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461

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN IN THE EDITION OF 1587

463

HOW THE VALIANT KNIGHT Sir Nicholas Burdet, Chiefe Butler of Normandy, was slayne at Pontoise, Anno 1441.

Yf erst at Prince affayres wee counted were of truste,
To fight in waeged warres, as Captayne gainst the foes,
And might therefore aliue receiue the guerdon iuste,
Which ay his maiesty employde on those:
Why should wee so keepe silence now, and not disclose
Our noble acts to those remayne aliue,
T'encourage them the like exployts t'achiue?
For if when as wee werde, for Prince and publique weale,
We might to ech for both haue time and place to speake,
Then why not now, yf wee to both appeale?
Sith both well knowe our dealeings were not weake.
Wee clayme as ryghte, in trueth our myndes to breake,
The rather eke wee thinke to speake wee franchizde ar,
Because wee serude for peace and dyde in Prince his war.
464

Which graunted so, and held deserued due,
I may full well on stage supply the place a while,
Till I haue playnly layde before your vew
That I haue cause, as these, to playne of Fortunes guyle,
Which smirking though at first, she seeme to smoothe and smyle,
(If Fortune bee) who deemde themselues in skyes to dwell,
She thirleth downe to dreade the gulfes of ghastly hell.
But here I let a while the Lady Fortune stay,
To tell what time I liu'd, & what our warres were then,
The great exployts wee did, and where our armies laye,
Eke of the prayse of some right honourable men,
Which things with eyes I saw, calde now to minde agen.
What I performed present in the fight,
I will in order and my fall resite.
In youth I seru'd that royall Henry fifte the King,
Whose prayse for martiall feats eternall fame retaynes,
When hee the Normanes stout did in subiection bring,
My selfe was vnder then his ensignes taking paynes.
With loyall hart I faught, pursude my Prince his gaines.
There dealt I so that time my fame to rayse,
French wryters yet my name and manhoode prayse.
And erste as Burdets diuers warlike wights,
(In Warwicke shire theyr lands in Arrow ar)
Were for good seruice done made worthy Knights,
Whose noble acts be yet recounted far:
Euen so my selfe well framde to peace or war,
Of these the heyre by due discent I came,
Sir Nicholas Burdet Knight, which had to name.
That time the noble Iohn of Bedford Duke bare sway,
And feared was in Fraunce for courage stout and fell,
Hee lou'de mee for my fight and person, (though I say)
And with revenues mee rewarded yearely well.
465

I playde the faythfull subiects parte, the truth to tell,
And was accounted loyall, constant still,
Of stomake, worship great, and warlike scill.
But then (O greefe to tell) ere long this pearelesse King,
When hee restored had his right vnto the Crowne
The Duchye all of Normandy, eke subiect bring
The Frenchemen all, and set Lieutenants in eache towne
High Regent made of Fraunce, then Fortune gan to frowne,
Hee then departed life, too soone alas:
Som men suppose his grace empoysonde was.
Thou Fortune slye, what meanste thou thus, these prancks to play?
False Fortune blereyde blinde, vnsteady startling still,
What meanste thou turning thus thy flattering face away,
Inconstant where thou bearest most good will?
Is it thy nature then? or iste thy wonted scill?
It cost thee naught, they say it commes by kinde,
As thou art bisme, so are thine actions blinde.
I nothing doubte then thou thy selfe shalt fall.
I trust to see the time when thou shalt bee forgot.
For why thy pride, and pompe and powre must vanish all,
Thy name shall dye for aye, and perish quite I wot.
And when thou shalt bee counted but a sot,
The noble wights which liude and dyde in worthy fame,
In heauen and earth shall finde an euerlasting name.
But words of course are these of Fortune had,
When vnto Princes haps chaunce good or ill.
God sends to euery sorte these tempests sad,
When from his worde they swarue and heauenly will.
Men must endeuour then to please his goodnesse still,
And then come life or death, come ioy, come smarte:
No Fortunes frowne can daunte the doughty harte.
466

The famous King so dead, his son but nyne months olde
Henry the sixt, of England was proclaymed King:
And then the Frenchmen wexte more stoute and bolde,
His youth occasion gaue them to conspire the thing,
Which might them all from due subiection bring.
On which the Councell calde a Parliament:
Of French that might the treasons high preuent.
Wherein the Duke of Bedford my good Lorde and frend
Was Regent made the Prince his deputy in Fraunce:
The Duke of Glocester Protectour was, to th'end
To rule in cases such at home might hap to chaunce:
They chose to garde the Prince, in honour to aduaunce
Henry Beuforde Byshop of Winchester,
And Thomas the noble Duke of Excester.
But here before those things coulde well be setled sure,
(As great affayres of Kingdomes longer time do take)
The Frenchmen did by treason, force, and coyne procure
Some townes which English were in Fraunce theyr fayth forsake.
A long discourse it were of all recitall make:
But of my chaunce that time, resite will I,
Which seru'd in warres my Prince in Normandy.
Before the Mount S. Michaell as in seige I lay,
In confines of the Normanes and the Bretons land,
From townsemen famisht nigh we vitailes kept away,
And made them oft in daunger of dis-Mounteing stand:
But it being strong and also stoutly mand,
Euen by our losses they gate harte of grasse,
And wee declineing saw what Fortune was.
Yet nathelesse wee thought by famine make them yeelde,
Eke they by fight or succours hoapt the seige to rayse,
T'accomplish which they rusht on sodayne out to feelde,
As bent to dy or win the wanted foode with prayse:
467

