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

I sing a woman, and a powerfull Queene,
Henry the sixt, the King of Englands Wife,
The beauteous Margarite, whose misgovern'd spleene
So many sorrowes brought upon her life;
As upon womans never yet were seene,
In the beginning of that fatall strife

The family of Yorke sought under-hand to promove their title about that time.

(Th'unlucky season) when the Yorkists saught
To bring the Line of Lancaster to naught.

It was the time of those great stirres in France,
Their ancient Right that th'English had regain'd,

After the second conquest of France by Henry the fift.

But the proud French attributing to chance,
What by meere Manhood stoutly ours obtain'd,
Their late-falne Ensignes labour'd to advance,
The Streetes with blood of either Nation stain'd:
These strive to hold, those to cast off the yoke,
Whilst Forts, and Townes flewe up to heaven in smoke.

The neighbouring Princes greatly pittying then,
The Christian blood in that long quarrell shed,
Which had devour'd such multitudes of men,

The Christian Princes seeke to make a peace between England and France.

That the full earth could scarcely keepe her dead;
Yet for each English, of her Natives ten:
In zeale to peace these neighbouring Princes led:
At Tours in Tourayne set them downe a Diet,
(Could it be done) these clamorous fieuds to quiet.

From th'Emperour, there Ambassadors arive,
The Kings of Denmarke, Hungary, and Spaine,
And that each thing they aptly might contrive,
And both the Kings there largely might complaine.
The Duke of Orleance, for the French doth strive
To shew his greevance; William Poole againe,
The Earle of Suffolke doth for England stand,
Who steer'd the State then with a powerfull hand.

A peace concluded for 18. monthes.

For eighteene months they ratifie a peace,
Twixt these proud Realmes, which Suffolke doth pursue
With all his powers, with hope still to encrease,
The same expir'd, that it should soone renew,
For by his meanes, if so this warre might cease,

Poole in this time of peace laboureth to conclude a Mariage betwixt the Lady Margarite and the King his Master.

He had a Plot of which they never knew,
To his intent, which if all things went right,
Heele make the dull world to admire his might.

For having seene faire Margarite in France,
(That times bright'st beauty) being then but young,
Her peircing eyes with many a subtile glance,

Poole taken with the exceeding beauty of the Princesse.

His mighty heart so forcibly had stung,
As made him thinke if that he could advance,
This mortall wonder, onely that among
His rising Fortunes, should the greatest prove,
If to his Queene, he could advance his love.

Her eyes at all poynts Arm'd with those deceits,
That to her sex are naturall every way,
Which with more Art, shee as inticing baites,
For this great Lord doth with advantage lay,
As he againe that on her bosome waites,
Had found that there, which could he come to sway,
He would put faire as ever man did yet,
Upon the height of Fortunes wheele to sit.

Love and Ambition spurre him in such sort,
As that (alone) t'accomplish his desire
To fall with Phaæton he would thinke it sport,
Though he should set the Universe on fire,
Nor recks he what the world of him report,
He must scorne that, who will dare to aspier,
For through the Ayre his wings him way shall make,
Though in his fall the frame of heaven he shake.

Reyner descended from the Royall stem

He had onely the title of these Kingdomes without any livelihood.

Of France, the Duke of Anjou, stiled King
Of Naples, Cicill, and Jerusalem,
Although in them he had not any thing,
But the poore tytle of a Diadem;

Margarite Duke Ryners daughter.

Seeing by Suffolke greater hopes to spring;
Puts on his Daughter that great Lord to please
Of Englands Counsailes who kept all the keyes.

But strange encounters strongly him oppose,
In his first entrance to this great Designe,
Those men were mighty that against him rose,
And came upon him with a Countermine,
That he must now play cunningly, or lose:
Cunning they were against him that combine,
Plot above plot, doth straine aloft to tower.
The conflict great, twixt pollicy and power.

For Humfrey Duke of Gloster, stil'd the good,
Englands Protector sought a match to make,
With a faire Princesse, of as Royall blood,

A motion of a mariage before by an Ambassadour with the Earle of Arminacks onely daughter.

The Daughter of the Earle of Arminake,
And his Crown'd Nephew: but stout Suffolke stood
Still for his Mistrisse, nor will her forsake,
But make her Henries Queene in spight of all:
Or she shall rise, or Suffolke sweares to fall.

By the French faction when she up is cride,
Of all Angellique excellence the Prime,

The high praises of the Princesse Margarites beauty.

Who was so dull that her not Deifide,
To be the onely Master-peece of time:
The praise of her extended is so wide,
As that thereon a man to heaven might clime:
All tongues and eares inchanted with delite,
When they doe talke, or heare of Margarite.

And those whom Poole about his Prince had plac'd,
And for his purpose taught the tricks of Court,

Pooles followers placed about the king to worke his owne ends.

To this great King, and many a time had grac'd,
To make his eares more apt for their report,
Having the time most diligently trac'd,
And sawe these things succesfully to sort:
Strike in a hand, and up together beare,
To make faire Margarite Musick in his eare.

Anjou a Dutchy, Mayne a County great,
Of which the English long had beene possest,

The Provinces in France given to Duke Reyner for his daughter.

And Mauns a Citie of no small receite,
To which the Duke pretended interest:
For the conclusion, when they came to treate,
And things by Poole were to the utmost prest,
Are to Duke Reyner rendred up to hold,
To buy a Hellen, thus a Troy was sold.

When of an Earle, a Marquesse Poole is made,
Then of a Marquesse, is a Duke created,
For he at ease in Fortunes lap was layd,

Poole created first from an Earle, Marquesse, and after Duke of Suffolke.

To glorious actions wholly consecrated:
Hard was the thing that he could not perswade,
In the Kings favour he was so instated;
Without his Suffolke who could not subsist,
So that he ruled all things as he list.

This with a strong astonishment doth strike,
Th'amazed world which knew not what to say,

The people exceedingly repine for the giving away of the Provinces.

What living man but did the act mislike,
If him it did not utterly dismay,
That what with blood was bought, at push of Pike,
Got in an age, giv'n in an houre away:
Some largely speake, and some againe are dumbe,
Wond'ring what would of this strange world become.

As when some dreadfull Comet doth appeare,
Athwart the heaven that throwes his threatning light,
The peacefull people that at quiet were,

A simily.

Stand with wilde gazes wond'ring at the sight,
Some Warre, some Plagues, some Famine greatly feare,
Some falls of Kingdomes, or of men of might:
The greeved people thus their judgements spend,
Of these strange Actions what should be the end.

When Suffolke Procurator for the King,

Suffolke Procurator for the King.

Is ship'd for France, t'espouse the beauteous Bride,
And fitted to the full of every thing,
Followed with Englands Gallantry and pride,
(As fresh as is the bravery of the Spring)

The marriage solemnized in the City of Towers.

Comming to Towers, there sumptuously affide:
This one, whose like no age had seene before,
Whose eyes out-shone the Jewels that shee wore.

Her reverent Parents ready in the place,
As overjoy'd this happy day to see,
The King and Queene the Nuptialls there to grace;

The great concourse to honour the Solemnization.

On them three Dukes, as their attendants be,
Seven Earles, twelve Barons in their equipace,
And twenty Bishops, whilst that onely shee,
Like to the Rosy morning towards the rise,
Cheeres all the Church, as it doth cheere the skies.

Tryumphall Arches the glad Towne doth raise,
And Tilts and Turneys are perform'd at Court,
Conceited Masks, rich Banquets, witty playes,
Besides amongst them many a pretty sport,
Poets write Prothalamions in their praise,
Untill mens eares were cloyd with the report,
Of either sex, and who doth not delight
To weare the Daysie for Queene Margarite.

Margarite in French signifieth a Daysie.

The Tryumphes ended, he to England goes
With this rich Gem allotted him to keepe,
Still entertained with most sumptuous showes,
In passing thorough Normandy to Diepe,

The Queene bravely intertained in passing through Normandy.

Where like the Sea the concourse dayly flowes,
For her departure whilst sad France doth weepe;
And that the Ships their crooked Ancors waide,
By which to England she must be convaide.

And being fitted both for Winde and Tide,

The King stayeth for the Queenes landing at Portsmouth.

Out of the Harbour flyes this goodly Fleet,
And for fayre Portsmouth their straight Course they plyde,
Where the King staid his lovely Bride to meete;
Yonder she comes when as the people cride,
Busie with Rushes strewing every street,
The brainelesse Vulgar little understand,
The Horrid plagues that ready were to Land,

Which but to soone all seeing heaven foretold,
For she was scarsely safely put a Shore,

Great and fearefull Tempests at the comming in of the Queene.

But that the skies (ô wondrous to behold)
Orespread with lightning, hideously doe rore,
The furious winds with one another scold,
Never such Tempests had bene seene before,
With suddaine floods whole Villages were drownd,
Steeples with earthquakes tumbled to the ground.

When to their purpose things to passe were brought,
And these two brave ambitious spirits were mett,
The Queene and Duke now frame their working thought,
Into their hands the Soveraignety to get:
For soone they found the King could not be wrought,
Up to their ends, nature so low had set
His humble heart; that what they would obtaine,
Tis they must do't, by colour of his Raigne.

And for they found the grieved Commons grutch,
At this which Suffolke desperatly had done,
Who for the Queene had parted with so much,
Thereby yet nothing to the Realme had wonne.
And those that spurr'd the people on, were such,
As to oppose them openly begunne;
Therefore by them some great ones downe must goe,
Which if they mist of, they themselves must so.

The Duke of Yorke discharged of his Regency in France, and the Duke of Sommerset in his place.

Yorke then which had the Regency in France,
They force the King, ignobly to displace,
Thereto the Duke of Summerset t'advance,
Their friend, and one of the Lancastrian Race;
For they betwixt them turn'd the Wheele of Chance,
Tis they cry up, tis they that doe debase,
He's the first man they purpos'd to remove,
The onely Minion of the peoples love.

This opened wide the Publicke way, whereby
Ruine rusht in upon the troubled Land,
Under whose weight it hapned long to lye,
Quite overthrowne with their ill-guiding hand;
For their Ambition looking over-hie
Could in no measure aptly understand,
Upon their heads the danger that they drewe,
Whose force too soone, they, and their Faction knew.

For whilst this brave Prince was imploid abroad
Th'affaires of France his minde up wholly tooke,
But being thus disburthen'd of that load,
Which gave him leave into himselfe to looke,
The course he ranne in, evidently show'd,
His late Alleageance that he off had shooke,
And under hand his Title set on foote,
To plucke their Red-Rose quite up by the roote.

Thus having made a Regent of their owne,
By whom they meane great matters to effect,
For by degrees, they will ascend the throane,
And but their owne all ayd they else neglect,
As with a Tempest he to ground is blowne,
On whom their rage doth any way reflect:
Which good Duke Humphrey first of all must taste,
Whose timelesse death intemperatly they haste.

This Henryes Unckle, and his next of blood,
Was both Protector of the Realme, and King,
Whose meeknesse had instiled him the Good,
Of most especiall trust in every thing;

A Character of the Duke of Glocester.

One to his Country constantly that stood,
As Time should say, I forth a man will bring,
So plaine and honest, as on him Ile rest,
The age he liv'd in, as the onely best.

This grave Protector who both Realmes had sway'd,
Whilst the Kings nonage his sound Counsells crav'd,
In his great wisdome when he throughly way'd,
How this French Lady here her selfe behav'd,
To make her Game againe, how Suffolke play'd,
The Realmes from ruine, hoping to have sav'd,
Lost his deare life, within a little space,
Which overthrewe the whole Lancastrian race.

This Prince, who still dar'd stoutly to oppose,
Those whom he sawe, all but their owne to hate,
Then found the league of his inveterate foes,
To come upon him with the power of Fate,
And things to that extremitie still rose,
The certaine signe of the declining State,
As that their Faction every day grew strong,
Perceiv'd his Vertues like to suffer wrong.

