shonne with death what they with flyght may not)
But greenysh waves, and desert lowryng Skyes
All comfort ells forclosed oure exyled eyes:
Of no lesse peryll than the dying was:
With the Oceane moated, battered with the waves,
(As chaynd at Oares the wretched Galley slaves,
At mercy sit of Sea and enmyes shott,
And shonne with death what they with flyght may not)
But greenysh waves, and desert lowryng Skyes
All comfort ells forclosed oure exyled eyes:
Loe loe from highest toppe, the Slavyshe boye
Sent vp with syght of land our hertes to ioye:
Descryes at hand whole fleet of easterlynges.
As then whote enmyes of the Britishe kynges.
The mouse may somtyme help the Lyon in nede
The byttle bee once spylt the Aegles breed.
O prynces seke no foes. In your distresse,
The Earth, the seas, conspyre your heavinesse.
Sent vp with syght of land our hertes to ioye:
Descryes at hand whole fleet of easterlynges.
As then whote enmyes of the Britishe kynges.
The mouse may somtyme help the Lyon in nede
The byttle bee once spylt the Aegles breed.
O prynces seke no foes. In your distresse,
The Earth, the seas, conspyre your heavinesse.
Oure foe descryed by flyght we shonne in hast,
And lade with Canvase now the bendyng mast.
The shyppe was rackt to trye her saylyng then,
As Squirells clime the troupes of trusty men.
The stearesman sekes a redier course to ronne,
The souldyer stirres, the gonner hyes to gonne,
The flemynges sweate, the englyshe shyp disdaynes
To wayte behynde to beare the flemynges traynes.
And lade with Canvase now the bendyng mast.
The shyppe was rackt to trye her saylyng then,
As Squirells clime the troupes of trusty men.
The stearesman sekes a redier course to ronne,
The souldyer stirres, the gonner hyes to gonne,
The flemynges sweate, the englyshe shyp disdaynes
To wayte behynde to beare the flemynges traynes.
Forth flyeth the bark, as from the vyolent goonne
The pellet pearsth all stayes and stops eft soone.
And swift she swimmeth, as oft in sunny daye
The dolphine fleetes in Seas in mery Maye.
As we for lyves, so Theasterlynges for gayne,
Thwack on the sayles, and after make amayne.
Though laden they were, and of burthen great:
A Kyng to master yet, what swayne nold sweat?
The pellet pearsth all stayes and stops eft soone.
And swift she swimmeth, as oft in sunny daye
The dolphine fleetes in Seas in mery Maye.
275
Thwack on the sayles, and after make amayne.
Though laden they were, and of burthen great:
A Kyng to master yet, what swayne nold sweat?
So myde the vale, the greyhound seyng stert
His fearfull foe, pursueth. Before she flerteth.
And where she turnth, he turnth her there to beare.
The one pray prycketh, the other safetyes feare.
So were we chased, so fled we afore our foes.
Bett flyght then fyght, in so vneven close.
I end. Some think perhaps, to long he stayeth
In peryll present sheweng his fixed fayth.
His fearfull foe, pursueth. Before she flerteth.
And where she turnth, he turnth her there to beare.
The one pray prycketh, the other safetyes feare.
So were we chased, so fled we afore our foes.
Bett flyght then fyght, in so vneven close.
I end. Some think perhaps, to long he stayeth
In peryll present sheweng his fixed fayth.
This ventred I, this dread I dyd sustayne,
To trye my truth, my lyfe I dyd disdayne.
But, loe, lyke tryall agaynst his civile foe.
Faythes worst is tryall, which is reserued to woe.
I passe our scape, and sharpe retournyng home,
Where we were welcumd by our wonted fone.
To batayle mayne discendes the empyres ryght.
At Barnet ioyne the hostes in bloudy fyght.
To trye my truth, my lyfe I dyd disdayne.
But, loe, lyke tryall agaynst his civile foe.
Faythes worst is tryall, which is reserued to woe.
I passe our scape, and sharpe retournyng home,
Where we were welcumd by our wonted fone.
To batayle mayne discendes the empyres ryght.
At Barnet ioyne the hostes in bloudy fyght.
There ioynd thre batayles ranged in such arraye,
As mought for terrour Alexander fray.
What should I staye to tell the long discourse?
Whoe wan the pallme? whoe bare away the worse?
Suffyseth to saye by my reserved band,
Oure enemyes fled, we had the vpper hand.
My Iron armye helld her steady place,
My prynce to shyeld, his feared foe to chace.
As mought for terrour Alexander fray.
What should I staye to tell the long discourse?
Whoe wan the pallme? whoe bare away the worse?
Suffyseth to saye by my reserved band,
Oure enemyes fled, we had the vpper hand.
My Iron armye helld her steady place,
My prynce to shyeld, his feared foe to chace.
276
The lyke successe befell me in Tewkesbury field.
My furyous force, there forsd perforce, to yelde
The traytour foe: and render to my kyng
Her onelye sonne, least he more bate myght bryng.
Thus hast thou a mirrour of a subiectes minde,
Suche as perhaps is rare agayne to fynd:
The Carving cuts, that cleave the trusty steele,
My fayth, and due allegiaunce, could not fyle.
My furyous force, there forsd perforce, to yelde
The traytour foe: and render to my kyng
Her onelye sonne, least he more bate myght bryng.
Thus hast thou a mirrour of a subiectes minde,
Suche as perhaps is rare agayne to fynd:
The Carving cuts, that cleave the trusty steele,
My fayth, and due allegiaunce, could not fyle.
But out alas. what prayse maye I recount,
That is not spyced with spott, that doth surmount
My greatest vaunt? For bloudy warr to feete
A Tyger was I, all for peace vnmeete.
A Souldyours handes must oft be dyed with goare,
Least starke with rest, they finewd wax, and hoare.
Peace could I wyn by warr, but peace not vse.
Fewe dayes enioy he, whoe warlyke peace doth choose.
That is not spyced with spott, that doth surmount
My greatest vaunt? For bloudy warr to feete
A Tyger was I, all for peace vnmeete.
A Souldyours handes must oft be dyed with goare,
Least starke with rest, they finewd wax, and hoare.
Peace could I wyn by warr, but peace not vse.
Fewe dayes enioy he, whoe warlyke peace doth choose.
When Crofts a Knyght, presented Henryes heyre
To this our prynce, in furyous mood enquere
Of hym he gan, what folye or phrensye vayne,
With armes forsd hym to invade his realme?
Whome answeryng, that he claymd his fathers ryght:
With Gauntlet smitt, commaunded from hys syght:
Clarence, Glocester, Dorcet, and I Hastyngs slewe.
The guylt whereof we shortly all dyd rue.
