Parts added to The mirror for magistrates | ||
2. THE SECOND PART OF THE MIRROR for MAGISTRATES
by THOMAS BLENERHASSET
The Complaint of Guidericus.
How Guidericus refused to paye tribute vnto Claudius Caesar: howe hee subdued Galba, how hee became desyrous to winne all the worlde, spoyled France, Germany, and a great part of Italy: and lastly, how hee was miserably slayne in a tempest of thunder, euen at what time hee shoulde haue dealt with Caesar. This History is a synguler ensample of Gods vengeance, against pride and arrogancy.
With busye brayne to builde a bower there,
Is doune to fall at Fortunes froward frowne,
Whose turning wheele, the hyest fyrst dooth feare,
And them below it vpwardes styl dooth reare.
Let them therefore for good estate that striue,
With sailes halfe hoyst, in happy Hauen ariue.
Amidst the meane which dyd not dayne to dwell,
To higher state whilst I dyd mee addresse,
By chaunging chance of Fortunes force, I fel
Euen suddaynly from Heauen to hatefull Hell,
From Heauen (I saye,) I fell from that my blysse,
To hatefull Hell, I meane, to wretchednesse.
I am the same, of Simbaline the sonne,
Cassiuelane my Grandsyer, dyd withstand
Sir Caesars force, tyll Parcae had vndone
The fatal knot, and twist that they had sponne,
Euen then to soone the Romanes did oppresse
This Realme, which I to ryght, did me addresse.
The three estates in Court to Parle I
In hast did call, amongst which Royal route,
As one who ment for welthe of commonty,
Howe to restore their ancient libertie,
Pronounst the speache which here I shal recite,
Which moued much there manly mindes to fight.
Ambassatours, the tribute to obtayne,
Which Theomant subdued, did agree
To pay, But I such greement do disdayne.
Shal I to Rome a Tribute slaue remayne,
Because they did subdue this realme of Yore?
Shal we buy yoke with tribute euermore?
Shal Troians we to Troians tribute yeelde?
Of Brutus bloude a Prince withouten peare,
We do descend, whose father fyrst dyd buylde
In Italy: he Alba longa fylde,
And furnishte fine, with princely byldinges braue,
He was entombde next good Aeneas graue.
And Rome of hym (as London tooke of Lud)
Her name, which Alba Longa was in deede,
Dare they for Guerdon of so great a good,
Demaund of vs whose parentes Patrons were
To them? to doo this deede, they doo not feare.
Euen tribute of vs Troians let them craue,
But we in Mars his feeldes wyl pay their fee,
If needes they must of vs a payment haue,
They shal ryght stoutly then them selues behaue.
We wil not feare to fyght it out in feelde,
Without reuenge we neuer al wyl yeelde.
That Britaynes were by Romanes brought to bay?
Was Caesars valure of so great auayle,
That it coulde cause Cassiuelaynes decaye?
Why should not then Guidericus assay
By furious force of Mars his bloody feelde,
To make those roming Romanes al to yeelde?
That he who once as Victor wore the wreath,
By chaunged chaunce is forst agaynst his wyl,
That garlande gay, and vitall lyfe to leaue?
Such ill mishappes misfortune still dooth heaue,
That he who dyd subdue but yesterday,
Is nowe subdude, and hath the lyke decaye.
Whom Caesar thryce in fyght dyd fynd too strong,
Yet at the last, (the lewder chaunce was thine,
Thou litle Ile) he thrust in with a throng
Of mightie men, and did thee double wrong.
Thee then subdude, to Rome he seruile made:
Which wrong to right, with this my bloudye blade,
I wil not cease, tyll I reuenge haue seene,
And them destroyed with dreadful diery dent
Of wrathful warre: and therefore now I meane
To byd the Bace, and fetch them from their denne,
To sende them woorde, We owe no tribute we,
But we of them must recompenced be.
Haue vowde a vowe, for countreyes lybertie,
To die in feelde, or els that these mine eyes
Shall see you free from forrayne tyranny,
To which no doubt theyr goodnesse wil agree.
Nowe that you haue the whole of myne intent,
You knowe the cause why I for you haue sent.
By heaued handes let me them vnderstand.
My brother Aruiragus by me stoode,
I must not I (he sayde) holde vp my hande,
Nor thee herein assist with any bande.
For sith we both haue sworne aleagance due
To Rome, to Rome I euer wil be true.
Doth dant my mynde, I dare what dare be donne,
Though nowe we sit in Lady fortunes lappe:
By fayth defilde, no honour can be wonne,
The wrath of God men periurde can not shun.
Do thou therefore what best thy selfe doth seeme,
Giue them their ryght, for that is best I deeme.
My counsayle and my Commons do agree,
Yea, all the force of this my Realme is bent,
Take you therefore this sentence in boun gre,
Because thou seemst a seruile lyfe to loue,
The Towre a house is best for thy behoue.
To breake such othe doth not the fayth defile:
Let them goe tel to Claudius this tale,
We meane with force to furnishe this our Ile,
Which force him selfe shal feele within a while.
For if he wyll not fetch his tribute here,
We then wyl goe and pay hym tribute there.
Though he at home had ciuile strife in hande,
And though he were by forrain foes debarde,
And could not come him selfe, yet he a bande
Of thirtie thousand sent, for to withstand
My strength: which strength in the fyrst foughten feelde
They found so strong, that forst, they al did yeelde.
In golden feelde which had the horse of fame,
Euen Pegasus in seemely siluer set,
The curious skill of Heraultes there did frame
Thasheument true, of auncient Troy by name,
Imbordred braue with golden letters thus:
Senatus, Populusque Romanus.
A great attempt I quickly did deuise,
I ment O Rome, vpon thy walles to presse.
It easye seemde to me in my surmise,
Me thought I could winne al the worlde in haste,
But fyrst I ment the Romane state to waste.
I sayld the Seas, I spoyled them of France,
I made the Germans and the Lumbartes lowre.
Yea good successe did so my state aduance
In Italy, such was my luckye chaunce,
I did subdue, my souldiers had the spoyle,
Of all the chiefest Cities in that soyle.
See how report did tel a truthlesse tale:
For Hannibal the Carthage Duke so stout,
Renide, it sayd, woulde once agayn assayle
The Roman state, and cause it nowe to quake.
Which false Report, did put them in such feare:
Cities would yeelde, before my Campe came neare.
That doutful now affrighted sore with feare,
They tel howe at Trisemenus they sped,
In Cannas feeldes how they despoyled were:
They hate to tel, they lothe that hap to heare.
A bushel there he fyld (most true it is)
With golden Ringes Equestri ordinis.
They wishe that nowe good Graccus were not dead.
For Fabius, he who wysely would refuse
Forthwith to fight, they wish for such a head,
Camillus nowe would stand them in great stead.
And some with sighes did wishe for Scipio,
Them to defend from me there deadly foe.
Gardante, a mouing mollhil did beholde,
From whence he thought some wonder would appeare:
A little Moule crepte from the mouing mould,
Which made the quaking Lion then so bolde,
Feare set a side, that he for his delyght,
Playd with the Moule, and kilde the strengthlesse wight.
Where he hym self was Lord cheefe general,
Which greatly did delyght my hart to heare,
And caused me my Captaynes then to call,
To whome I sayde, We two must striue for al
The world so wide: which if I chance to winne,
Then you your selues haue ample part therein.
A corsser post came praunsing in the fielde,
Who comming to my Cabbin, thus dyd say,
Guidericus, thy friendes at home be kilde,
Thy natiue soyle, to forrayne force did yielde,
The Romans they haue spoylde thee of eche thing,
Thy brother there Aruiragus is kyng.
Yet I whose hart did neuer faynt for feare,
Although sayd I their good successe be such,
Yet if we can subdue the Romans here,
They shal I thinke buy Britayne very deare.
Which out of doubt yf you as you haue donne,
Will fight like men, the fielde wil soone be wonne.
Could not digest the losse of that their lande,
For which they fledde, left me their Chieftayne there.
Whose mightie force I could not then withstande,
Yea all my page, my footmen fled for feare,
And left me post alone, with heauy cheare.
From foorth whose loynes this Fury feare first fled,
Megeras sighes, no no, nor Medusa,
Who hath ten thousand Snakes about her head,
The fiery flames of hell doth not so dreade
The minde, as feare, which makes mans hart we see,
To shake, and quake, like leafe of Aspen tree.
That they the worlde, euen al the world would spoyle,
This fury fyerce, this feeble fayntyng feare,
Did causlesse cause them thus here to recoyle,
Her only force inforst me to this soyle,
Not Caesars force: no strength of Roman power,
But feare, euen feare, dyd make me here to lower,
But too to soone, my hartlesse men it made
To shrinke, to flinche, to flee eche man his way,
And me a pray most fit for Claudius blade,
They left alone: alas what may be sayde,
What may be done, what fittes for mine auayle?
I wyl not flee, to fight cannot preuayle.
Fy on that fate, that I should sue for grace,
To hym who is the worker of my woe,
Whose hart from foorth his brest for to displace,
I gladly woulde ten thousand deathes imbrace.
My lyfe (in faith) doth lothe to liue with shame,
By death therfore, my lyfe shall purchase fame.
In Galbas shielde, the praunsing Pegasus,
So with renowne I nowe will go about
To see if Claudius dare the cause discusse
With me alone, if couragious
Dare do that deed: that we in open feeld
May try the case, then he or I must yeelde.
Myne arming swoorde, my Targate I did take,
And on my Helme, or Burgonet, I had
My royal crowne, and so I dyd forsake
The place, whereas my souldiers fled of late,
I marcht and met the scoute of Claudius,
To whom I dyd addresse my language thus:
Conduct him then your Emprour to salute,
You for your paynes shal gayne a golden fee,
For why my grace to Claudius hath a sute.
The scurers they al silent mumme and mute,
Yet wel appayde of such a princely pray,
In hast they dyd to Caesar me conuay.
Him marching there, to meete with me but one:
To whom I sayde, thy powre is passing great,
My force is fled: what, must I then bemone
My selfe to thee? not so, but I alone
Am come to know with Magnanimitie,
If thou dost dare to wrecke thy wrath on me.
Thy Galbas shield, with many iewels more,
Which vnto me do only appertayne:
And vnto thee I wyl them not restore.
If thou, as I, canst winne them with renowne,
Then al is thine, both realme and royal crowne.
Doeth doubtful dreade nowe daunt thy Roman mynde?
Faynt not for feare, thou needst not be afrayde,
A Britayne borne thy selfe ryght well shalt fynde,
I am a man, and not a God by kinde.
Wherewith to grounde a golden gauntlet I
Dyd cast, and he at last dyd thus reply:
Aboue the sphere of Mars and Mercury,
Thy fleshlesse eyes (my tongue can not repeate
What syghtes they see) nothing is hid from thee:
Thy eyes, the hart, and secrete thoughts doo see,
Thou knowest O Ioue, how iust my quarrel is,
Which here to proue, thou knowst I compt a blisse
I faynt for feare? and doost thou thus me dare?
Thy gauntlet lo to take I doo not dreade,
Such courage though I fynde but very rare
In pryncely brest: what though? I wil prepare
My selfe to feelde, where thou I hope shalt fynde,
My selfe alone wyl cause thee curse thy kynd.
My tryple Mace dooth rule the worlde you see,
Thou subiect art the meanest of the traine,
Whom conquest hath compeld to wayte on me:
A meaner knyght were meete to match with thee.
Yet I my selfe with al my hart doo dayne,
To reue thy life, and cause thee to complayne.
To Caesar sayd, If fate hath framde my foyle,
If now the last of all my lyfe I see,
It shal delight that Caesar dyd me spoyle,
And that his blade did cause my bloudy broyle.
And whilst I ment a longer speache to make,
A storme most straunge constraynd the earth to quake.
The lightsome day was turnde to lothsome night,
Then darknesse did affraight me much with feare,
The seemly Sunne, did lose her louing lyght:
And that which would amaze eche worldly wight,
The thundring heauens constraynde the earth to quake,
The trees did daunce, the mighty mountes dyd shake.
A burning bolt did pearce my hart with payne,
Wherwith I cryed, O Caesar, my mishap
Is comme, for whilst I thought thee to haue slayne,
Ioues vengeaunce iust hath torne my corps in twayne.
This was my end, although some writers say,
That Claudius blade did cause my last decay.
Greate ruth it is to lose a race forerunne,
And at the end by slipping suttle soyle,
Wagelesse too lose a race too wel begonne,
The Turrets top let wise men wisely shunne.
Who falles from top, he mercilesse is slayne,
Who falles below, can quickly ryse agayne.
I could not be content with meane estate.
Let them therefore which shal this story heare,
That they may liue in blesse without debate.
Who is content amidst the meane to dwel,
With perfite blysse he onely dooth excell.
Take heede, beware, flee fancies fonde delight,
Ambition blinde wyl moue you to imbrace
A thousande euils, disdayne with al your might,
Her luring lookes: she me a wretched wyght
Transformde, and made with Circes sorcerie,
A brutishe beast, and worse if worse may be.
Then due desert my soule to hel conuayde.
