The Mirror for Magistrates Edited from original texts in the Huntington Library by Lily B. Campbell |
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The complaynt of Henrye duke of Buckingham. |
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 | The Mirror for Magistrates |  |
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The complaynt of Henrye duke of Buckingham.
Who trustes to much in honours highest trone
And warely watche not slye dame Fortunes snare:
Or who in courte will beare the swaye alone,
And wysely weygh not howe to wyeld the care,
Beholde he me, and by my death beware:
Whom flattering Fortune falsely so begilde
That loe she slewe, where earst ful smooth she smylde.
And warely watche not slye dame Fortunes snare:
Or who in courte will beare the swaye alone,
And wysely weygh not howe to wyeld the care,
Beholde he me, and by my death beware:
Whom flattering Fortune falsely so begilde
That loe she slewe, where earst ful smooth she smylde.
And Sackeuylle sith in purpose nowe thou hast
The woful fal of prynces to discryve,
Whom Fortune both vplyft, and gayn downe cast,
To shewe thereby the vnsuerty in this life,
Marke wel my fal, which I shal shewe belive.
And paynt it furth that all estates may knowe:
Haue they the warning, and be mine the woe.
The woful fal of prynces to discryve,
Whom Fortune both vplyft, and gayn downe cast,
To shewe thereby the vnsuerty in this life,
Marke wel my fal, which I shal shewe belive.
And paynt it furth that all estates may knowe:
Haue they the warning, and be mine the woe.
For noble bloud made me both prince and pier
Yea pierles too, had reason purchast place,
And God with giftes endowed me largely here.
But what auayles his giftes where fayles his grace?
My mothers syer sprong of a kyngely race
And calde was Edmund duke of Somerset,
Bereft of lyef ere tyme by nature set.
Yea pierles too, had reason purchast place,
And God with giftes endowed me largely here.
But what auayles his giftes where fayles his grace?
My mothers syer sprong of a kyngely race
And calde was Edmund duke of Somerset,
Bereft of lyef ere tyme by nature set.
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Whose faythfull hart to Henry syxt so wrought
That never he hym in weale or woe forsooke,
Tyl lastly he at Tewxbury fyeld was cought
Where with an axe his violent death he toke:
He never could kyng Edwardes party brooke,
Tyll by his death he vouchte that quarell good,
In which his syer and graundsyer spylt theyr bloud.
That never he hym in weale or woe forsooke,
Tyl lastly he at Tewxbury fyeld was cought
Where with an axe his violent death he toke:
He never could kyng Edwardes party brooke,
Tyll by his death he vouchte that quarell good,
In which his syer and graundsyer spylt theyr bloud.
And such was erst my fathers cruell chaunce,
Of Stafford Earle by name that Humfrey hyght,
Who ever prest dyd Henries parte auaunce,
And neuer ceast tyl at Saynt Albones fight
He lost his lyfe as than did many a knyght:
where eke my graundsyer duke of Buckingham
was wounded sore, and hardly skapte vntane.
Of Stafford Earle by name that Humfrey hyght,
Who ever prest dyd Henries parte auaunce,
And neuer ceast tyl at Saynt Albones fight
He lost his lyfe as than did many a knyght:
where eke my graundsyer duke of Buckingham
was wounded sore, and hardly skapte vntane.
But what may boot to stay the sisters three?
When Atropos perforce wil cut the threde:
The doleful day was come when you might see
Northhampton fyeld with armed men orespred,
where fate would algates haue my graundsyer dead:
So rushyng furth amyds the fyercest fight,
He lived & dyed there in his maysters ryght.
When Atropos perforce wil cut the threde:
The doleful day was come when you might see
Northhampton fyeld with armed men orespred,
where fate would algates haue my graundsyer dead:
So rushyng furth amyds the fyercest fight,
He lived & dyed there in his maysters ryght.
In place of whom, as it befel my lot,
Like on a stage, so stept I in strayt waye,
Enioying there but wofully god wot,
As he that had a slender part to playe:
To teache therby, in earth no state may stay,
But as our partes abridge or length our age
So passe we all while others fyll the stage.
Like on a stage, so stept I in strayt waye,
Enioying there but wofully god wot,
As he that had a slender part to playe:
To teache therby, in earth no state may stay,
But as our partes abridge or length our age
So passe we all while others fyll the stage.
For of my selfe the drery fate to playne,
I was sometime a prince withouten pier,
When Edward fift began his ruful raygne,
Ay me, then I began that hatefull yeare,
To cumpas that which I have bought so deare:
I bare the swynge, I and that wretched wyght,
The duke of Glocester that Rychard hyght.
I was sometime a prince withouten pier,
When Edward fift began his ruful raygne,
Ay me, then I began that hatefull yeare,
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I bare the swynge, I and that wretched wyght,
The duke of Glocester that Rychard hyght.
For when the fates had reft that royal prince
Edward the fowrth, chiefe myrrour of that name,
The duke and I fast ioyned ever since,
In faythfull love, our secrete driftes to frame:
What he thought best, to me so seemde the same,
My selfe not bent so much for to aspyer,
As to fulfyl that greedy dukes desyre.
Edward the fowrth, chiefe myrrour of that name,
The duke and I fast ioyned ever since,
In faythfull love, our secrete driftes to frame:
What he thought best, to me so seemde the same,
My selfe not bent so much for to aspyer,
As to fulfyl that greedy dukes desyre.
Whose restles minde sore thyrsting after rule,
When that he sawe his nephewes both to ben
Through tender yeares as yet vnfyt to rule,
And rather ruled by theyr mothers kyn,
There sought he first his mischyefe to begyn,
To plucke from them theyr mothers frendes assynde,
For wel he wist they would withstand his mynde.
When that he sawe his nephewes both to ben
Through tender yeares as yet vnfyt to rule,
And rather ruled by theyr mothers kyn,
There sought he first his mischyefe to begyn,
To plucke from them theyr mothers frendes assynde,
For wel he wist they would withstand his mynde.
To folowe which, he ran so headlong swyft,
With eygre thyrst of his desired draught,
To seeke theyr deathes that sought to dashe his dryft,
Of whom the chiefe the Queenes allyes he thought,
That bent thereto wyth mountes of mischiefe fraught,
He knewe theyr lyues would be so sore his let,
That in theyr deathes his only helpe he set.
With eygre thyrst of his desired draught,
To seeke theyr deathes that sought to dashe his dryft,
Of whom the chiefe the Queenes allyes he thought,
That bent thereto wyth mountes of mischiefe fraught,
He knewe theyr lyues would be so sore his let,
That in theyr deathes his only helpe he set.
And I most cursed caytief that I was,
Seeing the state vnstedfast howe it stood,
His chief complyce to bryng the same to passe,
Vnhappy wretche consented to theyr blood:
Ye Kinges and Piers that swim in worldly good,
In seekyng blud the ende aduert you playne,
And see if bloud ey aske not blud agayne.
Seeing the state vnstedfast howe it stood,
His chief complyce to bryng the same to passe,
Vnhappy wretche consented to theyr blood:
Ye Kinges and Piers that swim in worldly good,
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And see if bloud ey aske not blud agayne.
Consyder Cyrus in your cruell thought,
A makeles prynce in ryches and in myght,
And weygh in minde the bloudy dedes he wrought,
In sheading which he set his whole delyght:
But see the guerdon lotted to this wyght,
He whose huge power no man might ouerthrowe,
Tomyris Queen with great despite hath slowe.
A makeles prynce in ryches and in myght,
And weygh in minde the bloudy dedes he wrought,
In sheading which he set his whole delyght:
But see the guerdon lotted to this wyght,
He whose huge power no man might ouerthrowe,
Tomyris Queen with great despite hath slowe.
His head dismembred from his mangled corps,
Her selfe she cast into a vessell fraught
With clottered bloud of them that felt her force.
And with these wordes a iust reward she taught:
Drynke nowe thy fyll of thy desyred draught.
Loe marke the fine that did this prynce befall:
Marke not this one, but marke the ende of all.