To this our prynce, in furyous mood enquere
Of hym he gan, what folye or phrensye vayne,
With armes forsd hym to invade his realme?
Whome answeryng, that he claymd his fathers ryght:
With Gauntlet smitt, commaunded from hys syght:
Clarence, Glocester, Dorcet, and I Hastyngs slewe.
The guylt whereof we shortly all dyd rue.
Clarence, as Cirus, drownd in bloudlyke wyne.
Dorcett I furthered to his spedy pyne.
Of me, my selfe am speakyng presydent.
Nor easyer fate the brystled boare is lent.
Oure bloudes have payd the vengeaunce of our guylt,
His fryed boanes, shall broyle for bloud he hath spilt.
O waltsome murther, that attaynteth our fame.
O horryble traytours wantyng worthy name.
Dorcett I furthered to his spedy pyne.
Of me, my selfe am speakyng presydent.
Nor easyer fate the brystled boare is lent.
277
His fryed boanes, shall broyle for bloud he hath spilt.
O waltsome murther, that attaynteth our fame.
O horryble traytours wantyng worthy name.
Whoe more mischevouslye of all states deserve,
As better they, whoe fyrst dyd such preserve.
Yf those, for gyftes, we recken heavenly wyghtes,
These may we well deeme fends, and dampned sprytes.
And whyle on earth they walke, disguysed devyls,
Sworne foes of vertue, factours for all evylls.
Whose bloudye hands torment theyr goared hartes.
Through bloudsheds horrour, in soundest slepe he sterts.
As better they, whoe fyrst dyd such preserve.
Yf those, for gyftes, we recken heavenly wyghtes,
These may we well deeme fends, and dampned sprytes.
And whyle on earth they walke, disguysed devyls,
Sworne foes of vertue, factours for all evylls.
Whose bloudye hands torment theyr goared hartes.
Through bloudsheds horrour, in soundest slepe he sterts.
O happy world were the Lyons men.
All Lyons should at least be spared then.
No suerty now, no lastyng league is bloude.
A meacock is, whoe dreadth to see blud shed.
Stale is the paterne, the fact must nedes be ryfe.
Whyle .ii. were armyes .ii., the issues of fyrst wyfe,
With armed Hert and hand, thone bloudy brother,
With cruell chase pursueth and murdreth thother.
All Lyons should at least be spared then.
No suerty now, no lastyng league is bloude.
A meacock is, whoe dreadth to see blud shed.
Stale is the paterne, the fact must nedes be ryfe.
Whyle .ii. were armyes .ii., the issues of fyrst wyfe,
With armed Hert and hand, thone bloudy brother,
With cruell chase pursueth and murdreth thother.
Which whoe defyeth not? yet whoe ceasseth to sue?
The bloudy Caynes theyr bloudy Syre renew.
The horrour yet is lyke in common frayes.
For in eche murther, brother brother slayes.
Traytours to nature, Countrey, kinne and kynde.
Whome no bande serveth in brothers zeale to bynd.
O symple age, when slaunder slaughter was.
The tonges small evyll, how doth this mischefe passe?
The bloudy Caynes theyr bloudy Syre renew.
The horrour yet is lyke in common frayes.
For in eche murther, brother brother slayes.
278
Whome no bande serveth in brothers zeale to bynd.
O symple age, when slaunder slaughter was.
The tonges small evyll, how doth this mischefe passe?
Hopest thou to cloake thy covert mischief wrought?
Thy conscience, Caytyf, shall proclayme thy thought.
A vysyon, Chaucer sheweth, discloasd thy cryme.
The Fox descrye the crowes and chatteryng Pyen.
And shall thy felow felons, not bewraye
The guiltlesse death, whome guilty hands doe slaye?
Vnpunished scaped for haynous cryme some one,
But vnadvenged, in mynde or bodye, none.
Thy conscience, Caytyf, shall proclayme thy thought.
A vysyon, Chaucer sheweth, discloasd thy cryme.
The Fox descrye the crowes and chatteryng Pyen.
And shall thy felow felons, not bewraye
The guiltlesse death, whome guilty hands doe slaye?
Vnpunished scaped for haynous cryme some one,
But vnadvenged, in mynde or bodye, none.
Vengeaunce on mynd, the freatyng furyes take.
The synnefull coarse, lyke earthquake agewes shake.
Theyr frownyng lookes, their frounced mindes bewray.
In hast they runne, and mids theyr race they staye,
As gydded roe. Amyds theyr speache they whist,
At meate they muse. No where they may persyst
But some feare netleth them. Aye hang they so.
So never wanteth the wicked murtherer woe.
The synnefull coarse, lyke earthquake agewes shake.
Theyr frownyng lookes, their frounced mindes bewray.
In hast they runne, and mids theyr race they staye,
As gydded roe. Amyds theyr speache they whist,
At meate they muse. No where they may persyst
But some feare netleth them. Aye hang they so.
So never wanteth the wicked murtherer woe.
An infant rent with lyons ramping pawes?
Whye slaunder I Lyons? They feare the sacred lawes
Of prynces bloud. Aye me, more brute than beast,
Wyth princes sydes, (Licaons pye) to feast?
O Tyrant Tygres, O insatiable wolues,
O Englishe curtesye, monstrous mawes and gulfes.
My death shall forthwith preach my earned meede.
Yf fyrst to one lyke murther I procede.
Whye slaunder I Lyons? They feare the sacred lawes
Of prynces bloud. Aye me, more brute than beast,
Wyth princes sydes, (Licaons pye) to feast?
279
O Englishe curtesye, monstrous mawes and gulfes.
My death shall forthwith preach my earned meede.
Yf fyrst to one lyke murther I procede.
Whyle Edward lyued, dissembled discord lurked:
In double hertes yet so his reuerence workd.
But when succedyng tender feble age,
Gave open gap to tyrants rushing rage:
I holpe the Boare, and Buck, to captyuate
Lord Rivers, Graye, Sir Thomas Vaughan and Hawte.
Yf land would hellp the Sea, well earnd that ground
Hit selfe, to be wyth Conqueryng waves surround.
In double hertes yet so his reuerence workd.
But when succedyng tender feble age,
Gave open gap to tyrants rushing rage:
I holpe the Boare, and Buck, to captyuate
Lord Rivers, Graye, Sir Thomas Vaughan and Hawte.
Yf land would hellp the Sea, well earnd that ground
Hit selfe, to be wyth Conqueryng waves surround.
Theyr spedy death by pryvy dome procured,
At Pomfret: tho my lyfe short whyle endured.
My selfe I slew, when them I damned to death.
At once my throate I ryved, and reft them breth.
For that selfe day, afore or neare the hower
That wythered Atropos nippd the spryngyng flower
With vyolent hand, of theyr foorth runnyng lyfe:
My head and body, in Tower twynd lyke knyfe.