I fearde not God, his name I did not prayse,
But foolishe fate and fortune stil me stayde:
For which, with pinching payne I nowe am payde.
Fortune I finde is nowe of none auayle,
But God is he whose power dooth preuayle.
The Complaint of Carassus.
Howe Carassus a Husbandmans sonne, slewe Lodrike the King of the Pictes, and howe the Emperour made him a Captayne. Then howe he obtayned the Britayne Crowne, and howe suspition brought him to decay.
With their estates why are not men content?
Why doo they deeme the want of wealth a thral?
Why shoulde they lothe the lot, which God hath sent?
Adam him selfe I finde, at fyrst was sent,
As one who did disdaine his poore estate,
To disobay, with God to be a mate.
If on the fruite forbidden thou wilt feede:
The senselesse wight, the feeble forcelesse man,
Did taste thereof, supposing that with speede
He shoulde in hast haue been a God in deede.
He not content, hoping for hygher place,
Brought bitter bale to him and al his race.
Dyd seeke to set my selfe in princely seate,
With mine estate I could not be content,
For which I felt the force of hatreds heat.
As at the first, my good successe was greate,
So at the last, by fansies fond desires,
I gropte for grapes amidst the bramble brires.
Marke by what menes I did my selfe addresse,
To flye at first my poore alotted chaunce
By honest meanes: let them from wickednesse
Which fayne would flye, learne this by my distresse,
That he who doth from right and reason stray,
Destruction shall destroy him with decay.
Was stayde aloft with staffe of high estate:
But whilste that I so hye a pitche did soore,
I left the meanes which made me ryse of late,
I vices loude, I did al vertues hate.
For which, Carassus ranne a race in vayne,
And nothing got, but death and deepe disdayne.
So that her strength was now of none auayle,
The faythlesse Scots with ruth did ouerrunne
That royall realme: the Pictes did so preuayle,
That sorrow did on euery side assayle
My natiue soyle: and being thus dismayde,
To Rome we sent for succour, helpe, and ayde.
To bring this realme vnto some quiet stay,
The Romans and the Brittaynes both were bent,
To bring the Scottes and Pictes to their decay,
Them to returne agayne to Scithya.
And at the last, by good Seuerus ayde,
We them destroyde, when we were most afrayde.
Yet at the last, we got a goodly day
Euen by my meanes, who thrust into the throng
The part of hym, whom feare did neuer fray.
And at the last, to end this mortall strife,
I did depriue king Lodrike of his life.
Of vitall life, Lord, how they fled the fielde:
They made me muse, to see how fast they striude,
With staylesse steppes, eche one his life to shielde:
Who could not flye, he there with care was kilde.
So by my meanes, my country did obtayne
Her auncient state, and liberty agayne.
See here how I with woundes am all bestead?
I cannot liue, I feele how lyfe doth fade,
Lodrike him selfe did carue and cut my head,
For which my blade his lukewarme blood hath shed.
He cut my cap, and I haue got his crowne,
He lost his lyfe, and I haue found renowne.
Heale hym, and bryng him safe and sound agayne,
Thou for thy paynes with poundes shalt wel be payd,
And he shall haue such honoure for his payne,
As vnto him for euer shal remayne.
For by the Gods which rule the skies aboue,
His noble actes deserue eternal loue.
My hurtes were healde, and holesome health ensude,
Seuerus then reioycing at the harte,
Made me a Lorde, with wealth he me indude,
Yea, he although my learning were but rude,
Sent me to Rome, as Legate of this lande,
To make reporte how here our state did stande.
My talke abroade, with proper filed phrase,
Adornde my head euen with a Laurell crowne.
The Emperour did much commend my wayes,
So that I was bedeckt with double prayse.
I could not reade, my lerning was but weake.
Yet they of Rome did muse to heare me speake.
To some: so some by natures giftes do get
Eternal fame, and purchase them a place
Aboue the place where learned men do sit.
We finde the fine dexteritye of wit
In them which be both wise and ful of skill:
Yet neuer striude to clime Pernassus hill.
And tracte of time returnde me backe agayne,
The Emperour, he gaue my ryght away
Within a while, which made me storme amayne:
I had great cause me thought for to complayne,
Seuerus, he was made the king of all:
The giftes he gaue to me were very small.
From Forrayne force to keepe my realme in rest,
Seuerus, he was crowned king in post,
Which did so boyle within my warrelike brest,
That I with griefe most strangely was distrest.
Shal he (sayde I) thus reape the high renowne
Which I deserue? Shal he inioy the Crowne?
I got the goale, and he will get the gayne.
For me in faith it were a deadly shame,
Without repulse should suffer him remaine.
Which if I do, then let the dreadfull darte
Of Vulcans wrath, torment in twayne my hart.
Shall then insue, if he may raigne in rest:
Shall Bryttayn braue by Romanes be subdude?
It shal no doubte, by Romans be distrest,
Except my might against his might be prest.
My might as yet cannot his strength constraine,
Yet may my might compell him to complaine.
In time: the seas the cragged rockes do rende:
And Courtly Kinges by tearing time be kilde.
For time dooth make the mightie Okes to bende,
And time dooth make the litle twigges ascende:
So I in time, such power may prepare,
As shal constraine Seuerus death, with care.
Seuerus strength, the Pictes were prickte with pride,
For theyr reuenge vs Britaynes to annoy.
Which when I hard, in post I did prouide
A power great, then I in hast did ride,
And kept the Coast so strong with men of warre,
That no man coulde ariue, to make or marre.
In waltering waues did bouse their bitter bayne,
They digde a diche, and caught theyr owne decay,
On rockes theyr Barkes, in seas them selues were slaine.
The Westerne windes with wo did them constrayne,
By Britayne bankes to make so long delaye,
I, and the Seas, brought them to their decay.
Seuerus did esteeme me as his stay,
I from my fyrst deuises coulde not cease,
For aye I hopte to haue a happy day,
To bring the Roman rule to their decay,
With fauning face good fortune smyled so,
I had my wyshe, what might I hope for mo?
I had at home the might him to depriue,
Then wisely I al perilles to preuent,
Prouided so that no man could ariue,
No Picte, nor Scot, nor Roman then could striue
With me at home, then I the Lordes with speede
Of Brittayne calde, and thus I did proceede:
You se my Lordes, a Roman heere doth raigne,
Whome to destroy my power shal inuade,
I do in deede this seruile life disdayne:
And you your selues do much therof complayne.
If you with helpe wyl me assiste, I sweare,
The Roman rule shal haue no power here.
We wyl assist thee with what myght we may,
And we our selues most wylling wyl prouide,
No Britayne borne against thee shal display
His shielde, but al at the appoynted day,
As prest to please thy heste, shal thee assist:
Winne thou the Crowne, and weare it at thy list.
Blame not though pride did then possesse my hart
For Princely Crowne: the dreadfull dierie dent
Of griping grefe? who would not feele the dart
Of dreadful death? or who regardeth payne?
If he a Crowne and kingdome may obtayne?
Restlesse with ruth, the Rusticke gets his gayne:
The Marchant man for welth doth send his ware
About the worlde, with perill and great payne.
And all the worlde for welth doth not disdayne,
Amidst the surge of mighty mounting Seas,
To caste themselues, their owne delightes to please.
And neuer ceasse to bring there driftes about:
Why should I feare the force of forrayne foyle?
Why should I not assay with courage stout,
To wreake my wrath vppon the Romishe route
Which heere remayne? whome to the bale to bringe,
Were me to crowne my natiue countries King.
Seuerus, he who did inhance my state,
He did in my distresse with life relieue
My dyinge dayes, he neuer did me hate:
Yet now with hym I must be at debate.
Euen hym with myght I greatly must disgrace,
Eare I can set my selfe in princely place.
For if he wyl returne to Rome agayne,
Or if he wil resigne his crowne with prayse,
Or if hee wyl amongst vs styl remayne.
If he can like of these, we wyl refrayne
From sheading bloude: which if he dothe disdayne,
I then against my wyl, must woorke his paine.
Seuerus did at Durham then delay,
Whereas I mente his state to haue distrest:
But some I thinke my secretes did bewray,
For he to Yorke in hast did take his way.
Which when I had bessiegde on euery side,
with care and griefe of minde, Seuerus dide.
Se heere how sorowe doth dismay the minde?
For when he harde Carassus did prepare
To reue his crowne, he iudging me vnkinde,
With sobbing sighes of sorrowe, he resignde
Before his time his minde from manly breste:
Beholde with care how sorrowe reaues mans rest.
It was decreed Carassus shoulde be King,
The three estates of al my Realme were prest,
With one consent they al to me did bring
The kingly crowne, then thus they al did singe,
The due desertes of this renowmed wyght,
Deserues to be the Britayne king by right.
With keeping sheepe my youthful yeares were spent:
Then with the whyp I plide the Plowe amayne,
In Mars his feeldes to fight my minde was bent,
As Legate then to Rome my selfe was sente,
I dubbed was a Lorde, of high renowne,
And now at laste, I haue obtaynd the Crowne.
And all is well, whose endyng is not yll:
Who sittes aloft had neuer neede to moue,
Though creepyng he dyd gayne the toppe with skil,
Yet at the last, by turning of his toe,
A suddayne fall may worke his wretched woe.
When I as King dyd all the Realme comaunde,
I fearefull dyd suspect mine ouerthrow,
The place (mee thought) dyd shake where I dyd stande.
Then for my garde I dyd prouide a bande
Of warlyke wights, to garde my Noble grace,
I lastly dyd my Noble men displace.
Hym of a Clowne a Noble man I made:
My Brethren all euen for the same intent,
Lyke Courtiers there in Court with me they stayde,
And all my stock were glad and well apayde:
For they of late which rulde the paynefull Plow,
Of Brittayne Lande they bee the Rulers now.
With braue attyre to decke a dunghyll Dycke,
Is lyke a paynted Image in a wall,
Which dooth deceiue, and seemeth to bee quicke,
Though woorkmanship most trimly dooth it tricke,
Yet of a stone, a stone wyll still remayne:
A Clowne cannot from Clownish deedes refrayne.
For man to make a liuely mouing wyght,
As of a Lout, or els of such a one
Who dayly doth imploy his whole delyght
To digge and delue, it passeth mortal myght,
To make him serue in Courte a kinges behest:
Turne hym to plowe, the Cart for him is best.
Nature a tyme to leaue her wonted place,
She wyl returne, in spight of heauen or hell:
No Alcumist Dame Nature can displace,
Except that God doth geue abundant grace.
The Caske wyl haue a taste for euermore,
With that wherewith it seasoned was before.
With Hob and Ihon, Rafe Royster, and his mate?
Whose greedy iawes aye gaping after gayne,
Did polle, and pil, and bred bitter debate:
Men much vnmeete to mayntayne myne estate.
Why did I them so neare myne elbowe place?
Because my selfe by byrth was borne but bace.
With horned beastes the Ienite cannot iest,
Those bauling Houndes, the haughty Harte doth hate,
With Beares the Beare in safety countes her best.
So I amongst my lyke did looke for rest,
Their dedes by me were alwayes wel alowde,
By them likewyse my doinges were avowd.
From new sowne feeldes the rauening Rookes to driue,
So dyd the Gentrie of my Realme prepare,
My Countrie Courte and mee for to depriue.
But Gentlemen were then to weake to striue
With mee, and mine, for which they dyd prepare
A new founde snache, which dyd my feete insnare.
Seauen yeares had sayld, a perrye did arise,
The blastes whereof abrigde my liberty:
Them to destroy, which did my Courte despise,
The boystrous blastes of hatred blewe a gale,
My Cables crakte, my Barke was bongd with bale.
Both mee, and mine, theirs, and themselues had sold
Subiects to Rome, from whence a mighty bande
They had conuaide, to make my courage cold:
Into my Realme they could not be controlde,
But when they were ariude, they quickly brought
Both me and mine, and all the rest, to nought.
Spoyling my friendes, he forst me to the feelde,
The daye was come, we both in fight were prest.
His trustlesse trayne, did seeme to me to yeelde,
But al the feeldes with great ambushmentes filde,
I coulde not flee, Alectus had the day,
With his owne sworde for breath he made me bray.
So vices vile me drencht in waues of woes.
O false suspect, why didst thou make me dote?
Fearing my fall, my friends I deemd my foes:
Fearing the worst, the best I did depose,
And was deposde: let other learne heereby,
The crooked Crabbe wyl alwayes walke awry.
That kinges in Court, be combred most with care.
The Pilotes charge, who sitteth at the stearne,
Doth make him watche, when other do prepare
Them selues to sleep: so kinges distressed are
With doutful dread, and many other thinges:
The sheepheardes life is better then the kinges.
The Lyfe of Queene Hellina.
How Queene Hellina was Empresse of all the Worlde. This Storie dooth declare how happye they bee, which liue in the feare and loue of God.
For men of men doo make a goodly show,
But womens workes can neuer come to light,
No mortall man their famous factes may know:
No writer wyll a litle time bestowe,
The worthy workes of women to repeate,
Though their renowme and due deserts be great.