Fierce Margarits malice propt with mighty men,
Her Darling Suffolke, who her forward drew,

The greatest persons of the Queenes Faction.

Proud Sommerset, of France the Regent then,
And Bukkingham his power too well that knew,
The Cardinall Beufort, and with him agen,
Yorks great Arch-Prelate to make up the crue,
By accusations doing all their best,
From the good Duke all Goverment to wrest,

Who then compell the peacefull King to call,
A Parliament; their grievances to heare,
Against the Duke that to inforce his fall,
They might have some thing that might Colour beare,

A Consultation had by the faction of the Queene, about the making away of the Duke.

But then they doubt his answere, and withall,
The murmuring people they farre more doe feare,
As their owne lives who lov'd him, therefore they,
Must cast to make him secretly away.

And therfore with the Parliament proceede,
Saint-Edmunds-bury the appointed place,
Whereas they ment to doe the fatall deed,

A Parliament at Saint Edmunds Bury.

Which with much quicknesse should decide the case,
The cruell maner soone they had decreed,
And to the Act they hasten them apace;
On this good Prince their purpose to effect,
Then, when the people nothing should suspect.

No sooner was this great assembly mett,

The Duke of Glocester arested by the high Marshal of England.

But the high Marshall doth the Duke arest,
And on his person such a guard they sett,
That they of him were certainely possest,
His servants were from their attendance lett,
And either sent to prison or supprest;

The Duke murthered.

So that their Lord left in this piteous plight,
Lay'd in his Bed was strangled in the night.

Then give they out that of mere greefe he dyde,
To cover what they cruelly had done,
But this blacke deede, when once the day discride;
The frantique people to his Lodging runne,
Some rayle, some curse, yea little children chide,

The people mutiny.

Which forc'd that faction the fayre streets to shunne;
Some wish proud Suffolke sunke into the ground,
Some bid a plague the cruell Queene confound.

Thus their Ambition would not let them see,
How by his death they hastened their decay,
Nor let them know that this was onely he,
Who kept the Yorkists evermore at bay,
But of this man they must the murtherers be,

The death of the Duke was the utter overthrow of the house of Lancaster.

Upon whose life their safty onely lay;
But his deare bloud, them nothing could suffice,
When now began Queene Margarits Miseries.

In either kingdome all thinges went to wracke,
Which they had thought they could have made to thrive,
His noble Counsells when they came to lacke,

The affairs of England fall to ruine upon the death of the Duke.

Which could them with facility contrive,
Nor could they stay them in their going backe,
One mischeefe still another doth revive;
As heaven had sent an host of horrors out,
Which all at once incompast them about.

Out flie the Irish, and with sword and fire,
Unmercied havocke of the English made;
They discontented, here at home conspire,
To stirre the Scott the Borders to invade:

The Irishe rebell.

The faithlesse French then having their desire,
To see us thus in Seas of troubles wade,
In every place outragiously rebell,

The French are up in Armes.

As out of France the English to expell.

The sturdy Normans with high pride inflamd,
Shake off the yoke of their subjection quite.
Nor will with patience heare the English nam'd,
Except of those that speake of them in spight,
But as their foes them publikely proclaim'd,
And their Alyes to open Armes excite;

The Normans revolt.

In every place thus Englands right goes downe,
Nor will they leave the English men a Towne.

New-castle, Constance, Maleon, and Saint-lo,
With Castel-Galliard, Argenton, and Roane,
Ponteu-de-mer with Forts and Cities moe,

Townes in Normandy yeelded to the enemy. There had ben a former contract between the King and the Earle of Arminacks onely daughter; but being by the Duke of Suffolke annulled caused the Earle ever after to be a vowed enemy to the English.

Then which that Contry stronger holds had none,
Set ope their gates and bad the English goe,
For that the French should then possesse their owne.
And to their Armies, up their Forts they yeeld,
And turne the English out into the Feeld.

And that great Earle of Arminack againe,
A puisant Peere and mighty in estate,
Upon just cause, who tooke in high disdayne,
To have his Daughter so repudiate,
(His Contries bordring upon Aquitaine,)
Pursues the English nation with such hate,
As that he entred with his Armed powers,
And from that Dutchy, drave all that was ours.

Th'inraged commons ready are to rise,
Upon the Regent, to his Charge and layd,

The Commons charge the Duke of Somerset with the losse of Normandy.

That from his slacknesse and base cowardize,
These townes were lost, by his neglect of ayde,
Then follow Suffolke with confused cryes,
With Maine, and Anjou, and do him upbrayde,
And vowe his life shall for their losses pay,
Or at the stake, their goods and lives to lay.

Articles of Treason put into the Parliament against the Dukes of Summerset and Suffolke.

In th'open Session and Articulate,
Seven Severall Treasons urg'd against them both,
As most pernitious members of the State,
Which was confirmed by the commons oath,
So that the King who saw the peoples hate,

The Duke of Suffolke banished for five yeeres.

(In his owne selfe though he were very loath)
To both the houses lastly doth assent,
To set on Suffolke five yeares banishment.

His Soveraigne Lady Suffolke thus must leave,
And shee her Servant, to her soule so deare,
Yet must they both conceale what they conceive,
Which they would not if any helpe there were,
Yet of all comfort they cannot bereave
Her, but this hope her pensive heart doth cheere,
That he in France shall have his most resort,
And live securely in her fathers Court.

His mighty minde nor can this doome molest,
But kicks the earth with a disdainfull scorne,
If any thing doe corosive his brest,
It was, that he was in base England borne,
He curst the King, and Kingdome, but he blest
The Queene, but if in any thing forlorne,
Tw'as that he should her happy presence misse,
The endlesse Summe of all his earthly blisse.

His Sentence, scarce in Parliament had past,

The extreame hate the people had to the Duke.

But that the Rascall multitude arize,
Plucke downe his houses, lay his Lordships wast,
And search how they his person may surprise,
That he from England instantly must hast,
Cover'd by night, or by some strange disguise,
And to some small Port secretly retyre,
And there some poore Boate for his passage hire.

This ship was (as our histories report) caled the Nicolas of the tower, a ship that belong'd to the Duke of Excester, of whome one Water was the Captaine.

From Harwitch Haven and embarqu'd for France,
As he for Callice his straight course doth steere,
(O heare behould a most disastrous chance,)
A man of warre the Seaes that scoured there,
One at his actions that still lookt ascance,
And to this Duke did deadly hatred beare;
After a long chase tooke this little Craye,
Which he suppos'd him safly should convaye.

And from the fisher taking him by force,
He under Hatches straightly him bestow'd,
And towards his country steering on his course,
He runnes his vessell into Dover roade,
Where rayling on him without all remorse,
Him from the shippe to all the people show'd,
And when no more they could the Duke deride,
They cutt his head off on the Cock boate-side.

Suffolke thus dead and Sommerset disgrac'd,
His title Yorke more freely might preferre,
The Commons love, when cunningly to taste,
(Lest overweening he perhaps might erre,)
He first subbornes a villaine that imbrac'd,
The Nobler name of March-borne Mortimer,

The subtile policie of the Duke of York

Which in the Title of the house of Yorke;
Might set the monstrous multitude a worke.

His name was Cade, his native contry Kent,
Who, though of birth, and in estate but poore,
Yet for his courage he was eminent;

The carracter of Jacke Cade.

(Which the wise Duke well understood before,)
He had a minde was of a large extent,
The signe whereof on his bould brow he bore,
Sterne of behavior, and of body strong,
Witty, well spoken, cautilous, though young.

But for the Duke his title must derive,

Deriving his title from Phillip the only daughter and hayre of Lyonel Duke of Clarence the 3. sonne of Ed. the 3. wedded to Edmund Mortimer Earle of March.

Out of the bloud which beare that honored name,
Therefore must cast and conningly contrive,
To see how people relished the same,
And if he found it fortuned to thrive,
Then at the marke he had a further ayme,
To show himselfe his title good to make,
And raise him friends and power, his part to take.

All opposition likewise to prevent,
The crafty Duke his meaning doth conceale,
And Cade doth rise t'reforme the government,
And base abuses of the Publique Weale,
To which he knew the Commons would consent,
Which otherwise his Treason might reveale;
Which rightly tooke, for by this colour he
Drew twenty thousand on his part to be.

From Sussex, Surry, and from Kent that rose,
Whom hope of spoile doth to this act perswade,
Which still increase his Army as it goes,
And on Blacke Heath his Rendavous he made,
Where in short time it to that vastnesse growes,
As it at once the Kingdome would invade,
And he himselfe the Conquest could assure;
Of any power king Henry could procure.

And did in fight that generall force defeate,
Sent by the King that Rebell to pursue,
When under couler of a fain'd retreat,
He made as though he from the Army flew,

The Staffords slaine by the Rebells.

The slaughter of the souldiers must be great,
When he those Staffords miserably slewe.
Captaines select, and chosen by the Queene;
To lead the powers that should have wreakt her teene.

When for a Siedge he to the City came,
Assaults the Bridge with his emboldned power,
And after oft repulsed takes the same,

Jhacke Cade takes London.

Makes himselfe master of the Towne and Tower,
Doing such things as might the Divell shame,
Destroyes Records, and Virgins doth deflower,
Robbs, ransackes, spoiles, and after all this stirre,
Lastly, beheaded the Lord Treasurer.

These things by Yorke being plotted underhand,
Wise as he was, as one that had not knowne,
Ought of these Treasons, hasts to Ireland,
To tame those

The vulgar.

Kerne, rebellious that were growne;
He knew it was not in the barren Sand,
That he this subtile poysnous seed had sowne,
Which came it on (as very well it might)
It would make way for his pretended right.

Whilst these Rebellions are in England broacht,
As though the Fates should enviously conspire
Our utter Ruine; which too fast approacht,
About our eares, was Aquitaine a fire:
Their Conquest so upon our Townes incroacht,
That Charles the French King then had his desire,
To see these Troubles tyre us here within,
That he the whilst, in France from us might winne.

To add to Margarits miseries againe,
Talbot in France so bravely that had done,
Who many a yeare had aw'd proud Aquitaine,
And many a Fort, and famous Battaile wonne,

The valient Talbot slaine.

At Shatiloon (O endlesse griefe) was slaine
With the Lord Lyle his overvalient Sonne,
When all the Townes that he had got before,
Yeelded, nor would for England be no more,

Yorke in the nike from Ireland comming in,
Finding the Kingdome combred in this wise,
Thinks with himselfe twere time he did begin,
But by no meanes he gainst the King must rise;
O such a thought in any man were sin,
But that he would proud Somerset surprise,
Yet wanting strength gainst the whole State to stand,
He beares his businesse with a moderate hand.

And first to mighty Salsbury doth sue,

Richard Nevill the Father, and Richard Nevill the Son.

And his Sonne Warwick, and doth them intreate
With equall eyes they would be pleasde to view,
His rightfull Title: these two Nevils great
In power, and with the people, whom he knew,
Deadly the Duke of Somerset to hate,
By his large offers he doth winne at last,
In his just quarrell to cleave to him fast.

Thus his Ambition having strongly backt,
With these two fatall fierbrands of Warre;
To his desires, there very little lackt,
He and the Earles, all three so popular,
To advance himselfe he no occasion slackt,
For nought he sees him from his ends to barre,
Tis no small tempest that he need to feare,
Whom two such Collumnes up betwixt them beare.

And by their strengthes encourag'd doth not sticke,
The others actions boldly to o're looke,
And for the season that the King was sicke,
Upon himselfe the Regencie he tooke,
For now his hopes upon him came so thicke,
His entrance, dores from off the hindges shooke.
He with a nodde the Realme seem'd to direct,
Whose he but bow'd, if this great Prince but beckt.