At Pomfret: tho my lyfe short whyle endured.
My selfe I slew, when them I damned to death.
At once my throate I ryved, and reft them breth.
For that selfe day, afore or neare the hower
That wythered Atropos nippd the spryngyng flower
With vyolent hand, of theyr foorth runnyng lyfe:
My head and body, in Tower twynd lyke knyfe.
280
By this my paterne, all ye peeres beware.
Oft hangeth he hym selfe, whoe others weenth to snare,
Spare to be eche others butcher. Feare the kyte,
Whoe soareth aloft, whyle frogge and mouse do fyght
In civill Combatt, grapplyng voyd of feare
Of foreyn foe. at once all both to beare.
Which playner by my pytied playnt to see,
A whyle anew your listnyng lend to me.
Oft hangeth he hym selfe, whoe others weenth to snare,
Spare to be eche others butcher. Feare the kyte,
Whoe soareth aloft, whyle frogge and mouse do fyght
In civill Combatt, grapplyng voyd of feare
Of foreyn foe. at once all both to beare.
Which playner by my pytied playnt to see,
A whyle anew your listnyng lend to me.
To true it is .ii. sondry assemblies kept,
At Crossbyes place, and Baynardes castell sett.
The Dukes at Crossebyes, but at Baynards we.
The one to crown a kyng, the other to be.
Suspicious is secession of foule frends,
When eythers dryft to others myschefe tendes.
I feared the end. My Catesbyes beyng there
Discharged all dowtes. Hym held I most entyre.
At Crossbyes place, and Baynardes castell sett.
The Dukes at Crossebyes, but at Baynards we.
The one to crown a kyng, the other to be.
Suspicious is secession of foule frends,
When eythers dryft to others myschefe tendes.
I feared the end. My Catesbyes beyng there
Discharged all dowtes. Hym held I most entyre.
Whose great preferment by my meanes, I thought
Some spurre, to paye the thankfullnesse he ought.
The trust he ought me, made me trust him so:
That priuye he was bothe to my weale and woe.
My harts one halfe, my chest of confydence,
My tresures trust, my ioye dwelt in his presence.
I loved hym Baldwyn, as the apple of myne eye.
I lothed my lyfe when Catesby would me dye.
Some spurre, to paye the thankfullnesse he ought.
The trust he ought me, made me trust him so:
That priuye he was bothe to my weale and woe.
My harts one halfe, my chest of confydence,
My tresures trust, my ioye dwelt in his presence.
I loved hym Baldwyn, as the apple of myne eye.
I lothed my lyfe when Catesby would me dye.
Flye from thy chanell Thames, forsake thy streames,
Leve the Adamant Iron, Phebus lay thy beames:
Ceasse heauenly Sphears at last your weary warke,
Betray your charge, returne to Chaos darke.
At least, some rutheles Tyger hange her whellpe,
My Catesby so with some excuse to hellp.
And me to comfort, that I aloane, ne seeme
Of all dame natures workes, left in extreme.
Leve the Adamant Iron, Phebus lay thy beames:
Ceasse heauenly Sphears at last your weary warke,
Betray your charge, returne to Chaos darke.
281
My Catesby so with some excuse to hellp.
And me to comfort, that I aloane, ne seeme
Of all dame natures workes, left in extreme.
A Golden treasure is the tryed frend.
But whoe may gold from counterfaytes defend?
Trust not to sone, ne all to lyght mistrust.
With thone thy selfe, with thother thy frend thou hurtst.
Whoe twyneth betwyxt, and steareth the golden meane,
Nor rashely loveth, nor mistrusteth in vayne.
For frendshyp poyson, for safetye mithridate
Hit is, thy frend to love as thou wouldest hate.
But whoe may gold from counterfaytes defend?
Trust not to sone, ne all to lyght mistrust.
With thone thy selfe, with thother thy frend thou hurtst.
Whoe twyneth betwyxt, and steareth the golden meane,
Nor rashely loveth, nor mistrusteth in vayne.
For frendshyp poyson, for safetye mithridate
Hit is, thy frend to love as thou wouldest hate.
Of tyckle credyte ne had ben the mischiefe,
What needed Virbius miracle doubled lyfe?
Credulytye surnamed first the Aegean seas.
Mistrust, doth trayson in the trustyest rayse.
Suspicious Romulus, staynd his walls fyrst reard
With Brothers bloud, whome for lyght leape he feared.
So not in brotherhode ielousye may be borne,
The ialous cuckold weares the infamous horne.
What needed Virbius miracle doubled lyfe?
Credulytye surnamed first the Aegean seas.
Mistrust, doth trayson in the trustyest rayse.
Suspicious Romulus, staynd his walls fyrst reard
With Brothers bloud, whome for lyght leape he feared.
So not in brotherhode ielousye may be borne,
The ialous cuckold weares the infamous horne.
A beast may preach by tryal, not foresyght.
Could I have shonnd this credyte, nere had lyght
The dreaded death, vpon my guylty head.
But fooles aye wont to learne by after reade.
Had Catesby kept vnstaynd, the truth he plyght,
Yet had ye enioyed me, and I yet the lyght.
All Derbyes doutes I cleared with his name.
I knewe, no harme could happ vs, sauns hys blame.
Could I have shonnd this credyte, nere had lyght
The dreaded death, vpon my guylty head.
But fooles aye wont to learne by after reade.
282
Yet had ye enioyed me, and I yet the lyght.
All Derbyes doutes I cleared with his name.
I knewe, no harme could happ vs, sauns hys blame.
But see the fruites of fickle lyght belief.
The Ambitious dukes corrupt the traytour theef,
To groape me, yf allured I would assent,
To bin a partner of theyr cursd entent.
Wherto, when neyther force nor frendshyp vayld,
By tyraunt force theyr purpose they assailed.
And summond shortly a councell in the tower,
Of Iune the fyftenth, at apoynted hower.
The Ambitious dukes corrupt the traytour theef,
To groape me, yf allured I would assent,
To bin a partner of theyr cursd entent.
Wherto, when neyther force nor frendshyp vayld,
By tyraunt force theyr purpose they assailed.
And summond shortly a councell in the tower,
Of Iune the fyftenth, at apoynted hower.
Alas. are counsels wryed to catch the goode?
Is no place now exempt from sheadyng bloud.
Sith counsells, that were carefull to preserve
The guyltlesse good, are meanes to make them starve.
What may not mischief of mad man abuse?
Religions cloake some one to vyce doth chuse,
And maketh god protectour of his cryme.
O monstrous world, well ought we wyshe thy fine.
Is no place now exempt from sheadyng bloud.
Sith counsells, that were carefull to preserve
The guyltlesse good, are meanes to make them starve.