King Lucy was my good Grandmothers sonne,
My Father dead, I rulde his kyngdome heere,
And afterwarde, the Worlde so wide I wonne.
I Empresse was of all vnder the Sunne,
I liued long, I dyde with perfect blisse,
Yet writers will repeate no worde of this.
My spotlesse life to paynt in perfect white:
Though writers would al honour from me reaue,
Of al renowne they would depriue me quite,
Yet true report my deedes shal burnishe bright,
And rubbe the rust which did me much disgrace,
And set my name in her deserued place.
Who planted first Gods woorde in Brittayne land?
Who did so much virginitie esteme?
Who did the force of forrayne foes withstand?
Who al the world subdude without a band
Of Martial men? who did these noble actes?
I Hellina, haue done these famous factes.
The Brittayne Queene inheritage me crownde,
Euen then when Romans had so great debate
Amongst them selues for Caracallas wounde,
An Emperour, who highly was renownde
As then at Rome, whose death vndoutedly,
Diminishte much the Roman Emperie.
And many Realmes against them did rebell,
There trouble turnd me to a quiet life,
My common weale did prosper passing well,
When al the worlde agreed like Deuils in hel,
Then I and myne becalmde from Hatreds blast:
In happy Hauen we harboured were at last.
Reporte did say, of beutie fresh and fayre,
Refusde the sute of many noble Peeres,
Which dayly did vnto my court repayre.
What though there were vnto my Crowne no heyre?
Yet I who did regard my Comons good,
Refusde to linke my selfe with forrayne blood.
With wrath of wrackful warres I did despise,
And fearing aye the ruth of rude reproche,
How I with peace myght make my kingdome rise,
And how by lawe of God and man, I might
Giue Caesar his, and vnto God his right.
Wherefore to Rome for learned men I sent,
Kinge Lucies lawes decayde I did renewe,
Then preaching made my people so repent
There former faultes, that all incontinent
Were baptized, and they within a space,
The fayth of Christ so firmly did imbrace,
But that which holye writers would alowe:
And that they would imbrace with all their might,
To shed their bloud, the same for to avowe.
They did not feare, at Verolane euen nowe,
Amidst the force of fiery flashing flame.
Albon the Protomartyr proude the same.
When from those Iles Molocchi, they haue brought
There frayghted shippes, for then they haue great choyce
Of Marchandize, which trafficke long hath sought
To finde the ware which trial true hath taught
Wyl get moste gayne, which beeing got, they giue
And cast there care, how they thereby may liue:
And Eoles windes, euen God him selfe aboue
Did fauoure much, my labouring minde to please,
Geuing those thinges were best for my behoue,
Gods woorde I mene, which al my men did loue.
The Pearles which Christ commaunded to be bought,
Muste here be found, and no where els be sought.
Our sinful liues as Scripture did alowe.
We knowing God, him loude with feare and dread,
Deuotion made vs crouche, and creepe, and bowe
Our hartes, our heades, we sauage were but nowe,
Yet by and by such was the good successe,
In fiery flames the truth we did professe.
Against my wyl, at Rome made such reporte,
That Constantinus thence dyd hether hye,
And being come vnto my Brittayne Court,
With louers lookes hee striude to scale the Fort
Of my goodwyll: but when it woulde not bee,
He sighing, thus addrest his talk to mee:
The goodly giftes that God hath geuen to thee
Be such, as I can not thee greatly blame,
Though thou without desert disdaynest me,
Who for thy sake doth lothe al crueltie.
But for thy loue, with Mars his cruel knife,
I could commaund thy Realme, and reaue thy life.
My hart shal hate to thrall thy happy state,
What though thou dost refuse to be my wyfe,
Thy hatred tho, shal neuer cause me hate:
But whylste I liue, I wyl thee loue, let Fate
And Fortune fell poure on me al their spight,
To die for thee shal greatly me delight.
Thou doste me loue a little Ilandes Queene,
I know thou to the Emperour heyre art,
I like thy deedes, most noble which haue bene,
And thee I loue: yet priuate pleasures luste
May neuer make me throwe my Realme to duste,
Thy Bryttaynes shal to Rome no tribute yeilde,
You if you please, to Rome may go with me,
Your myghtie mate the world so wide may wielde,
Or if you please, I here wyth you wyl bylde
My byding place, and in this littell lande,
I wyl remayne yours, at your commaund.
His famous actes, his Noble royall race,
Some other thinges which here I could recite,
The Romans hart within my brest dyd place.
And when my wit had wayed well the case,
Then for the chiefe of all my Realme I sent,
And thus I spake to know the whole intent.
This Roman heyre, whom I indeede do loue,
He will restore your ancient lybertie,
If I wyll bende my hest to his behoue:
Which benifites they chiefely do mee moue,
To loue at last, a man by whom you may,
Receaue a Shielde to keepe you from decay.
His comely corps, and seemely sanguine face.
You be deceaude, no outward brauery,
No personage, no gallant courtly grace.
What though hee bee by birth of Royall race?
I recke it not, but this I do regarde,
My common weale by him may bee preserude.
And ende the worke which I haue well begonne,
That Christes Gospell preached styll may bee,
God may by hym sende vnto me a sonne,
To you a King: what wealth then haue you wonne?
What great renowme? what honour wyll insue?
Speake you your mindes, these thinges me think, be true.
Do thou the thinge that semes to thee the best,
We do alowe the matche in euery case:
If by that meanes we may haue quiet rest,
With what great good shal this our Realme be blest?
Do thou therefore O noble Queene, we pray,
The thing which best may keepe vs from decay.
But graunted more then I could aske or craue,
So that there was proclaymed by and by,
A famous feast, a banquet passing braue.
There to the Duke the Britayne Crowne I gaue,
With sacred spousall ryghtes, as man and wyfe
We wedded, liude in loue, for terme of lyfe.
A greater good vnlooked for befel,
Death did destroy his Syre with hateful hande:
For which we both at Rome must nowe go dwel,
And so we did: thinges prospered passyng wel,
My Feere was made the Emperour Lorde and King
Of al: and I the Queene of euery thing.
My wyt did rule (some wryters say) his Mace,
And to increase with ioye our merye glye,
The boy he had an amiable face.
O Rome thou maiste reioyce, for this was he,
Which did at Rome erect Diuinitie.
On Britaine stil my mind her care did cast,
For which I causde my husband to ordayne,
That euermore those ancient Lawes should last,
Which heretofore amongst them there I past,
And that to Rome no Brittayne borne, for aye,
Shoulde taxe, or toll, or tenth, or tribute pay.
And had at hand what I could wishe or craue,
Yet stil me thought I was not wel bestead,
Because I was so farre from Brittayne braue.
Which when my louing Lorde did once perceiue,
He set a stay in al the Emperye,
To Brittayne then he did returne with me.
Then Dolor and Debilitie did driue
My louing Lord with faynting feeblenesse,
For vitall life with braying breath to striue:
He felt, howe death of life would him depriue,
He calde his Lordes, his childe, and me his wife,
And thus he spake, euen as he left his life:
From earth, to earth, in tracte of time returne:
So I whose spreading prayse were merueilous,
Must now returne my fleshe to filthy slime,
On Fortunes wheele I may no longer clime.
Therefore my Lordes, although my glasse be runne,
Yet take remorse on Constantine my sonne.
(O stately Rome) farewell to them, and thee,
Farewell my Lordes, which see my finall fall,
Farewell my Childe, my Wyfe, more deare to mee
Then all the world, we must depart I see:
And must we needes depart? O Fortune fye,
We must depart, adue, farewell, I dye.
Then I his death as women doo, dyd wayle:
But when I viewd, that weeping was but vayne,
I was content to beare that bitter bale,
As one who founde no meanes for her auayle.
His corps at Yorke in Princely Tombe I layde.
When Funerall sacred solemne rights were payde,
Maxentius then the triple Crowne to weare,
Dyd challenge all the Empire as his owne,
And for a time that mighty Mace dyd beare:
Which when my Sonne, my Constantine dyd heare,
The youthfull Lad, indeuourd by and by,
To Claime his right by Mars his crueltie.
Went with my sonne to see his good successe,
He being Campt by fruitfull Tybers side,
To spoyle his foe he dyd hymselfe addresse,
Hee knew that God dyd geue all happinesse.
Therefore to God, euen then the Youth did pray,
With mightie hande to keepe hym from decay.
And marke how he doth beate Vsurpers downe.
Maxentius nowe he al his force dothe bende,
But frowarde Fate vpon the Prince did frowne:
For why his men were scattered euery where,
In Tyber he did drowne himselfe for feare.
The Romans they with ioy did vs receiue,
To Constantine they gaue the Emperie,
But he of them most earnestly did craue,
That I the rule of al the worlde myght haue,
It is (quoth he) my mothers ryght to rayne.
Til dreadful death hath shred her twyst in twayne.
For at his death thy father gaue it me
For terme of life: but let it nowe be thine,
I aged must goe pay the earth her fee,
I am content to liue with lesse degree.
O louing sonne geue eare vnto my hest,
I wyl not rule, that charge for thee is best.
Agaynst his wyll he wylling did assent,
That al should be as I had then assignde,
To rule the worlde, he greued was content.
And whilste that there my happie dayes I spent,
Reioycing much to see my sonnes successe,
I dyde, and had a heauenly happinesse.
And in the ende my wished Goale did get:
For by my meanes al people did imbrace
The fayth of Christ, the orders I did set
They were obayd, with ioy which made me iet.
Euen in this blesse a better blesse befel,
I dyde, and nowe my soule in heauen doth dwel.
Learne then thereby to do as I haue done,
To prayse gods name let euery Prince be glad,
To persecute the truth let al men shunne,
By vertuous wayes great honor maye be wonne,
But he who doth to vices vile incline,
May be comparde vnto a filthie swine.
He can not feare to sleepe amidst the greene,
But in the mire he doth delyght to lay:
So Princes such as vile and vicious beene,
Do tumble aye amidst a sinke of sinne,
Whose names on earth, whose soules in hel remayne
In infamye, the other pincht with payne.
Tread in the steppes that I before haue trod,
And he who would avoyd reprochful shame,
And flee the smart of Plutoes ruthful rod,
Let him not cease to learne the law of God,
Which onely lawe mans stumbling steppes doth guyde:
Who walkes therein, his feete can neuer slide.
The Complaynt of Vortiger.
How Vortiger destroyed the young kyng Constantine, and howe he obteyned the Crowne: howe the abusyng of his prosperitie brought hys Realme so lowe, that he was constrayned to hyre souldyers to defend hym selfe from hys enimyes, and howe after many miseries, he was miserably burnt in his Castle, by the brethren of Constantine.
Their happy hauens with forewinds forst some haue,
By wrackful warres of Mars his crueltie,
With much adoo some get the Goale they craue,
By subtyl sleightes and fetches boulstred braue,
My haplesse hand dyd hyt with leueled lyne,
The aymed marke, the more mishap was myne.
By blessed byrth to Kyngdomes borne some be:
Succession sets some men in Fortunes lap,
By wisedome, wyt, and prudent policie,
Some clyme aloft by trustlesse treacherie:
And courage dooth a multitude aduaunce,
Driftes finely filde they dyd my state inhaunce.
Kyng Constantine his Coosin did me call,
I cride amayne, and clapt his crowne a borde,
And for a tyme til Fortune forst my fall,
With restlesse blesse I sate in stately stall:
But men of warre of much more might then I,
For my desert my carefull corpes did fry.
With Cinders brought my body to decay,
So smulderyng smokes of euerlasting shame
Reude my renowne, and wipte my fame away.
What may I more of my misfortune say?
I sigh to see, I silent ceasse to tell
What me destroide, and drownd my soule in hel.
Were to vnrippe a trusse of trumpery,
For me to shew how I aloft was stayde,
Were to erect a schoole of Trechery:
Silence is best, let no man learne by me
Nor by my meanes, how they by wicked waies,
From low estate, aloft them selues may rayse.
So wicked men by wicked workes be wise,
If ill men reade my deedes which wicked were,
They by my meanes will compasse their surmise:
For wicked workers dayly do deuise,
To make examples vile and vicious,
To stand in stead, to serue their lawlesse lust.
From whence the Bee her honny sweete dooth get,
Leawd liuers learne to breake the written lawe,
For wicked men eche fetche is thought most fyt,
To serue their turne: therefore I compt it best,
To leaue my faultes and follyes vnconfest.
Not here repeate my tedious Tragedy,
Inquiry, let me nowe departe away.
My common weale subuerted was by me,
I leawdly liude, and dyde in misery,
And for my faultes I felt disdayneful smarte,
Let this suffice, and let me nowe departe.
But Memory (stay stay thy steppes quoth she)
Let wicked men procure their owne decay,
We recke it not, if warned once they be.
Let that suffice, and let thy misery
Make iust report, how vayne, and vile a thing
It is, to liue as a vsurping King.
Repeat, and tel the fal and foyle I felt,
Patience perforce, to speake shame bids me shunne,
To thinke thereof dooth make my harte to melte.
But sith I needes must shewe howe here I delt,
I am contente to tell the truth of al,
Let wise men learne to stande, which reade my fal.