And wee as ready were for them at all assayes.
These eager impes whome foodewant feazde to fight amayne,
Wee forc'd them dye, fall, fly, to take theyr forte agayne.
Where I in chase pursude them euen to the towne,
Tane prisner was, a while for ransom lay:
But then the worthy duke the Regent of renowne,
Did for mee quite disburse the price requirde to pay.
The seige wee raysde, from thence wee went our way,
And I redeemed bare this blanke in minde,
Till of requite I might occasion finde.
Which thus ere long befell, to this a while giue eare:
When Arthur Earle of Richmond to S. Iaques came
De Beuuron where my selfe and other captaynes were,
Which had repared well and fortefide the same,
Wee made him flye, to his immortall shame:
Euen thus to him and forty thousand moe,
Fiue hundreth English gaue the ouerthroe.
Long while hee battery layde agaynst the wall,
Thereby to make a breatche for them to enter in.
But well perceiuing still his shot to profite small,
And that wee weyde not of his powre a pinne,
On euery side afreshe hee did th'assault begin:
Yet wee so bare them off and beate them downe,
They durst not seaze or enter on the towne.
But wearied with the seige and sault they pausde a while,
Consulting what were best, and so did wee likewise:
They founde the feate, they thought should surely vs beguile,
And in an euening came t'accomplish th'enterprise.
A sharp assaulte they gaue. Alarme my mates wee rise:
On both the sides they scalde, the forte to gayne.
But from the scales and walles wee flang them downe amayne.
468

It was my charge that time to keepe a bulwarke bace,
Where Bretons came along to enter by a streit:
Twas in a botome lowe, a pond was by the place,
By which they needes must passe vp to a posterne gate.
I meant to make them fishe the poole without a bayt,
Protesting ere they there should get the wall
Wee would as English dye, or gieue our foes the fall.
The trompets sound tan tara, tan tan tara right,
The guns were shot founce-founce-founce, fomp-fum, fow-powthow,
The dromze went downe-dun downe, the fluits fyt-fyte-fyt, fyte,
The weapons clish-clash and the captaynes nowe-now nowe.
With billes wee beat them downe, with shafts wee shot them throw.
The gory ground did groane, the smoky shot and cryes
Dimd all the ayre, and thundred through the scyes.
S. Denise cryde the French, and Bretons glahe-lahee,
S. George the English cryde, fight-fight-fight, kill-kill-kill:
Fight-fight (quoth I) come on, they flee, they flee, they flee.
And there withall wee vsde a poynt of warlike scill,
Wee causde the men within to crye vnto vs still
Fight Suffolke now, fight-fight and Salsbury:
Fight fight you noble Earles, the Bretons flee they flee.
With that amazed all the Bretons gan recoyle,
Some drowned in the pond, wherin they ran for feare,
And I pursude the flight, to wrecke my captiue foyle,
Wee payde them in the chase disordred as they were,
Seuen hundred slew, tooke fifty prisners there,
Gaynde eyghteene standerds, and one banner more:
Yet I and mine not fully were fowrescore.
469

Of this exployt when th'Earle of Richmond herde,
Which gaue an hoate assault on th'other side the towne,
No lesse was hee displeasde, amazed, than afferde,
To heare the names of those two Earles of high renowne,
His guilty courage quaylde, his heart was daunted downe,
Hee causde the trompets sounde retrayte away:
To scale our walles hee durst no longer stay.
At midnight hee dislodgde, from seige hee made departe
The Constable of Fraunce (late Earle of Richemond) fled,
And coward Fougiers sped, with such as tooke his parte,
For haste perhaps with feare lest hee should lose his heade.
They left two hundred pypes of flowre and bisket bread,
Greate gunnes foureteene, three hundred pypes of wine,
Two hundred frailes of figs and raysons fine.
Fiue hundred barels they of hering left beside,
Of pouder for our gunnes full forty barels more,
They fled without theyr tents, the dasterds durst not byde,
For feare they could not stay, to take away theyr store.
Haue you oft hearde the like, of cowards such before?
Those forty thousand, Bretons, Frenche, and Scots,
Fowre score them foyled, made them flee like sots.
When this, that noble man, the Duke of Bedford hearde,
How I did quite my selfe, and seru'd my Prince so well,
Hee mee procured of the King as great rewarde
As my deserts coulde wish, and more the truth to tell,
Chiefe butlership of Normandy vnto me fell,
Reuenues eke in Normandy of lands,
A thousand crownes came yearely to my hands.
I after this was sent to make inroade
Upon the coaste of Bretaine, for to bate theyr pride,
A band of horsemen tooke without aboade,
The duke of Somerset made me theyr guide,
470

To many townes about theyr bounds wee ride:
Set them on fire, or made them ransom pay,
Tooke store of prisners, wrought them much decay.
Retourned victours safe to Normandy,
With good successe, for why the cause was good:
And of our Prince were guerdonde gratefully
With laude and gifts, as for our seruice stoode.
This makes the Captaynes venture life and bloode,
And souldiers serue with heart in what they may,
Which are assurde of honour, prayse, and pay.
Yee worthy wights aliue, which loue your Countreys weale,
And for your Princes porte such warres doe vndertake,
Learne so for Countrey yours with forayne foes to deale,
See that of manhood good, so great accompts yee make.
It nothing vayles in peace, to sweare, stur, face or crake:
In werres hee winnes the fame of noble wight
Who warlike deales, for Prince and publique right.
Yf you so poynted bee, to serue your Prince in war,
As erste was I, and muste before the muster take,
Retayne such souldiers as well made, strong, seemely ar,
Brought vp to labour harde, of such accompt doe make:
These able are at neede to stand and keepe the stake,
When facing foysters fit for Tiburne frayes
Are foodesicke faynt, or hartsicke run theyr wayes.
At home a man may finde a nomber euery day,
Which weare theyr weapons still, as all the worlde were war,
And keepe a coyle to beare the best of blades away,
With buclers braue at backs, to shew what men they are.
In peace at home they sweare, stare, foyste, royst, fight, and iar:
But when abroade they feare of warres the smarte,
Some better souldiers yede from driueing cart.
471