And in the Queenes great Chamber doth arest,
Great Summerset, and sendeth him to ward,
And all his followers suddenly supprest,

The duke of Summerset arested.

Such was the number of his powerfull guard,
With the proud Queene, this Prince as proude contests,
Not for her frowne one friend of hers he spar'd,
Lucks on his side, while such stand by to bett,
Hee'le throw at all that any one dare sett.

The Queene who saw, which way this Faction went,
And that these wrongs must still reflect on her,
The Duke of Yorke to her distruction bent;
Thought with her selfe it was full time to stirre,
And if his plotts she ever would prevent,
Must with the wisest of her friends conferre,
Their busie braynes, and must together beate,
To lessen him, like else to grow too great.

His pride awhile yet patiently endure,
The kinges recovery onely to attend,
Of which themselves they hardly could assure,

The King recovered of a dangerous sicknesse.

Who once they thought had hastned to his end,
But when they found his Phisicke to procure,
His former health, then doth the Queene extend,
Her utmost strength, to let the world to know,
Queene Margarite yet, must not be mastred so.

With smiles and kisses when shee wooes the King,
That of his place the Duke he would discharge,
Which being done, the next espetiall thing,

The Queene prevailing against the Duke of York.

She doth the Duke of Sommerset inlarge,
And him of Callice gives the governing,
Whither his friends she causd him to inbardge,
Doubting the love, and safeguard of the Towne,
Thus doth the Queene turne all thinges upsidedowne.

Which so incenst the angry Duke to ire,
With those two Earles upon his part that take,
Kindling in all that fierce revengefull fire,

The Duke of Yorke raiseth an Army in the Marches of Wales.

Which the deere blood of Summerset must slake,
That into Wales they instantly retire:
And in the Marches up an Army make:
And there by Oath were each to other tyde,
By dint of sword the quarrell to decide.

And whilst these Lords are busied in the West,
Of March-men mustring a rebellious Band,
Henry againe his Southerne people prest:
And settles there their forces to withstand:
Then Bowes and Bills were onely in request:
Such rage and madnesse doth possesse the Land:
Set upon spoyle, on either part they were,
Whilst the Weale-publike they in peeces teare.

On either part when for this Warre prepar'd,
Upon their March they at Saint Albans met,
Where Drummes and Ensignes one the other dar'd,

The first Battaile at Saint Albans.

Whilst they in order their Battalions set,
And with his fellow ev'ry Souldier shar'd,
Bravely resolv'd to death to pay his debt:
When if that ever horrour did appeare
On th'English earth, it certainly was there.

That day the Queenes lov'd Summerset was slaine,
There tooke the stout Northumberland his end:
There Staffords blood the pavement did distaine:

Humfrey Earle of Stafford, eldest sonne to the Duke of Buckingham.

There Clifford fell, King Henries constant friend:
The Earle of Warwick who brought on the Mayne:
All downe before him to pale Death doth send.
Antwesell, Babthorp, Zouch, and Curwen, all
King Henries friends, before the Yorkists fall.

Whilst this distressed miserable King,
Amazed much with fury of the fight,
And perill still his person menacing:
His living friends inforc'd to take their flight:
He as a needlesse and neglected thing,
In a poore Cottage hides him out of sight:

The King crept into a poore cottage.

Who found by Yorke was as a prisoner led,
Though with milde words the Duke him comforted.

And of his person being thus possest,
They in his name a Parliament procure,
For with his Regall power they will invest
Themselves, supposing to make all things sure,
That if their violent actions should be prest,
In after time they better might endure
The censuring, the worst, and so prevent
To showe them done by Act of Parliament.

And cause the King to take into his hands,
What to the Crowne did anciently pertaine,
Besides all Honours, Offices, and Lands,

The lawlesse usurpation of the Yorkists.

Granted since the beginning of his Raigne;
And not a Fee, though ne'r so little stands;
All are call'd in, and let who will complaine,
And all his friends from Counsaile are remov'd,
None must sit there, but those of them belov'd.

The silly King a sipher set aside,
What was in him that in great Yorke is not;
Amongst themselves all places they divide,

Salisbury made Chancelor.

And to be Chancelor Salsbury hath got,
He is the man must take the law to guide;

Warwick Captaine of Callice.

And Callice falls to warlike Warwicks lot,
And not a man at these must looke awry,
They make an Act, their Acts to justifie.

This done, the Duke had more to doe then this;
Something it seem'd, more secretly to lurke,
In which such power (though from appearance) is,
As yet once more would fret the Duke of Yorke,
And let him know he of his ends might misse;
For now the Queene doth set her wits to worke,
To play the Game that must renowne her skill,
And shew the law that rested in her will.

And from the roote of Summerset late slaine,
Another stem, to stand for her arose,

Henry Beufort Duke of Summerset, after the decease of his father Edmond.

Henry for Edmond, of his Fathers straine,
(One of whose life she knew she could dispose)
Of a strong judgement, and a working braine;
Great Buckingham and Excester are those
Shee meanes to worke by, and by these restore,
Her to that height from whence she fell before.

These were the men to whom she trusted most,
To whom that faction much dispight had done,
For at Saint Albans Summerset had lost
His loved Sire, and Buckingham his Sonne:

The Duke of Excester taken out of the Sanctuary at Westminster.

And Excester pursude from Coast to Coast;
From them enforc'd to Sanct'ary to runne:
Fetcht thence by them, and to colde Pomfret sent,
And in a dungeon miserably pent.

Equall in envie, as in pride and power:
With ev'ry ayde to their designment fraught:
Taking their turnes at ev'ry fitting houre;
They on the Kings much easinesse so wrought,
As that they seem'd him wholly to devoure,
Untill to passe their purposes they brought,
Lifting up still his spirit that was so poore,
Once more to doe as he had done before.

For which at Greenwich he a Counsell held
Where, with th'opinion of those friends supplide,

The Duke of Yorke, the Earles of Salisbury and Warwick put out of office.

Those three which late with glorious titles sweld,
Are from their sev'rall places put aside;
Yet more to seeke their safety are compeld,
At this prodigious turning of the tide:
For now the winde was strangely come about,
And brings them in who lately were shut out.

The cruell Queene and cunningly had cast,
At Coventry to cause them to appeare,
With shew to pardon all that had beene past,
If they (but then) would their Allegiance sweare;
Which had they done, that day had bene their last,
For shee had plotted to destroy them there:
Of which forewarnd, immediatly they fled,
Which then their safety onely promised.

Yet whilst one wrong, thus from another rose,
Twixt them at last a Meeting was ordain'd,

The Queene had plotted to have the Duke murthered at Coventry.

All former strife and quarrels to compose,
Which but too long betwixt them had remain'd,
Which to the World though handsomely it showes,
Yet in plaine truth, all was but meerely fain'd
To outward seeming, yet are perfect friends:
“But divellish folke, have still their divellish ends.

And in precession solemnely they goe,
In generall joy, one smiling on the other,

A solemn precession in Pauls by both the factions

A Yorkist and Lancastrian make up two,
Envie and malice, brother, like to brother,
In minde farre sundred, although coupled so,
Bloudy revenge and in their brests they smother;
Ill's the precession (and fore runs much losse,
“Wherein men say, the Devill beares the Crosse.)

These Rights of peace religiously perform'd
To all mens thinking, the enraged Queene,
At Warwicks greatnesse inwardly yet storm'd

The Queene inwardly gruching at Warwickes greatnesse.

(Which every day still more and more was seene,)
Against the king, who Callice so had Arm'd,
As it his owne inheritance had beene.
Which towne she saw that if he still should hould,
That shee by him must howrely be contrould.

For which his murther she pursu'd so fast,
As that shee soone and secretly had layd,
Such to assault him, as the Streets he past,

Warwicke in perill to have bin slaine passing the street.

As if his brave name had not brought him ayde,
He of her vengance had beene sure to tast,
The Tragique Sceane so furiously was playd,
That he from London was inforst to flye;
Like a rough sea her mallice wrought so hye.

And t'owards the Duke his speedy Journey takes,
Who then at Middleham made his most aboad,
Which Salsbury his habitation makes,
Whereas their tyme together they bestow'd,
Whose courages the Earle of Warwick wakes,
When he to them his suddaine danger show'd
With a pale visage, and doth there disclose,
Her brands sett on him both in wounds and blowes.

This wrong in counsell, when they had discust,
And way'd the danger wherein still they were,
Continuall Treasons shrouded in their trust,
Nor other hopes else likely to appeare,
They find that this might make a warre seeme just,
And give their cause up to the world more cleere,
To rise in Armes when they resolve at last,
To raise them force, and wisely thus forecast.

To muster up their Tenants and their friends,
Not as a Warre upon the Land to bring,
Nor to advance their owne sinister ends,
Nor wrong a Subject in the smallest thing,
Onely to guard them (as their case then stands)
Till they had show'd their greevance to the King,
And give their power to Salsbury to guide,
That with the King the bus'nesse should decide.

With this direction Salsbury is sent,
Warwick to Callice (with what hast he may)
By his much speed a mischiefe to prevent,
Fearing the Towne might else be given away,
The Duke of Yorke by generall consent,
At Midleham Castell they alot to stay;
To raise a second power (if neede should be)
To re-inforce them, or to set them free.

The Queene who heard (by such as were her owne)
With that false Earle how those of Cheshire sided,
As in short time how powerfull he was growne,
Thinks with her selfe the Shire might be divided,
If that her love to some of them were knowne,
Which eas'ly might be, were her pleasure guided
By some such person, of whose valour they,
Had an opinion, which shee thus doth lay,

Causing the King to give a large command,
To James Lord Awdley, powerfull in those parts,
To raise him force those Rebels to withstand;
Such to their Soveraigne as had loyall harts,
And to make Captaines over ev'ry Band,
Men of the best blood, as of best desarts,
Which he so laboured, till that he had brought
That t'halfe of one house, gainst the other fought.

So that two men arising from one bed,
Falling to talke, from one another flye:

The men of Cheshire divided in the quarell.

This weares a white Rose, and that weares a red;
And this a Yorke, that Lancaster doth crye:
He wisht to see that Awdley well had sped:
He prayes againe to prosper Salsbury:
And for their farewell, when their leaves they take,
They their sharpe swords at one another shake.

This fire in ev'ry family thus set,
Out goe the Browne Bills, with the well-strung Bowes,
Till at Blore-heath these boystrous souldiers met,

The Battaile at Blore-heath.

For there it chanc'd the Armies then to close,
This must not live, if that he strove to let;
Never such friends yet ere became such Foes,
With downe-right strokes they at each other lay,
No word for Cheshire was, but kill, and slay.

The Sonne (as some report) the Father slue,
In opposition as they stoutly stood,
The Nephew seene the Unckle to pursue,

A great slaughter of Cheshire men.

Bathing his sword in his owne naturall blood:
The Brother in his Brothers gore imbrue
His guilty hands, and at this deadly food:
Kinsman kills Kinsman, which together fall,
As hellish fury had possest them all.

The Lord Audley slaine.

Here noble Tutchet the Lord Audley dide,
(Whose Father wan him such renowne in France)
And many a Cheshire Gentleman beside,
Fell at this Field by Warres uncertaine chance:
These miseries Queene Margarite must abide,
Whilst the proud Yorkists doe themselves advance:
And poore King Henry on a Pallet lay,
And scarcely ask'd which side had got the day.

Thus valiant Audley at this Battaile slaine,
And all those friends to the Lancastrians lost:
Cheshire by her such domage to sustaine:
So much deere blood had this late Conflict cost:
Wherefore the greeved Queene with might and maine,
Labours for life to raise a second Host:
Nor time therein she meaneth to forslowe,
Either shee'll get all, or will all forgoe.