Of faythlesse Scots and Pictes to make his garde,
They by my meanes did kil their kyng in fine,
For which, with speede I sent them al to warde,
And hangde them al, their cause was neuer harde,
So I who fyrst did cause them kil their king,
To stop their mouthes, them al to death did bring.
The hurtelesse men with trouble be turmoylde:
Where Malice may send foorth her Cannon shot,
There might is right, there reasons rules are foylde.
For ruthful Rancor euermore hath boylde
With griping griefe: her smuldring smokes of spite,
Woulde gladly choke al iustice, lawe, and right.
I syxteene yeeres did weare the royal Crowne,
In al which time with griefe I aye did grone,
As on who felt the fal from high renowne.
My Noble men deuisde to thrust me downe
In al this time, and many did protest,
I layde the king in his vntimely Chest.
Had quiet peace, and liude a happy king:
Yea, God who rules the haughtie heauen a hygh,
Inricht my realme with foysen of eche thing,
Aboundant store did make my people syng.
As they of yore were prest with penury:
So nowe they hate their great fertilitie.
That Countrey men of tyllage left the toyle,
The riche man fed no better then the poore,
For all did reape the fatnesse of the soyle,
No man for meate nor mony then did toyle,
But al reioyce with ioyful Iubily,
And al were soust with sinful Gluttony.
So plague my plenty dimd with darke disease:
For whilste my realme in ryot ran her race,
For which they drownde in sorrowes surging seas,
Lyke rotten sheepe by thousands dide so thicke,
The deade coulde not be buried by the quicke.
That fewe were left alyue within my lande,
The Scots and Pictes, with speede they them addrest,
Knowing their time, they raysde a mightie bande,
They knewe right soone, howe here my state did stande.
And to reuenge the wrong that earst I wrought,
They ment to bring both me and myne to nought.
Misuse dooth make of plenty, lothsome lacke,
Amidst his blesse with wo it makes man wale,
Onely abuse dooth woorke mans wretched wracke:
Amidst my ioyes, from ioye it beate me backe.
For I and myne misusde our present blesse,
Which brought both me and mine to wretchednesse.
For which we whipt in thrall with scourges three,
Had Pestilence, which made my kingdome emptie,
It did destroy my men of eche degree,
Then faynting Famine playde her Tragedy,
Bellona then that beastly bloody Queene,
Did blowe her Trumpe to dashe my courage cleene.
The Pictes with pride did hast to spoyle my lande,
I had no men, nor meanes with them to fight,
For which I sent and did obtayne a bande
Of Saxons, such as did the Scots withstande.
Whose helpe that I when neede requirde might haue,
I gaue them Kent, a countrey passing braue.
They liude by spoyle, and had no byding place,
They were of truth a troupe of Martial knyghtes,
Which serude for pay where Mars extolde his Mace.
Saxons in deede they were of royal race,
They Angli hight, a stocke of woorthy fame,
Of them this realme of Englande tooke her name.
We Welchemen cald, to Wales they did vs driue,
They brought syxe sortes of Saxons to decay,
And got the Goale for which they long did striue.
Of other stockes they left not one alyue,
They al this realme did plant with Angli then,
And termde themselues of Angli, Englishmen.
Marke well the sequel which I shal recite:
Hengestus he the Chieftayne of the route,
A suttle Sir, an vndermiming wight,
To feede my vaynes he tooke a great delight.
His craftie heade did deame it the best way,
With pleasant baytes to make my Crowne his pray.
A feast in fayth, which forst my final fall:
Where Cupides curse constraynde me like a beast,
From Pallas prince to geue the golden Ball,
For Venus vantes to Helline threwe me thrall,
Whose heauenly hewe, whose beautie freshe and fayre,
Was burnishte bright like Phoebus in the ayre.
His daughter deckt with Natures Tapistrie,
And trimly trickte with euery other thing,
Why shoulde mans mynde to loue thus subiect be?
I had a wyfe, a passing princely peece,
Which farre did passe that gallant Gyrle of Greece.
My fancies fell, I lothde her louely bed:
Howe I Hengestus daughter might achieue
Was al my care, I did this Damsel wed,
My wife diuorste, I had her in the steede.
Her louely lookes, her pretie pleasant cheare,
Made me esteeme her onely loue most deare.
And her demaunde I neuer did deny:
What she alowd I did esteeme that best.
Which when her Father Hengest did espye,
He had the pray for which he long did prye.
He made his hay whilst weather fayer was,
And by her meanes he brought it thus to passe:
They Saxons woulde defende our wealth with warre,
Which graunted once, they did inhabite rownde
About my realme, and might both make and marre.
New Saxons in my realme aryued were,
By meanes whereof my Brittaynes did suspect
The Saxons slayghtes, and did their deedes detect.
These men quoth they, from vs our realme wil winne,
Except they from our frontiers be refraind.
O Husband deare, they be (saide she) my kin,
Ceasse of thy force thy faithful dreads to feare,
They meane no hurt, by Ioue the iust I sweare.
That I might still my ladies loue enioye,
They vewde me carelesse of my common wealth,
To saue themselues they ment me to annoy.
Myne eldest sonne a proper prety boy,
They made their kyng, and me for my desert,
They did depriue: with paine which pincht my heart.
The Saxons sore, and dyd amaze then much,
For which my wyfe his mother lawe indude
With diuelish spite, agaynst the youth did grutche,
She him destroyde, her good successe was such.
When he seuen yeares had raygnde with great renowne,
With poyson she depriude him of his crowne.
With sacred oth I solemnly did sweare,
To ende the woorke which was begonne so wel,
And to subdue the Saxons euery where.
The Britaines to my kingly crowne did reare
Me quickely then, I at the fyrst, by might
Defaste my foes in euery fray and fyght.
With treason trust intrapte did me betray,
Hateful Mishappe she had me by the heele,
And clapte me close in dungeon of Decay,
To Hengest nowe I must a raunsome pay.
And if I loude my life and libertie,
I needes must graunt al he dooth aske of me.
Me of a king a Captaynes prisoner,
To whom there must nowe foure Sheares be payde,
Northfolke, Southfolke Southsexe, & Kent they were,
Me to release from out my caue of care.
Which being donne, I led my life in doute,
And fledde for feare to Wales with al my route.
The situation seemde so passing strong,
The worlde me thought might not annoy it much,
A Castel there I builte: it were to long
Here to repeate, silence shall do no wrong
To Marlayne, he who wonders there hath wrought,
If auncient write to vs the truth hath taught.
In bloody feeldes I meant no more to striue:
But true reporte did dashe my present cheere,
In Totnesse hauen two brethren did ariue,
Which quickly would from that my forte me driue.
The brethren both of Constantine the Kyng,
Peccaui they did meane to make me sing.
Our present ioyes hereafter thralles do threate,
And he who now doth flourish freshe and greene,
Must fade and fal as Hyems frostes doo frette
Dame Floraes feeldes, or as the rayne with wet
In dropping dayes the pleasaunt playnes doth drowne:
So ruthfull men reaues vs from renowne.
The shining Sunne who do so much delight,
That aye they waile like Furies quite forlorne.
When Sol doth shine, when Titans beames be bright,
They weepe because they must the Sunne forgoe,
When stormes do fal, they wayle their present woe.
When good successe dooth sounde a blessed blaste,
With brinishe teares then may they eate their bread.
For happy dayes from man dooth flee as fast
As poulders force from peece dooth pellet cast,
And troubles tedious time with pacelesse staye,
Once wonne (alas) will neuer walke away.
Iudge you which see me trauise in the same,
And howe I was inforst to final foyle,
Not nowe, for nowe although it dooth me shame,
I wyll declare, howe I was fryde with flame.
For Ambrose he and Vter Pendragon,
My Castle brent, me and my men eche one.
Which I from hym had reafte agaynst al right.
So nowe you see vppon what slipperie grounde
They stand, which doo extol them selues by might,
Their wandring feete doo walke as in the night,
Their stumbling steppes their giltie mindes doo feare,
They dayly see the blocke of bale appeare.
For feare to fal dooth yeelde none other fruite,
They rage with wrath, they dayly frette and fume,
Ruthful reuenge them alwayes hath in suite,
And right in time makes might both mum and mute:
For that which might by secret meanes hath wrought,
By tracte of tyme to open shewe is brought.
The foyle once felt, they feele howe vile and vayne
It is, to be too high degrees preferde
By lawlesse meanes: they finde what pinching payne,
Amidst the mindes of such men doo remayne,
They alwayes throngde with cruel thretting thrall,
Doo feede vppon none other foode but Gall.
The ruthful race I Vortiger haue runne,
Disciphers so, that man may see howe vayne
A thing it is his former Fate to shunne,
Honour obteynde (alas) what haue we wonne?
A hidious heape of cruel carking care,
Which to consume mans life dooth neuer spare.
The Complaint of Vter Pendragon.
Howe Vter Pendragon was inamoured with Duke Garelus wife, and howe by lawelesse loue he lost his kingdome. This example is most necessary for the present time.
For kingdomes some doo busy much theyr brayne,
But Cupids curse that wretched litle wight,
That blinded boye vnto my pynching payne,
Dubde me a Knighte of daynty Venus trayne,
Where beames of Beautie brought me by and by,
To cast my care to please my Ladyes eye.
With smilyng cheare and wildie winking eyes,
Dooth drowne with dole amidst the surging streames
Of deepe despayre, the wightes which be most wyse.
Aye me, my wit, my penne cannot deuise
Of Beautie braue to make a true discourse,
To thinke thereof I feele my selfe the woorse.
The fretting force of Beauties hateful hewe,
Those frying flames I felt, that hateful sting,
Which quickly me from crowne and kingdome threwe.
Whilst with delight I did thy vaunting vewe,
I like the Halke which sores in good estate,
Did spye a Stale, I stoopte, and tooke a Mate.
My Britane state, and tooke eche man a share,
My Kindome they euen for their best auayle,
Dyd then deuide: for which wyth carking care
Them thence to dryue, I did my powre prepare.
And beyng come to Cornewal with my bande,
I ment to haue Duke Garelus helping hande.
Me to my crowne his courage did aduaunce,
Him for my good most forwarde I did fynde,
He neuer fearde the force of chaunging chaunce.
Here I intrapte, did stande as in a traunce,
Amazde I gazde, as one bewichte, my hart
Was wounded deep with Cupids cruel Dart.
Those holy vowes, which victories require:
Euen whilst I did with al my harte deuise,
Howe to subdue my foes with swoorde and speare,
Euen then there did this peerlesse Pearle appeare,
Duke Garelus wife, whose gallant gate and grace,
Stealing myne harte, my honour did deface.
In exile then my youthful yeares were spent,
At my retourne his fault he did confesse,
And from his crowne the crowne in haste I sent.
Then my delight was in the diery dent
Of wrackful warre, but nowe transformde I stande,
The auncient Oke must growe nowe lyke a wande.
But now I muse that Circes sorcery,
Doth not from euery man bereaue his ease.
Calipsoes cuppes with poysoned Trechery,
As Cirens songes and Circes suttle art,
Whose chaunting charmes inwrapt with wo my hart.
Where these to please the passours by, did play,
Where Lady Loue doth vante with garishe grace,
Her daynty Damsels gallant Gyrles, and gaye,
Intysyng trulles, they causde the Greeke to say,
With Cables come and tye me to this Mast,
Lest I my selfe to Pleasures Court me cast.
Though comely corps, and trim intysing cheere,
Made me obay Sir Cupids mightie Mace:
The force whereof Vlisses wise did feare.
He saild aloffe, he from these bankes did beare
His shaking shippe, but other many moe
Did there ariue, and weaud the web of woe.
There Dauid loude as I, Vrias wife,
There Samson strong was snarled in the snare,
There Paris liude, euen there he lost his life,
There Helens hate, brought Troy her final strife,
Alcides he the myghtie Herculus
There to ariue, did finde it dangerous.
That he who doth delyght in lawelesse loue,
Must play the foole eare al the partes be past,
And taste the sauce preparde for his behoue.
Let men take heed how they there fancies moue,
Let man beware where he doth cast his eie,
The lymed byrde doth proue in vayne to flye.
That women should no banqueting frequent,
At Rome she was esteemde a harlot whoore,
If from her house without her veyle she went,
Which lawes no doubt were made to good intent,
For why the beames of Beauties sanguynde sight,
Like Basilisco spoyles the gazing wyght.
A shadowing veyle before there face did weare,
Their heauenly hewe did throwe no man to thrall,
They were content with playne and decent geare,
They hufte it not wyth paynted frisled heare.
The marryed wyfe, the matron, and the mayd,
They of there veyles were glad and wel apayde.
I had not stoopte vnto that paynted lure,
Which did intice me to committe the crime,
Which to the pearch of leudnesse tide me sure,
For her disport my Ladye coulde procure
The wretched winges of this my muting minde,
Restlesse to seeke her emptie fiste to finde.
I lothed Mars, I hated Mercury,
It was me thought a passing pleasant sporte,
Leauinge the feeldes at Bacchus brauery,
Sometime to sit vpon my Mistresse knee,
Where that I might be at my pleasure plaste,
I sent the noble Duke to warres in hast.