In warres to serue (as wee) and weapons haue
When warlike stormes do rage, beseemes a warlike man:
In pleasaunt peace who sets him selfe to bandeing braue,
And faceing fares at home, abroade doe nothing can,
(Though nere so much hee boaste) fie on him cowerd than:
For not in gauntlet, sworde, targ, oathes, hayre, staring eyes:
But in the breast, good courage, vertue lyes.
But here perhaps (you say) I fall a noate too lowe,
Beneath the persons of these worthy Peeres and mee.
Tis true indeede, and yet such fruite hereof may growe:
As eke the Meane hereby, his iarring out may see.
Without good meane, the song can neuer sweetly gree.
Leaue out the meane, or let him keepe no tune:
And you shall sing when Easter falles in Iune.
Euen so, if meaner sorts doe iangle here and iar
To languish vnder Mars, but fill good peace with fight,
As discorde foule in musike, fit they for the war:
They neuer can atchiue the victory aright.
Leade such as square or feare, then farewell all, good night.
A sheepe is euen as good to starteing stand and beae:
As hee that iangles, wrangles, rangles, runnes aweae.
Then who so deales for warre, must wisely make his marte,
And choose such souldiers stout will stiffe in warfare stande.
Yf hee not recke what ruffian roysters take his parte,
Hee weeldes vnwisely then the mace of Mars in hande.
He must be able eke, to deeme for sea and lande
What men may serue, to best aduauntage make,
And them enstruct fine warlike poynts to take.
With scilfull knowledge fraight hee muste be voyde of feare,
Of wisedom so discrete, so sober, graue and sage,
To deeme, perceiue, abyde, aduentures both to beare
As may in all exployts of fight with Fortune wage:
472

Hee must haue art in vre, and vse not rule by rage:
Wise dealing sets the souldiers sure in ray,
Wilde ouer rashnesse casteth all away.
The cause, grounde, place and time, the order of theyr fights,
The valure of his foes, and what is theyr intent,
The weather fayre or foule, occasion of the nights,
What witty wyles and pollicies may them preuent,
And how the time or store of th'enmies hath beene spent.
All these (I say) must well be weyde before,
By him that sets in warres of credit store.
In all which poynts that noble Duke his grace did passe,
I meane the Regent good, for chuseing, vseing men,
By nature framde thereto, hee wonders scilfull was,
And frendly vsed all, instructing now and then
Not only Captaynes stout, that were his countrey men,
But also sondry souldiers as occasion came,
And taught them how to warres themselues to frame.
His princely grace and gesture yet mee thinks I see,
And how hee bare himselfe, to deale for warre or peace:
In warre full Mars-like, hardy, sterne, and bolde was hee:
And meeke and prudent mercifull, when stormes of warres did cease:
Whom pity mou'd as much inflicted paynes to releace,
As euer wight in whom the broyles of war
Or force of fights, had entred in so far.
Which if agayne to rue the losse of such a frend,
In sight with playnts, of teares the fountaynes out might flow:
So all lamenting Muses would mee waylings lend,
The dolours of my heart in sight agayne to show:
I would deplore his death, and Englands cause of woe,
With such sad mourning tunes, and such sobs, sighes, and teares
As were not seene for one, this ten times twenty yeares.
473

For why this noble Prince, when wee had needed moste,
To set the states of Fraunce and England in a stay,
That feared was of foes in euery forayne coaste,
To soone (alas) this Duke was taken hence away.
In Fraunce hee dyde helasse lament his losse wee may,
That Regent regall, rule of publique right.
Loe howe my hurtes afreshe beweepe this wanted wight.
“With that his woundes (mee thought) gan freshly bleede,
“And hee waxte faynt and fell, and my salte teares
“Ran downe my rufull cheekes, with trickling speede,
“(For who coulde chuse that such cause sees and heares.)
“O worthy Knight (quod I) whose loyall faith appeares:
“Cease wayles, rise vp, instruct my quiuering pen,
“To tell the rest of Fortunes dublings then.
I haue (quoth he) not Fortunes flatterie to accuse,
Nor Fate nor Destenie, nor any fancie fainde:
I haue no cause t'affirme that these coulde ought misuse
This noble Prince, whose life & acts such fame and honour gaynde,
But our deserts, our sinnes, and our offences staynde
This noble Ile and vs, our sinnes (I say)
Offending God, hee tooke this Prince away.
Helasse how loath can I retourne, and leaue this pearle in Roane
My Lorde Ihon Duke of Bedford, there his corps yet lyes
Enclosde with costly tombe, wrought curiously of stone,
By North the altar high (delighting many Martiall eyes)
Within our Ladie churche, where fame him lifts to skies,
By dayly vew his name renoumbde exalted is,
And soule, I trust, full sweetly sweames in blisse.
Needes must I enterline my talke a while with this:
And then I will retourne to tell you how I sped.
474