Her selfe she cast into a vessell fraught
With clottered bloud of them that felt her force.
And with these wordes a iust reward she taught:
Drynke nowe thy fyll of thy desyred draught.
Loe marke the fine that did this prynce befall:
Marke not this one, but marke the ende of all.
Behold Cambises and his fatal daye,
Where Murders mischief myrrour like is left:
While he his brother Mergus cast to slaye,
A dreadful thing, his wittes were him bereft.
A sword he caught wherewith he perced eft
His body gored, which he of liefe benooms:
So iust is God in al his dreadfull doomes.
Where Murders mischief myrrour like is left:
While he his brother Mergus cast to slaye,
A dreadful thing, his wittes were him bereft.
A sword he caught wherewith he perced eft
His body gored, which he of liefe benooms:
So iust is God in al his dreadfull doomes.
O bluddy Brutus rightly didst thou rew,
And thou Cassius iustly came thy fall,
That with the swurd wherewith thou Cesar slewe
Murdrest thy selfe, and reft thy life withall.
A myrrour let him be vnto you all
That murderers be, of murder to your meede:
For murder crieth out vengeance on your seede.
And thou Cassius iustly came thy fall,
That with the swurd wherewith thou Cesar slewe
Murdrest thy selfe, and reft thy life withall.
A myrrour let him be vnto you all
That murderers be, of murder to your meede:
For murder crieth out vengeance on your seede.
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Loe Bessus he that armde with murderers knyfe,
And traytrous hart agaynst his royall kyng,
With bluddy handes bereft his maysters life,
Aduert the fine his fowle offence dyd bryng:
And lothing murder as most lothly thing
Beholde in him the iust deserued fall,
That euer hath, and shall betide them all.
And traytrous hart agaynst his royall kyng,
With bluddy handes bereft his maysters life,
Aduert the fine his fowle offence dyd bryng:
And lothing murder as most lothly thing
Beholde in him the iust deserued fall,
That euer hath, and shall betide them all.
What booted him his false vsurped raygne?
Wherto by murder he did so ascende?
When like a wretche, led in an yron chayne
He was presented by his chiefest frende
Vnto the foes of him whom he had slayne:
That euen they should venge so fowle a gylt,
That rather sought to haue his bloud yspylt.
Wherto by murder he did so ascende?
When like a wretche, led in an yron chayne
He was presented by his chiefest frende
Vnto the foes of him whom he had slayne:
That euen they should venge so fowle a gylt,
That rather sought to haue his bloud yspylt.
Take hede ye princes and ye prelates all
Of this outrage, which though it slepe a while
And not disclosde, as it doth seeld befall,
Yet God that suffreth silence to beguyle
Such gyltes, wherwith both earth and ayre ye file,
At last discryes them to your fowle deface,
You see the examples set before your face.
Of this outrage, which though it slepe a while
And not disclosde, as it doth seeld befall,
Yet God that suffreth silence to beguyle
Such gyltes, wherwith both earth and ayre ye file,
At last discryes them to your fowle deface,
You see the examples set before your face.
And deepely grave within your stony hartes,
The drery dewle that myghty Macedo,
With teares vnfolded wrapt in deadly smartes,
When he the death of Clitus sorowed so,
whom erst he murdred wyth the deadly blowe
Raught in his rage vpon his frende so deare,
For which behold loe how his panges appere.
The drery dewle that myghty Macedo,
With teares vnfolded wrapt in deadly smartes,
When he the death of Clitus sorowed so,
whom erst he murdred wyth the deadly blowe
Raught in his rage vpon his frende so deare,
For which behold loe how his panges appere.
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The launced spear he writhes out of the wound,
From which the purple blud spins on his face:
His heynous gylt when he returned found,
He throwes him selfe vpon the corpes alas.
And in his armes howe ofte doth he imbrace
His murdred frende? and kyssyng him in vayne,
Furth flowe the fluds of salte repentant rayne.
From which the purple blud spins on his face:
His heynous gylt when he returned found,
He throwes him selfe vpon the corpes alas.
And in his armes howe ofte doth he imbrace
His murdred frende? and kyssyng him in vayne,
Furth flowe the fluds of salte repentant rayne.
His frendes amazde at such a murder doen,
In feareful flockes begyn to shrynke away.
And he thereat with heapes of griefe fordoen,
Hateth him selfe, wishing his latter daye.
Nowe he him selfe perceyued in like staye,
As is the wilde beast in the desert bred,
Both dreading others and him selfe adred.
In feareful flockes begyn to shrynke away.
And he thereat with heapes of griefe fordoen,
Hateth him selfe, wishing his latter daye.
Nowe he him selfe perceyued in like staye,
As is the wilde beast in the desert bred,
Both dreading others and him selfe adred.
He calles for Death, and loathing lenger lyfe,
Bent to his bane, refuseth kyndely foode:
And ploungde in depth of death and dolours stryfe,
Had quelde him selfe, had not his frendes wythstoode.
Loe he that thus had shed the gylteles blud,
Though he wer Kyng and Kesar over all
Yet chose he death to guerdon death withall.
Bent to his bane, refuseth kyndely foode:
And ploungde in depth of death and dolours stryfe,
Had quelde him selfe, had not his frendes wythstoode.
Loe he that thus had shed the gylteles blud,
Though he wer Kyng and Kesar over all
Yet chose he death to guerdon death withall.
This prynce whose pyer was never vnder sonne,
Whose glystening fame the earth did overglyde,
Whych with his power welnye the world had wonne,
His bluddy handes him selfe could not abyde,
But fully bent with famine to have dyed:
The wurthy prynce deemed in his regarde,
That death for death could be but iust rewarde.
Whose glystening fame the earth did overglyde,
Whych with his power welnye the world had wonne,
His bluddy handes him selfe could not abyde,
But fully bent with famine to have dyed:
The wurthy prynce deemed in his regarde,
That death for death could be but iust rewarde.
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Yet we that were so drowned in the depth
Of diepe desyre to drinke the gylteles blud,
Lyke to the wulfe, with greedy lookes that lepth
Into the snare, to feede on deadly foode,
So we delyghted in the state we stoode,
Blinded so farre in all our blynded trayne
That blind we sawe not our destruction playne.
Of diepe desyre to drinke the gylteles blud,
Lyke to the wulfe, with greedy lookes that lepth
Into the snare, to feede on deadly foode,
So we delyghted in the state we stoode,
Blinded so farre in all our blynded trayne
That blind we sawe not our destruction playne.
We spared none whose life could ought forlet
Our wycked purpose to his pas to cum.
Fower wurthy knyghtes we headed at Pomfret
Gylteles (God wote) withouten lawe or doome.
My heart even bleedes to tell you al and some,
And howe Lord Hastinges when he feared least,
Dispiteously was murdred and opprest.
Our wycked purpose to his pas to cum.
Fower wurthy knyghtes we headed at Pomfret
Gylteles (God wote) withouten lawe or doome.
My heart even bleedes to tell you al and some,
And howe Lord Hastinges when he feared least,
Dispiteously was murdred and opprest.
These rockes vpraught, that threatned most our wreck
We séemde to sayle much surer in the streame:
And Fortune faryng as she were at becke
Layed in our lap the rule of all the realme.
The nephewes strayt deposde were by the Eame.
And we advaunst to that we bought full deare,
He crowned king, and I his chyefest Pyer.
We séemde to sayle much surer in the streame:
And Fortune faryng as she were at becke
Layed in our lap the rule of all the realme.
The nephewes strayt deposde were by the Eame.
And we advaunst to that we bought full deare,
He crowned king, and I his chyefest Pyer.
Thus hauing wonne our long desired pray,
To make him king that he might make me chiefe,
Downthrow we strayt his sellie nephewes twaye,
From princes pompe, to woful prisoners lyfe:
In hope that nowe stynt was all furder stryfe.
Sith he was king, and I chiefe stroke did beare
Who ioyed but we, yet who more cause to feare?
To make him king that he might make me chiefe,
Downthrow we strayt his sellie nephewes twaye,
From princes pompe, to woful prisoners lyfe:
In hope that nowe stynt was all furder stryfe.