What may not mischief of mad man abuse?
Religions cloake some one to vyce doth chuse,
And maketh god protectour of his cryme.
O monstrous world, well ought we wyshe thy fine.
The fatall skyes, roll on the blackest daye,
When doubled bloudshed, my bloud must repay.
Others none forceth. To me, Syr Thomas Haward
As spurre is buckled, to prouoke me forward.
Darbie whoe feared the parted syttynges yore.
Whether, much more he knew by experyence hoare,
Or vnaffected, Clearer truth could see:
At midnight darke this message sendes to me.
When doubled bloudshed, my bloud must repay.
Others none forceth. To me, Syr Thomas Haward
As spurre is buckled, to prouoke me forward.
283
Whether, much more he knew by experyence hoare,
Or vnaffected, Clearer truth could see:
At midnight darke this message sendes to me.
Hastynges away. in slepe the Gods foreshew
By dreadfull dreame, fell fates vnto vs two.
Me thought a Boare with tuske so rased our throate,
That both our shoulders of the bloud dyd smoake.
Aryse to horse, strayght homewarde let vs hye.
And syth our foe we may not mate, o flye.
Of Chaunteclere you learne dreames sooth to know.
Thence wysemen conster, more then the Cock doth crow.
By dreadfull dreame, fell fates vnto vs two.
Me thought a Boare with tuske so rased our throate,
That both our shoulders of the bloud dyd smoake.
Aryse to horse, strayght homewarde let vs hye.
And syth our foe we may not mate, o flye.
Of Chaunteclere you learne dreames sooth to know.
Thence wysemen conster, more then the Cock doth crow.
While thus he spake, I held within myne arme
Shores wyfe, the tender peece, to kepe me warme.
Fye on adultery, fye on lecherous lust.
Marke in me ye nobles all, Gods iudgmentes iust.
A Pandare, murtherer, and Adulterer thus,
Onely such death I dye, as I ne blushe.
Now, least my Dame mought feare appall my hart:
With eger moode vp in my bed I steart.
Shores wyfe, the tender peece, to kepe me warme.
Fye on adultery, fye on lecherous lust.
Marke in me ye nobles all, Gods iudgmentes iust.
A Pandare, murtherer, and Adulterer thus,
Onely such death I dye, as I ne blushe.
Now, least my Dame mought feare appall my hart:
With eger moode vp in my bed I steart.
And, is thy Lord (quoth I) a sorcerer?
A wyse man now becumme? a dreame reader?
What though so Chaunteclere crowed? I reke it not.
On my part pledeth as well dame Partelott.
Uniudgd hangth yet the case betwixt them twaye,
Ne was his dreame Cause of hys hap I saye.
Shall dremyng doutes from prynce my seruyce slacke?
Naye, then mought Hastynges lyfe and lyvyng lacke.
A wyse man now becumme? a dreame reader?
What though so Chaunteclere crowed? I reke it not.
On my part pledeth as well dame Partelott.
Uniudgd hangth yet the case betwixt them twaye,
Ne was his dreame Cause of hys hap I saye.
284
Naye, then mought Hastynges lyfe and lyvyng lacke.
He parteth. I sleepe. my mynde surcharged with synne,
As Phebus beames by mysty clowde kept in,
Ne could missegeve, ne dreame of my mysse happe.
As block I tumbled to myne enemyes trappe.
Securitye causelesse through my carelesse frende,
Reft me foresyght of my approchyng end.
So Catesby clawed me, as when the Catt doth playe
Delieng with mouse, whom straight he mindes to slaye.
As Phebus beames by mysty clowde kept in,
Ne could missegeve, ne dreame of my mysse happe.
As block I tumbled to myne enemyes trappe.
Securitye causelesse through my carelesse frende,
Reft me foresyght of my approchyng end.
So Catesby clawed me, as when the Catt doth playe
Delieng with mouse, whom straight he mindes to slaye.
The morow come, the latest lyght to me,
On Palfray mounted, to the Tower I hye.
Accompanyed with that Haward my mortall foe,
To slaughter led. thou God wouldest have yt so.
(O depe dissemblers, Honouryng with your cheare,
Whome in hydd hart ye trayterouslye teare.)
Never had realme so open signes of wrack.
As I had shewed me of my heavy happ.
On Palfray mounted, to the Tower I hye.
Accompanyed with that Haward my mortall foe,
To slaughter led. thou God wouldest have yt so.
(O depe dissemblers, Honouryng with your cheare,
Whome in hydd hart ye trayterouslye teare.)
Never had realme so open signes of wrack.
As I had shewed me of my heavy happ.
The vysyon fyrst of Stanley, late descryed.
Then myrth so extreme, that neare for ioye I dyed.
Were hit, that Swannelyke I foresong my death,
Or merye mynde foresaw the loose of breath
That long it coueyted, from thys earthes annoye.
But even as syker as thende of woe is ioye,
And gloryous lyght to obscure night doth tend:
So extreame myrth in extreame moane doth ende.
Then myrth so extreme, that neare for ioye I dyed.
Were hit, that Swannelyke I foresong my death,
Or merye mynde foresaw the loose of breath
That long it coueyted, from thys earthes annoye.
But even as syker as thende of woe is ioye,
And gloryous lyght to obscure night doth tend:
So extreame myrth in extreame moane doth ende.
285
For whye, extreames are happs rackd out of course.
By vyolent myght far swinged forth perforce.
Which as thei are pearcingst while they violentst move,
For nearst they cleave to cause that doth them shove:
So soonest fall from that theyr hyghest extreame,
To thother contrary that doth want of meane.
So lawghed he erst, whoe lawghed out his breath.
So laughed I, whan I laughd my selfe to death.
By vyolent myght far swinged forth perforce.
Which as thei are pearcingst while they violentst move,
For nearst they cleave to cause that doth them shove:
So soonest fall from that theyr hyghest extreame,
To thother contrary that doth want of meane.
So lawghed he erst, whoe lawghed out his breath.
So laughed I, whan I laughd my selfe to death.
The pleasyngst meanes boade not the luckiest endes.
Not aye, found treasure to lyke plesure tendes.
Mirth meanes not myrth all tyme. thryse happy hyre
Of wyt, to shonne the excesse that all desyer.
But this I passe. I hye to other lyke.
My palfrey in the playnest paved streete,
Thryse bowed his boanes, thryse kneled on the flower,
Thryse shonnd (as Balams asse) the dreaded tower.
Not aye, found treasure to lyke plesure tendes.
Mirth meanes not myrth all tyme. thryse happy hyre
Of wyt, to shonne the excesse that all desyer.
But this I passe. I hye to other lyke.
My palfrey in the playnest paved streete,
Thryse bowed his boanes, thryse kneled on the flower,
Thryse shonnd (as Balams asse) the dreaded tower.