When once the French men sawe this noble Duke to misse,
Which English armyes all gaynste foes with fortunes led
They liude at large, rebeld against their soueraygne head,
Forsooke their oathes, alleageaunce all denyde,
And English men with all their force defyde.
While hee did liue, they durst not so to deale,
They durst not dare, with th'English oft to fraye,
They found it was not for theire owne or publique weale,
To rise againste theire Lorde the Regent in araye.
Soone after hee was deade, departed hence away,
Both French and Normanes close to win did cloaze,
And wee deuided were, our rightes abroade to loaze.
The feende (I thinke) deuisde a way to make the breatche,
By enuye bred in breastes of two right noble Peeres,
Which mischiefe hatcht in England, then may teache
All noble men that liue, hence many hundreth yeares,
Beware of Enuye blacke, how far shee deares.
Euen their examples tell, how true our Christe doth say:
Each realme, towne, house, in ciuile strife, shall desolate decay.
Perdie the Duke of Yorke was Regent made of Fraunce,
At which the Duke of Somerset did much repine,
Hee thought they rather ought him so t'aduaunce
King Henries kin, for honour of his Princely lyne:
But marke the grape which grew on this vngracious vine,
I will not say it after stroyde their lynes and houses nye,
But this I say, wee dayely sawe dishonour came thereby.
For though the hauty Duke were worthy it to haue,
As well for courage good, as vertues honour due:
Yet sith to'th Duke of Yorke th'election first it gaue,
And hee the sadle mist, what neded hee to rue?
When tumultes great and sturres in Fraunce yet daylye grew,
475

Hee nilde the Regent hence dispatche in many dayes:
That losse might win him hurte, or long disprayse.
Wylde wengand on such ire, wherby the realme doth lose,
What gayne haue they, which heaue at honour soe?
At home disdayne and greefe, abroade they frend their foes.
I must bee playne in that which wrought my webs of woe,
My webs (quod I?) would God they had wrought no moe.
It was the cause of many a bleeding English breaste,
And to the French, their end of woefull warres addresse.
I dare aduouche yf they had firme in frendship boade,
And southly as beseemde ioynde frendly hand with hands,
They had not felt defame in any foraine roade,
Nor had not so beene sent, with losse from Gallia strands:
They might possession kept, still of their conquerde lands,
And able beene to tryde them selues so true,
As myght haue made their enmyes still to rue.
For while the Duke of Somerset made here so greate delayes,
That into Fraunce the succours smale and slackly came,
Not only Paris than was loste, within few dayes,
That famous flowre of Fraunce, of far renowmed fame,
The Frenche (I say) not only gate and kept the same,
But by this meanes, in Fraunce we dayly felt such smarte,
As might with pitie perst an adamantine harte.
O greate mishap, the noble Duke of Bedford once being dead,
Our welch went backe, by discords foule dispite wee loste
Not only townes in Fraunce, and captaines armyes led,
But many soldiers eke with labour, spence and cost:
And though full oft wee made the Frenche men smell of the rost,
Yet in the end wee gayne of fyght the fame,
And they by crafte and treason gate the game.
476

What resteth more, it were, perdie, to long to tell,
Of batayles great and broiles which happened dayly still,
The stories eke declare aduentures which befell:
Although (God wot) the writers wanted poyntes of scill,
Of whom to speake a while, degresse agayne I will,
And partely shewe what one hee oughte to bee,
Which takes on him to write an Historie.
A chronicler should well in diuers tongues bee seene,
And eke in all the artes hee oughte to haue a sighte,
Whereby hee myght the truth of diuers actions deeme,
And both supply the wantes, correct that is not righte:
Hee should haue eloquence, and full and fitly write,
Not mangle stories, snatching here and there:
Nor gloaze to make a volume greate appeare.
Hee should bee of such countenaunce and wit,
As should giue witnes to the Histories hee writes,
Hee should bee able well his reasons so to knit,
As should continue well the matter hee resytes:
Hee should not prayse, disprayse, for fauour or dispytes,
But should so place each thing in order due,
As myght approue the stories to bee true.
But this may haps the time may seeke at length redresse,
And then such stories nowe and noble acts as dye,
May come agayne to lighte (at least defaced lesse)
Yf from the Britaynes first antiquities they try.
In greate defects yf they the trueth supply:
Then shall the readers fuller stories finde,
And haue wherby to recreate the minde.
But now retourne I must, and breifly heare declare
Before my death, what sundry happes wee had.
In warres right variousely the states of Captaynes fare,
Now weale, now woe, now ioyfull, now right sad.
477

But who well ends, though all his haps were bad,
Let him earst sinke or swim, lose, wyn, bee slayne, die, fall,
Yf hee dye well, h'is thrise and fower tymes blest of all.
In Fraunce eyght leagues from Paris, Pontoise stands,
(Tweene that and Roane) which wee had wonne before:
And so wee held it English safely in our handes.
For to our Prince the men allegeaunce swore,
And they remaynd obedient euermore,
Tyll from their necks to reaue the English yoke,
They might finde meanes by whom to stricke the stroke.
When these sawe Paris loste, and cities moe beside,
And what in Fraunce and Normandie reuoltes had done,
They thought no longer subiect to abyde,
But sought occasion how they mighte by Frenche be won.
As of our losse reports did dayly to them run,
So with King Charles th'agreede when to betray the towne,
And force the English flee, or yeelde, or beate them downe.
For why, the powre of Fraunce coulde not with mighty hoste
Performe to wyn by force from vs th'assaulted towne,
Them scaleing often from the walles wee toste,
On euery syde full fast wee flang the French men downe.
Our noble actes before had gotten such renowne,
And Fortune erste had past with vs so farre,
They had small hope to wyn our fortes by warre.
Wherefore King Charles assayde the secrete saute,
Not by his force of French, but by his golden fee,
Corrupting diuers Burgeses to make the faute,
Whereby an entry shoulde to his oppugning bee:
And they (as erste is sayde) were willing to agree,
Like periurde theeues conspirde by secrete fyne deuice,
Gaue Pontoise vp, and tooke the promiste price.
478