You knowe the life which lingring louers lead,
You know how sweete it is to scale the walles
You know right wel how wel those wightes haue sped,
Who haue at last by driftes of long delay,
Their hoped meede, and wished pleasant praye,
And had my wyl when best it did me please,
As I three monthes amidst my blesse remaynde,
The Dukes returne, returnd me from my ease,
No promise myght his raging wrath appease.
But when he knewe the drifte of my delayes,
To cause my death he sought an hundred wayes.
Thinking that time myght mitigate his moode:
To Troynouant in hast I did me hye.
Which when the wrathful Duke once vnderstoode,
He raysde my Realme, and by his myght and powre
I lost my lyfe, my Crowne, and Princely bowre.
To flee the foyle which I by Folly felt:
Let them refrayne those lofty Dames to see,
They know howe lofty lookes with me haue delt,
You se how sight did make my honor melte.
Let al men know, mans hart did neuer rue
The thing which he with sight did neuer vewe.
In England, at this present dismal daye?
All voyde of veyles (like Layes) where Ladyes runne
And rome about at euerye feast and playe,
They wanderyng walke in euery streete and way:
With lofty luering lookes they bounsing braue,
The highest place in al mens sight must haue.
With garishe grace they smyle, they Iet they Iest:
O English Dames, your lightnesse veryly,
The Curtizantes of Rome do much deteste,
In Closets close to liue they count it best.
They geue not grace to euery wandring wight,
Your smiling chere doth euery man delight.
To Beauties becke, their highnesse did obay,
Pluto of hel did plead at Beauties barre,
And Phillis causde Demophoon to stay:
Pasiphae a Bull brought to the baye.
So Goddes and Diuilles, both men and beastes, they all
By womens wyles are slaues to Beauties thrall.
You reape reproche a guerdon got thereby:
Men by your meanes do cause their owne decay,
And you your selues al souste in sinne muste die.
Refrayne therefore to please mans gazing eie,
Let men like wise the bayted hookes refrayne
Of luering lookes, their vaunting vowes be vayne.
The Complaynt of Cadwallader.
How Cadwallader the last King of the Brittaynes, after he had behaued him selfe very valiantly against the Saxons, resigned his Crowne, and went to Rome, where he liued in a religious house. This storye contayneth in it the estate of al estates.
Assist my sobbing soule this drierye tale to tell:
You furious Furies fearce of Lymbo Lake belowe,
Helpe to vnlade my brest of al the bale it beares:
And you who felte the falle from honors high renowne:
From graues you grizie ghosts send forth, to help me mourn.
O Pallas, geue thou place, that mourning Clio may
On Lute lamenting, sound and sing my doleful dumpes.
Let riming metered lines and pleasant Musike cease:
Let Satyres sollome sound sende forth the fall I felt:
And when the truth of al my Tragedie is knowne,
Let them that liue then learne, al things must haue an end.
The Persian Monarch and Medes it downe did fal,
That of Assiria, in tracte of time did end:
Yea Alexanders force in fight subdude them both,
And brought the worlde so wide into one Monarchie.
What though the fretting force of Fate did him dismay?
He felt at laste the foyle, his vaunting was in vayne,
He dead, the worlde it was deuided as before.
The Roman Emperie came tumbling downe at last.
They flourishte for a tyme like this my little Ile:
The Soldian brought them downe, and did theyr states destroy:
Euen so the Saxons brought the Britayns to the bay,
Euen these mine eyes did see, that hateful hidious sight,
These feeble handes when long they labourde had in vaine,
Dyd yeeld their interest: then thus I did complayne:
Who can refrayne the force of mightye mounting Seas?
When bellowes make a breache and beate the banckes adown,
Doth not the saltish surge then beate the bankes adown?
Then man may not withstand the rigor of their rage.
But wisedome would haue kept the waues within their boundes
Counsayle doth come to late, when hope of helpe is past.
Such was my filthye fate, my lewde and lothsome lucke:
I sought a salue to cure and helpe the helpelesse wound.
For long before my tyme, seuen Kings were setled here,
The Saxons such as dwelt by East, Sibertus rulde,
The Angles in the East, Redwallus rulde as king,
Then Ethelbert was king of all the coast of Kent,
In Southsex Ethelwolfus wore the regall crowne:
Then Quincillinus was a Saxon king by west,
Of Martia in the midst king Penda was the Prince,
And Edwin in Northumberland did rule and raygne,
How dyd my Grandsire grand renowmed Arthur he
These seuen destroye wyth deadly field of wrackfull warre?
But Mordred made the meane, that brought them in agayne:
Vortiporus wyth warre almost consumde them all.
Then Malgo he with peace restorde agayne their state,
Cariticus the synne of Ciuil stryfe did loue,
For which Gurmundus did the Britaynes much annoy.
Then Cadwin out of Wales kyng Etheldred did spoyle,
Cadwalline then did force king Penda to a foyle,
And I Cadwallader at last did presse in place,
And Ethiwolne the king of Southsaxons I spoylde,
The other fiue did me inuade with cruel fight,
With whom in diuers warres, I diuersly did speed.
Somtime Bellona blewe a blessed blaste for me,
And changed chaunce somtime did farce my men to flee.
Whilst thus I wagde my warres in secrete silent night,
The very voyce of God, it thus to me did speake:
Thou striust ageinst the streame, the tide doth beate thee backe,
Strike thou thy Sailes, take Ancor hold, els must thou feele a wracke.
Which saying did indeede amaze me more by muche,
Then al the force that man against my wil might bende:
For who the wyll of God with weapons may resist?
And when as sinne hath solde a countrye to decay,
Then prayer must preuayle, for weapons will not helpe.
And when the end is come, when all the glasse is runne,
Who can resist the force of Fate and destinies?
Who things forerunne to fal from falling can refraine?
It passeth mortall might to bring such thinges about.
Let man content himselfe to do what best he may,
By trying too to much, no man his God may tempte,
But mortall man must thinke that God the best doth knowe,
Who can depresse to dust, and rayse when best him please.
And as I thus amidst my musinges did remayne,
I did resigne my crowne, and deemde al honoures vayne.
And though it greeude me muche to feele the fall I felte,
Yet was I well content, I could not as I would:
For which I left my lande, my people, and my place.
The Saxons they obtaynde the wage for which they warrde.
When I three yeares had raygnd, without one day of rest,
Euen then in mourning robes at Rome I did ariue,
And there contemning all the worlde, and worldly thinges,
A Monke I made my selfe, thou knowst it passing playne:
Amongste the Friers there, I led my lyngring life.
And tyll my dying day I daily did deuise,
How by my meanes it might to all the worlde be knowne,
That mortall flesh is frayle, and euery thing must fade:
And euen amongst those thinges which Nature doth create,
Nothing so vile as man amongst the rest is founde,
Which made Heraclitus with ceasslesse sighes to wayle,
He to hys dying day did nothing els but weepe,
Affirming all the worlde vnder the heauen, to be
A path of penitence, a maze of misery.
What is the life of man but care and daily toyle,
Bearyng alwayes about a burthen of mishappes?
All his delightes repentaunce dayly dothe pursue:
Nothing but death doth bryng hym peace and quiet rest.
Yet that which bringes hym blesse, he most of all doth hate,
Which made Democritus with myrth to spende his dayes.
He laughing aye, did mocke the madnesse of mankynde,
Whose loue is long to liue, and feareth much to dye:
Death reaues vs from desease, Death endes the feare of death.
When Midas did demaunde Silenus, what was best
For mortall man to wishe, the Satyre thus did say,
Not to be borne, if borne, not long our liues to leade,
For life I most do lothe, and death I least doo dread.
And how did Timon leade with sauage beastes his lyfe?
How did that Hermite poore, his lothsome life detest?
Affirming with the wise Aurelius Emperour,
That if a man shoulde make a true discourse of all
The wretched woes he felt, from birth to dying day,
The feeble fleshe would faynt to feele so sharpe a fight,
The hart would quake to heare Dame Fortunes sharpe assaults.
And I Cadwallader a king, can make report,
The more my selfe did eate, the hungryer ay I was,
The more I dranke, the more thirst did me stil distresse.
The more I slept, the more I sluggishe did remayne,
The more I rested me, the more I wearyed was,
The more of wealth I had, the more I dyd desire,
The more I still did seeke, the lesse I aye did finde.
And to conclude, I founde I neuer coulde obtayne
The thing, but in the ende it causde me to complayne,
My present good successe, did threaten thrall to come,
And changing chaunce did still with sorowe me consume,
For which my royall robes, my crowne I layd aside,
Meaning to proue by proofe the paynes of pouertye,
Which pouertie I felt all ryches to exceede,
It beareth much more blesse, then hygh and courtly state,
Codrus and Irus poore for wealth did farre surpasse
Midas and Craesus king, for wealth who did surpasse.
And I amongst my mates the Romishe Fryers, felt
More ioye and lesse anoye, then erst in Britaine braue.
For there I doubted still, the Saxons subtile sleyghtes,
I feared there the fall from royall regall seat:
But here at Rome I liude not fearing force of foe,
I had for myne estate, what I coulde wish or craue,
And this I there did finde: they of the Cleargye be,
Of all the men that liue the leste in misery.
For all men liue in care, they carelesse do remayne.
Like buzzing Drones they eate the hony of the Bee,
They onely doo excel for fine felicitie.
The king must wage his warres, he hath no quiet day,
The noble man must rule with care the common weale:
The Countreyman must toyle to tyll the barren soyle,
With care the Marchant man the surging seas must sayle,
With trickling droppes of sweat the handcraftes man doth thriue.
With hand as harde as bourde the woorkeman eates his bread.
The seruing man must serue and crouch with cap and knee,
The Lawier he must pleade and trudge from bentch to barre,
Who Phisicke doth professe, he is not voyde of care.
But Churchmen they be blest, they turne a leafe or two,
They sometime sing a Psalme, and for the people pray,
For which they honour haue, and sit in highest place,
What can they wishe or seeke, that is not hard at hande?
They labour not at al, they knowe no kinde of payne,
No daunger dooth with dreade their happy liues distresse.
Ceasse you therefore to muse what madnesse made me leaue
The Courte and courtly pompe of wearing royal crowne,
No madnesse did that deede, but wisedome wisht it so,
I gaynd thereby the blesse which fewe before me felt,
I niene yeares led my life, and neuer felt annoy.
And certaynely if nowe I might be king agayne,
Refusing all that pompe, I woulde become a priest,
A Deacon, or a Deane, Prebende, or Minister.
For these men leade their liues with liuings two or three:
Some haue their substitutes in Vniuersities,
Some leade the brauest liues that any man may haue,
They feede vppon the fleece, they force not of the flocke:
Three houres in the yere, with beastly bosomde stuffe
They spend, and that is all that lawe of them requires.
Muse not though many thrust and shoulder for degrees,
For happy man is he, who hath a Preachers fees.
But let me nowe returne vnto my Romishe route,
Who fed like Bacon fat, did nought but play and pray.
With whom for niene yeares space, when I my life had led,
I songe my Requiem, and payde the earth her fee.
Then in Saint Peters Church at Rome they did me lay,
Booted and spurd, euen as you see me here this day.
So now you haue the whole of all my Tragedye.
Of Brutus bloode the last I liude that rulde as king,
And I at Rome their king, a mumbling Monke instald.
The Saxons had the day, for which they longed long.
They England calde the Ile, of Brute which tooke her name.
Some men be borne to blisse, and some to hatefull happe:
Who would haue thought, that I in warre a raging kyng,
Should by the force of Fate, at Rome haue dide a Monke?
Let al the worlde then know, that nothing is so sure,
That can affoorde and say, I thus wyl aye indure.
For that which seemeth best, is soonest brought to naught,
Which playnely doth appeare by that which I haue taught.
The worthiest in the worlde, princes, philosophers,
Will teach that I haue taught, and proue it passing playne.
Paulus Aemilius did dye but wretchedly.
And was not Scipio euen to his dying day
Constraynde, to helpe his neede, the painfull plowe to plye?
Caesar and Silla both, did not they tast the whyppe?
And made not Hannibal a miserable ende?
And how was Socrates before his tyme destroyed,
And Anaxagoras imprisoned long with paine?
For cruel beastly coyne diuine Plato was soulde,
And Aristotle sent to exile, where he dyde.
And so was Solon sage, and that Licurgus wise,
And many more, which here I could at large repeat.
But let these fewe suffice to teach for certaine truth,
That al the men that liue, are subiectes al to ruth.
And seeing so it is, then let them learne the meane,
That if the barke do breake, they safe may swimme to lande.
The Complaint of Sigebert.
How Sigebert was thrust from his throne, and miserably slayne by a Heardman. This Tragedie dooth teach both Prince and subiect his duetie at large.
My tale must tende eche princes lyfe to mende,
And this my talke most playnely must displaye,
Howe farre a subiect may him selfe defende
Agaynst his leache, his souerayne Lorde and king,
If his default his common weale dooth bring
To miserie: therefore a litle while
Attende, and knowe the tenoure of my stile.