Sith he was king, and I chiefe stroke did beare
Who ioyed but we, yet who more cause to feare?
The gylteles bloud which we vniustly shed,
The royall babes deuested from theyr trone,
And we like traytours raygning in theyr sted,
These heauy burdens pressed vs vpon,
Tormenting vs so by our selues alone,
Much like the felon that pursued by night,
Startes at eche bushe as his foe were in sight.
The royall babes deuested from theyr trone,
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These heauy burdens pressed vs vpon,
Tormenting vs so by our selues alone,
Much like the felon that pursued by night,
Startes at eche bushe as his foe were in sight.
Nowe doubting state, nowe dreading losse of life,
In feare of wrecke at euery blast of wynde,
Now start in dreames through dread of murdrers knyfe,
As though euen then revengement were assynde.
With restles thought so is the guylty minde
Turmoyled, and never feeleth ease or stay,
But lives in feare of that which folowes aye.
In feare of wrecke at euery blast of wynde,
Now start in dreames through dread of murdrers knyfe,
As though euen then revengement were assynde.
With restles thought so is the guylty minde
Turmoyled, and never feeleth ease or stay,
But lives in feare of that which folowes aye.
Well gave that iudge his doome vpon the death
Of Titus Clelius that in bed was slayne:
Whan every wight the cruell murder leyeth
To his two sonnes that in his chamber layen,
The Iudge, that by the proofe perceyueth playne,
That they were found fast sleping in theyr bed,
Hath deemde them gylteles of this blud yshed.
Of Titus Clelius that in bed was slayne:
Whan every wight the cruell murder leyeth
To his two sonnes that in his chamber layen,
The Iudge, that by the proofe perceyueth playne,
That they were found fast sleping in theyr bed,
Hath deemde them gylteles of this blud yshed.
He thought it could not be, that they which brake
The lawes of God and man in such outrage
Could so forthwith them selves to slepe betake:
He rather thought the horror and the rage
Of such an haynous gylt, could never swage.
Nor never suffer them to slepe or rest,
Or dreadles breath one breth out of theyr brest.
The lawes of God and man in such outrage
Could so forthwith them selves to slepe betake:
He rather thought the horror and the rage
Of such an haynous gylt, could never swage.
Nor never suffer them to slepe or rest,
Or dreadles breath one breth out of theyr brest.
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So gnawes the griefe of conscyence evermore
And in the hart it is so diepe ygrave,
That they may neyther slepe nor rest therfore,
Ne thynke one thought but on the dread they have.
Styl to the death fortossed with the wave
Of restles woe, in terror and dispeyre.
They lead a lyef continually in feare.
And in the hart it is so diepe ygrave,
That they may neyther slepe nor rest therfore,
Ne thynke one thought but on the dread they have.
Styl to the death fortossed with the wave
Of restles woe, in terror and dispeyre.
They lead a lyef continually in feare.
Like to the Dere that stryken with the dart,
Withdrawes him selfe into some secrete place,
And feeling green the wound about his hart,
Startles with panges tyl he fall on the grasse,
And in great feare lyes gasping there a space,
Furth braying sighes as though eche pang had brought
The present death which he doeth dread so oft:
Withdrawes him selfe into some secrete place,
And feeling green the wound about his hart,
Startles with panges tyl he fall on the grasse,
And in great feare lyes gasping there a space,
Furth braying sighes as though eche pang had brought
The present death which he doeth dread so oft:
So we diepe wounded with the bluddy thought,
And gnawing wurme that grieved our conscience so,
Never tooke ease, but as our hart furth brought
The strayned syghes in wytnes of our woe,
Such restles cares our fault did well beknowe:
Wherewith of our deserved fall the feares
In every place rang death within our eares.
And gnawing wurme that grieved our conscience so,
Never tooke ease, but as our hart furth brought
The strayned syghes in wytnes of our woe,
Such restles cares our fault did well beknowe:
Wherewith of our deserved fall the feares
In every place rang death within our eares.
And as yll grayne is never well ykept,
So fared it by vs within a while:
That which so long wyth such vnrest we reapt,
In dread and daunger by all wyt and wyle,
Loe sée the fine, when once it felt the whele
Of slipper Fortune, stay it mought no stowne,
The wheele whurles vp, but strayt it whurleth downe.
So fared it by vs within a while:
That which so long wyth such vnrest we reapt,
In dread and daunger by all wyt and wyle,
Loe sée the fine, when once it felt the whele
Of slipper Fortune, stay it mought no stowne,
The wheele whurles vp, but strayt it whurleth downe.
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For hauyng rule and riches in our hand,
Who durst gaynsay the thing that we averde?
Wyl was wysedome, our lust for lawe dyd stand,
In sorte so straunge, that who was not afeard
When he the sound but of kyng Rychard heard?
So hatefull waxt the hearyng of his name,
That you may deeme the residewe by the same.
Who durst gaynsay the thing that we averde?
Wyl was wysedome, our lust for lawe dyd stand,
In sorte so straunge, that who was not afeard
When he the sound but of kyng Rychard heard?
So hatefull waxt the hearyng of his name,
That you may deeme the residewe by the same.
But what auaylde the terror and the fear,
Wherewyth he kept his lieges vnder awe?
It rather wan him hatred every where,
And fayned faces forst by feare of lawe:
That but while Fortune doth with fauour blaw
Flatter through feare: for in theyr hart lurkes aye
A secrete hate that hopeth for a daye.
Wherewyth he kept his lieges vnder awe?
It rather wan him hatred every where,
And fayned faces forst by feare of lawe:
That but while Fortune doth with fauour blaw
Flatter through feare: for in theyr hart lurkes aye
A secrete hate that hopeth for a daye.
Recordeth Dionisius the kynge,
That with his rigor so his realme opprest,
As that he thought by cruell feare to bryng
His subiectes vnder, as him lyked best:
But loe the dread wherewyth him selfe was strest,
And you shal see the fine of forced feare,
Most myrrour like in this proud prynce appeare.
That with his rigor so his realme opprest,
As that he thought by cruell feare to bryng
His subiectes vnder, as him lyked best:
But loe the dread wherewyth him selfe was strest,
And you shal see the fine of forced feare,
Most myrrour like in this proud prynce appeare.
All were his head with crowne of golde ysprad,
And in his hand the royall scepter set:
And he with pryncely purple rychely clad,
Yet was his hart wyth wretched cares orefret:
And inwardly with deadly fear beset,
Of those whom he by rygour kept in awe,
And sore opprest with might of Tyrants lawe.
And in his hand the royall scepter set:
And he with pryncely purple rychely clad,
Yet was his hart wyth wretched cares orefret:
And inwardly with deadly fear beset,
Of those whom he by rygour kept in awe,
And sore opprest with might of Tyrants lawe.
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Agaynst whose feare, no heapes of golde and glie,
Ne strength of garde, nor all his hyred power,
Ne prowde hyghe Towers that preaced to the skye,
His cruel hart of safetie could assure:
But dreading them whom he should deeme most sure,
Hym selfe his beard wyth burning brand would cear,
Of death deservde so vexed him the feare.
Ne strength of garde, nor all his hyred power,
Ne prowde hyghe Towers that preaced to the skye,
His cruel hart of safetie could assure:
But dreading them whom he should deeme most sure,
Hym selfe his beard wyth burning brand would cear,
Of death deservde so vexed him the feare.
This might suffise to represent the fine
Of Tyrantes force, theyr feares, and theyr vnrest,
But heare this one, although my hart repyne
To let the sound once synke wythin my brest:
Of fell Phereus, that above the rest,
Such lothsum crueltee on his people wrought,
As (oh alas) I tremble wyth the thought.
Of Tyrantes force, theyr feares, and theyr vnrest,
But heare this one, although my hart repyne
To let the sound once synke wythin my brest:
Of fell Phereus, that above the rest,
Such lothsum crueltee on his people wrought,
As (oh alas) I tremble wyth the thought.