And whilst their friends them forces gathering were,
(The neighbouring Realmes of this great bus'nesse ring)
The Duke, and those, that to his part adhere
Proclaymed Traytors; pardon promising
To those at Blore that Armes did lately beare:
So they would yet cleave to their lawfull King,
Which drue in many to their part againe,
To make their full, they Yorkists in their wane.

Yorke who perceiv'd the puissant Host prepar'd,
With his deare Nevils, Counsels what to doe,
For it behov'd him, to make good his Guard
With both their strengthes and all to little too;
And in the Marches he no labour spar'd,
To winne his friends along with him to goe:
With expedition which he could not get,
On the Kings side the Commons so were set.

And being to meete so absolute a power,
Yet wanting much his party good to make;
And Henryes proclamations ev'ry howre:
His Souldiers winne their Generall to forsake,
Besides the storme which rais'd this suddaine shower:
Them all in sunder likely was to shake:
He sawe his safety to consist in flight:
Thus e'r he wist, o'rmastred in his might.

All on the Spurre for life away they post,
Their homes too hot, nor there they might abide:
The three brave Earles soone reach the Westerne Coast,

Edward Earle of March, eldest sonne to the Duke, the Earles of Salsbury & Warwicke.

From whence to Callice their straight course they plyde:
The Duke to Wales being there befriended most:
Yet for more safety he to Ireland hyde:
So others ship themselves from ev'ry bay,
And happiest he that soon'st could get away.

As when a Route of rave'nous Wolves are met,
T'assayle some Heard the Desart pasturing neare,

A Simily.

The watchfull Clownes which over them are set,
Oft taught before their Tiranny to feare,
With dogges, with staves, and showts together get,
Nor never leave till they their Chattell cleare:
So the Kings power the Yorkists still pursue,
Which like those Wolves before those Heardsmen flewe.

They gone, the King at Coventry begun,
A Parliament, by good advice, wherein,

A Parliament at Coventry.

The Duke of Yorke, with th'Earle of March his sonne,
With Salsbury and Warwick who had bin
Conspirators, much mischiefe and had done,
And by whose helpe he hapt so much to win:
He there attaynts of Treason, and bestowes
All that was theirs, upon his friends, their foes.

When now those Earles in Callice still that kept
The charge whereof proud Warwick on him tooke:
In their intended bus'nesse never slept:
Nor yet their former enterprise forsooke,
In t'Henryes Counsailes who had those that crept,
And did each day his actions over-looke:
From whom as their advertisements still are,
So they their strengthes accordingly prepare.

And in meane time the Kingdome to embroyle,
That with lesse noyse their friends might raise an Host,
They plague the Seas with Piracie and spoyle:
And rob the Havens all along the Coast:
They ne'r take pitty of their Native soyle:
For that they knew this would avayle them most,
That whilst the State was busied there about,
Armes might be rais'd within, by those without.

And slaughtering many that were set to warde
Th'especiall Ports; th'unweldy Anchors wayde
Of the Kings Ships, whose fraught as Prize they sharde,
And them to Callice carefully convay'd
With their stolne Fleet, and his great Navy darde,
As late by Land, so now by Sea they sway'd:
All in Combustion, and their bloody rage,
Nor Sea, nor Land can possibly asswage.

Then have they Forces rais'd for them in Kent,
Their next and most convenient place to land,
(Where should the Adverse power their hopes prevent,
In Dover Road yet were their Ships at hand)
And by their Posts still too and fro that went;
They certainly were let to understand,
That Kent was surely theirs, and onely stayde
To rise in Armes the Yorkists power to ayde.

When Falconbridge, who second brother was
To Salsbury, they send away before,
To see no Ships should out of Sandwich passe,
To hinder them in comming to the shore;
There of Munition tooke a wondrous Masse
Heapt in that Towne, that with th'aboundant store,
He Armed many at their comming in,
Which of their side would scarsely else have bin.

That they no sooner setled were on Land,

The men of Kent rise with the Yorkists.

But that in Armes th'rebellious Kentish rose,
And the Lord Cobham with a mighty band,
With their Calicians presently doth close;
That now they sway'd all with a powerfull hand,
And in small time so great their Armie growes
From Sussex, Surry, and those parts about,
That of her safety, London well might doubt.

But yet at last the Earles shee in doth let,
To whom the Clergy comming day by day,
From further sheers them greater forces get,
When towards Northampton making foorth their way,
Where the sad King his Army downe had set,
And for their comming onely made his stay,
With all the force his friends could him afford,
And for a fight with all things fitly stor'd.

Who in his march the Earle doth oft molest,
(By their Vauntcurrers hearing how he came)
In many a straight, and often him distrest,
By stakes and trenches that his Horse might lame,
But the stout Yorkists still upon them prest:

The name of Warwicke fearefull to his enemies.

And still so fearefull was great Warwicks name,
That being once cryde on, put them oft to flight,
On the Kings Army till at length they light.

When th'Earle of March then in the pride of blood,
His Virgine valour on that day bestowes,
And furious Warwick like a raging flood,
Beares downe before him all that dare oppose,
Olde Salsbury so to his tackling stood,
And Fauconbridge so layes amongst his foes,
That even like leaves, the poore Lancastrians fall,
And the proud Yorkists beare away the Ball.

There Humphrey Duke of Bukingham expir'd,

A great slaughter of the Nobility at Northampton.

King Henrys comfort and his causes friend,
There Shrewsbury (even of his foes admir'd
For his high courage) his last breath doth spend,
Brave Beamout there, and Egremount lay tyr'd
To death, there Lucy had his lucklesse end,
And many a noble Gentleman that day,
Weltring in gore, on the wilde Champion lay.

The wretched King, as Fortunes onely scorne,
His Souldiers slaine, and he of all forsaken,
Left in his Tent; of men the most forlorne,
(The second time) a Prisoner there is taken;
The wofull Queene out of the Battaile borne
In a deepe swound; and when she doth awaken,
Nothing about her heares, but howles, and cries,
Was ever Queenes like Margarites miseries?

Yorke comming in from Ireland in the end,
And to his hands thus findes the Battaile wonne,
By the high Prowesse of his faithfull friend,
Great Warwick, and that valiant March his sonne,
His present hopes the former so transcend,
That the proud Duke immediatly begun,
By his bold Actions to expresse his thought,
Through so much blood, what he so long had sought.

The Kings Command'ment daring to denie,
His Soveraigne Lord being call'd to wayte upon,

The Duke of Yorks insolence.

And on his Fortune beares himselfe so hie,
That he in State presumes t'ascend his Throane:
From the Kings Lodgings puts his Servants by,
And placeth in them such as were his owne:
So infinitely insolent he growes,
As he the Crowne at pleasure would dispose.

When he procures a Parliament with speed,
In which himselfe Protector he doth make,
And onely Heire apparent to succeed
The King; when Death him from the world should take:
And what had beene at Coventry decreed,
He there annulls, from him and his to shake
The servile yoke of all subjection quite,
Downe goes the red Rose, and up goes the white.

And he with Fortune that this while doth sport,
Seeing the Southerne to him still were sure;
Thinks to the North, if he should but resort,
He to his part the Northerne should procure,
Seeking all wayes his greatnesse to support:
Nor would an equall willingly endure:
Downe into Yorkshire doth to Sandall ride,
Whose lofty scyte well suted with his pride.

The Queene impatient of the Dukes Pride.

The vexed Queene whose very soule forgot,
That such a thing as patience it had knowne,
And but she found her friends forsooke her not,
As madde as ever Hecuba had growne,
Whilst both her wrongs, and her revenge were hot,
Her mighty minde, so downe could not be throwne,
But that once more the bloody Sett sheele play
With York, ere so he beare the Crowne away.

And downe to Sandall doth the Duke pursue,
With all the power her friends could her provide,
Led by those Lords that had beene ever true,
And had stood fast upon King Henrys side,
With that most valient and selected crue,
This brav'st of Queenes, so well her businesse plide,
That comming soone in Sandals lofty sight,
Into the Field she dares him forth to fight.

And for this Conflict there came on with her
Her hope Prince Henry, her deare onely Sonne,
Stout Somerset, and noble Excester,
Dukes, that for Margarite mighty things had done,
Devon and Wilt, Earles using to conferre
With this wise Queene, when Danger shee would Shunne;
Undaunted Clifford, Rosse in warre up brought,
Barrons as brave as ere in battaile fought.

When this stout Duke who in his Castle stood,
With Salisbury (who beat them all at Blore,)

The Dukes haste the cause of his ruine.

Both which were flesht aboundantly with bloud,
In those three Battailes they had wonne before,
Thought in their pride, it would be ever Flood,
Nor gainst Queene Margarite that they needed more,
For they led Fortune chain'd with them about,
That of their Conquest none but fooles could doubt.

And for the Field soone Marshalling their force,
All poore delayes they scornefully defie,
Nor will the Duke stay for those troopes of Horse,
With which his Sonne him promist to supply,
In spight of Fate they'll give their Foe the worse;
On their owne valour they so much relye,
And with five thousand marshald well they come,
Meaning to charge the Queenes maine Battell home.

But in her Host she having those that were
Expert in all the Stratagems of Warre,
To fight with him doe cause her to forbeare,
Till from his Castle she had got him farre,
Whilst in an ambush she had placed there:
Wiltshire, and Clifford with their strengthes to barre
Him from his home, in off'ring to retire,
Or wound his back even as they would desire.

When too't they fell upon an easie Plaine,
At the hill foote, where furiously they fought
Upon both sides where there were many slaine:
But for the Queene, foure to his one had brought:
The Duke of Yorke for all his pride was faine
Back to recoyle, where he was finely caught,
For Wilt and Clifford that in Ambush were,
The Van thus rowted, overthrew the Reare.

Where Yorke himselfe, who proudly but of late,
With no lesse hope then of a Kingdome fed,
Upon this Field before his Castle gate,
Mangled with wounds, on his owne earth lay dead,
Upon whose Body Clifford downe him sate,
Stabbing the corpes, and cutting off his head,
Crown'd it with paper, (and to wreake his teene)
Presents it so to the victorious Queene.

His Bastard Unckles both couragious Knights,
Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer so sped,
Hall, Hastings, Nevill, who in sundry fights
Had show'd their valour, on the field found dead:
And Salsbury amongst these Tragick sights,

The Earle of Salsbury beheaded.

Who at Blore heath so much deare blood had shed,
Taken a live, to Pomfret sent with speed,
And for their bloods, himselfe there made to bleed.

Some clime up Rocks, through Hedges other runne,
There foes so roughly execute their rage,
Where th'Earle of Rutland the Dukes youngest sonne,
Then in his Childhood and of tender Age,
Comming in hope to see the Battaile wonne,
Clifford whose wrath no rigour could asswage,

The end of young Rutland.

Takes, and whilst there he doth for mercy kneele,
In his soft bosome sheathes his sharpned steele.

Edward of March, the Duke his Father slaine,
Succeeding him, whilst things thus badly sort,
Gathering an Army, but yet all in vaine,
To ayde his Father, for he came too short,
Hearing that Penbrooke with a Warlike trayne,
Was comming tow'rds him, touch'd with the report,
His valiant Marchers for the field prepares,
To meete the Earle, if to approach he dares.

Jasper by birth halfe Brother to the King,
On bright Queen Katherine got by Owen Tether,
Whom Henryes love did to this Earledome bring,
And as from Wales descended sent him thither,
And of South-Wales gave him the governing,
Where in short time he got an Host together,
Cleaving to Henry who did him prefer
As an Alye to th'house of Lancaster.

Upon their March when as they lastly met,
Neere to the Crosse that Mortimer is nam'd,

The Battell at Mortimers Crosse.

Where they in order their Battalions set:
The Duke and Earle with equall rage enflam'd,
With angry eyes they one the other threat,
Their deadly Arrowes at each other aym'd:
And there a fierce and deadly fight begin,
A bloodier Battell yet there had not bin.