But in November next when it was sharpe and colde,
And dayly froste had dryde and parched hard the grounde,
Wee were in hope agayne to get of Pontoise holde,
Which erste the Townesmen solde, for gayne of many a pound.
The snow fell fast, lay thick, and couered well the ground,
And ditches were so harde about the towne befrore,
That on the Ise by euery syde wee safely might get ore.
The Lorde Ihon Clifforde was cheife captayne then,
Which with vs captaynes did this pollicie deuise,
That wee in clothing white and soldiers euery man,
Should in our armoure finelye vs disguyse.
The nexte nyght so wee should to the assaute aryse,
And passe the frozen ditche vnto the wall,
With laders scale, and kill the watchmen all.
Wee so preparde our selues as time occasion gaue,
And drest in white coates trim, it ioyde our hartes to see
How fine wee paste the ditch, what good successe we haue:
How on the walles we fynde the watch nigh frozen bee:
As noble Greekes on Troie, on Pontoise seasonde wee,
Wee slewe the watch, wee beate the soldiers downe,
Some prisners tooke, and tooke withall the Towne.
Of stately captaynes french, was Iohn de Villers one
Within the taken towne, and Narrabon a Knight
Burgunion: yet they fled, away they gate them gone:
They durst not bide againste the blanched boyes to fight.
Wee paide the periurde knaues the Burgesses that night,
And gate as much of honour and renowne
As they gate shame and losse, which bought and solde the towne.
Marke well the frenchmens foyles in all our worthy war
In these two regall Henryes times, and you shall see
How wee surpast the french in valure farre:
479

And bend for Prince and realme so valiaunt for to bee:
Which if yee shall, and deale in seruice as did wee,
I nothing doubt renowne and fame shall say,
That noble England beares for warres the palme away.
But when King Charles had heard how Pontoise men had sped,
His army strayght assembled hee therefore agayne,
Wherewith to win this towne afresh th'assaute hee led,
Hee pyners set to trenche and vnder mine amayne,
Made bastiles for defence, yet all this toyle was vayne.
For battery of our walles hee spent his pouder still,
Made freshly frenche assaults, but did no ill.
The noble Duke of Yorke discharged late before,
When now the Earle of Warwicke chaunst at Roane to dye,
Being Regent chosen once agayne of Fraunce, as yore,
(Th'Earle of Warwicke Regent was two yeares perdy)
Arryude in Fraunce, to rowse the frenche King he did hye,
(Which lay beseigeing Pontoise, as I sayde)
With him to fight, and eke to bring vs ayde.
The frenche King fled, for haste he left his store behinde:
When hee was once assurde the Duke of Yorke drue nere,
Hee durst not stay to bide the time or place assinde
To fight our Regent with, but fled away for feare.
By these assayes you see what men in Fraunce they were,
Discouradgde oft, slayne, put to flight and fall:
By sight, force, fight, and names of nombers small.
There when the Duke had fortefyde our Pontoise towne,
Then he pursude the frenche King erst that fled,
To Poyssy, where hee laye with Lords of frenche renowne.
Before which Towne, the Duke his noble army led:
The frenche King durste not out of Poyssy put his head:
And yet there came to skirmish out frenche gentilmen,
Of which some slayne, fowre tane, the reste retyrde agen.
480

The Duke to bid him batayle did pretend,
Yf hee coulde there encounter with him thoe:
But forth agayne hee durste not come nor send,
For feare hee should receiue the foyle and ouerthroe.
On which the Duke dislodgde, departeing Poyssy froe,
To Maunte, and Roane, from thence his grace did hye,
T'appease the broyles of strife in Normandy.
But then the frenche King calling vnto mynde his losse,
His charges in the seige, his bastiles trenches made,
How erste wee did them thence, sans bag and bagage tosse,
Eke how from seige hee durste not staye the store to lade,
And how their Fortunes ofte, in fighte went retrograde,
How neighboures ill to Paris, wee of Pontoise were:
Hee cast asyde his frenche and faynteing feare.
The rather yet, for why, Parisiens ay did rayle,
They sayde hee wanted courage good, hee durst not fight,
Hee lackte no soldiers good, his feeble heart did fayle:
Le Roy (quoth they) du France, les Anglois point ne nuit:
Le Roy ne ose pas pour Pontoise faire poursuit:
Le Roy est Lourd, sans cueur: car peu de gens,
Fait nostre Roy & pais faire grande dispens.
On this King Charles retournde with mighty hoste,
To vindicate this great reproche and shame:
And vnto Pontoise gaue assaulte in poste
Full hotly, when wee feared leaste the same.
Whereon, to fight agaynst him all our force wee frame,
But number great at th'entry gote such hand,
Wee coulde not forth agayne their force aband.
With trompets sounding, tan tan-tar'aloude
The larum bell wee rong, our selues to try dispose,
To make them pay the price of our distresse wee vowde,
Before wee would possession got, of Pontoise loze:
481