What? shoulde I thynke he had sence of after happs?
As beastes forshew the drought or rayny drapps,
As humoures in them want or ells abound,
By influence from the heavens, or chaunge of grounde?
Or doe we enterprete by successe eche sygne?
And as we fansye of ech happ devyne?
And make that cause, that kynne is to theffect?
Not havyng ought of consequence respect?
As beastes forshew the drought or rayny drapps,
As humoures in them want or ells abound,
By influence from the heavens, or chaunge of grounde?
Or doe we enterprete by successe eche sygne?
And as we fansye of ech happ devyne?
And make that cause, that kynne is to theffect?
Not havyng ought of consequence respect?
Bucephalus kneeling onely to his lorde,
Shewed onely, he was, monarche of the world.
Whye maye not then, the steede foreshew by fall,
What Casuall happ the sitter happen shall?
Darius horse by brayeng brought a realme.
And what letteth, why he ne is (as the Asse) Gods meane,
By speakyng sygne, to shew his hap to come,
Whoe is deaf hearer of his speakyng domme?
Shewed onely, he was, monarche of the world.
Whye maye not then, the steede foreshew by fall,
What Casuall happ the sitter happen shall?
Darius horse by brayeng brought a realme.
And what letteth, why he ne is (as the Asse) Gods meane,
By speakyng sygne, to shew his hap to come,
Whoe is deaf hearer of his speakyng domme?
286
But forward yet. In tower streete I stayed.
Where (could I have seene) loe Haward al bewrayde.
For as I commond with a pryest I mett:
Away my lord quoth he. your tyme ne is yet
To take a pryest. Loe, Synon myght be seene,
Had Troyans eares, as they had hares foole eyen.
But, whome thou God allotted hast to dye
Some grace it is to dye with wympled eye.
Where (could I have seene) loe Haward al bewrayde.
For as I commond with a pryest I mett:
Away my lord quoth he. your tyme ne is yet
To take a pryest. Loe, Synon myght be seene,
Had Troyans eares, as they had hares foole eyen.
But, whome thou God allotted hast to dye
Some grace it is to dye with wympled eye.
Ne was this all. For even at Towerwharfe,
Neare to those walles within whose syght I starfe,
Where erst, in sorowe sowst and depe distresse,
I emparted all my pynyng pensyfnesse
With Hastynges: (so my pursevaunt men call)
Even there, the same to meete hit did me fall.
Who gan to me most dolefully renewe,
The wofull conference had erst in that Lieu.
Neare to those walles within whose syght I starfe,
Where erst, in sorowe sowst and depe distresse,
I emparted all my pynyng pensyfnesse
With Hastynges: (so my pursevaunt men call)
Even there, the same to meete hit did me fall.
Who gan to me most dolefully renewe,
The wofull conference had erst in that Lieu.
Hastinges (quoth I) accordyng now they fare,
At Pomfret this daye dyeng, whoe caused that care.
My self have all the world now at my will,
With pleasures cloyed, engorged with the fyll.
God graunt it so quoth he whye doutest thou tho
Quoth I? and all in chafe, to hym gan shewe
In ample wyse, our drift with tedious tale.
And entred so the tower to my bale.
At Pomfret this daye dyeng, whoe caused that care.
My self have all the world now at my will,
With pleasures cloyed, engorged with the fyll.
God graunt it so quoth he whye doutest thou tho
Quoth I? and all in chafe, to hym gan shewe
In ample wyse, our drift with tedious tale.
And entred so the tower to my bale.
287
What should we thinke of sygnes? They are but happs.
How maye they then, be sygnes of afterclaps?
Doth every Chaunce forshew or cause some other?
Or endyng at it selfe, extendth no furder?
As thoverflowyng floude some mount doth choake,
But to his ayde some other floud hit yoake:
So, yf with sygnes thy synnes once ioyne, beware.
Els wherto chaunces tend, nere curyous care.
How maye they then, be sygnes of afterclaps?
Doth every Chaunce forshew or cause some other?
Or endyng at it selfe, extendth no furder?
As thoverflowyng floude some mount doth choake,
But to his ayde some other floud hit yoake:
So, yf with sygnes thy synnes once ioyne, beware.
Els wherto chaunces tend, nere curyous care.
Had not my synne deserued my death as wreake,
What myght my myrth have hurt? or horses becke?
Or Hawardes bitter scoffe? or Hastinges talke?
What meane then foole Astrologers to calke,
That twyncklyng sterres flyng downe the fixed fate?
And all is guyded by the sterrye state?
Perdye, a certayne taxe assygnd they have
To shyne, and tymes divyde, not fate to grave.
What myght my myrth have hurt? or horses becke?
Or Hawardes bitter scoffe? or Hastinges talke?
What meane then foole Astrologers to calke,
That twyncklyng sterres flyng downe the fixed fate?
And all is guyded by the sterrye state?
Perdye, a certayne taxe assygnd they have
To shyne, and tymes divyde, not fate to grave.
But graunt they somwhat gyve: is at one instant
Of every babe the byrth in heauen so skannd,
That they that restlesse roll, and never staye,
Should in his lyfe beare yet so vyolent swaye:
That, not his actions onely next to byrth,
But even last fyne, and death be sweyed therwith?
Howe may one mocion make so sundry effectes?
Or one impression tend to such respectes?
Of every babe the byrth in heauen so skannd,
That they that restlesse roll, and never staye,
Should in his lyfe beare yet so vyolent swaye:
That, not his actions onely next to byrth,
But even last fyne, and death be sweyed therwith?
Howe may one mocion make so sundry effectes?
Or one impression tend to such respectes?
Some rule there is yet. Els, whye were differrd
Tyll nowe, these plages, so long ere now deserved?
Yf for they are tryfles, they ne seeme of care:
But toyes with god the statelyest scepters are.
Yet in them to playne, doth appere foresett,
The certayne rule and fatall lymytes sett.
Yet thinke we not, this sure foresettyng fate.
But Gods fast prouydence for eche pryncely state.
Tyll nowe, these plages, so long ere now deserved?
Yf for they are tryfles, they ne seeme of care:
But toyes with god the statelyest scepters are.
288
The certayne rule and fatall lymytes sett.
Yet thinke we not, this sure foresettyng fate.
But Gods fast prouydence for eche pryncely state.
And hath he erst restraynd his provydence?
Or is he nygard of his free dispence?
Or is he vncertayne foresett dryfts to dryue?
That not Dame Chaunce but he all goods may gyve?
A heathen god they hold, whoe fortune keepe,
To deal them happs, whyle god they ween a sleepe.
Mock godds they are, and many Gods induce,
Whoe fortune fayne to father theyr abuse.