Sum he encased in the coates of Beares,
Among wylde beastes deuoured so to be:
And sum for praye vnto the hunters speares,
Lyke savage beastes withouten ruth to dye.
Sumtime to encrease his horrible crueltye,
The quicke with face to face engraved hee,
Eche others death that eche mought living see.
Among wylde beastes deuoured so to be:
And sum for praye vnto the hunters speares,
Lyke savage beastes withouten ruth to dye.
Sumtime to encrease his horrible crueltye,
The quicke with face to face engraved hee,
Eche others death that eche mought living see.
Loe what more cruell horror mought be found,
To purchase feare, if feare could staye his raygne?
It booted not, It rather strake the wounde
Of feare in him, to feare the lyke agayne.
And so he dyd full ofte and not in vayne:
As in his life his cares could wytnes well
But moste of all his wretched ende doth tell.
To purchase feare, if feare could staye his raygne?
It booted not, It rather strake the wounde
Of feare in him, to feare the lyke agayne.
And so he dyd full ofte and not in vayne:
As in his life his cares could wytnes well
But moste of all his wretched ende doth tell.
329
His owne dere wyfe whom as his life he loved,
He durst not trust, nor proche vnto her bed,
But causing fyrst his slave with naked sworde
To go before, him selfe with tremblyng dread
Strayt foloweth fast, and whorling in his head
His rolling iyen, he searcheth here and there
The diepe daunger that he so sore did feare.
He durst not trust, nor proche vnto her bed,
But causing fyrst his slave with naked sworde
To go before, him selfe with tremblyng dread
Strayt foloweth fast, and whorling in his head
His rolling iyen, he searcheth here and there
The diepe daunger that he so sore did feare.
For not in vayne it ran styll in his brest,
Sum wretched hap should hale him to his ende.
And therfore alwaye by his pillowe prest
Had he a sworde, and with that sworde he wende,
In vayne (God wote) all peryls to defende:
For loe his wife foreyrked of his raygne,
Sleping in bed this cruel wretche hath slayne.
Sum wretched hap should hale him to his ende.
And therfore alwaye by his pillowe prest
Had he a sworde, and with that sworde he wende,
In vayne (God wote) all peryls to defende:
For loe his wife foreyrked of his raygne,
Sleping in bed this cruel wretche hath slayne.
What should I more nowe seeke to say in this?
Or one Iote farder linger furth my tale?
With cruel Nero, or with Phalaris,
Caligula, Domician, and all
The cruell route? or of theyr wretched fall?
I can no more, but in my name aduert
Al earthly powers beware of Tyrants hart.
Or one Iote farder linger furth my tale?
With cruel Nero, or with Phalaris,
Caligula, Domician, and all
The cruell route? or of theyr wretched fall?
I can no more, but in my name aduert
Al earthly powers beware of Tyrants hart.
And as our state endured but a throwe,
So best in vs the staye of such a state
May best appeare to hang on overthrowe,
And better teache Tyrantes deserved hate
Than any Tyrantes death tofore or late.
So cruell seemde this Rychard thyrd to me,
That loe my selfe now loathde his crueltee.
So best in vs the staye of such a state
May best appeare to hang on overthrowe,
And better teache Tyrantes deserved hate
Than any Tyrantes death tofore or late.
So cruell seemde this Rychard thyrd to me,
That loe my selfe now loathde his crueltee.
330
For when alas, I saw the Tyrant kyng
Content not only from his nephewes twayne
To ryve worldes blysse, but also al worldes beyng,
Saunce earthly gylt ycausing both be slayne,
My hart agryesd that such a wretche should raygne,
Whose bluddy brest so salvaged out of kynde,
That Phalaris had never so bluddy a minde.
Content not only from his nephewes twayne
To ryve worldes blysse, but also al worldes beyng,
Saunce earthly gylt ycausing both be slayne,
My hart agryesd that such a wretche should raygne,
Whose bluddy brest so salvaged out of kynde,
That Phalaris had never so bluddy a minde.
Ne could I brooke him once wythin my brest,
But wyth the thought my teeth would gnashe wythal:
For though I earst wer his by sworne behest,
Yet when I sawe mischiefe on mischiefe fall,
So diepe in blud, to murder prynce and all,
Ay then thought I, alas, and wealaway,
And to my selfe thus mourning would I say.
But wyth the thought my teeth would gnashe wythal:
For though I earst wer his by sworne behest,
Yet when I sawe mischiefe on mischiefe fall,
So diepe in blud, to murder prynce and all,
Ay then thought I, alas, and wealaway,
And to my selfe thus mourning would I say.
If neyther love, kynred, ne knot of bloud,
His owne alegeaunce to his prynce of due,
Nor yet the state of trust wherein he stoode,
The worlds defame, nor nought could tourne him true
Those gylteles babes, could they not make him rue?
Nor could theyr youth, nor innocence withal
Move him from reuing them theyr lyfe and all?
His owne alegeaunce to his prynce of due,
Nor yet the state of trust wherein he stoode,
The worlds defame, nor nought could tourne him true
Those gylteles babes, could they not make him rue?
Nor could theyr youth, nor innocence withal
Move him from reuing them theyr lyfe and all?
Alas, it could not move him any iote,
Ne make him once to rue or wet his iye,
Sturde him no more than that that styrreth not:
But as the rocke or stone that wyl not plye,
So was his hart made hard to crueltye,
To murder them, alas I weepe in thought,
To thinke on that which this fel wretche hath wrought
Ne make him once to rue or wet his iye,
Sturde him no more than that that styrreth not:
But as the rocke or stone that wyl not plye,
So was his hart made hard to crueltye,
To murder them, alas I weepe in thought,
To thinke on that which this fel wretche hath wrought
331
That nowe when he had done the thing he sought,
And as he would, complysht and cumpast all,
And sawe and knewe the treason he had wrought
To God and man, to slaye his prynce and all,
Then seemde he fyrst to doubte and dread vs all,
And me in chiefe, whoes death all meanes he myght,
He sought to wurke by malice and by might.
And as he would, complysht and cumpast all,
And sawe and knewe the treason he had wrought
To God and man, to slaye his prynce and all,
Then seemde he fyrst to doubte and dread vs all,
And me in chiefe, whoes death all meanes he myght,
He sought to wurke by malice and by might.
Such heapes of harmes vpharbard in his brest
With enuyous hart my honour to deface,
As knowyng he that I whych woted best
His wretched dryftes, and all his cursed case,
If ever sprang within me sparke of grace,
Must nedes abhorre him and his hatefull race:
Now more and more can cast me out of grace.
With enuyous hart my honour to deface,
As knowyng he that I whych woted best
His wretched dryftes, and all his cursed case,
If ever sprang within me sparke of grace,
Must nedes abhorre him and his hatefull race:
Now more and more can cast me out of grace.
Which sodayne chaunge, when I by secrete chaunce
Had well perceyved by proofe of enuious frowne,
And sawe the lot that did me to aduaunce
Hym to a kyng that sought to cast me downe,
To late it was to linger any stowne:
Syth present choyse lay cast before myne iye,
To wurke his death or I my selfe to dye.
Had well perceyved by proofe of enuious frowne,
And sawe the lot that did me to aduaunce
Hym to a kyng that sought to cast me downe,
To late it was to linger any stowne:
Syth present choyse lay cast before myne iye,
To wurke his death or I my selfe to dye.
And as the knyght in fyeld among his foes,
Beset wyth swurdes, must slaye or there be slayne:
So I alas lapt in a thousand woes,
Beholding death on every syde so playne,
I rather chose by sum slye secrete trayne
To wurke his death, and I to lyve thereby,
Than he to lyve, and I of force to dye.
Beset wyth swurdes, must slaye or there be slayne:
So I alas lapt in a thousand woes,
Beholding death on every syde so playne,
I rather chose by sum slye secrete trayne
To wurke his death, and I to lyve thereby,
Than he to lyve, and I of force to dye.