The Earle of Ormond, an Associate then,
With this young Tudor, for the King that stood,
Came in the Vanguard with his Irish men,
With Darts, and Skaynes; those of the British blood,
With Shafts and Gleaves them seconding againe,
And as they fall, still make their places good,
That it amaz'd the Marchers to behold,
Men so ill Arm'd upon their Bowes so bold.

Now th'Welch and Irish so their weapons weeld,
As though themselves they Conquerours meant to call,
Then are the Marchers Masters of the Field:
With their browne Bills the Welchmen so they mall,
Now th'one, now th'other likely were to yeeld:
These like to flye, then those were like to fall,
Untill at length (as Fortune pleas'd to guide)
The Conquest turn'd upon the Yorkists side.

Three Sunnes were seene that instant to appeare,
Which soone againe shut up themselves in one,
Ready to buckle as the Armies were,

Three sunnes seene at one time.

Which this brave Duke tooke to himselfe alone,
His drooping hopes which some what seem'd to cheere,
By his mishaps, neere lately overthrowne,
So that thereby encouraging his men,
Once more he sets the White-Rose up agen.

100

Pembroke and Ormond save themselves by flight,
Foure thousand Souldiers of both Armies dead,
But the great losse on the Lancastrians light,
So ill the Freinds of poore King Henry sped;

Owen Tudors end.

Where Owen Tudor taken in the flight,
This yong Earles father, by Queene Katherins bed)
At Hereford not farre away from thence,
Where others with him dyde for their offence.

This while the Queene, the Gole at Sandall gain'd
Leades on tow'rds London her victorious Host,
Whose blades she showes, with blood of Yorkists stain'd
Nor of her Conquest can she leave to boast;
But to her side, whilst lucky Fortune lean'd,
Come, what can come, shee meanes to cleare the Coast,
Of those shee knew in Yorks revenge would rise,
Found she not meanes, their Forces to surprise.

And at Saint Albans finding on her way,
John Duke of Norfolke, and her divellish foe:
Fierce Warwick who there with an Army lay,
Which two, deceased Yorke when he should goe
To Sandall, left them as his onely kay,

King Henry left before to the keeping of the Duke of Norfolke, and the Earle of Warwick.

To keepe King Henry (which they not forslowe)
Lest by the Queene and hers he might be wrought,
T'annull their late past Parliament for nought.

For which to Counsell, calling up her Lords,
Well to consider what was to be done,
Who cheere her up with comfortable words,
And would in no wise she her way should shunne:
For they would make her entrance with their swords:
Here what was lost, might here againe be wonne,
Assuring her, their mindes them strongly gave,
That of this Field the glory shee should have.

And soone their Army ordering for the ground,
Whereof a view they ev'ry way doe take:
When for Assault they bid their Trumpets sound,
And so their entry on the Towne they make:
But comming to the Market-place, they found
A shower of Shafts, as from a Cloud it brake,
Which backe againe made them so fast to beare,
As that their Van, was like to route their Reare.

101

But thus repuls'd, another way they prove,
How in upon their Enemie to get,
Which makes their Foes, that they their Force remove,
To stop that passage wherein they were set,
That whilst, they Shafts into each other shove,
For a long while it was an even bet,
Death being thus dealt, and both so deeply in,
Whether proud Warwick, or the Queene should win.

But by the Queene constrayned to recoyle,
Their ground from them they absolutely wonne,
When they the Yorkists miserably spoyle,
And in with them on their mayne Battell runne:
Which being greatly straytned by the soyle,
They could not doe what else they might have done:
Through thick and thin, o'r hedge and ditch that take,

The Queene getteth the day at Saint Albans.

And happiest he that greatest hast could make.

Whilst Warwick cryes, yee Southerne Cowards stay,
And once more turne your faces to your Foes,
Tis feare, not danger doth yee thus dismay:
O prove the former fortune of your Bowes,
Thinke but upon the late-wonne glorious day
Got in this place; the fame whereof you lose
By your base flight; but he his breath might spare,
He might as well have call'd upon the Ayre.

Scatter'd like Sheepe by Wolves that had bin scar'd,
So runne the Yorkists; which, when Norfolke sawe,
He calls to Warwick scarsely then prepar'd,

The Yorkists Army discomfited at this second Battell at Saint Albans.

Himselfe out of this danger to withdrawe:
My Lord (quoth he) you see that all is mard:
Fortune hath sworne to keepe us in her awe:
Our lives are gone if longer here we stay,
Loose not your selfe, though we have lost the day.

And for they found the Foe came on so fast,
The King by them to this lost Battell brought,
And under guard in his Pavillion plac't,
Th'are forc'd to leave (which late they little thought)
For there were those which made them make such hast,
They could not stay to have their Soveraigne sought:

King Henry of no account.

But since the Battell, had such ill successe,
That lost, they thought their losse of him the lesse.

102

The Foe thus fled, they quickly found the King,
From whom a speedy Messinger is sent,
His Wife, and Sonne, away to him to bring,

The King meetes with the Queene and her sonne.

Who with their Lords ariving at his Tent,
Where after many a Fall and many a Spring,
Of teares of joy upon each other spent,
Which strict embraces they each other straine,
No one had neede a gladnesse there to faine.

Like as you see when Partridges are flowne,
(In Falconers termes which we the Covy call)
By the sharpe Hawke, and into Thickets throwne,

A Simily.

There drops downe one, there doth another fall:
Yet when they heare the questing Spaniels gone,
They in the evening get together all,
With pretty jugging and each other greete,
Glad as it were they once againe should meete.

But the fierce Queene, her full revenge to take,
Of those she thought the Yorkists well that ment,
The stout Lord Bonvile for King Henryes sake,

The cruelty of the Queen.

And Thomas Kerrill, a brave Knight of Kent,
Who the Kings Guard strove ever strong to make,
All threatning perill thereby to prevent;
And for their safeties had his Soveraigne word,
That cruell woman putteth to the sword.

This well might warne great Warwick not to trust
Too much to Fortune, which so soone reveales
Her whorish lightnesse; like an Averse gust,
And on the suddaine makes him strike his Sayles,
Which when he most beleev'd her to be just,
His forward hopes then most of all shee fayles:
All his accounts, and teach him thus to summe,
“None overcomes, but may be overcome.

Some thinke that Warwick had not lost the day,
But that the King into the Field he brought,
For with the worse, that side went still away,

King Henry ever most infortunate.

Which had King Henry with them when they fought,
Upon his birth so sad a curse they lay,
As that he never prospered in ought,
The Queene wanne two, amongst the losse of many,
Her Husband absent, present, never any.

103

But whilst her selfe with further hopes she fed,
The Queene still watchfull, wisely understands,
That Warwick late, who at Saint Albans fled,
(Whereas his heeles serv'd better then his hands,)
Had met the Duke of Yorke, and made a head
Of many fresh, and yet unfought-with bands,
At Chipping-norton for more forces stay'd,
From whence towards London they their march had laid.

And for shee saw the Southerne to adhere,

The Londoners deny the Queen victuaile for her Army.

Still to the Yorkists, who againe relyde
Much on their ayde, as London she doth feare,
A small reliefe which lately her denyde,
She can (at all) conceive no comfort there,
With any succours, nor to be supply'd,
But to the North her speedy course directs,
From whence fresh aydes she every day expects.

Not foure dayes march yett fully on her way,
But Yorke to London with his Army comes,

The Duke of Yorke entreth London with applause of the people.

And nere the Walls his Ensignes doth display
Deaffing the City with his clamorous Drummes,
His Title so the multitude doth sway,
That for his Souldiers they provide him Summes,
And those provisions, they Queene Margarit ow'd,
Taken from hers, they on the Duke bestowde.

The Gates set open to receive him in,
They with applause his gracious entrance greet,
His presence so the Peoples hearts doth winne,
That they come flocking in from every street,
Kneeling before him as he Crown'd had beene,
And as he rode along, they kisse his feet,
Whilst good King Henry towards the North is gone,
The poore Lancastrians damn'd by every one.

Whither (at once) doth presently repaire
The Spirituall Lords, and Temporall, who would have
Him take the Crowne, who farre more ready are
To give, then he their suffrages to crave:
The Commons take him so into their care,
Upon his name that dotingly they rave,
And being ask'd who should their Soveraigne be,
They cry King Edward, and no man but he.

104

Thus to his hight this puissant Prince they heave,
The seat Imperiall; where then sitting downe,
Their fealty they force him to receave,
Which on his head might firmely fixe his Crowne,
And in his hand the Regall Scepter leave:

Edward made King by the suffrage of the Commons.

Edward the fourth proclaym'd in ev'ry Towne,
With all the pompe that they could thinke upon,
They then adorne his Coronation.

This newes too quickly in Queene Margarites eare,
What by the Lords at London had beene done,
Even at the point to fall into dispaire,
Ready she was on her owne death to runne;
With her faire fingers rents her golden haire,
Cursing that houre when first she saw the Sunne,
With rage she faints; reviving, and doth call
Upon high heav'n for vengeance on them all.

To ayde her right yet still excites her friends,
By her faire speech inchanted (as by Charmes)
Scarce any man on any Lord depends
That followes her, that riseth not in Armes:
The spacious North such plentious succour sends,
That to her side the Souldiers come in swarmes:
Thus day by day she addeth more and more
To that full Army, which shee had before.

Not long it was but Edward understood,
Of this great power prepared in the North,
When he to make his Coronation good,

King Edward marches from London to meete his Enemies in the North.

Calls to his ayde his friends of greatest worth,
With whom, then rising like a raging flood:
This forward King breakes violently forth,
That with the helpe of Tributary flowes,
Extends his breadth still onward as he goes.

Nor Henries Army needed to be sought,
For every man could tell him where it lay:
In twelve dayes march which Edward eas'ly rought,
Without resistance keeping on his way,
Nere fifty thousand, in his Host he brought,
Whose brandish'd Ensignes seem'd to brave the day:
And under Pomfret his proud Tents he pight,
Providing hourely for a deadly fight.

105

Of Henryes Host when they who had command,
On whom the Queene imposed had the care:
Great Somerset, and stout Northumberland,
And Clifford whom no danger yet could dare:
The Walls of Yorke first having throughly man'd,
There plac'd the King; when quickly they prepare
To range their Battell, which consisted then
Of threescore thousand valiant Northerne men.

From Edwards Host the Lord Fitzwater went,
And valiant Nevill, Warwicks Bastard brother,

The Lord Fitz-water and Bastard Nevill slaine.

At Ferry-Bridge the Passage to prevent
From comming over Eyre, to keepe the other;
Gainst whom the Adverse, the Lord Clifford sent,
Who taking night his enterprise to smother:
The dawne yet dusky, passing through a Ford,
Puts them, and all their Souldiers to the Sword.

At the shrill noyse when Warwicke comming in,
And findes his Brother and Fitzwater dead,
Even as a man distracted that had bin:
Out of his face the lively coulour fled:
Doth cruell Clifford thus (quoth he) begin,

Warwicke vowes to revenge his brothers death.

For ev'ry drop of bloud that he hath shed,
This day, I'le make an Enemy to bleed,
Or never more in Battaile let me speed.

And to the King returning in this mood:
My Liege (quoth he) all mercy now defie,
Delay no longer to revenge their blood;
Whose mangled bodies breathlesse yonder lie:
And let the man that meanes King Edwards good
Stand fast to Warwick, who no more shall flie:
Resolv'd to winn, or bid the world adue,

Warwicks desperate resolution.

Which spoke, the Earle his sprightly Courser slue.

This resolution so extreamely wrought
Upon King Edward, that he gave command,
That on his side who willingly not fought,
Should have his leave, to quit him out of hand;
That ev'ry one should kill the man he cought,

No Quarter kept at Towton.

To keepe no Quarter, and who meant to stand
In his just cause, rewarded he would see,
This day he'll rise, or this day ruin'd be.