Or is he nygard of his free dispence?
Or is he vncertayne foresett dryfts to dryue?
That not Dame Chaunce but he all goods may gyve?
A heathen god they hold, whoe fortune keepe,
To deal them happs, whyle god they ween a sleepe.
Mock godds they are, and many Gods induce,
Whoe fortune fayne to father theyr abuse.
Howe so it be, hit mought have warned me.
But, what I could not, that in me see ye.
Whoe runne in race, the honour lyke to wynn,
Whose fayrest forme, nought maye deforme but synne.
Alas, when most I dyd defye all dread,
By syngle heare deaths sworde hong over my head.
For herk the end and lysten now my fall.
This is the last, and this the fruit of all.
But, what I could not, that in me see ye.
Whoe runne in race, the honour lyke to wynn,
Whose fayrest forme, nought maye deforme but synne.
Alas, when most I dyd defye all dread,
By syngle heare deaths sworde hong over my head.
For herk the end and lysten now my fall.
This is the last, and this the fruit of all.
To Councell chamber come, awhyle we stayd
For hym, without whom nought was done or sayd.
At last he came, and curteously excused,
For he so long our patience had abused.
And pleasantly began to paynt his cheare,
And sayd. My lord of Elye, would we had here
Some of the strawberyes, whereof you haue stoare.
The last delyghted me as nothyng more.
For hym, without whom nought was done or sayd.
At last he came, and curteously excused,
For he so long our patience had abused.
And pleasantly began to paynt his cheare,
And sayd. My lord of Elye, would we had here
Some of the strawberyes, whereof you haue stoare.
The last delyghted me as nothyng more.
289
Would, what so ye wyshe, I mought as well commaund,
My lord (quoth he) as those. And out of hand.
His servant sendth to Elye place for them.
Out goeth from vs the restlesse devyll agayne.
Belyke (I thynk) scarce yet perswaded full,
To worke the mischiefe that thus maddeth his scull.
At last determynd, of his bloudy thought
And force ordaynd, to worke the wyle he sought:
My lord (quoth he) as those. And out of hand.
His servant sendth to Elye place for them.
Out goeth from vs the restlesse devyll agayne.
Belyke (I thynk) scarce yet perswaded full,
To worke the mischiefe that thus maddeth his scull.
At last determynd, of his bloudy thought
And force ordaynd, to worke the wyle he sought:
Frownyng he enters, with so chaunged cheare,
As for myld May had chopped fowle Januere.
And lowryng on me with the goggle eye,
The whetted tuske, and furrowed forhead hye,
His Crooked shoulder bristellyke set vp,
With frothy Iawes, whose foame he chawed and suppd,
With angry lookes that flamed as the fyer:
Thus gan at last to grunt the grymest syre.
As for myld May had chopped fowle Januere.
And lowryng on me with the goggle eye,
The whetted tuske, and furrowed forhead hye,
His Crooked shoulder bristellyke set vp,
With frothy Iawes, whose foame he chawed and suppd,
With angry lookes that flamed as the fyer:
Thus gan at last to grunt the grymest syre.
What earned they, whoe me, the kyngdomes staye,
Contryved have councell, trayterously to slaye?
Abashed all sate. I thought I mought be bolld,
For conscyence clearenesse, and acquayntaunce olld.
Theyr hyre is playne quoth I. Be death the least,
To whoe so seekth your grace so to molest.
Withouten staye: the Queene, and the whore shores wyfe,
By witchcraft (quoth he) seeke to wast my lyfe.
Contryved have councell, trayterously to slaye?
Abashed all sate. I thought I mought be bolld,
For conscyence clearenesse, and acquayntaunce olld.
Theyr hyre is playne quoth I. Be death the least,
To whoe so seekth your grace so to molest.
Withouten staye: the Queene, and the whore shores wyfe,
By witchcraft (quoth he) seeke to wast my lyfe.
Loe here the wythered and bewytched arme,
That thus is spent by those .ii. Sorceresse charme.
And bared his arme and shewed his swynyshe skynne.
Suche cloakes they vse, that seek to clowd theyr synne.
But out alas, hit serueth not for the rayne.
To all the howse the coloure was to playne.
Nature had gyven hym many a maymed marke,
And hit amonges, to note her monstrous warke.
That thus is spent by those .ii. Sorceresse charme.
And bared his arme and shewed his swynyshe skynne.
Suche cloakes they vse, that seek to clowd theyr synne.
290
To all the howse the coloure was to playne.
Nature had gyven hym many a maymed marke,
And hit amonges, to note her monstrous warke.
My doubtfull hart distracted this replye.
For thone I cared not. Thother nyppd so nye
That whyst I could not. But forthwith brake forth.
Yf so hit be, of death they are doutlesse worth.
Yf, traytour quod he? playest thou with yfs and ands?
Ile on thy body avowe it with these hands.
And therwithall he myghtely bounced the bord.
In rushd hys byll men. one hym selfe bestyrrd.
For thone I cared not. Thother nyppd so nye
That whyst I could not. But forthwith brake forth.
Yf so hit be, of death they are doutlesse worth.
Yf, traytour quod he? playest thou with yfs and ands?
Ile on thy body avowe it with these hands.
And therwithall he myghtely bounced the bord.
In rushd hys byll men. one hym selfe bestyrrd.
Layeng at lord Stanley. whose braine he had suerly cleft
Had he not downe beneath the table crept.
But Elye, Yorke, and I, were taken strayght.
Imprysoned they: I should no longar wayt,
But charged was to shryue me, and shyft with hast.
My lord must dyne, and now midday was past.
The boares first dyshe, not the boares head should be.
But Hastynges heade the boaryshe beast would see.
Had he not downe beneath the table crept.
But Elye, Yorke, and I, were taken strayght.
Imprysoned they: I should no longar wayt,
But charged was to shryue me, and shyft with hast.
My lord must dyne, and now midday was past.
The boares first dyshe, not the boares head should be.
But Hastynges heade the boaryshe beast would see.
Whye staye I his dyner? vnto the chapell ioyneth
A greenish hyll, that body and sowle oft twyneth.
There on a block my head was stryken of.
Iohn Baptists dishe, for Herode bloudy gnoffe.
Thus lyved I Baldwyn, thus dyed I, thus I fell:
This is the summe. which all at large to tell
Would volumes fyll. whence yet these lessons note
Ye noble lords, to learne and kenne by roate.
A greenish hyll, that body and sowle oft twyneth.
There on a block my head was stryken of.
Iohn Baptists dishe, for Herode bloudy gnoffe.
Thus lyved I Baldwyn, thus dyed I, thus I fell:
This is the summe. which all at large to tell
Would volumes fyll. whence yet these lessons note
Ye noble lords, to learne and kenne by roate.