332
Which heauy choyse so hastened me to chose,
That I in parte agryeved at his disdayne,
In part to wreke the dolefull death of those
Two tender babes, his sillye nephewes twayne,
By him alas commaunded to be slayne,
With paynted chere humbly before his face,
Strayght tooke my leave, & rode to Brecknocke place.
That I in parte agryeved at his disdayne,
In part to wreke the dolefull death of those
Two tender babes, his sillye nephewes twayne,
By him alas commaunded to be slayne,
With paynted chere humbly before his face,
Strayght tooke my leave, & rode to Brecknocke place.
And there as close and covert as I myght,
My purposed practise to his passe to bryng,
In secrete dryftes I lingred day and night:
All howe I might depose this cruell kyng,
That seemd to all so much desyerd a thyng,
As therto trusting I emprysde the same:
But to much trusting brought me to my bane.
My purposed practise to his passe to bryng,
In secrete dryftes I lingred day and night:
All howe I might depose this cruell kyng,
That seemd to all so much desyerd a thyng,
As therto trusting I emprysde the same:
But to much trusting brought me to my bane.
For while I nowe had Fortune at my becke
Mistrusting I no earthly thing at all,
Vnwares alas, least looking for a checke,
She mated me in turning of a ball:
When least I fearde, then nerest was my fall,
And when whole hoastes wer prest to stroy my foen,
She chaunged her chere, and left me post alone.
Mistrusting I no earthly thing at all,
Vnwares alas, least looking for a checke,
She mated me in turning of a ball:
When least I fearde, then nerest was my fall,
And when whole hoastes wer prest to stroy my foen,
She chaunged her chere, and left me post alone.
I had vpraysde a mighty band of men,
And marched furth in order of array,
Leadyng my power amyd the forest Dene,
Agaynst that Tyrant banner to displaye:
But loe my souldiers cowardly shranke away.
For such is Fortune when she lyst to frowne,
Who seemes most sure, him soonest whurles she down
And marched furth in order of array,
Leadyng my power amyd the forest Dene,
Agaynst that Tyrant banner to displaye:
But loe my souldiers cowardly shranke away.
For such is Fortune when she lyst to frowne,
Who seemes most sure, him soonest whurles she down
333
O let no prynce put trust in commontie,
Nor hope in fayth of gyddy peoples mynde,
But let all noble men take hede by me,
That by the proofe to well the payne do fynde:
Loe, where is truth or trust? or what could bynde
The vayne people, but they will swarve and swaye,
As chaunce bryngs chaunge, to dryve & draw that way?
Nor hope in fayth of gyddy peoples mynde,
But let all noble men take hede by me,
That by the proofe to well the payne do fynde:
Loe, where is truth or trust? or what could bynde
The vayne people, but they will swarve and swaye,
As chaunce bryngs chaunge, to dryve & draw that way?
Rome thou that once aduaunced vp so hye,
Thy staye, patron, and flower of excellence,
Hast nowe throwen him to depth of miserye,
Exiled him that was thy whole defence,
Ne comptest it not an horryble offence:
To reven him of honour and of fame,
That wan it thée when thou hadst lost the same.
Thy staye, patron, and flower of excellence,
Hast nowe throwen him to depth of miserye,
Exiled him that was thy whole defence,
Ne comptest it not an horryble offence:
To reven him of honour and of fame,
That wan it thée when thou hadst lost the same.
Beholde Camillus, he that erst reuyved
The state of Rome, that dyeng he dyd fynde,
Of his owne state is nowe alas depryved,
Banisht by them whom he dyd thus det bynde:
That cruell folke, vnthankeful and vnkynde,
Declared wel theyr false inconstancye,
And Fortune eke her mutabilitye.
The state of Rome, that dyeng he dyd fynde,
Of his owne state is nowe alas depryved,
Banisht by them whom he dyd thus det bynde:
That cruell folke, vnthankeful and vnkynde,
Declared wel theyr false inconstancye,
And Fortune eke her mutabilitye.
And thou Scipio, a myrrour mayst thou be
To all Nobles, that they learne not to late,
Howe they once trust the vnstable commontye.
Thou that recuredst the torne dismembred state,
Euen when the conquerour was at the gate,
Art now exylde, as though thou not deserved
To rest in her, whom thou hadst so preserved.
To all Nobles, that they learne not to late,
Howe they once trust the vnstable commontye.
Thou that recuredst the torne dismembred state,
Euen when the conquerour was at the gate,
Art now exylde, as though thou not deserved
To rest in her, whom thou hadst so preserved.
334
Ingrateful Rome hast shewed thy crueltye,
On hym, by whom thou lyvest yet in fame,
But nor thy dede, nor his desert shall dye,
But his owne wurdes shal witnes aye the same:
For loe hys grave doth thee most iustly blame.
And with disdayne in Marble sayes to thée:
Vnkynde countrey my bones shalt thou not see.
On hym, by whom thou lyvest yet in fame,
But nor thy dede, nor his desert shall dye,
But his owne wurdes shal witnes aye the same:
For loe hys grave doth thee most iustly blame.
And with disdayne in Marble sayes to thée:
Vnkynde countrey my bones shalt thou not see.
What more vnwurthy than this his exyle?
More iust than this the wofull playnt he wrote?
Or who could shewe a playner proofe the while,
Of moste false fayth, than they that thus forgot
His great desertes? that so deserved not?
His cindres yet loe, doth he them denye,
That him denyed amongst them for to dye.
More iust than this the wofull playnt he wrote?
Or who could shewe a playner proofe the while,
Of moste false fayth, than they that thus forgot
His great desertes? that so deserved not?
His cindres yet loe, doth he them denye,
That him denyed amongst them for to dye.
Milciades, O happy hadst thou be,
And well rewarded of thy countrey men,
If in the fyeld when thou hadst forst to flye
By thy prowes, thre hundred thousand men,
Content they had bene to exyle thée then:
And not to cast thée in depth of pryson so,
Laden wyth gyves to ende thy lyfe in woe.
And well rewarded of thy countrey men,
If in the fyeld when thou hadst forst to flye
By thy prowes, thre hundred thousand men,
Content they had bene to exyle thée then:
And not to cast thée in depth of pryson so,
Laden wyth gyves to ende thy lyfe in woe.
Alas howe harde and steely hartes had they
That not contented there to have thée dye,
With fettred gyves in pryson where thou laye,
Increast so far in hatefull crueltye,
That buryall to thy corps, they eke denye:
Ne wyl they graunt the same tyll thy sonne have
Put on thy gyves to purchase thée a grave.
That not contented there to have thée dye,
With fettred gyves in pryson where thou laye,
Increast so far in hatefull crueltye,
That buryall to thy corps, they eke denye:
Ne wyl they graunt the same tyll thy sonne have
Put on thy gyves to purchase thée a grave.
335
Loe Hanniball as long as fixed fate,
And bryttle Fortune had ordeyned so,
Who ever more aduaunst his countrey state
Then thou, that lyvedst for her and for no moe?
But when the stormy waves began to grow,
Without respect of thy desertes erwhile,
Art by thy countrey throwen into exyle.
And bryttle Fortune had ordeyned so,
Who ever more aduaunst his countrey state
Then thou, that lyvedst for her and for no moe?
But when the stormy waves began to grow,
Without respect of thy desertes erwhile,
Art by thy countrey throwen into exyle.
Vnfrendly Fortune shal I thée nowe blame?
Or shal I fault the fates that so ordayne?
Or art thou Iove the causer of the same?
Or crueltie her selfe doth she constrayne?
Or on whom els alas shal I complayne?
O trustles world I can accusen none,
But fyckle fayth of commontye alone.
Or shal I fault the fates that so ordayne?
Or art thou Iove the causer of the same?
Or crueltie her selfe doth she constrayne?
Or on whom els alas shal I complayne?
O trustles world I can accusen none,
But fyckle fayth of commontye alone.
The Polipus nor the Chameleon straunge,
That turne them selves to every hewe they sée
Are not so full of vayne and fickle chaunge
As is this false vnstedfast commontye.
Loe I alas with mine adversitie
Have tryed it true, for they are fled and gone
And of an oast there is not left me one.