106

When neere to Towton on the spacious Playne
These puissant Armies, on Palme-Sunday met,
Where downe-right slaughter angry Heav'n doth rayne,

Towton field.

With clouds of Rage the Element is set:
The windes breath Fury, and the earth againe
With the hot gore of her owne Natives wet,
Sends up a smoke, which makes them all so mad,
Of neither part that mercy could be had.

One horrid sight another doth appall:
One fearefull crie another doth confound,
Murthers so thick upon each other fall,
That in one shreeke anothers shreeke is dround,
Whilst blood for blood incessantly doth call,
From the wide mouth of many a gaping wound;
Slaughter so soone growes big, that comm'n to birth,
The monstrous burthen over-loades the earth.

This bloody Tempest ten long houres doth last,
Whilst neither side could to it selfe assure
The Victory; but as their lot was cast,
With wounds and death they stoutly it endure,
Untill the valiant Yorkists at the last,
Although in number neere ten thousand fewer:
In their long Fight their forces mannage so,
That they before them lay their conquer'd foe.

Couragious Clifford first here fell to ground,
Into the throat with a blunt Arrow struck:
Here Westmerland receiv'd his deadly wound:

A miserable defect of the Queenes friends.

Here dy'd the stout Northumberland that stuck
Still to his Soveraigne; Wells and Dacres found
That they had lighted on King Henryes luck:
Trowlup and Horne two brave Commanders dead,
Whilst Summerset and Excester were fled:

The greatest slaughter in all that civill Warre.

Thirty two thousand in this Battaile slaine,
Many in strayts lye heap'd up like a wall:
The rest lye scatter'd round about the Playne,
And Cocke a River, though but very small,
Fill'd with those flying; doth so deeply stayne
The River Wharfe, in t'wich this Cocke doth fall,
As that the Fountaine which this flood doth feede,
Besides their blood, had seem'd for them to bleede.

107

King Henryes hopes thus utterly forlorne,
By the late losse of this unlucky day:
He feeles the Crowne (even) from his Temples torne
On his sword point, which Edward beares away:

The King and Queene forc'd to forsake the Land.

And since his fall the angry Fates had sworne,
He findes no comfort longer here to stay:
But leaving Yorke, he post to Barwick goes
With's Queene and Sonne, true partners in his woes.

The King for Scotland, and for France the Queene,
Divided hence, since them thus Fortune thwarts,
Before this time there seldome had beene seene,
Two to be sever'd with so heavy harts:
The Prince their sonne then standing them betweene,
Their song is sorrow, and they beare their parts:
He to the King of Scots, to get supplies,
Shee to the French King, and her Father flies.

Which well might showe a Princes slippery state,
For when she hether at the first came in,
England and France did her congratulate,
Then in two Battailes she had Conqueror bin,
Seeming to tread upon the Yorkists hate,
As from that day she had beene borne to win:
Now to sayle back with miseries farre more,
Then were her tryumphes landing here before.

This cruell blowe to the Lancastrians lent,
At fatall Towton that Palme-Sunday fight,
Where so much blood they prodigally spent,
To France and Scotland as inforc'd their flight,
Lifts up the Yorkists to their large extent,
And Edward now to see his Crowne sat right,
Proud in his spoyles, to London doth repaire,
And re-annoynted mounts th'Imperiall Chaire.

Where he a speedy Parliament doth passe,
T'annull those Lawes which had beene made before:
Gainst his succession, and dissolve the Masse
Of Treasons heapt on his, them to restore:
Whereby King Henry so much lesned was,
As after that he should subsist no more,
Little then thinking Lancaster againe
Now but an Exile over him should raine.

108

Where he attaints as Traitors to his Crowne,
John Earle of Oxford and his valient Sonne
Aubry De Vere, with whom likewise went downe,

The Earle of Oxford and his Sonne attainted.

Mountgomery, Teril, Tudenham who were done
To death; so Heaven on Henry seemes to frowne,
And Summerset King Edwards wrath to shunne,
Himselfe submitting is reciv'd to grace,
Such is Queene Margarits miserable case.

Henry in Scotland, the sad Queene the while,
Is left to France, to Lewis there to sue,
To lend her succour; scorning her exile,
In spight of Fate she will the warre renew,

Queene Margarit a woman of an undainted spirit.

She will tempt Fortune till againe she smile,
In such a pitch her mighty spirit still flew;
That should the world oppose her, yet that strength,
She hopes shall worke up her desires at length.

And with five thousand valient Volunteers,
Of native French, put under her Command,
With Armes well fitted she towards Scotland steeres,
With which before she possibly could land,

The Queene in every enterprise most unfortunate.

The wrath of Heaven upon this Queene appeares,
And with fierce Tempests strive her to withstand,
The windes make warre against her with her Foe,
Which Join'd together worke her overthrowe.

Her Forces thus infortunatly lost,
Which she in Scotland hop'd to have encreast,
And in this tempest she her selfe so tost,
As never Lady; yet she here not ceast,
But since she found her interprise thus crost,
She to the Scottish her faire course adrest,
Nor would desist till she had raisde agen,
Ten thousand valient well-appointed men.

And in upon Northumberland doth breake,
Rowzing the Sluggish villages from sleepe,
Bringing in Henry though a helpe but weake,
But leaves her Sonne in Barwicke safe to keepe;

Queene Margarit rayseth a new Army.

Her ratling Drummes so rough a language speake,
The ruffling Scots, and all the Countrey sweepe;
Which rumor ran so fast with, through the ayre,
That Edward thought it shooke his very Chaire.

109

And Somerset receiv'd to grace before,
With Sir Ralphe Percy from that fatall day
At Towton; found each minute more and more
How sad a fate on the Lancastrians lay,

Some that had submitted themselves to King Edward, revolt at king Henryes comming.

Yet hoping now King Henry to restore,
Who they suppos'd had new found out the way,
Revolt from Edward, and in Henrys name
Call in their frends, to ayde him as he came.

This noise of Warre arising from the North,
In Edwards eares re-ecchoing bidds him stirre,
And Rumour tells him if he made not forth,
Queene Margarit com'n he must resigne to her,
For they were Captaines of especiall worth,
On whom shee did this mighty charge conferre;
For that her Ensignes she at large displai'd,
And as shee came so still came in her ayde.

For which his much lov'd Montacute he sends
With Englands valient Infantry his Pheres;
To whose wise guidance, he this Warre commends,
His Souldiers expert pickt in sundry sheeres:
His utmost strength King Edward now extends,
Which he must doe, or drag'd downe by the eares
From his late-gotten, scarsely-setled Throne,
And one his shoulders shee remount thereon.

And Mountacute had scarsely march'd away,
But he himselfe sets forward with an Host,
And a strong Navy likewise doth purvay,
To scoure the Seas and keepe the Brittish Coast,

King Edward provideth to resist Queene Margarites comming in.

Fearing from France fresh succours every day,
To ayde Queene Margarit which perplex'd him most,
For he perceiv'd his Crowne sate not so sure,
But might be shak'd should she her Powers procure.

Now is the North fild with refulgent Armes,
Edwards are English, Scots Queen Margarit brings,
The Norths cold bosome, this great concourse warmes,
Their Quarrell is the right of two great Kings,
Which oft before have wrought each others harmes,
And from that Roote, new horror dayly springs,
And though much blood they both had spent before,
Yet not so much, but that there must be more.

110

At Hegly-Heath their skirmishes begin,
Where two bold Barons Hungerford and Rosse,
With Sir Ralph Percy, he who late had bin

The Conflict at Hegly More.

Leagu'd with King Edward, but then gotten lose,
(Strives by all meanes to expyate that sin)
To the Lancastrian faction cleaves so close,
That when those Barrons from that Conflict flie,
In Henry's right, he bravely dares to die.

Which leads along as tragicall an Act,
As since the Warres had ever yet beene playd;
For Mountacute b'ing fortunately backt
By brave King Edwards comming to his ayde:
As of their force King Henry little lackt,

The Battaile of Exham.

The Playne call'd Livells where the sceane was layde:
Not farre from Exham neere to Dowills flood,
That day discoloured with Lancastrians blood.

There struck they Battaile, Bowmen Bowmen plide,
Northerne to Southerne, slaughter ceaseth all;
Long the Fight lasted e'r that either side
Could tell to which the Victory would fall:
But to the Yorkists fortune is so tide,
That she must come when they shall please to call,
And in his Cradle Henry had the curse,
That where he was, that side had still the worse.

This lucklesse day by the Lancastrians lost,
Was Summerset surprized in his flight,
And in pursuing of this scatter'd Host,
On Mullins, Rosse, and Hungerford they light,

Queene Margarites party goes still to wrack.

Which this dayes worke e'r long full dearely cost;
And with these Lords were taken many a Knight,
Nor from their hands could Henry hardly shift,
Had not his guide beene, as his Horse was, swift.

Still must Queene Margarites miseries endure,
This Masse of sorrow markt out to sustaine:
For all the aydes this time she should procure,
Are either taken, put to flight, or slaine;
Of nothing else she can her selfe assure,
That she will leave her losses to complaine:
For since she sees that still her friends goe downe,
She will curse Fortune if she doe not frowne.

111

Henry to flye to Scotland back is faine,
To get to France, the wofull Queene is glad,
There with her Sonne inforced to remaine,
Till other aydes might thence againe be had;

King Henry and the Queen part.

So them their hard necessities constraine,
To set them downe that it doth make me sad,
Never so thicke came miseries I weene,
Upon a poore King, and a woofull Queene.

This done King Edward, his strong Army sends
To take those Castles which not long before,
Had beene deliverd to King Henrys friends,
Which he by siedges makes them to restore,
And on the Borders watchfully attends,
To Henries ayde that there should come no more,
But ô behold as one ordain'd to ill,
The Fate that followes haplesse Henry still.

For out of some deepe melancholly fitt,
Or otherwise, as falne into despaire,

King Henry comming disguised into England is discovered, and taken prisoner.

Or that he was not rightly in his witt,
Being safe in Scotland, and still succour'd there;
Upon the sudaine he abandons it,
And into England Idly entring, where
He is surprisde, and (in his enemies power)
Is by King Edward shut up in the Tower.

This hap had Henry, who when he was borne,

King Henry was borne the greatest of Christian Kings.

Of Christian Kings the greatest then alive,
Now he the Crowne full forty yeeres had worne,
Doth all his Regall Soveraignety survive;
Of all men living and the most forlorne,
So strange a thing can Destiny contrive:
So many sundry Miseries as he,
No King before, had ever liv'd to see.

To heare all this Queene Margarite must endure,
Yet sadly to her Fathers Court confinde,
And now King Edward held himselfe secure,
When things fell out so fittly to his minde,
But when of rest he did himselfe assure,
Upon a suddaine rose so rough a winde,
In his strong hand, which shooke his Scepter more,
Then all the stormes that ere had blowne before.

112

For then in minde to league himselfe with France,
Which he perceiv'd, would be the surest way,
His question'd Tytle highly to advance;

The pollicie of King Edward.

And at his need should serve him for a kay,
To open him their pollicies; whose chance
Was then in casting, and they next to play;
For Margarite still the French King Lewes prest
For second aydes, nor would she let him rest.

Wherefore he sends a marri'ge to entreat,
With beauteous Bona (with whose rich report

Warwick sent into France to intreat for a marriage betwixt King Edward and Bona, the French Queens sister.

Fame was opprest with, as a taske too great)
The French Queenes sister, and with her in Court,
Warwick the man chose forth to worke the feat,
Who is sent thither in most sumptuous sort,
And in short time so well his bus'nesse plies,
That she was like to prove an English prize.

The Dutchesse of Bedford after John her husbands decease, was wedded to Sir Rich. Woodvile Knight, whose daughter this Lady was.