In euery street wee met the strength of all our foes,
And made them passe by deadly dint away,
Which ventured first our English mates to slay.
Why now my frends, for England fighte, I cryde:
Yf euer English hearts your noble breasts posseste,
I promise you to make them flinche, yf I may byde:
Mates follow me. Amongst my foes I rusht before the rest:
O here come on (quoth I) now fighte wee for the beste.
And therewithall I vsde such courage, force and myghte:
As made my foes to fall, and soldiers fitly fighte.
Yf we doe leese (quoth I) the frenche men shall not gayne:
So if wee wyn, tis worth the while to keepe arraye.
Yf yee stand stiflye toet, wele make them peaze the paine,
And leade with losse of lyuely lymmes the lande awaye.
Although they fearcely fighte, in hope vs all to slaye:
Lo sixe to one they fall, and deade they lye:
Wee English men, in triomphe fight, and honour dye.
With bloody broiles of war the haplesse towne did smoke,
The children sawe theire fathers deare, to bleede their last:
The wyues bewayled muche the fatall stroke,
Which forste their husbands bleede, fall, dye so fast:
Helas the weemen cryde, the woefull streets that past:
(When soe they sawe the channels bloody streame)
What plague is this, that pesters so our Reame?
Is no remorce of lyfe, but kill, kill, kill? (helasse)
Kill, kill the English cry, and valiantly they fighte:
What hap had wee to see these mischiues com to passe?
Helas le sang de nous amis, la mort helas:
The maydens cry, the widowes wayle, and aged mourne,
With wringing hands vplift, & wish them selues vnborne.
Of vs one thousand Englishmen within the Towne,
Sustaynde the force, the powre and puissaunce of their King:
482

And of the French that faught, wee beate three thousand downe,
Wee slew no lesse, for all the nomber hee did bring.
Yf this vntrue shall seeme, discredite myne to ring,
A french Historian writeing for them selues shall say:
Three thousand Frenchmen there, were slayne that day.
Four hundreth Englishmen that tyme were slayne in fighte,
My selfe was one, with losse they wan the towne perdie:
But if I might haue liude t'aue tride our righte,
With one for euery seuen, by ods as wee did dye:
I doubte not (so the rest, would done their partes as I.)
But that King Charles, his Lords, nor all his men,
Should scarce haue tane the towne of Pontoise then.
What neade I more debate of these thinges here:
In England was the faulte, though we did feele the smarte.
While they at home, at bate and strife for honours were,
They lost abroade of Normandy the greater parte.
To thinke on this torments agayne my wounded harte,
That Lords at home, should striue about the name,
And loose abroade their Countries weale and fame.
Let English Peeres abandon such contentious strife,
It hurtes the Publique weale, decayes the state:
It reaues the yeares too soone of longer lyfe:
It freates the breste with ruste of baend debate:
It giues the checke to him that giues the mate:
Then thus I ende, that wight of all is bleste
Which liues in loue with God, his prince and country best.
So Higins yf thou write, how this my fall befell;
Place it in Baldwines Miroir with the reste.
From crazed scull sith here my mynde I tell:
Sith bleedeing hart these ruefull rymes expreste:
This mangled tale beseemes my person beste.
Do so (quoth hee) and let it passe euen thus:
Viuit (quoth I) post funera virtus.
483

THE LAMENTATION OF KING IAMES the fourth, King of Scots, slayne at Brampton, in the fiuthe yeare of King Henry the eight, Anno Christi, 1513.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

As I lay musing, my selfe alone,
In minde not stable, but wauering here & there,
Morpheus my frend espyed mee anone,
And as hee was wont, whistered in mine eare.
Shortly conuyede I was, I wist not where:
Mine eyes were closed fast, I could not see.
I hearde a man crying sore, trembling for feare:
Miserere mei Deus et salua mee.
484

Miserere mei Deus, oft hee did reporte,
With sorowfull sighes, as euer man herde.
For sorowe and pity, I gan nere to resorte:
His sore exclamations made mee afferde.
Mine eyes opened, I sawe his grim bearde:
I knewe not verely, who it should bee:
Hee cryde, as hee had beene stickt with a swerde:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
Of Scotland (hee sayde) late I was King,
With Crowne on my head, and scepter in hand:
In wealth and honour, I wanted nothing:
In peaceable maner I ruled my land.
Full frendly and faythfull my subiects I fand.
Now am I exiled from life, land, and liberty:
King without realme, loe now where I stand:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
Thus for my folly, I feele I doe smart,
Both law, and nature doth me accuse
Of great vnkindnes: that I should take part
Against my brother, and his liege refuse.
I purposed war, yet I fayned truce.
This did I, frenche King, for the loue of thee,
Inordinate affection so did mee abuse:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
All this, King Lewis, I suffred for thy sake,
Wo be to the time that euer I thee knewe:
For thee am I put in a sorowfull brake,
Thy wilfull appetite, doth mee sore rewe.
This worlde is not stable, it chaungeth a newe.
Now am I bond, some time I was free:
Exiled from liberty, I am kept in a mewe:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
485

Moreouer for thee, and thy realme of Fraunce,
(Contrary to mine othe solemnly made)
Vnto King Henry I made defiaunce,
To follow thine appetite was all the grace I hade.
In most cruell wise, I did his realme inuade:
I troubled his subiects, by land and by sea:
My rewarde is no more, but the showle and spade:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
For my wilfull periury, thus am I brought
From high degree, to the lowest of all.
Whom should I blame? I found that I sought,
By mine owne foly, I had a great fall.
Wherefore I feare mee, that now I shall
Haue payne long lasting, for mine iniquity:
Lord full of mercy yet to thee I call,
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
Vanquished in fielde I was to the rebuke
Of mee and all my realme: to our immortall shame.
There faught agaynst mee neyther King, nor Duke,
Prince, ne Marquise, ne many Lords of name.
One valiaunt Earle, our power ouercame:
Yet were wee in nomber, to his one, three:
Lord whom thou fauourest, winneth the game:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
I was th'only author, of myne owne woe;
But yet I began it by wicked counsell,
Of my Lords spirituall and temporall also:
Which for their merits in fielde with mee fell.
I was curst (in deede) the truth for to tell,
And could not (by falshoode) eyther thriue or thie;
To assist my brothers foe I did not well,
Miserere mei Deus et salua mee.
486