This headlesse corps of lyfe I did depriue,
(King Sigebert it was) with crueltie.
Whose lust was lawe, whilst he was here aliue,
To feele my force it was his destinie,
Then crueltie I wrackt with crueltie,
And to reuenge the wrong that earst he wrought,
With losse of lyfe his lawlesse lust he bought.
Their auncient lawes he at his lyst did chaunge,
For which his commons did him much detest.
The Duke of Cornwell woulde not let him raunge
Thus at his wyll, but wisht him like a friend,
To mende his faultes, or els his life to ende.
Then he in rage this Duke my masters lyfe,
His cruel handes bereaude with blooddy knife.
When witlesse wil, wyl passe the power of may:
Then il mishappe dooth drowne in Dolours Dale,
The peruerse Prince, whose wit doth beare the sway.
Iust Abels blood to God for vengeance calde,
For blood with blood the Bloodsheader is thralde,
And him whom here before you I present,
For sheading bloode, my blade his lyfe hath hent.
Then they whose backe that burden coulde not beare,
With one consent they did his state distresse,
To reaue him of his Crowne they did not feare,
They him desposde from honour and renowne:
His hateful happe so frowardly did frowne,
That he who had a kingdome but of late,
Forlorne he nowe must begge from gate to gate.
For many more as he their liues haue led:
Ioues vengeance iust such wretches dooth inwrappe,
With change most strange, when he their blood will shed.
Of Dionise of Syracusia,
Of Neroes death, of Phalaris decay,
Who list to reade, he passing plaine shal finde,
That he of heauen their sorrowe hath assignde.
Of him, whom here I headlesse haue in hand,
Who wandring in a wood amidst his thral
I mette by chaunce, of whom I did demaund
His name, and place: who thus replide with feare:
O friende, I am for meate nowe staruen wel neare,
Geue me therefore I thee beseech and pray
Some meate, to keepe my carkasse from decay.
I iudgde, and gaue him what my scrippe would yeelde,
And whilst we both thus on a banke dyd baite,
From sighes and sobbes him selfe he coulde not wielde,
Which made me aske agayne his name and place,
But silent he did mourne with frowning face:
Yet at the last by vrging too and fro,
He thus declarde the cause of al his woe.
I neuer coulde compare with thine estate.
This hearde of Swine against thee neuer grutch.
I kept a hearde, which did their Heardman hate,
A hateful heard of murmuring men I meane,
Which dyd depriue me of my honour cleane.
And now I leade my lothsome life you see,
Impalde amidste a maze of misery.
And frowning Fate such sorrowe hath assignde,
That lothing life, most like a quiet Lambe,
My naked necke to blocke of bale I binde.
With cruel knife (O Care) come shread my twist,
So shal my soule by corps decay be blist.
But sith that Care nor Fate wil doo this deed,
Doo thou the same I thee beseech, with speede.
With dreade when deepe despaier would haue drownde,
Then chaunged chaunce did checke me with the paune
Of woful want, when good successe did sound
A blessed blast: and nowe (to tel the truth)
I haue the mate, by raging Rooke of ruth.
Lo thus I liue, which dayly wishe to dye:
And life (alas) dooth make my misery.
Dooth moue one way, the Bishop bids mee backe:
If to that poynt, the Queene me backe doth bring,
On thother side, the Knight dooth woorke my wracke,
The other poyntes with Pannes be al possest,
And here the Rooke of ruth dooth reaue my rest.
And being brought into this strange estate,
I do confesse my selfe to haue a mate.
That nowe too late I doo lament my losse,
And sith no meanes may turne my gastfull grones
To ioyfull glye, sith trouble still doth tosse
Me to and fro, in walteryng waues of woe:
Death is my friend, and life I compt my foe.
Which death though once my feeble fleshe did feare,
Yet now I fayne would feele his murdring speare.
My Pouer soule who drownd you wil request,
I wretched wight haue sought mine owne disease,
By myne owne meanes my state it was distrest.
For whilst I meant to make my lust a lawe,
Iustice me from my high estate did drawe.
So that I fynde, and feele it nowe with payne,
Al worldly pompe, al honour is but vayne.
For when they flash and flourishe most of all,
Then suddaynely their flamings quenched are.
For proofe whereof, to minde nowe let vs cal
Antigonus, and Ptollemeus Great,
Caesar, and Mithridate, we may repeat,
With Darius, and great Antiochus,
Cambises eke, and conquering Pyrrhus.
They al as I with flaming fierie showe,
Were quenched quite: Dame Fortune did deface,
Yea hatefull happe, euen then did ouerthrowe
Vs most, when most we had our hartes desire.
When most we flourisht like the flames of fyre,
Euen then the seas of sorrowe did preuayle,
And made vs weare a blacke wamenting sayle.
To thee the thing which I of late did dreame,
That thou and al the worlde may see, how great
A care it is to rule a royal realme.
My dreame shal showe, that blisse doth not consist
In wealth nor want: but he alone is blest,
Who is content with his assigned fate,
And neuer striues to clime to higher state.
And Nox the earth with darkenesse did impale:
Dame Sinthia then with her bright burnishte beames,
The shadowed shades of darkenesse did assayle,
Then Somnus causde my senses al to quayle,
On careful couche then being layde to rest,
With doubtful dreames I strangely was distrest.
With naked neede and want of wherewithal:
Where pouertie next beggers doore did creepe,
And where expences were so passing smal,
That al men deemde that man forethrongd with thral,
Which there did dwel, euen there from bondage free,
I viewde a man al voyde of miserie.
Coulde leade his life amidst that caue of care,
A man, with whom there might no man compare.
His wealth, his wit, his courage were so rare,
That none before nor since were like to him:
Yet he mee thought in waues of woe did swimme.
For happy state, yet nought he had indeede:
The other, he had nought that men would haue,
Yet had he al, beleeue it as thy Creede.
This saying of that happy man I reade,
That hauing nought, yet al thinges so I haue,
That hauing nought, I nothing more doo craue.
Past to the place where pouertie did dwel,
With frowning face and with a troubled brayne,
With woe and want, his vexed vaynes did swell,
With myrth and ioy the poore man did excel.
And being come vnto his house ymade
Of one poore hogsheadde, thus to him he sayde:
Me thinke thou mightst much better spend thy time
Within my Court, both thou and eake thy wife:
Thou by that meanes to high estate maist clime:
I haue the wealth, and thou art voyde of crime,
And loe, before thy face I here am prest
To geue thee that, which thou shalt nowe request.
I nothing recke thy promise, goodes, nor lande,
And Titans stately streames would me sustayne
With heate, if thou from thys my doore wouldst stande:
Thou takst away much more then thy commaunde
Can geue agayne: thy giftes so vile I deeme,
That none but fooles such follies do esteeme.
And yet thou canst not winne thy wandring wyll:
Thou wouldest winne an other worlde beside,
But tushe, that facte doth farre surpasse thy skyll.
Thou neuer wilt of Conquest haue thy fyll,
Til Death with daunting darte hath conquerd thee,
Then must thou leaue behynd, thy Monarchie.
In all respectes, I haue my hartes desyre,
With a contented minde I am endude,
To hygher state I neuer will aspire.
More like a Prince then any pore Esquire,
I leade my life: and sith my state is such,
Aske thou of me, for I can geue thee muche.
He sayd, departing thence in hast with speede,
If I were not Alexander the Great,
I would become Diogenes in deed,
Who leades his life al voyd of woeful dread.
He hath the welth which I cannot obtayne,
I haue the welth which wise men do disdayne.
Welth is my woe, the causer of my care,
With feare of death I am so il bestead,
That restlesse I much like the hunted Hare,
Or as the canuiste Kite, doth feare the snare.
Ten hundred cares hath brought me to the baye,
Ten thousand snares for this my lyfe men laye.
One Realme me lefte, I could not be content,
Desier prickte me to an other thing,
Which donne, an other worlde to winne I ment.
When least I had, then most I had of blesse,
Now, al the worlde, and al vnquietnesse.
No welth to want of riches and renowne,
For this is seene in euery nation,
The highest trees be sonest blowen downe:
Ten kinges do dye before one clubbishe Clowne.
Diogenes in quiet Tunne doth rest,
When Caesar is with carking care distrest.
And Morpheus that sluggishe God of sleepe,
Did leaue my limmes, wherewith I stoode vpright,
Deuising long what profite I could reape
Of this my dreame, which playnly did expresse
That neyther want nor wealth doth make mans blesse.
Who hath the meane with a contented minde,
Most perfect blesse his God hath him assignde.
And nowe am forste of thee to begge my bread,
I cannot be content with this estate,
I lothe to liue, I would I wretch were deade:
Despayer she doth feede me with decay,
And Pacience is fled and flowne away.
Do thou therefore O Heardeman play thy parte,
Take thou this blade, and thrust it to my harte.
Should causelesse kil a man in myserye,
Tel me thy name and place, then by and by
I wyl prouide for thyne aduersitie.
I am the man which wrought thy masters smart:
I rulde of late this Realme euen at my liste,
Take thou reuenge with that thy friendly fiste.
The death of him whome causelesse thou didst kill.
King Sigebert, and art thou he in deede?
Sith he thou art, dispatch and make thy wyl,
For to my Lorde this day I wyl present
Thy head: therefore thy former faultes repent,
Thou seest the blocke on which thy lyfe must ende,
Cal thou for grace that God may mercie sende.
Dispatch (quoth he) and do that friendly deede:
O welcome death, and farewel Fortune fraile,
Dispatch good friende, dispatch my lyfe with speede.
Wherewith, on blocke he stretcht his necke out right,
And sayd no more, but praying me to smite,
I gaue the stroke which ended al his care,
A blouddie stroke, which did my death prepare.
For killing of my maisters fathers foe:
Was hanged strayght, my cause was neuer hearde,
Such was my chance and wel deserued woe.
For when my Lord had heard me tel the tale,
Howe I his king and myne did there assayle,
His frowning face did put me in great feare,
He sighte and sobde, and sayd as you shal heare.
And hast thou kylde our Soueraigne Lorde and kyng?
His due deserte deserueth death in deede,
Yet what made thee to doo so vile a thinge?
What though he rulde the Realme with lawlesse wyll?
Shall we therefore, with cruel bloudy knyfe,
Depriue our Lorde and king of vitall lyfe?
With murthering mindes their Gouernour resiste?
That may not be: for Tully wonderous wyse,
Plato, in whom true knowledge dooth consiste,
They both agreed that no man ought to kyll
A Tyrant, though he hath hym at his wyll.
Yet thou (thou wretche) this bloudy deede hast donne,
The like was neuer seene vnder the Sunne.
Them then to scourge he doth a Tyrant sende:
We should therefore that subiectes be, begin
With earnest minde our former faultes tamende:
Which if we do, it is to great auaile,
Mans force is fonde, fighting cannot preuayle.
And he who doth resist the Magistrate,
Resisteth god, repenting al to late.
They then must pray that God the change maye make:
Which God no doubt Rebellion doth detest,
No subiect may his sworde nor armoure take
Against his Prince, whom god hath placed there.
Yet hath this wretch al voyde of Subiectes feare,
Destroyde a King whome God did thrust from throne,
Alas poore king, thy death I do bemone.
Shalbe destroyd, and finde it passing playne,
That no man may a Princes lyfe anoye.
Although the Prince desiers to be slayne,
From which seeing this wretch could not abstayne,
Let him be hangde as I before decreed,
A iust rewarde for his so vile a deed.
I hopte to haue preferment for my deede,
I was preferde, and hangde al saue the head,
Did euer man the lyke example read?
Not one I thinke, therefore good Memorie,
In register inrolle thou this for mee,
That they who liue and read the fall I felt,
May finde how Fate most strangely with me delte.
Though hatred dyd not make mee kyll my kyng,
Yet lucre lewde dyd force my feete to swarue,
That hatefull hap, mee to this bale dyd bring.
Let them then learne that heedlesse liue by hope,
Her hatefull hestes wyll bring them to the rope:
And happy he, who voyde of hope can leade
A quiet lyfe, all voyde of Fortunes dread.
Lyke him I hopte to haue some great rewarde,
But he in brasen belly broyled was,
And to a Skarfe of Hempe I was preferde.
So they that meane by others harmes to rise,
Their dying day shall ende with dolefull cries,
And here I ende, approuing that most true,
From wicked workes no goodnesse can insue.
The Lyfe of Ladye Ebbe.
Howe Lady Ebbe dyd flea her nose, and vpper lippe away, to saue her Virginitie.
For Nature it in perfect moulde dyd make:
And when your wits haue wayed well the case,
You wyll commende me much for Vertues sake.
With these my handes which from my face dyd take
Mine ouer lippe, and eke my seemely Nose,
So to auoyde the rage of all my foes.
An Abbiesse by my profession,
Of which estate I neuer thought it scorne,
It greatly did delight me to be one,
Which might erect diuine Religion.
At Collingam I tooke this charge in hand,
And fiftie more of chaste Dianaes bande,
Which there did vowe with me their liues to leade,
And to auoyd carnal fragilitie,
We al did vowe as you ryght wel may reade,
With single liues to liue in feare and dreade
Of God our Lorde, so to refrayne the vice
Of fleshly luste, which doth to sinne intice.