In the meane while this youthfull King by chance,
Comming to Grafton, where the Dutchesse lay,
Then stil'd of Bedford; his eye haps to glance
On her bright daughter the faire Widdow Gray,
Whose beauties did his senses so intrance,
And stole his heart so suddainly away;
That must he loose his Crowne, come weale, come woe,
She must be his, though all the world say no.

Her lookes like Lethe make him to forget,
Upon what bus'nesse he had Warwick sent;
Upon this Lady he his love so set,
That should his Crowne from off his head be rent,
Or his rebellious people rise, to let
This choyse of his, they should it not prevent:
For those pure eyes his bosome that had pierc'd,
Had writ a Law there, not to be revers'd.

What lesse amends this Lady can I make,
For her deare Husband in my quarrell slaine;

Her husband slaine at Saint Albons on the Kings part.

Then lawfull marri'ge which for Justice sake,
I must performe (quoth he) lest she complaine,
For a just Prince, so me the world shall take:
Soothing himselfe up in this amorous vaine,
With his affections in this sort doth play,
Till he a Queene made the faire Lady Gray.

113

This act of Edwards com'n to Warwicks eare,
And that the sequell show'd it to be true,
In his sterne eyes it eas'ly might appeare,
His heart too great for his straight bosome grew,
He his Commission doth in piece-meale teare,
Breakes the broad Seale, and on the ground it threw,
And prayes blest heav'n may curse him, if that he
For this disgrace revenged would not be.

Have I (quoth he) so lifted thee aloft,

Warwick expressing the wrong done him by King Edward in the three following Stanzas.

That to thy Greatnesse I the scorne am growne:
Have I for thee adventur'd beene so oft,
In this long Warre, as to the world is knowne,
And now by thee thus basely am I scoft,
By this disgrace upon me thou hast throwne:
If these thy wrongs unpunish'd slightly passe,
Hold Warwick base, and falne from what he was.

Know tw'as the Nevils for thy Tytle stood,
Else long e'r this layd lower then the ground,
And in thy cause my Father shed his blood,
None of our house, for thee, but beares some wound,
And now at last to recompence this good,
Onely for me this Guerdon hast thou found;
From thy proud head, this hand shall pluck thy Crowne,
Or if thou stand, then needes must Warwick downe.

Yet he to England peaceably repaires,
And with a smooth browe smothers his intent,
And to the King relates the French affaires,
As what in Court had past there since he went:

Warwicke deeply dissembles his discontent.

His spleene he for a fitter season spares,
Till he the same more liberally might vent:
Calme was his countenance, and his language faire,
But in his breast a deepe revenge he bare.

Meane while Queene Margarite (a poore Exile) heares,
How things in England (in her absence) went,
Her halfe-burst heart, which but a little cheeres:
For from her head she felt the Crowne was rent,
Yet though farre off a little glimpse appeares,
A seeming hope, and though it faintly lent,
It might have said, had not the Fates said no,
These stormes at home, might her some profit blowe.

114

She heares how Warwick cunningly had wrought,
George Duke of

George, second brother to King Edward, and by him created Duke of Clarence.

Clarence from his brothers side,
And that brave Youth at Callice having caught
His eldest daughter had to him affide,
How to rebell the

Warwick by his Agents had stirred up this Rebellion in the North, he himselfe being at Callice, that it might seeme not to be done by him: they had to their Captaines Henry Fitzhoward, Henry Nevill, and Sir John Coniers.

Northerne men were brought,
And who by Warwick poynted was their guide,
As on the

The Earle of Penbroke and his brother Richard Herbert overthrowne at Banbury field.

Welch he had a mighty hand,
By Edward rais'd those Rebels to withstand.

Of new

These Rebels had to their Captaine, one whom they termed Robin of Redsdale.

Rebellions at Northampton rais'd,
And to dispight the King what they had done,
How they at Grafton the Earle

The Earle Rivers was Father to the Lady Gray, then Queene of England.

Rivers seas'd,
And Sir John Woodvile his most hopefull sonne,
Who with their heads could hardly be appeas'd,
And of the Fame by puissant Warwick wonne:
Who having taken

The Earle taketh the King prisoner at Woolvey in Warwickshire entring upon this Campe suddainly in the night.

Edward in his Tent,
His King his prisoner into Yorkshire sent.

Then heares againe how Edward had escapt,
And by his friends a greater power had got,
How he the men of

They had to their Captaine Robert Wells, sonne to the Lord Wells, this was called Loosecoate field.

Lincolneshire intrapt,
Who neere to Stamford pay'd a bloody shot:
And when the Earle his course for Callice shapt,
When England lastly grew for him too hot,

The Lord Vaucleere a Gascoigne borne.

Vaucleere who there his Deputy he put,
The Ports against his late grand Captaine shut.

Lastly, she heares that he at

A knowne Port Towne of Normandy.

Deepe arives,
And lately com'n to

A Towne where then the French King lay.

Amboyes to the Court,
Whereas King Lewes to his utmost strives,
To entertaine him in most Princely sort:
When the wise Queene her bus'nesse so contrives,
That she comes thither, small what though her port;
Yet brings along the sweet young Prince her sonne,
To prove what good with Warwick might be done.

When both in

Queen Margarite and the Earle of Warwick met in the Court of France.

Court, and presence of the King,
Their due respect to both of them that gave:
He will'd them in so pertinent a thing,
That they the like should of each other have:
The teares began from both their eyes to spring,
That each from other Pitty seem'd to crave,
In gracefull manner when the greeved Queene
Thus to that great Earle, gently breathes her spleene.

115

Warwick, saith shee, how mercilesse a Foe

The Queenes speech to the Earle in the foure following Stanzas.

Hast thou beene still to my poore Child and me.
That villaine Yorke which hast advanced so,
Which never could have risen but for thee;
That valour thou on Edward didst bestow,
O hadst thou show'd for him, thou here dost see,
Our Damaske Roses had adorn'd thy Crest,
And with their wreathes thy ragged Staves bene drest.

First, at Saint Albans, at Northampton then,
And fatall Towton that most fearefull fight,
How many, nay, what multitudes of men,
By thee fierce Warwick slaine and put to flight;
O if thy Sword that ever stood for ten,
Had but beene drawne for Henry, and his right,
He should have built thee Trophyes everywhere,
Wrought with our Crowne, supported by thy Beare.

What glory had it wonne the Nevils name,
To have upheld the right succeeding race,
Of that fift Henry, he that was of Fame

Baron Faulconbridge was brother to Richard Nevill Earle of Salisbury, and Richard Earle of Warwicke, and John Marquesse Mountacute were Sonnes to the said Earle.

The onely Mineon; whom thou now dost trace,
But Salisbury the first against us came,
Then Falconbridge, and Mountacute, ô base,
To advance a Traitor to his Soveraigne thus,
But to our Crowne your name is ominous.

How many a brave Peere, thy too neere Allies,
(Whose losse the Babe that's yet unborne shall rue)
Have made themselves, a willing Sacrifice
In our just quarrell, who it rightly knewe,
Whose blood gainst Yorke and his adherents cryes,
(Whom many a sad curse ever shall pursue:)
O Warwick, Warwick, expiat this gilt,
By shedding theirs for whom our blood was spilt.

When in like language, this great Earle againe
Regreets the Queene, and wooes her to forbeare,

Warwickes reply in the two following Stanzas.

Of former greefe one thought to entertaine;
Things are not now, quoth he, as once they were,
To talke of these past help, it is in vaine,
What though it ease your heart, and please your eare,
This is not it, no, it must be our Swords
Must right our wrongs (deare Lady) not our words.

116

Madam (quoth he) by this my vexed heart,
On Edwards head, which oft hath wish'd the Crowne,
Let but Queene Margarite cleave to Warwicks part,
This hand that heav'd him up shall hewe him downe,
And if from Henry, Richard Nevill start,
Upon my House let Heaven for ever frowne;
Or backe the Crowne to this young Prince Ile bring,
Or not be Warwick if he be not King.

Prince Edward affyed to Anne the Earle of Warwicks daughter.

When they accord, Prince Edward should affye,
Anne the Earles Daughter, to confirme it more,
By Sacrament themselves they strictly tye,
By Armes againe King Henry to restore,
Or in the Quarrell they would live and dye,
Comprising likewise in the oath they swore,
That the Earle and Clarence should Protectors be
When they King Henry and the Prince should free.

When soone great Warwick into England sends,

Warwicke makes preparation for a new Warre.

To warne his friends that they for Warre prepare,
King Henrys Title, and to them commends,
That they should take his cause into their care,
Now is the time that he must trie his freinds,
When he himselfe gainst Edward must declare;
And when much strife amongst the Commons rose,
Whom they should ayde, or whom they should oppose.

Furnish'd with all things well befitting Warre,
By great King Lewes to Queene Margarite lent,
Warwick (whose name Fame sounded had so farre,
That men with wonder view'd him as he went,

Warwicke so famous that he was seene with wonder.

Of all men living the most popular)
Thought ev'ry houre to be but idely spent,
On Englands troubled earth untill he were,
To view the troupes attending for him there.

And in his Army tooke with him along,
Oxford, and Penbrooke, who had beene destroy'd,
By Edward, sworne now to revenge their wrong,
By Burgoyne the French Admirall convoy'd,
At whose Arive the shores with people throng:
At sight of Warwick, and so overjoy'd,
That ev'ry one, a Warwick, Warwick cries,
Well may the Red-Rose by great Warwick rise.

117

Like some blacke cloud, which hovering lately hung
Thrust on at last by th'windes impetious power
The groves and fields, comes raging in among,
As though both foules and flockes it would devoure,

A Simele.

That those abroad make to the shelters strong
To save themselves from the outragious shower;
So fly the Yorkists before Warwicks Drumms
Like a sterne tempest roaring as he comes.

When Edward late who wore the costly Crowne,
Himselfe so high and one his Fortunes bore,
Then heard himselfe in every place cry'd downe,
And made much lesse, then he was great before,
Nor dares he trust himselfe in any Towne,
For in the In-lands as along the shore,
Their Proclamations him a Traytor make,
And each man chardg'd against him Armes to take.

For which the Washes he is forc'd to wade
And in much perill lastly gets to Lin,
(To save himselfe such shift King Edward made
For in more danger he had never bin)
Where finding three Dutch Hulks which lay for trade

Warwick driveth King Edward out of the Kingdom.

The greatest of them he hires to take him in,
Richard his brother, Hastings his true friend,
Scarse worth one sword their persons to defend.

When Warwick now the onely Prince of power,
Edward the fourth out of the Kingdome fled,
Commands himselfe free entrance to the Tower

Warwicke takes King Henry out of the Tower.

And sets th'Imperiall wreath on Henryes head,
Brings him through London to the Bishops bower,
By the applauding people followed,
Whose shrill re-eccowing shouts resound from farre
A Warwick, Warwick, long live Lancaster.

And presently, a Parliament they call,
In which they attaynt King Edward in his blood

King Edward and his adherents attainted by act of Parliament.

The lands and goods made forfeitures of all
That in this quarrell, with proud Yorke had stood,
Their friends in their old honours they install
Which they had lost, now by an act made good,
Intayle the Crowne, on Henry and his heyres,
The next on Clarence should they faile in theirs,

118

Whilst Warwick thus King Henry doth advance,
See but the Fate still following the sad Queene,
Such Stormes and Tempests in that season chance,
Before that time as seldome had bin seene,
That twice from Sea she was forc'd backe to France,
As angry heaven had put it selfe betweene
Her and her Joyes, and would a witnesse be
That naught but sorow, this sad Queene must see.

This might have lent her comfort yet at last,
So many troubles having undergone,

Queene Margarite never sees any thing that might give her comfort.

And having through so many perils past,
T'have seene her husband setled on his Throne,
Yet still the skies with clowds are overcast,
Well might she heare, but of this sees she none,
Which from farre off, as flying newes doth greet her,
Naught but mischance, when she comes in must meet her.