By fylthy rysyng feare your names to stayne.
Yf not for vertues love, for dread of payne.
Whome so the myndes vnquyet state vpheaves,
Be hit for love or feare: when fancye reaves
Reason his ryght, by mockyng of the witt:
Yf once the cause of this affection flytt,
Reason preuaylyng on the vnbrydled thought:
Downe tottreth whoe by fansy clombe aloft.
Yf not for vertues love, for dread of payne.
291
Be hit for love or feare: when fancye reaves
Reason his ryght, by mockyng of the witt:
Yf once the cause of this affection flytt,
Reason preuaylyng on the vnbrydled thought:
Downe tottreth whoe by fansy clombe aloft.
So hath the ryser fowle no staye of fall,
No not of those that raysd hym fyrst of all.
His surety standes, in maynteynyng the cawse
That heaved him first, which reft by reasons sawes,
Not onelye fallth he to hys former state,
But lyveth for ever in his prynces hate.
And marke my lordes, God for adultery sleaeth
Though ye it thynk to sweet a synne for death.
No not of those that raysd hym fyrst of all.
His surety standes, in maynteynyng the cawse
That heaved him first, which reft by reasons sawes,
Not onelye fallth he to hys former state,
But lyveth for ever in his prynces hate.
And marke my lordes, God for adultery sleaeth
Though ye it thynk to sweet a synne for death.
Serve truely your prynce and fear no rebells myght,
On princes halves the myghty god doth fyght.
O much more then forsweare a forein foe,
Whoe seeketh your realme and countrey to vndoe.
Murther detest, have hands vnstaynd with bloude.
Aye with your succour do protect the good.
Chace treason where trust should be. wed to your frend
Youre hart and power, to your lyves last end.
On princes halves the myghty god doth fyght.
O much more then forsweare a forein foe,
Whoe seeketh your realme and countrey to vndoe.
Murther detest, have hands vnstaynd with bloude.
Aye with your succour do protect the good.
Chace treason where trust should be. wed to your frend
Youre hart and power, to your lyves last end.
Flye tickle credyte, shonne alyke distrust.
To true hit is, and credyte it you must:
The Ialous nature wanteth no stormy stryfe,
The symple sowle aye leadeth a sower lyfe.
Beware of flaterers, frends in outward showe.
Best is of such to make thyne open foe.
What all men seek, that all men seek to fayne.
Some such to be, some such to seeme, them payne.
To true hit is, and credyte it you must:
The Ialous nature wanteth no stormy stryfe,
The symple sowle aye leadeth a sower lyfe.
292
Best is of such to make thyne open foe.
What all men seek, that all men seek to fayne.
Some such to be, some such to seeme, them payne.
Marke gods iust iudgments, punishyng synne by synne.
And slyppery state wherin aloft we swymme.
The prouerbe, all day vp yf we ne fall,
Agreeth well to vs hye heaved worldlynges all.
From dunghill couche vpsterte, in honours weed
We shyne: whyle fortune false, (whome none erst feed
To stand with staye and forswear ticklnesse:)
Sowseth vs in myre of durtye brittlenesse.
And slyppery state wherin aloft we swymme.
The prouerbe, all day vp yf we ne fall,
Agreeth well to vs hye heaved worldlynges all.
From dunghill couche vpsterte, in honours weed
We shyne: whyle fortune false, (whome none erst feed
To stand with staye and forswear ticklnesse:)
Sowseth vs in myre of durtye brittlenesse.
And learne ye prynces by my wronged sprite,
Not to misseconster what is meant aryght.
The whinged wordes to oft preuent the wytt,
When sylence ceassth afore the lypps to sytt.
Alas, what may the wordes yeeld worthy death?
The words worst is, the speakers stynkyng breath.
Words are but wynd. whye cost they then so muche?
The guylty kyck, when they to smartly touche.
Not to misseconster what is meant aryght.
The whinged wordes to oft preuent the wytt,
When sylence ceassth afore the lypps to sytt.
Alas, what may the wordes yeeld worthy death?
The words worst is, the speakers stynkyng breath.
Words are but wynd. whye cost they then so muche?
The guylty kyck, when they to smartly touche.
Forth irreturnable flyeth the spoken word,
Be hit in scoffe, in earest, or in bourd.
Without returne, and vnreceyved, hit hangs.
And at the takers mercy, or rygour, stands.
Which yf he sowerly wrest with wrathfull cheare,
The shyveryng word turns to the speakers feare.
Yf frendly curtesye do the word resollve,
To the Speakers comfort sweetly hit dissolueth.
Be hit in scoffe, in earest, or in bourd.
Without returne, and vnreceyved, hit hangs.
And at the takers mercy, or rygour, stands.
Which yf he sowerly wrest with wrathfull cheare,
The shyveryng word turns to the speakers feare.
Yf frendly curtesye do the word resollve,
To the Speakers comfort sweetly hit dissolueth.
293
Even as the vapour which the fyer repells,
Turns not to earth, but in mydd aer dwells.
Where whyle it hangth, yf Boreas frosty flawes
With rygour rattle yt: not to rayne it thawes,
But thonder, lyghtnynges, rattlyng hayle and snow
Sends downe to earth, whence first hit rose below.
But yf fayre phebus with his countenaunce sweete
Resolue it, downe the dewe, or Manna fleeteth.
Turns not to earth, but in mydd aer dwells.
Where whyle it hangth, yf Boreas frosty flawes
With rygour rattle yt: not to rayne it thawes,
But thonder, lyghtnynges, rattlyng hayle and snow
Sends downe to earth, whence first hit rose below.
But yf fayre phebus with his countenaunce sweete
Resolue it, downe the dewe, or Manna fleeteth.
The Manna dew, that in the easterne lands,
Excellth the laboure of the bees small hands.
Els for her Memnon gray, Auroras teares,
On the earth hit stylleth, the partner of her feares.
Or sendeth sweete showers to gladd theyr mother earth,
Whence fyrst they tooke theyr fyrst inconstant byrth.
To so great gryefes, ill taken wynd doth grow.
Of words well taken, such delyghtes do flowe.
Excellth the laboure of the bees small hands.
Els for her Memnon gray, Auroras teares,
On the earth hit stylleth, the partner of her feares.
Or sendeth sweete showers to gladd theyr mother earth,
Whence fyrst they tooke theyr fyrst inconstant byrth.
To so great gryefes, ill taken wynd doth grow.
Of words well taken, such delyghtes do flowe.
This learned, thus be here at length an end.
What synce ensued, to the I wyll commend.
Now farewell Baldwyn, shyeld my torne name,
From sclaunderous trompe of blastyng black defame.
But ere I part, hereof thou record beare.
I clayme no part of vertues reckned here.