That turne them selves to every hewe they sée
Are not so full of vayne and fickle chaunge
As is this false vnstedfast commontye.
Loe I alas with mine adversitie
Have tryed it true, for they are fled and gone
And of an oast there is not left me one.
That I alas in this calamitie
Alone was left, and to my selfe mought playne
This treason, and this wretched cowardye,
And eke with teares bewepen and complayne
My hateful hap, styll lookyng to be slayne.
Wandryng in woe, and to the gods on hye
Cleapyng for vengeaunce of this treacherye.
Alone was left, and to my selfe mought playne
This treason, and this wretched cowardye,
And eke with teares bewepen and complayne
My hateful hap, styll lookyng to be slayne.
Wandryng in woe, and to the gods on hye
Cleapyng for vengeaunce of this treacherye.
336
And as the Turtle that hath lost her make,
Whom grypyng sorowe doth so sore attaynt,
With dolefull voyce and sound whych she doth make
Mourning her losse, fylles all the grove wyth playnt,
So I alas forsaken, and forfaynt,
With restles foote the wud rome vp and downe,
Which of my dole al shyvering doth resowne.
Whom grypyng sorowe doth so sore attaynt,
With dolefull voyce and sound whych she doth make
Mourning her losse, fylles all the grove wyth playnt,
So I alas forsaken, and forfaynt,
With restles foote the wud rome vp and downe,
Which of my dole al shyvering doth resowne.
And beyng thus alone, and all forsake,
Amyd the thycke, forwandred in despayer,
As one dismayed ne wyst what waye to take,
Vntyll at last gan to my mynde repayer,
A man of mine called Humfrey Banastair:
Wherewyth me feeling much recomforted,
In hope of succour to his house I fled.
Amyd the thycke, forwandred in despayer,
As one dismayed ne wyst what waye to take,
Vntyll at last gan to my mynde repayer,
A man of mine called Humfrey Banastair:
Wherewyth me feeling much recomforted,
In hope of succour to his house I fled.
Who beyng one whom earst I had vpbrought
Euen from his youth, and loved and lyked best,
To gentrye state auauncing him from nought,
And had in secrete trust above the rest,
Of specyal trust nowe being thus dystrest
Full secreatly to him I me conueyed
Not doubting there but I should fynde some ayde.
Euen from his youth, and loved and lyked best,
To gentrye state auauncing him from nought,
And had in secrete trust above the rest,
Of specyal trust nowe being thus dystrest
Full secreatly to him I me conueyed
Not doubting there but I should fynde some ayde.
But out alas on cruell trecherye,
When that this caytief once an ynklyng hard,
Howe that kyng Rychard had proclaymde, that he
Which me descryed should have for his rewarde
A thousand poundes, and farther be prefarde,
His truthe so turnde to treason, all distaynde
That fayth quyte fled, and I by trust was traynde.
When that this caytief once an ynklyng hard,
Howe that kyng Rychard had proclaymde, that he
Which me descryed should have for his rewarde
A thousand poundes, and farther be prefarde,
His truthe so turnde to treason, all distaynde
That fayth quyte fled, and I by trust was traynde.
337
For by this wretche I beyng strayt betrayed,
To one Iohn Mitton, shiriffe of Shropshire then,
All sodaynely was taken, and conuayed
To Salisbury, wyth rout of harnest men,
Vnto kyng Rychard there encamped then:
Fast by the citye with a myghtye hoste
Withouten doome where head and lyfe I lost.
To one Iohn Mitton, shiriffe of Shropshire then,
All sodaynely was taken, and conuayed
To Salisbury, wyth rout of harnest men,
Vnto kyng Rychard there encamped then:
Fast by the citye with a myghtye hoste
Withouten doome where head and lyfe I lost.
And with these wordes, as if the axe even there
Dismembred had his head and corps aparte,
Dead fel he downe: and we in woful feare
Stoode mazed when he would to lyef revert:
But deadly griefes stil grewe about his hart,
That styll he laye, sumtyme reuived wyth payne,
And wyth a sygh becumming dead agayne.
Dismembred had his head and corps aparte,
Dead fel he downe: and we in woful feare
Stoode mazed when he would to lyef revert:
But deadly griefes stil grewe about his hart,
That styll he laye, sumtyme reuived wyth payne,
And wyth a sygh becumming dead agayne.
Mydnyght was cum, and every vitall thyng
With swete sound slepe theyr weary lyms dyd rest,
The beastes were still, the lytle byrdes that syng,
Nowe sweetely slept besides theyr mothers brest:
The olde and all were shrowded in theyr nest.
The waters calme, the cruel seas did ceas,
The wuds, the fyeldes, & all thinges held theyr peace.
With swete sound slepe theyr weary lyms dyd rest,
The beastes were still, the lytle byrdes that syng,
Nowe sweetely slept besides theyr mothers brest:
The olde and all were shrowded in theyr nest.
The waters calme, the cruel seas did ceas,
The wuds, the fyeldes, & all thinges held theyr peace.
The golden stars wer whyrlde amyd theyr race,
And on the earth did laugh wyth twinkling lyght,
When eche thing nestled in his restyng place,
Forgat dayes payne with pleasure of the nyght:
The Hare had not the greedy houndes in sight,
The fearfull Dear of death stoode not in doubt,
The Patrydge drept not of the Falcons foote.
And on the earth did laugh wyth twinkling lyght,
When eche thing nestled in his restyng place,
Forgat dayes payne with pleasure of the nyght:
The Hare had not the greedy houndes in sight,
The fearfull Dear of death stoode not in doubt,
The Patrydge drept not of the Falcons foote.
338
The ougly Beare nowe mynded not the stake,
Nor how the cruell mastyues do hym tear,
The stag laye still vnroused from the brake,
The fomy boar feard not the hunters spear.
All thing was still in desert, bush and brear.
With quyet hart now from their trauailes rest,
Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest.
Nor how the cruell mastyues do hym tear,
The stag laye still vnroused from the brake,
The fomy boar feard not the hunters spear.
All thing was still in desert, bush and brear.
With quyet hart now from their trauailes rest,
Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest.
When Buckyngham amid his plaint opprest,
With surgyng sorowes and with pinching paynes
In sort thus sowned, and with a sigh he ceast.
To tellen furth the treachery and the traynes,
Of Banastar, which him so sore distraynes.
That from a sigh he falles into a sounde,
And from a sounde lyeth ragyng on the ground
With surgyng sorowes and with pinching paynes
In sort thus sowned, and with a sigh he ceast.
To tellen furth the treachery and the traynes,
Of Banastar, which him so sore distraynes.
That from a sigh he falles into a sounde,
And from a sounde lyeth ragyng on the ground
So twiching wer the panges that he assayed,
And he so sore with rufull rage distraught.
To thinke vpon the wretch that hym betrayed,
Whom earst he made a Gentylman of naught.
That more and more agreued with this thought,
He stormes out sighes, and with redoubled sore,
Stroke with the Furies, rageth more and more.
And he so sore with rufull rage distraught.
To thinke vpon the wretch that hym betrayed,
Whom earst he made a Gentylman of naught.
That more and more agreued with this thought,
He stormes out sighes, and with redoubled sore,
Stroke with the Furies, rageth more and more.
Who so hath seene the Bull chased with Dartes,
And with dyepe woundes forgald and gored so,
Tyl he oppressed with the deadlye smartes,
Fall in a rage, and runne vpon his foe,
Let him I saye, beholde the ragyng woe
Of Buckyngham, that in these grypes of gryefe
Rageth gaynst him that hath betrayed his lyef.
And with dyepe woundes forgald and gored so,
Tyl he oppressed with the deadlye smartes,
Fall in a rage, and runne vpon his foe,
Let him I saye, beholde the ragyng woe
Of Buckyngham, that in these grypes of gryefe
Rageth gaynst him that hath betrayed his lyef.
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With blud red iyen he stareth here and there,
Frothing at mouth, with face as pale as cloute:
When loe my lymmes were trembling all for feare,
And I amazde stoode styll in dread and doubt,
While I mought see him throwe his armes about:
And gaynst the ground him selfe plounge with such force
As if the lyfe forthwyth should leave the corps.