But all this while King Edward not dismay'd

The Duke of Burgondie Brother in Law to King Edward, so was he alied to King Henrie by his Grandmother being the daughter of John of Gaunt.

His Brother Charles of Burgondy so plyes,
That though the subtill Duke on both sides play'd
Edward and Henry both his neere Allies;
Upon the Duke King Edward yet so layd,
(Having his sisters furtherance, who was wise)
That underhand, his strength he so restores,
As that he dar'd t'attempt the English shores.

With foureteene Shipps from th'Easterlings being hir'd,
And foure Burgonians excellently man'd,
After some time with stormes and tempests tyr'd,
He neere the mouth of Humber haps to land,
Where though the Beacons at his sight were fir'd,
Yet few or none his entrance doe withstand,
For that his frends had given it out before,
He sought the Dukedome, and he would no more.

Upon his march when forward as he came,

Yorke yeelded up to King Edward.

Resolv'd to trie the very worst of warre,
He Summons Yorke (whereof he bare the name)
To him her Duke, her Gates that doth unbarre,
And comming next to Rocke-reard Nottingham,
Mountgomery, Borough, Harrington & Par

Succours comming in to Edward.

Bring him their power; at Lecester againe,
Three thousand came, to Hastings that retaine.

119

To Coventry and keeping on his way,
(Sets downe his Army in the Citties sight)
Whereas that time the Earle of Warwick lay,
To whom he sends to dare him out to fight,

King Edward setts downe his Armie before Coventry, daring Warwicke to the field.

Which still the Earle deferrs from day to day,
Perceiving well, that all things went not right,
For with his succours Clarence came not in,
Whom to suspect he greatly doth beginne.

And not in vaine, for that disloyall Lord,
Taking those Forces he had levied, leaves
The Earle, and with his Brother doth accord,

Clarence revoults from his father in Lawe the Earle of Warwicke.

Which of all hope brave Warwick so bereaves;
That now King Edward hopes to be restor'd,
Which then too late the credulous Earle perceives,
Edward towards London with his Army sped,
To take the Crowne once more from Henries head.

The Queene in France this wofull newes that heard,
How farre through England Edward thus had past;
As how by Clarence (whom she ever fear'd)
Warwick behind hand mightily was cast,
This most undaunted Queene her hopes yet cheer'd,
By those great perills shee had lately past,
And from King Lewes doth three thousand presse,
To ayde her freinds in England in distresse.

Whilst she is busie gathering up those Aydes,
(In so short time) as France could her afforde,
Corragious Warwick basely thus betray'd

Warwicke followes the King towards London.

By Clarence lewdly falsifying his word,
The most coragious Earle no whitt dismayde,
But trusting still to his successefull Sword,
Followes the King, towards London march'd before,
Each day his Power increasing more and more.

But Edward by the Londoners let in,
Who in their Gates his Army tooke to guard,
Warwick this while that trifling had not bin,
But with a Power sufficiently prepar'd
T'approch the Citty bravely doth begin

King Edward setts out of London to meete Warwicke.

To dare the King, who lately him had dar'd,
Who then from London his arm'd Forces leades,
Towards where his march ambitious Warwick treads.

120

From London this, that from Saint Albans sett,
These two grand Souldiers shouldring for the Crowne,
They in the mid-way are at Barnet met,

The Armies meet at Barnet.

Where then they set their puissant Armies downe,
Warwick as neere as ever he could get,
But Edward onely taketh up the Towne;
Betwixt whose Tents a Heath calld Gladmoore lyes,
Where they prepare to act this bloody prize.

With Drums and Trumpets they awake the day,
Muffled in mists her lowring selfe that showes,
To stop their madnesse doing all it may,
Knowing what blood her light was like to lose:
But hope of slaughter beares so great a sway
That with the Sunne their rage still higher growes,
Full were their hands of death, so freely dealt,
That the most mortall wounds, the least were felt.

The adverse Ensignes to each other wave,
(As t'were) to call them forward to the field,
The King the Earle, the Earle the King doth brave,
Nor cares he for the

The Armes of England.

Leopards in his Sheild;
And whilst one freind another strives to save,
Hee's slaine himselfe, if not, enforc'd to yeeld,
In either Army there is not one eye,
But is spectator of some Tragedy.

Those wrongs the King had from the Earle receiv'd,
Expulst the Kingdome onely by his power,
Even to the height his powerfull hand up-heav'd,
For full revenge in this unhappy howre,
And by the King, the Earle his hopes bereav'd,
Sheltred by him from many a bloody shower,
Spurres up Revenge, and with that violent rage,
That scarsely blood, their fury could asswage.

Warwick who sees his Souldiers had the worse,
And at a neere point to be put to flight,

Warwickes high valour.

Throwing himselfe from of his armed Horse,
Thrusts in on foote into the deadliest fight,
Edward againe with an unusuall force,
In his owne person in the Armies sight,
Puts for the Garland, which if now he lose,
Warwick his Crowne at pleasure would dispose.

121

To Edwards side, but Fortune doth encline,
Warwicks high valour then was but in vaine;
His noble soule there destin'd to resigne,
Brave Mountacute his valiant brother slaine:

The Earle of Warwicke and his brother Marquesse Mountacute slaine.

Here Somerset (with them that did combine)
Forced to flye, and Excester is faine
To save himselfe by Sanctuary; this day
Edward's victorious, and beares all away.

This fatall field unluckily thus lost,
That very day so Destinie contrives,

That very day that Warwicke was slaine, the Queene lands.

That the griev'd Queene at Sea turmoyl'd and tost
Neere twenty dayes, in Weymouth Road arives,
Where scarcely landed, but Post after Post
Brings her this ill newes, which so farre deprives
Her of all comfort, that shee curst and band
Those plaguy windes that suffered her to land.

Wert thou (quoth she) so fortunate in fight

The Queenes speech hearing of Warwicks defeat in the three following Stanzas.

O noble Warwick, when thou wert our foe,
And now thou stood'st in our indoubted right,
And should'st for Henry thy high valour showe
Thus to be slaine; what Power in our dispight
Watcheth from heav'n upon our overthrowe?
Th'unlucky Starres have certainly made lawes,
To marke for Death the favourers of our cause.

O what Infernall brought that Edward back,
So late expell'd by Warwicks powerfull hand,
Was there no way his rotten Ship to wrack?
Was there no Rock? was there no swallowing sand?
And too, the wretched Subjects were so slack,
To suffer him so trayterously to land;
Surely whole heav'n against us have conspir'd,
Or in our troubles they had else beene ty'rd.

Was I for this so long detayn'd in France,
From ragefull Tempests, and reserv'd till now,
That I should land, to meete with this mischance:
It must needes be, the Powers have made a vowe,
Up to that height my sorrowes to advance,
That before mine all miseries shall bowe:
That all the sorrow mortalls can surmise,
Shall fall farre short of Margarites miseries.

122

These words scarse spoke, her halfe-slaine heart to ease,
But the least breath of comfort to prevent
The next ill newes, in rushing after these,

Cause of new sorrow to the Queene.

Was that King Henry to the Tower was sent,
(As though it selfe (even) Destiny should please,
In wretched Margarites heavy discontent)
Thrunging so thicke as like themselves to smoother,
Or as one ranne, to overtake another.

Those scattred Troopes from Barnet that escap'd,
Hearing the Queene thus Landed with her power,
Though much dismay'd with what had lately hapt,

The remnant of the Army which escaped at Barnet resort to the Queene.

On Gore-drown'd Gladmore in that bloody shower,
And fearing by the Foe to be entrapt:
Through untrod grounds, in many a tedious hower,
Flocke to her dayly, till that by their ayde,
Equall with Edwards they her Army made.

When Somerset and Devonshire came in

The Queene encouraged by her friends.

To the sad Queene, and bad her not despaire,
Though they of late infortunate had bin,
Yet there was helpe that Ruine to repaire,
What they had lost they hop'd againe to winne,
And that the way lay open yet, and faire,
For that the West would wholly with her rise,
Besides from Walles assur'd her of Supplies.

And every day still adding to their Force;
As on their Host tow'rds Glocester they guide,
When Edward finding their intended course,
Againe for Battell strongly doth provide,
Both Armies they supply with Foote and Horse,
By both their friends, as they affect the side,

The Armies meet at Tewcksbury.

And in their march at Tewksbury they mett,
Where they in Order their Battalions set.

Ill was her choise of this uneven ground,
Lucklesse the place, unlucky was the howre,

A place ill chosen on the Queenes part.

The Heavens upon her so extreamely fround,
As one her head their plagues at once to powre;
As in a Deluge here her hopes were drown'd,
Here sees shee death her faithfull freinds devoure,
The earth is fill'd with grones, the ayre with cryes,
Horror on each side doth enclose her eyes.

123

Never did death so terrible appeare,
Since first their Armes the English learnt to weeld,
Who would see slaughter, might behold it heere
In the true shape upon this fatall field,
In vaine was valour, and in vaine was feare,

A bloody battell.

In vaine to fight, in vaine it was to yeeld,
In vaine to fly; for destiny discust,
By their owne hands, or others, dye they must.

Here her deare Devonshiere noble Courtney dyde,

The Queenes army overthrowne.

Her faithfull friend great Summerset here fell,
Delves, Leuknor, Hamden, Whittingham beside,
O Margarite, who thy miseries can tell!
Sharpe were those swords which made their wounds so wide,
Whose blood the soyle did with th'abundance swell,
Other her friends into the Towne that fled
Taken, no better then the former sped.

But the amazing misery of all
As heaven the greatst untill the last had kept,
As it would say, that after this none shall
By mortall eyes be worthy to be wept,
The Prince her sonne who sees his friends thus fall
And on each side their carcases lye heapt,

Prince Edward taken Prisoner.

Making away in this most piteous plight,
Is taken prisoner in his tardy flight.

And forth by Crofts before the Conquerour brought

Upon the Kings proclamation of a great reward to him that could bring him in; as also of the Princes safety, Sir Richard Crofts is wonne to discover his prisoner. Prince Edward stab'd to death.

His Proclamations cleering every doubt,
Of the youths safety: living were he caught,
As a reward to him should bring him out;
But when they once had found him whom they sought
Hearing his answeres, Princely, wise, and stout,
Those bloody brothers, Hastings, and the rest,
Sheath'd their sharpe Ponyards in his manly breast.

Queene Margarite thus of mortalls most forlorne
Her sonne now slaine, her army overthrowne
Left to the world as fortunes only scorne
And not one friend to whom to make her moane
(To so much woe was never woman borne)
This wretched Lady wandring all alone
Getts to a homely Cell not farre away

Queene Margaret gets into a poore Cell

If possibly to hide her from the day.

124

But wretched woman quickly there bewray'd,
She thence is taken and to Prison sent,
Meanely attended, miserably array'd,
The people wondring at her as she went,
Of whom the most malicious, her upbray'd
With good Duke Humphres death, her heart to rent,
Whilst her milde lookes, and Gracefull gesture drue
Many a sad eye, her miseries to rue.

Lewes King of France.

Till by Duke Rayner Ransomed at last,
Her tender Father, who a Prince but poore,
Borow'd great Summes of Lewes, with much wast,
Which for he was not able to restore,
Province and both the Cicils, to him past,

Duke Raynor undoeth himself to ransome his Daughter.

With fruitfull Naples, which was all his store;
To bring her backe, from earthly joyes exil'd,
The undone father, helpes the undone Child.

And though enlarg'd ere she could leave the land
Making a long yeere of each short-liv'd houre,

The Earle of Glocester, after Richard the third.

She heares that by Duke Richards murthering hand
The King her husband suffers in the Towre
As though high heaven had laid a strict command,
Upon each starre, some plague on her to powre:
And untill now that nothing could suffice
Nor give a period to her Miseryes.

FINIS.