Christes commaundements, I did all refuse:
The breatch of myne oathe, I did not regarde:
Therfore I am domed as faythlesse as the Iewes.
Sore is the sentence, and cruell is the swerde:
Excepte thy mercy helpe, O Lord, I am marde:
Saue mee; for whom thou suffredst on a tree,
To thy mercye I appeale for my sauegarde:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
Herafter (by mee) my successours may beware,
An ensample take by my wretched ruyne:
Lest in lykewyse they bee taken with the snare,
As I am nowe: and pay the lyke fyne.
Vanquished wee were, by power devyne:
For by mannes power it seemed not to bee.
Here now I ly, in an homely shrine,
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
I am a spectacle also in lyke case,
To the frenche King, yf hee list to take heede,
I feare that hee cannot for lacke of grace,
The King and hee, bee not yet agreede.
Therefore let him looke, for a lyke speede,
As wee had that were of his leage and vnity,
I trow hee doth neither God loue, nor dreede,
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
Who euer knew Christian King in such a case,
As I wretched creature that cannot haue
In Churche or in Churchyard any maner place,
Emong Christen people to lye in a graue:
The earth mee abhorreth, all men mee depraue,
My frends forsake mee, and haue no pity,
The worlde taketh from mee all that hee mee gaue:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
487

There is no more now, I must take my leaue,
In this wretched worlde I may no longer dwell:
But one thing there is doth mee sore greaue,
I not where to rest, in heauen or in hell,
None else thereof but only God can tell:
Adieu, this worlde is full of vanity,
I may no longer be with thee, farewell:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
Farewell my Queene, sweete lady Margaret:
Farewell my Prince, with whom I vsde to play:
I wot not where wee shall together meete:
Farewell my Lords, and Commons eke for aye:
Adieu, ye shall no ransom for mee pay:
Yet I beseeche you of your charity,
To the high lorde mercifull that yee pray:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.
489

The bataile of Brampton, or Floddon fielde, faught in the yeare of our Redeemer 1513. and in the fiuth yeare of the raygne of that victorious prince, King Henry the eyght.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O Rex regum in thy realme celestiall,
Glorified with ioyes of Gabriells company,
King Iames is dead, haue mercy on vs all:
For thou haste him prostrate so sodaynly,
Which was our noble Prince his enemy)
That vs to withstand hee had no might:
So thy helpe O Lord preserude King Henryes right.
Into England this Prince prowdly did come,
With fourscore thousand in goodly aray:
And the Castle of Norham first hee had won,
Prospering victoriously from day to day.
But agaynst him is gone the Earle of Surrey,
With him manfully for to fight,
By the helpe of God and in his Princes right.
This noble Earle full wisely hath wrought,
And with thirty thousand forwarde is gone:
After wisedom and pollicy wondrously hee sought,
How by the Scottish ordinaunce hee might well come.
Thereto helped well Basterd Heron,
On the Scots hee did harme both day and night,
So thy helpe O Lord preserude our Princes right.
Our Herald of Armes to King Iemy did say:
My Lord of Surrey greetes you well by mee,
490

Maruayling greatly of this your array,
And what you make here in this countrey.
Peace you haue broken, and olde amity:
Wherefore if yee abide hee will with you fight,
By the helpe of God and in his Princes right.
Abide? (hee sayde) els were it great dishonour hye,
That a King crowned an Earle durst not abide:
Yf Surrey bee so bolde to gieue battayle to mee,
I shall him tarry on Floddon hill side.
Open warre then soone was there cryde,
And our doughty men were redily dight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
S. Cutberds banner with the Byshops men bolde,
In the Vaunt garde forward fast did hye,
That royall relike more precious than golde,
And sir William Bowmer nere stoode it by.
Adiuua pater then fast did they cry,
Pray wee that God will graunt vs his might,
That wee may haue the powre to saue our Princes right.
The Lord Clifford and the Lord Latimer also,
With the Lord Couiers of the North countrey,
And the Lord Scrope of Vpsalle forwarde did goe,
With the Lorde Howarde Admirall of the see,
Of noble hearte and courage good was hee,
As any went that time agaynst the Scots to fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
Sir William Percy and Lorde Ogle both same,
And Sir William Gascoyne, theyr cosin nere was hee:
The Shryue of Yorkeshyre Sir Iohn Eueringame,
And the Nobles at Chesshyre in theyr degree.
The Lord Dacres, and Basterd Heyron with heart free,
Which did harme the Scots by day and by night,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
491