Frothing at mouth, with face as pale as cloute:
When loe my lymmes were trembling all for feare,
And I amazde stoode styll in dread and doubt,
While I mought see him throwe his armes about:
And gaynst the ground him selfe plounge with such force
As if the lyfe forthwyth should leave the corps.
With smoke of syghes sumtyme I myght beholde
The place al dymde, like to the mornyng myst:
And strayt agayne the teares how they downrolde
Alongst his cheekes, as if the ryuers hyst:
Whoes flowing streemes ne wer no sooner whist,
But to the stars such dreadfull shoutes he sent,
As if the trone of mighty Iove should rent,
The place al dymde, like to the mornyng myst:
And strayt agayne the teares how they downrolde
Alongst his cheekes, as if the ryuers hyst:
Whoes flowing streemes ne wer no sooner whist,
But to the stars such dreadfull shoutes he sent,
As if the trone of mighty Iove should rent,
And I the while with spirites wel nye bereft,
Beheld the plyght and panges that dyd him strayne.
And howe the blud his deadly colour left,
And strayt returnde with flamyng red agayne:
When sodaynly amid his ragyng payne,
He gave a sygh, and with that sygh he sayed:
Oh Banastar, and strayt agayne he stayed.
Beheld the plyght and panges that dyd him strayne.
And howe the blud his deadly colour left,
And strayt returnde with flamyng red agayne:
When sodaynly amid his ragyng payne,
He gave a sygh, and with that sygh he sayed:
Oh Banastar, and strayt agayne he stayed.
Dead laye his corps as dead as any stone,
Tyll swellyng syghes stormyng within his brest
Vpraysde his head, that downeward fell anone,
With lookes vpcast, and syghes that never ceast:
Furth streamde the teares recordes of his vnrest,
When he wyth shrykes thus groveling on the ground,
Ybrayed these wordes with shryll and dolefull sound.
Tyll swellyng syghes stormyng within his brest
Vpraysde his head, that downeward fell anone,
With lookes vpcast, and syghes that never ceast:
Furth streamde the teares recordes of his vnrest,
When he wyth shrykes thus groveling on the ground,
Ybrayed these wordes with shryll and dolefull sound.
Heaven and earth, and ye eternal lampes
That in the heavens wrapt, wyl vs to rest,
Thou bryght Phebe, that clearest the nightes dampes
Witnes the playntes that in these panges opprest
I woful wretche vnlade out of my brest.
And let me yeald my last wordes ere I part,
You, you, I call to record of my smart.
That in the heavens wrapt, wyl vs to rest,
Thou bryght Phebe, that clearest the nightes dampes
Witnes the playntes that in these panges opprest
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And let me yeald my last wordes ere I part,
You, you, I call to record of my smart.
And thou Alecto feede me wyth thy foode
Let fal thy serpentes from thy snaky heare,
For such relyefe wel sittes me in this moode,
To feede my playnt with horror and wyth feare,
While rage afreshe thy venomd worme arear.
And thou Sibilla when thou seest me faynte,
Addres thy selfe the gyde of my complaynt.
Let fal thy serpentes from thy snaky heare,
For such relyefe wel sittes me in this moode,
To feede my playnt with horror and wyth feare,
While rage afreshe thy venomd worme arear.
And thou Sibilla when thou seest me faynte,
Addres thy selfe the gyde of my complaynt.
And thou O Iove, that with thy depe fordoome
Dost rule the earth, and raygne above the skyes,
That wrekest wronges, and gevest the dreadful doome
Agaynst the wretche that doth thy trone despyse,
Receyve these wurdes, and wreake them in such wyse,
As heaven and earth may witnesse and beholde,
Thy heapes of wrath vpon this wretche vnfolde.
Dost rule the earth, and raygne above the skyes,
That wrekest wronges, and gevest the dreadful doome
Agaynst the wretche that doth thy trone despyse,
Receyve these wurdes, and wreake them in such wyse,
As heaven and earth may witnesse and beholde,
Thy heapes of wrath vpon this wretche vnfolde.
Thou Banaster, gaynst thée I clepe and call
Vnto the Gods, that they iust vengeaunce take
On thée, thy bloud, thy stayned stocke and all;
O Iove, to thée aboue the rest I make
My humble playnt, guyde me that what I speake,
May be thy wyll vpon thys wretche to fall,
On thée Banastar, wretche of wretches all.
Vnto the Gods, that they iust vengeaunce take
On thée, thy bloud, thy stayned stocke and all;
O Iove, to thée aboue the rest I make
My humble playnt, guyde me that what I speake,
May be thy wyll vpon thys wretche to fall,
On thée Banastar, wretche of wretches all.
O would to God, that cruel dismal daye,
That gave me light fyrst to behold thy face,
With fowle eclypse had reft my syght away:
The vnhappy hower, the tyme, and eke the place,
The sunne and Moone, the sters, and all that was
In theyr aspectes helping in ought to thée,
The earth, and ayer, and all accursed bee.
That gave me light fyrst to behold thy face,
With fowle eclypse had reft my syght away:
The vnhappy hower, the tyme, and eke the place,
341
In theyr aspectes helping in ought to thée,
The earth, and ayer, and all accursed bee.
And thou caytief, that like a monstar swarved,
From kynde and kyndenes, hast thy mayster lorne,
Whom neyther truth, nor trust wherein thou served,
Ne his desertes, could move, nor thy fayth sworne,
Howe shall I curse, but wyshe that thou vnborne
Had bene, or that the earth had rent in twaye,
And swallowed thee in cradle as thou laye.
From kynde and kyndenes, hast thy mayster lorne,
Whom neyther truth, nor trust wherein thou served,
Ne his desertes, could move, nor thy fayth sworne,
Howe shall I curse, but wyshe that thou vnborne
Had bene, or that the earth had rent in twaye,
And swallowed thee in cradle as thou laye.
To this did I even from thy tender youth
Witsafe to bryng thée vp? dyd I herefore
Beleve the oath of thy vndoubted trouth?
Aduaunce thée vp, and trust thée evermore?
By trusting thée that I should dye therefore?
O wretche, and wurse than wretche, what shal I say?
But cleap and curse gaynst thee and thine for aye.
Witsafe to bryng thée vp? dyd I herefore
Beleve the oath of thy vndoubted trouth?
Aduaunce thée vp, and trust thée evermore?
By trusting thée that I should dye therefore?
O wretche, and wurse than wretche, what shal I say?
But cleap and curse gaynst thee and thine for aye.
Hated be thou, disdaynd of every wyght,
And poynted at where ever that thou goe,
A trayterous wretche, vnwurthy of the light,
Be thou estemed: and to encrease thy woe,
The sound be hatefull of thy name also:
And in this sort with shame and sharpe reproche,
Leade thou thy life till greater grief approch.
And poynted at where ever that thou goe,
A trayterous wretche, vnwurthy of the light,
Be thou estemed: and to encrease thy woe,
The sound be hatefull of thy name also:
And in this sort with shame and sharpe reproche,
Leade thou thy life till greater grief approch.
Dole and despayer, let those be thy delight,
Wrapped in woes that can not be vnfolde,
To wayle the daye, and wepe the weary night,
With rayny iyen and syghes can not be tolde,
And let no wyght thy woe seeke to withholde:
But coumpt thée wurthy (wretche) of sorrowes store,
That suffryng much, oughtest still to suffer more,
Wrapped in woes that can not be vnfolde,
To wayle the daye, and wepe the weary night,
With rayny iyen and syghes can not be tolde,
And let no wyght thy woe seeke to withholde:
But coumpt thée wurthy (wretche) of sorrowes store,
That suffryng much, oughtest still to suffer more,
342
Deserve thou death, yea be thou demed to dye
A shamefull death, to ende thy shamefull lyfe:
A syght longed for, ioyful to euerye iye,
Whan thou shalt be arraygned as a thief,
Standing at bar, and pleadyng for thy lyef,
With trembling toung in dread and dolors rage,
Lade with white lockes, and fowerskore yeres of age.