And they who did the Brittayne state destroy,
To sue for grace were glad and wel apayd,
That Saxons like the men of broyling Troy,
Amazde, they gazde, not knowing what was best,
So strayghtly were the Saxons then distrest.
But sauage, they did make their lust a lawe,
Whome god did send for a reuenging rod,
To make vs Saxons liue in feare and awe
Of him, who did from seruile bondage drawe
Vs out, and made vs liue at libertie,
When as we serude with cruel slauerie.
Sometyme we serude our Lorde with feare and dread,
In trouble we imployde our whole delightes,
To fast and pray: but when we quiet were,
We restlesse led our liues, all voyde of care,
Forgetting him who did in ech distresse,
With helping hande vs blesse with good successe.
It maketh man both proude and insolent:
In health we hate the god who hath vs blest,
Trouble doth make vs mortall men repent
Our former faultes: in sickenesse we be bent
To fast and pray, and in aduersitye,
To pray to god, is mans felicitye.
The Danes with ruth our realme did ouerrunne,
Their wrath inwrapte vs all in wretchednesse,
There was no sinne from which those men did shunne.
By them the common weale was quite vndonne,
They did destroy the state of euery Towne,
They churches burnt, they pluckt the Abbies downe.
O cruel deede, our beltes they did vnbynde,
With rapine they dyd rauishe and destroy,
Deflowring al that euer they could finde.
I seeing then what sorrow was assignde
To me and mine, my vowed virgines I
Did call, then thus I spake with weeping eye.
These harde mishappes doo presse vs too to neare,
What shall we do, how may we scape the thrall
Which hath destroyde the Nunneries euery where?
Alas, my feeble fleshe doth quake for feare,
Alas, howe shall we scape their cruelties,
Which thus be plast amidst extremities?
Then dreadfull death shall presently insue:
And if we graunt vnto their villany,
Our sinfull soules in hell that deed shall rue.
Beleeue me then my Ladies, this is true,
Much better twer for vs to dye, with fame,
Then long to liue, with euerlasting shame.
With beauties beames and comly countenaunce,
The minde of man to lust and lawlesse loue,
I haue deuizde, my honour to aduaunce,
With face deformde to trye my hard mischaunce.
For these my handes from this my face shall rippe
Euen with this knife, my Nose and ouerlippe.
To do the like will them beseeme the best,
You shal preserue your vowde virginitie
My daughters deare, geue eare vnto my hest.
Wherwith, with Rasors sharpe I first, then they,
Eche one her Nose, and lippe did flea away.
Yet vessels garnisht gaye before gods sight,
The Danes did vs inuade, who strayght did knowe
Our feate, them to defeate of their delight:
For which they wrackt on vs their wicked spight.
With fiery flames they burnt our Nunnery,
And vs therein: O wretched crueltie.
No penne, nor tounge the like hath euer tolde,
Had euer man a hart that was so harde,
That with his yron brest durst be so bolde,
To do the like agaynst the Femine kinde?
Not on in fayth that euer I coulde heare,
But these all voyde of mercye, loue, and feare.
In hope to haue hereafters better blesse,
Were brent and broyld, and so did stint the strife
Which might haue made vs liue in wretchednesse:
We gaynde therby a heauenly happinesse.
Which happinesse they doubtlesse shall obtayne,
Which do from sinne and wickednesse abstayne.
The Complaynt of Alurede.
Howe Alurede was brought vnto disease and vnto vntimely death, being inclined vnto the sinne of the fleshe. By hys example we may learne, that one vice is sufficient to deface a hundred vertues.
My visage pale, my wan and withered face,
Do wel declare how I haue runne my race.
And sith I must my doinges here inrolle,
The liues of them which liue for to controlle,
I am content my cruel wretched case
Shall teach the way, how all men may imbrace
The knowledge how they honour may obtayne,
And how they may from falling there remayne.
Yet few on toppe can sit in suer seate:
For euery storme an ouerthrowe doth threate
To them, who get the toppe by crueltie,
Whose suddayne fall doth tell their trechery.
But they who will their heades for honour beate,
And flye the fall, the greefe whereof is greate,
Let them renowne their former factes with fame,
And shunne the path which leades mans life to shame.
And loues aloft on flitting Fame to flee,
Must pace the pathes of Mother Mysery.
By thousande thickes which wrapped are with wo:
By Daungers denne where lurking she dooth lye,
By Hatreds house, where spight wil thee espye,
By caue of Care, by wofull crye, alas,
His manly minde with courage stout must passe.
Her princely Pallace paynted passing fine,
To gazing eyes where glitteryng glasse doth shine
Of beauties blaze, where feature fine of face,
Where Ladye loue doth vaunte with garishe grace,
Where vayne delight doth drawe that lothsome line,
Which maketh man from vertue to decline,
Be wise and ware, and lothe theyr luering lookes,
Least craftye Cupide catch thee in his hookes
Euen fame to finde, the losse I do lament,
For flitting Fame, them Rumor rud hath hent,
Which doth declare their dole til day of Dome.
With tooth and nayle which trauaile, there be some,
Vertue to finde, where when some time is spent,
Her to obtayne, and that with good intent,
They weary, by the way do stay their race,
And rest them in this pleasaunt bitter place.
But Bacchus comely Carpites so do please,
Such courtly caues, such mirth, such quiet ease
They haue, that they to Venus them betake,
The wearye wayes of vertue they forsake.
Those trustlesse traynes from dolor and disease
Doubtlesse do come, to drowne in surging seas
Of secrete smarte, those which do them delight.
Flee thou therfore this courte, with spight.
The high way then discretion wil thee shewe
To vertues Lodge, which thou right well mayst know
By such as dwell about that pleasaunt place:
A hundred vertues raunging on a rowe,
Thou there shalt see, how Fame her trumpe doth blowe,
For greate exploytes: where when thou art renownde,
Then Fame thy name through all the world shal sounde.
There is no doubt desert will honour haue,
Which being had, beware that waltering waue
Of wordly lust, which vertue doth disdayne,
Beware least thou thy former deedes doost staine.
For he who could himselfe from sinning saue,
He seeking that which most his minde did craue:
Which being founde, his feeble feet dooe faynt,
And strayght he doth with sinne himselfe acquaynt.
Then most the fleshe doth force the soule to sinne,
The ende doth proue how wel we do beginne.
For he who doth from vertues lore retire,
His wretched ende doth make the worlde admire.
Let him therfore which will the Garlond winne,
Euen to the end auoyde the hatefull ginne
Which Satan sets, with traynes of tastlesse bayte,
The glosse whereof prognosticates desayght.
If that his stumbling feete do make delay?
An other man doth beare the price away,
He got no game, one fall hath hym defast:
Euen so that man from fame is quite displaste,
As may appeare by me, and my decay.
For once I slipt, one vice did me deface,
One onely vice, did Alurede disgrace.
Twice tenne and eight I wore the Saxon crowne,
For Martial feates I had a greate renowne,
My gouernaunce was good in euery thing,
I rulde my realme to euery mans liking,
My stature tall, my face did neuer frowne,
My learning did deserue a Lawrell crowne,
My wisedome and my iustice purchast fame,
My courage bolde dyd much extoll the same.
But more ariude which did me more molest,
Yet they likewise were by my meanes destrest.
But when my strength their strength could not destroy,
I did deuise a pretty pleasant toy,
By meanes whereof my Saxon soyle was bleste.
Amidst my fone I Minstrel like did ieste,
I playd the part of Scoggin Skeltons mate,
Transformde, I trudgde about from gate to gate,
With warbling notes my toung the song did sing,
Myne eyes and harte did note eche other thing
That there was done: first howe they did incline,
There lothesome liues, much like to filthie swine.
I playd my part before their Hoggish King,
A part which him and his to bale did bring.
For when I knewe their purposed intent,
By my returne I made them al repent.
With bloddye blade I did destroy them al,
And those which did as then escape the thrall,
Of Infidels them Christened men I made,
And though with warres my Realme were quite decayd,
Yet at the laste after so greate a fal,
I wonne the Price that pleasde me most of al.
Euen quiet peace a blesse of al the best,
The frute whereof is nothing els but rest.
At Oxford I a Grammer schoole did buyld,
By meanes whereof my common weale was filde
With learned men: and hauing thus my hest,
A Abbies buylt, esteeming it the best,
That God who me in al my warres did wielde,
And me preserude euen with his myghtie shielde
That he in peace the only prayse myght haue,
I buylded vp religious houses braue.
At Shaftesburye I buylt a Nunnerye,
I daily did erect Diuinitie,
All which good deedes euen by one wicked trade,
Were quite defaste and from my fame did fade.
O hateful thing that fuming fantasye,
Should make a man that seeth, not to see,
Alas I byte on pleasures bytter bayte,
Whose hateful hookes are couered with desayte,
That sugered sweete of little lasting ioye,
Those luering lookes of dayntie Damsels coy,
Made me committe that lyke a Carpite knighte.
I did consume ful many a day and nyght
My health and life at last they did destroy:
Yea these delightes did so my fame deface,
That nowe with shame I blushe to shewe my face.
Consuming sicknesse brought me verye lowe,
Phisitions they Sicus that euil do know,
A kinde of sore which did me much displease,
It alwayes did bereaue me of my ease:
On partes belowe that gryping griefe doth growe,
On me my God a iust reuenge did show.
And at the last, continuing in my sinne,
I lost my lyfe, and hateful Hel did winne.
My Saxon soyle, with thrice renowmed fame?
What though I rulde with equitie the same?
What though to buyld vp Abbies I did bend
My selfe, and prayd that God his worde would send?
Though these good deedes did honor much my name,
Yet these defaste with deedes of foule defame,
Be of no price: for filthie fleshly luste
Destroyd them al, and layd them in the duste.
The beames of Phebus do deface:
Euen so one sinne did al my vertues race,
They blemished myne honor with disdayne,
So that I finde al vertue is in vayne,
If vices be with vertue linkt in place,
On vice an hundred vertues doth disgrace.
Therefore the man who hopeth for renowme,
Must fight with flesh, and beate al vices downe,
Is much more strong then Alexander greate,
Who wonne the worlde, yet had he not the feate,
With conquest to compel his lawlesse liste,
To do the thing whereby he might be bliste.
But they who hope to haue a heauenly seate,
Their lust and fleshly fancies downe must beate.
And here by me you may perceiue at large,
The thinges which God committeth to mans charge.
The Complaynt of Egelrede.
How Egelrede for his wickednesse was diuerslye distressed by the Danes, and lastly dyed for sorrow, seeing him selfe not able to deale with Canutus.
For as the Stearne dooth guide the Argocy:
So by their mindes all men they guyded are.
From out the minde proceedeth fantasie,
All outwarde actes, vertue or vanitie,
Not from the man, but from the minde proceede:
The minde dooth make the man to do eache deede.
And Nero dyd in murther much delight,
To mercy Antoninus was inclinde,
Midas for Golde extended all his might.
For worldly pompe how dyd Pompeius fight?
The mountyng minde of Alexander, made
Hym winne the worlde, his fame can neuer fade.
Xerses, Cirus, and Argantonius?
Philip of Macedon, Theramines,
Aiax, Iason, and Aurilianus,
Achilles, and the olde King Priamus,
Hector, and Hercules, with false Sino,
Their mindes dyd make them weaue the web of woe.
So man dooth walke euen as his minde dooth moue.
Then happy hee who hath a minde to know
Such thinges as be the best for his behoue,
No doubt the minde which vertuous actes dooth loue,
Dooth make a man euen Caesar to surpasse,
For Noble deedes who Prince of prowesse was.
All his delight from vertue dooth decline,
Lyke mee to late hee shall his faultes repent,
His sinfull soule shall feele the fall in fine
That I haue felte: which makes me to repine,
Against my minde for Nature dyd her parte,
My euil inclyned minde dyd spoyle my hart.
Ioyntly my ioyntes were ioynde with perfect shape,
Adorned eke with so sweete a visage,
That neuer yet from Natures handes dyd scape
A worke ymade of such a perfect shape?
But what of that? these giftes for want of grace,
Deformed quite the feature of my face.
I did delyght in lothsome lecherie:
I neuer did my odious deedes repent,
In drunkennesse, in extreme crueltie,
I did delight in euerye villannye.
As for delyght in princely exercise,
The feates of armes I did them most despise.
And forrayne foes, to burne my Realme were bolde:
With warre the Danes did alter strayght the state.
Then pestilence did make my courage colde,
And last of al, the dreadful diuelish Danes
Dyd make me pay them tribute for theyr paynes.
For when the Danes theyr tribute had consumde,
Forthwith they made vs greater summes to paye.
From ten to fifteene thousand they presumde
Of poundes to make vs pay: so I redeemde
With money bagges my careful common wealth,
The onely meanes reserued for my health.