My vyce my selfe, but god my vertues take.
So hence depart I, as I entred, naked.
What synce ensued, to the I wyll commend.
Now farewell Baldwyn, shyeld my torne name,
From sclaunderous trompe of blastyng black defame.
But ere I part, hereof thou record beare.
I clayme no part of vertues reckned here.
My vyce my selfe, but god my vertues take.
So hence depart I, as I entred, naked.
Thus ended Hastynges both his lyfe and tale,
Contaynyng all his blysse, and worldes bale.
Happye he lyved, to happye but for synne,
Happye he dyed whome ryght hys death dyd bryng.
Thus ever happy. For there rests no meane
Twyse blyssefull lyfes and balefull deathes extreame.
Yet feared not his foes to head his name.
And by these sclaunders to procure hys shame.
Contaynyng all his blysse, and worldes bale.
Happye he lyved, to happye but for synne,
Happye he dyed whome ryght hys death dyd bryng.
294
Twyse blyssefull lyfes and balefull deathes extreame.
Yet feared not his foes to head his name.
And by these sclaunders to procure hys shame.
In rousty armure as in extreame shyft,
They cladd them selues, to cloake theyr diuelysh dryft.
And forthwith for substancyall cytezyns sent,
Declaryng to them, Hastynges forged entent
Was to haue slayne the duke: and to haue seysed
The kyngs yonge person, slayeng whom he had pleasd.
But god of Iustyce had withturnd that fate,
Which where hit ought, lyght on hys proper pate.
They cladd them selues, to cloake theyr diuelysh dryft.
And forthwith for substancyall cytezyns sent,
Declaryng to them, Hastynges forged entent
Was to haue slayne the duke: and to haue seysed
The kyngs yonge person, slayeng whom he had pleasd.
But god of Iustyce had withturnd that fate,
Which where hit ought, lyght on hys proper pate.
Then fedd they fame by proclamation spredd,
Nought to forgett, that mought defame hym dead,
Which was so curyous, and so clerkly pennd,
So long with all: that when some dyd attend
Hys death so yonge: they saw, that longe afore
The Shroud was shaped, then babe to dye was boare.
So wonteth god to blynde the worldly wyse,
That not to see, that all the world espyes.
Nought to forgett, that mought defame hym dead,
Which was so curyous, and so clerkly pennd,
So long with all: that when some dyd attend
Hys death so yonge: they saw, that longe afore
The Shroud was shaped, then babe to dye was boare.
So wonteth god to blynde the worldly wyse,
That not to see, that all the world espyes.
One hearyng hit, cryed out. A goodly cast,
And well contryved, fowle cast away for hast.
Wherto another gan in scoffe replye,
Fyrst pennd it was by enspyryng prophecye.
So can god reape vp secrete mischiefes wrought,
To the confusyon of the workers thought.
My lords, the tubb, that drownd the Clarence duke,
Dround not his death, ne yet his deathes rebuke.
And well contryved, fowle cast away for hast.
Wherto another gan in scoffe replye,
Fyrst pennd it was by enspyryng prophecye.
So can god reape vp secrete mischiefes wrought,
To the confusyon of the workers thought.
295
Dround not his death, ne yet his deathes rebuke.
Your polytyke secretes gard with trusty loyaltye
So shall they lurk in most assured secretye.
By Hastynges death, and after fame, ye learne,
The earth for murther cryeth out vengeaunce sterne.
Flye from his fautes, and spare his quyted fame.
The Eager houndes forbeare theyr slayne game.
Deade, deade. Avaunt Curres from the conquered chase.
Ill mought he lyue who loveth the deade to race.
So shall they lurk in most assured secretye.
By Hastynges death, and after fame, ye learne,
The earth for murther cryeth out vengeaunce sterne.
Flye from his fautes, and spare his quyted fame.
The Eager houndes forbeare theyr slayne game.
Deade, deade. Avaunt Curres from the conquered chase.
Ill mought he lyue who loveth the deade to race.
Thus lyued this lord, thus dyed he, thus he slept.
Mids forward race when first to rest he stept,
Envyous death, that bounceth as well with mace
At Caysars courtes, as at the poorest gates:
When nature seemd to slow, by artes sloape meane,
Conueyghd him sooner to his liues extreame.
Happy, in preuenting woes that after happd,
In slomber swete his liuing lightes he lappd.
Mids forward race when first to rest he stept,
Envyous death, that bounceth as well with mace
At Caysars courtes, as at the poorest gates:
When nature seemd to slow, by artes sloape meane,
Conueyghd him sooner to his liues extreame.
Happy, in preuenting woes that after happd,
In slomber swete his liuing lightes he lappd.
Whose thus vntimely death, yf any grieve:
Knowe he, he lived to dye, and dyed to lyue.
Vntimely neuer comes the liues last mett.
In Cradle death may rightly clayme his dett.
Strayght after byrth due is the fatall beere.
By deathes permission the aged linger here.
Euen in thy Swathebands out commission goeth
To loose thy breath, that yet but yongly bloweth.
Knowe he, he lived to dye, and dyed to lyue.
Vntimely neuer comes the liues last mett.
In Cradle death may rightly clayme his dett.
Strayght after byrth due is the fatall beere.
By deathes permission the aged linger here.
Euen in thy Swathebands out commission goeth
To loose thy breath, that yet but yongly bloweth.
296
Happy, thrise happy, who so loosth his breath,
As life he gayneth by his liuing death.
As Hastinges here. Whom time and truthe agree,
To engrave by fame in strong eternitie.
Who spareth not spitting, if he spitte but bloud?
Yet this our lord, spared not for others good,
With one swete breath his present death to speake,
Agaynst the vsurpour Boare, that hellyshe freak.
As life he gayneth by his liuing death.
As Hastinges here. Whom time and truthe agree,
To engrave by fame in strong eternitie.
Who spareth not spitting, if he spitte but bloud?
Yet this our lord, spared not for others good,
With one swete breath his present death to speake,
Agaynst the vsurpour Boare, that hellyshe freak.
Worthy to liue, who liued not for him selfe
But prised his fame more then this worldly pelfe.
Whose name and line, if any yet preserue,
We wyshe they liue like honour to deserue.
Whether thou seke by Martial prowesse prayse,
Or Pallas pollecie hygh thy name to rayse,
Or trustye seruice iust death to attayne:
Hastinges foreled. Trace here his bloudy trayne.
But prised his fame more then this worldly pelfe.
Whose name and line, if any yet preserue,
We wyshe they liue like honour to deserue.
Whether thou seke by Martial prowesse prayse,
Or Pallas pollecie hygh thy name to rayse,
Or trustye seruice iust death to attayne:
Hastinges foreled. Trace here his bloudy trayne.
| The Mirror for Magistrates | |