A shamefull death, to ende thy shamefull lyfe:
A syght longed for, ioyful to euerye iye,
Whan thou shalt be arraygned as a thief,
Standing at bar, and pleadyng for thy lyef,
With trembling toung in dread and dolors rage,
Lade with white lockes, and fowerskore yeres of age.
Yet shall not death delyuer thee so soone
Out of thy woes, so happye shalt thou not bee:
But to the eternall Ioue this is my boone,
That thou may liue thine eldest sonne to see
Reft of his wits, and in a fowle bores stye
To ende his dayes in rage and death distrest,
A wurthy tumbe where one of thyne should rest.
Out of thy woes, so happye shalt thou not bee:
But to the eternall Ioue this is my boone,
That thou may liue thine eldest sonne to see
Reft of his wits, and in a fowle bores stye
To ende his dayes in rage and death distrest,
A wurthy tumbe where one of thyne should rest.
And after this, yet pray I more, thou may
Thy second sonne sée drowned in a dyke,
And in such sorte to close his latter daye,
As heard or seen earst hath not bene the lyke:
Ystrangled in a puddle not so deepe
As halfe a foote, that such hard losse of lyfe,
So cruelly chaunst, may be thy greater gryefe.
Thy second sonne sée drowned in a dyke,
And in such sorte to close his latter daye,
As heard or seen earst hath not bene the lyke:
Ystrangled in a puddle not so deepe
As halfe a foote, that such hard losse of lyfe,
So cruelly chaunst, may be thy greater gryefe.
And not yet shall thy hugie sorrowes cease,
Ioue shal not so withholde his wrath fro thée,
But that thy plagues may more and more encreas,
Thou shalt still lyve, that thou thy selfe mayst sée
Thy deare doughter stroken with leprosye:
That she that earst was all thy hole delyght,
Thou now mayst loath to haue her cum in sight.
Ioue shal not so withholde his wrath fro thée,
But that thy plagues may more and more encreas,
Thou shalt still lyve, that thou thy selfe mayst sée
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That she that earst was all thy hole delyght,
Thou now mayst loath to haue her cum in sight.
And after that, let shame and sorrowes gryefe
Feede furth thy yeares continually in wo,
That thou mayest live in death, and dye in lyef,
And in this sorte forewayld and wearyed so,
At length thy ghost to parte thy body fro:
This pray I Iove, and wyth this latter breath,
Vengeaunce I aske vpon my cruell death.
Feede furth thy yeares continually in wo,
That thou mayest live in death, and dye in lyef,
And in this sorte forewayld and wearyed so,
At length thy ghost to parte thy body fro:
This pray I Iove, and wyth this latter breath,
Vengeaunce I aske vpon my cruell death.
This sayd, he floung his retcheles armes abrode,
And groveling flat vpon the ground he lay,
Which with his teeth he al to gnasht and gnawed:
Depe groanes he fet, as he that would awaye.
But loe in vayne he dyd the death assay:
Although I thinke was never man that knewe,
Such deadly paynes where death dyd not ensewe.
And groveling flat vpon the ground he lay,
Which with his teeth he al to gnasht and gnawed:
Depe groanes he fet, as he that would awaye.
But loe in vayne he dyd the death assay:
Although I thinke was never man that knewe,
Such deadly paynes where death dyd not ensewe.
So strove he thus a while as with the death,
Nowe pale as lead, and colde as any stone.
Nowe styl as calme, nowe storming forth a breath
Of smoaky syghes, as breath and al were gone:
But every thing hath ende: so he anone
Came to him selfe, when wyth a sygh outbrayed,
With woful cheare these woful wurdes he sayd.
Nowe pale as lead, and colde as any stone.
Nowe styl as calme, nowe storming forth a breath
Of smoaky syghes, as breath and al were gone:
But every thing hath ende: so he anone
Came to him selfe, when wyth a sygh outbrayed,
With woful cheare these woful wurdes he sayd.
Ah where am I, what thing, or whence is this?
Who reft my wyts? or howe do I thus lye?
My lims do quake, my thought agasted is,
Why sygh I so? Or wherevnto do I
Thus grovle on the ground? and by and by
Vpraysde he stoode, and wyth a sygh hath stayed,
When to him selfe retourned, thus he sayed.
Who reft my wyts? or howe do I thus lye?
My lims do quake, my thought agasted is,
Why sygh I so? Or wherevnto do I
Thus grovle on the ground? and by and by
Vpraysde he stoode, and wyth a sygh hath stayed,
When to him selfe retourned, thus he sayed.
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Suffiseth nowe this playnt and this regrete,
Whereof my hart his bottome hath vnfraught:
And of my death let pieres and princes wete
The worldes vntrust, that they thereby be taught.
And in her wealth, sith that such chaunge is wrought,
Hope not to much, but in the myds of all
Thinke on my death, and what may them befall.
Whereof my hart his bottome hath vnfraught:
And of my death let pieres and princes wete
The worldes vntrust, that they thereby be taught.
And in her wealth, sith that such chaunge is wrought,
Hope not to much, but in the myds of all
Thinke on my death, and what may them befall.
So long as Fortune would permyt the same,
I lyved in rule and ryches wyth the best:
And past my time in honour and in fame.
That of mishap no feare was in my brest:
But false Fortune whan I suspected least,
Dyd turne the wheele, and wyth a dolefull fall
Hath me bereft of honour life and all.
I lyved in rule and ryches wyth the best:
And past my time in honour and in fame.
That of mishap no feare was in my brest:
But false Fortune whan I suspected least,
Dyd turne the wheele, and wyth a dolefull fall
Hath me bereft of honour life and all.
Loe what auayles in ryches fluds that flowes?
Though she so smylde as all the world wer his?
Euen kinges and kesars byden Fortunes throwes,
And simple sorte must bear it as it is.
Take hede by me that blithd in balefull blisse:
My rule, my riches, royall blud and all,
Whan Fortune frounde the feller made my fall.
Though she so smylde as all the world wer his?
Euen kinges and kesars byden Fortunes throwes,
And simple sorte must bear it as it is.
Take hede by me that blithd in balefull blisse:
My rule, my riches, royall blud and all,
Whan Fortune frounde the feller made my fall.
For hard mishaps that happens vnto such,
Whoes wretched state earst neuer fell no chaunge,
Agryue them not in any part so much,
As theyr distres to whome it is so straunge,
That all theyr lyues nay passed pleasures raunge:
Theyr sodayne wo that ay wield welth at will,
Algates their hartes more pearcingly must thril.
Whoes wretched state earst neuer fell no chaunge,
Agryue them not in any part so much,
As theyr distres to whome it is so straunge,
That all theyr lyues nay passed pleasures raunge:
Theyr sodayne wo that ay wield welth at will,
Algates their hartes more pearcingly must thril.
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For of my byrth, my blud was of the best,
Fyrst borne an Earle, than duke by due discent:
To swinge the sway in court amonge the rest,
Dame Fortune me her rule most largely lent:
And kynd with corage so my corps had blent,
That loe on whom but me dyd she most smyle?
And whom but me lo, dyd she most begyle?
Fyrst borne an Earle, than duke by due discent:
To swinge the sway in court amonge the rest,
Dame Fortune me her rule most largely lent:
And kynd with corage so my corps had blent,
That loe on whom but me dyd she most smyle?
And whom but me lo, dyd she most begyle?
Now hast thou heard the whole of my vnhap,
My chaunce, my chaunge, the cause of all my care:
In wealth and wo, how Fortune dyd me wrap,
With world at will to win me to her snare.
Byd kynges, byd kesars, by all states beware,
And tell them this from me that tryed it true.
Who reckles rules, right soone may hap to rue.
My chaunce, my chaunge, the cause of all my care:
In wealth and wo, how Fortune dyd me wrap,
With world at will to win me to her snare.
Byd kynges, byd kesars, by all states beware,
And tell them this from me that tryed it true.
Who reckles rules, right soone may hap to rue.
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