Had geuen my foes so sure footing here,
And when disease with her destroying Darte,
Had wypte away my subiects euerywhere:
Euen then to late my wisemen did appeare,
Whome heretofore I alwayes did detest,
There counsayle graue at last they thus exprest:
Of riote thou the right reward dost reape,
But if thou wilt auoyde this wretchednesse,
Be wise and looke about before you leape,
Of hatefull happes you see a hidiouse heape
Before your face, therefore in time geue eare,
And wisely way the wordes which thou shalt heare.
A sister hath, whom then we wishe to wed,
By meanes whereof from this captiuity
For why these Danes these Normans so do dread,
That yf from thence an ayde we can procure,
Thy foes no doubte can neuer long endure.
Her brother is a man of greate renowne,
This way O king may make thy subiectes ease,
It may restore the freedome of thy Crowne,
This onely way will force thy foes to frowne.
If thou thy Crowne and common weale dost loue,
Do thou the thing so much for thy behoue.
She Emma hight, the floure of Normandie,
Of whom I was so glad and wel apayde,
That al the world with my prosperitie
Could not compare: and in that Iolitye
I did deuise by traynes of secrete treason,
To bring the Danes to death, in a good season.
At which both Danes and Englishmen did meete,
Then secretely my friendes and I did frame,
That Englishmen the Danes shoulde friendly greete,
And at the feast that they shoulde doo their feate.
And that they might the better woorke their wyl,
They thus were plast according vnto skil.
Here two, and there two, and foure then beliue:
Here one, and there one, and three at a cast,
Then one, and twice two, and one at the last.
And Englishmen with weapons wel bestead,
The Danes amidst their Cuppes were shauen & shriuen,
Nowe note the ende of blood so beastly shed,
For Swane the king of Denmarke did ariue,
He for reuenge did me to Richard driue.
Their good successe doo promise present payne.
What? May mans vayne deuises ought auaile?
Dishonest deedes no honour can obtayne,
Al murthering Massacers be vile and vayne,
Such suttle slayghtes haue neuer good successe:
The proofe whereof with payne I here expresse.
Both man and beast, and euery earthly thing,
He did that noble London much annoy,
He wonne the Realme and was the Englishe king.
When tract of time him to his Beere did bring,
Canutus then his sonne did him succeede,
Whom to displace I did despatch with speede.
Of Normans gaue to me a goodly bande,
By helpe of whom Canutus forst to flee,
I got agayne the kingdome of Englande.
But out (alas) what thing may fyrmely stande,
Whose vnder propt is of so litle might?
That want of strength dooth let thinges drop downright.
The wrathful wight appoynted passyng strong,
My subiectes slue, my Cities he did burne,
Which when I hearde I liude not very long,
My faynting hart was thronged with a throng
Of cares, which broke it in my feareful brest,
And so at last death brought my bones to rest.
And then in Paules my cursed corps was layde,
Canutus did my common weale deface,
The Danes were kinges, my kingdome was decayde,
This worlde is frayle, and euery thing must fade,
But alwayes that which wanteth gouernment,
That fyrst dooth feele the force of dangers dent.
The Complaint of Edricus.
Howe Edricus destroyed the valiant king Edmunde Ironsyde, hoping to haue greate preferment for his labour of Canutus the Dane, and howe the same Canutus caused him to be headed for his labour. A necessary example for al such as thinke by craft and deceite to increase their credite.
Which dayly doo my cursed corps torment,
Come forth, come forth, come forth, (I say) and shewe
Howe I on earth my dismal dayes haue spent.
And wil you not you wretched wightes assent
To helpe me here to tell that drierie tale,
Which may amongst men liuing much preuayle?
Sith they refuse to aide thee in this neede,
Doo thou declare and tel the truth of al,
That men aliue my wretched woorkes may reade,
And see the fruite of suttle Satans seede,
Auoyding vice, and fancies fonde delight,
Note wel my tale, the truth I shal recite.
Edmunde his sonne surnamed Ironside,
Deuising howe he might his foe deface,
And in the ende the Realme they did deuide.
Edmunde had halfe, Canutus had the rest,
Then they with peace and quietnesse were blest.
Why did you moue my minde to meditate,
Howe I in woe king Edmunde might inwrap,
And howe I might depresse my kinges estate?
Thou blinde beleefe, thou breeder of debate,
I wanting grace did let thee moue my minde,
Causlesse to kil a courteous king, and kinde.
To whom I sayd, See here a faythful friend,
I for thy loue with bloody blade haue bent
And brought my king to his vntimely ende,
Thou by that meanes shalt rule thy realme with rest,
My friendly fist with happie good succese
Hath thee inricht with blisse and happinesse.
Thou faythlesse fauning friende, for loue of me?
Thou verlet vile, and couldste thou doo the thing
The which might more abridge my libertie?
O heynous acte, O bloody crueltie.
But sith that loue did moue thee doo that deede,
Thou for thy paynes shalt be preferde with speede.
Let this mans head the hyghest place obtayne
On London walles: wherewith I neuer stayde,
But on a blocke my necke was cut in twayne,
In all mens sighte, my head did long remayne.
See here what wit the grape of hope dooth yeeld,
See on what sand such busie braynes do builde.
The sense of mortal man should senselesse make.
When vices vaunts with vertues deedes dare fyght,
Then dooth the soule the happie heauens forsake,
Then man makes hast to Plutoes lothsome lake.
Why should man loue that sugered sowre sweete,
Which wisedoms lore to lothe hath thought most meete?
The Complaint of Harolde.
Howe King Harolde raygnyng but niene monthes, had continuall warre with the Danes, with the Norway Kyng, with his brother Tosto, and with Duke William, who partely by hys strength, but chiefly by policie, ouercame hym, and by killyng him in the feelde, obteyned the kingdome of Englande. Thys historie dooth declare that no manhoode nor courage can keepe the crowne from the right heyres head.
O Bastarde Duke, and dost thou dare to fyght?
My Noble men, Come forth, and purchase Fame.
Geue me my swoorde, let me defende my right
Steppe foorth with speede my Martiall men of myght:
With Bowes and Bylles let vs their course restrayne:
And teach them that their vaunting vowes be vayne.
It vs behoues in Normandy to fight
With hym, and not to let his souldiers lurke
Here in my Realme, we shal thereby achiue
No noble acte, though hence we him do driue.
But if we deale with him in Normandy,
We shal receiue renowne and victorie.
Abroade, as did the haughtie Hannibal,
And not at home to feele their hatefull spight.
That foes ariude should spoyle our subiectes all:
And for a truth this alwayes hath bin found,
He speedeth best which fightes on forrayne grounde.
But hast to late was then of none auayle,
The Duke ariude, he in my Realme was plaste,
He euery where my subiectes did assayle,
And euery where he caused them to quayle.
For which I bode hym battaile by and by,
Where equall warres gaue neither victorye.
We both for breath to pause were wel content,
Euen then the Duke he wisely did deuise,
How here to yeeld my crowne I might be bent:
For whiche to me a Pursiphaunt he sent,
With letters, suche as here I shall recite,
Wherein he claimes the Brittayne Crowne his right.
William Duke of Normandie, and ryght heyre to the Englyshe Crowne, to Harolde the Vsurper.
Though birthright cannot cause thee yeeld to me my crown,Yet haue thou some respect of honour and renowne,
For thou by oth didst sweare to yeeld to me my right,
When as I thee preferd, and stalde thee there by might.
Mine vncle Edwarde he, thy fathers faythfull freende
Gaue me his crowne, and thou thereto didst condescend,
And proue thy selfe forsworne of former promise plight.
Shall Harold haue his hest? shal Godwines sonne here guide?
Shall William want his wyl, and haue his ryght denide?
Wel Harolde, if thou canst with warres determine so,
I am content: if not, prouide, I am thy foe.
My sonnes and al my kinne shal neuer stint to striue,
To plucke thee from thy place, whilst one is left aliue:
But if thou wylt be wise, to me my right resigne,
And thou shalt haue the place belonging to thy line.
If not, with fyre and swoorde I meane thy Realme to spoyle,
I neuer hence wyll starte till I haue forst thy foyle.
And now thou knowste my wyl, determine for the best,
Thou maist haue warres, and if thou wylt, thou maist haue rest.
My manly minde to graunt hym his request,
For which I did to Fortune me betake,
To wage new warres with hym I deemde it best,
So from his fist his threatning blade to wrest.
But see the force of Fortunes changing cheare,
An other cloude before me did appeare.
Did now returne, and brought the Norway kyng:
They did deuise to haue from me my head,
Which made me to indite an other thing
Vnto the Duke, then playne and true meaning.
I gaue him hope of that I neuer meant,
These were the lines which to the Duke I sent.
Harolde the English king, to thee William Duke of Normandie.
Harold the English king, thee William Duke doth greete.Thy letter being read, I haue not thought it meete,
Without a parliament to do so great a thing,
As of a forrayne Duke, to make an Englishe kyng.
But if my three estates will follow mine aduise,
Thou shalt receiue the crowne, and beare away the price.
Therfore delay a time, thou shortly shalt receiue
With full consent the thing, which now thou seekst to haue.
For why, I hearde my brother Tostoes trayne,
Two of my Earles by North he had destroyd,
And manye a thousand men he there had slayne:
But when we met, his triumphe was in vayne.
For I and myne the Norway king there kilte,
And I my selfe my brothers blood there spilte.
And heard how I my men did muster newe,
There lies a Snake within this greene grasse bed
Quoth he, therefore come forth my warrelike crewe,
We will not staye to see what shall insue.
By long delayes, from Forrain coastes he may
Procure an ayde, to scourge vs with decay.
Well donne (quoth he) let hym go beate the bushe,
I and my men to the lurche line will steale,
And one of them we with decaye will crushe.
For he who doth the victor there remaine,
Shall neuer rest, till he hath dealt with twaine.
Within fewe dayes was forst againe to fight,
My strength halfe spoylde, the rest wounded and wearie,
His campe was comne vnwares within my sight,
There was no hope to flee by day nor night.
I Harolde then, a Haraude sent in haste,
To know whither the Duke his campe had plaste.
And that he knewe the driftes of my delay,
For which he sayde he woulde yet once agayne
Make trial, who shoulde beare the crowne away.
If I would yeelde, he sayd his men should stay,
If not, he then was present presently,
To trye the cause by Mars his crueltie.
His Trumpets did defy me to my face,
In hast I did appoynt my very trayne,
And souldier like I al my men did place,
I neuer sude, nor prayde, nor gapte for grace.
For hauing plaste my men in battayle ray,
Myne Ancient bearer did my armes display.
Were plaste in frunte, that men might fyght at wyll,
The forelorne hope of Bowmen I preparde,
In skirmishing who had the perfect skil.
With Arches eke I did the winges fulfyl,
To rescue them my men at armes were prest,
Then thus my speech amongst them I exprest.
Winne now the fielde, and be you euer blest.
This Bastarde base borne Duke, shal he exalt
Him selfe so high? geue eare vnto my hest,
This day no doubt we shall haue quiet rest:
For good successe shal set vs free from feare,
Or hateful happe shal bring vs to our Beare.
March forth my men, we must no longer stay:
Let euery man abandon faynting feare,
And I as guyde wyl leade you on your way.
Euen I my selfe the formost in the fray,
Wyl teach you how you shal abate his pride.
Fight fight my men, Sainct George shalbe your guyde.
With three to one, yet were they al to weake:
And when his forlorne hope could not preuayle,
Them to assist his Horsemen out did breake,
Three troopes I sent on them the wrath to wreake,
And by and by the battayles both did ioyne,
With many a thrust, and many a bloudie foyne.
I had but one, and one did deale with three:
Of which the first by me were quite dismayde,
The other two they did discomfort me,
Not yeelding, but in yeelding blowes wee bee
(With losse of life) constraynd at last to yeelde
The Crowne, the kingdome, and the foughten feelde.
Nine monthes no more, I wore the Englishe Crowne,
In Euery month I in the feelde did fight,
Yet at the last my strength was beaten downe,
And here before you, now I do protest,
I neuer had one day of quiet rest.
With ciuil strife I dayly was distrest,
My brother twise indeuorde to defeate
Me of my throne, the Norway king was prest,
The dreadful Danes they dayly mee distrest.
At last, this Duke did make me strike my sayle,
When winde, nor tide, nor Oars, myght preuayle.
With conquest he recouered his right,
And as you see of conquering the guise,
The Englishmen they were defaced quite,
Then of his trayne hee did prepare ech wyght.
And this was that which onely brought me blesse,
I did not liue to see this wretchednesse.
I was an Earle my father being dead.
Why did my brest with scalding malice boyle,
To kepe the Crowne from the right heyers head?
O Fancye fonde, thy fuminges hath mee fed,
The stinking stinch of thyne inclined hest,
Hath poysoned al the vertues in my brest.
Who hath sustaynde, that passing pinching payne,
That woful wight al wrapt in wretchednesse,
That man doth know, by proofe he findes it playne,
That he who stoopes to fancies fond desires,
Doth grope for Grapes amidst the bramble briers.
By double driftes conuayed cunningly,
To get or gayne by any craft or guile,
A good estate with long prosperitie.
His lust obtaynde, he liues in miserie,
His guilty ghost dooth see his plague appeare,
Who goeth straight he needeth not to feare.
Parts added to The mirror for magistrates | ||