Sir Edmond Haward of lusty franke courage
Boldly aduaunced himselfe eke in that stounde,
To the Scots our enemies he did greate hurte and domage,
Which were right greedy him and his bloud to confound:
But theyr mischieuous intent on themselues did rebound,
And many a deadly stroke on them there did light,
So the helpe of God preserude our Princes right.
The Baron of Killerton, and both Astones were there,
With Sir Iohn Bouthe, and many Knightes moe:
Sir Iohn Gower and Sir Walter Griffin drewe nere,
With Sir Thomas Butler and Maister Warcoppe also,
Sir Christopher Warde, & Sir William Midylton both two,
And Sir William Maliuer, all did manly fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
In the mydle warde was the Earle of Surrey,
That noble man stoute, bolde, and hardy,
The father of wit wee call him may,
The Deputy of England most trusty was hee.
With him Lorde Scrope of Bolton, and Sir George Darcye,
And Sir Richard Maliuer with Bucks heades bright,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
Sir Phillip Tilney was there ready and prest,
In the same warde, with all his mighty powre,
And Sir Iohn Willowghby as ready as the best,
With Sir Nicholas Aplyard his helpe, ayde, and succour.
O what ioy was it to see that same howre,
How valiauntly our noble men with the Scots did fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
Yong Sir William Gascoyne was there indeede,
With Sir Richard Aldburgh, and Sir Christofer Danebe,
Sir William Scarkell, and M. Frosts help at neede,
With Sir Raphe Ellarkar and M. Thomas Lee.
492

M. Raphe Beeston, and M. Hopton men might see
Full well, perdy, they quite themselues in that fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
Sir Edward Stanley in the reare warde was hee,
A noble Knight both wise and hardy,
With many a noble man of the West countrey,
And the whole powre of the Earle of Darby,
With a right retinue of the Byshop Elye,
And of Lankeshyre men manly did fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.
Soone then the gunnes began a new play,
And the Vaunt garde together are gone:
But our gunnes disseuered them out of aray,
And our bolde bilmen of them slewe many one.
So that of them scarce retourned none.
Thus were they punished by help of God almight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preseru'd our Prince his right.
Then they sought embushments, but with small chere,
And in fowle maner brake theyr aray:
Yet some of our men by policy fled were,
That sawe King Iemy on the hill where he lay.
They flee (hee sayes) folow fast I you pray.
But by that fit of flying wee wan the fight:
So the helpe of God preserude our Princes right.
To the Earle of Surrey King Iemy is gone,
With as comly company as euer man did see:
Full boldly theyr big men agaynst vs did come
Downe the hill, with great myrth and melody:
And our men marked them to the Trinity,
Beseeching him there to shew his might,
In theyr whole defence, and in theyr Prince his right.
493

The red Lyon with his owne fathers bloud inclynate,
Came towards the white Lyon both meeke and mylde,
And there by the hand of God he was prostrate,
By the helpe of th'Eagle with her swadled chylde.
The Buckesheads also the Scots has beguilde,
And with theyr grey goose wings doulfully them dight,
By the helpe of God, and in our Prince his right.
The Moone that day did shine full bright,
And the Luce head that day was full bent:
The red Cressent did blinde the Scots sight,
And the Ship with her Ancre many Scots spent.
But (alas) the good white Griffin was felde on Floddon hil,
Yet escape hee did, not vanquisht in the fight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preserude our Prince his right.
The Treyfell was true, and that did well appeare,
And boldly the great Griffin vp the hill is gone:
The Antlet did lace them with arrowes so nere,
That buffits the Scots bare, they lacked none.
The Cinquefoile also was stedfast as the stone,
And slewe of the Scots like a worthy wight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preserude our Prince his right.
The yong white Lyon was angry in that stounde,
And with his merry mariners the myrth him made,
His bells rang lay couched in the grounde,
Whereof the Scots were right sore affrayde.
And round about rydeing euermore he sayde
Go to my fellowes, all shalbe all or night,
By the helpe of God, wee saue our Prince his right.
The Cornish Choughe did picke them in the face,
And the Crab them blinded that they might not see:
They flewe and fell, they had none other grace,
With theyr new conquerour: but where now is hee,
494

Caryed in a cart, to his rebuke and his posterity,
And his Bullies so bonnye are put all to flight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preserude our Prince his right.
Of Scots lay slayne full xii. thousande,
And xi. Earles, the sooth for to say,
Xiii. Lords, and three Byshops as I vnderstande,
With two Abbots, which haue learnde a new play,
They should haue bene at home for peace to pray:
Wherefore they were thus wise punished by right:
So thy helpe O Lord preserude our Prince his right.
Theyr ordinaunce is lost, and theyr royalty,
Wee haue theyr riches, God haue the prayseing:
What ech man would take, hee had his liberty.
Wherefore laude and honour to such a King,
From dolefull daunger vs so defending:
Hee has graunted vnto vs now his might,
And by his only ayde preserude our Princes right.
O rex regum, ruler of vs all,
As thou for vs sufferedst thy passion,
Gieue the Scots grace, by King Iemyes fall,
For to eschue for euer like transgression,
Preserue the red rose, and be his protection.
Laude, honour, prayse be vnto God almight,
Who thus suppreste our foes, preserud our Princes right.
O yee noble Lordes and Knights victorius,
I you beseech to haue mee excused,
Your noble acts no better that I discusse,
And that my simple saying be not refused.
Where in any thing I haue mee misused,
I mee submit to your charitable correction:
And in this maner shall be my conclusion.
495

HOW THOMAS WOLSEY did arise vnto great authority and gouernment, his maner of life, pompe, and dignity, and how hee fell downe into great disgrace, and was arested of high treason.

Shall I looke on, when states step on the stage,
And play theyr parts, before the peoples face?
Some men liue now, scarce four score yeares of age,
Who in time past, did know the Cardnalls grace.
496

A gamesom worlde, when Byshops run at bace,
Yea, get a fall, in striuing for the gole,
And body loase, and hazarde seely sole.
Ambitious minde, a world of wealth would haue,
So scrats and scrapes, for scorfe, and scoruy drosse:
And till the flesh, and bones, be layde in graue,
Wit neuer rests, to grope for mucke and mosse.
Fye on prowde pompe, and gilted bridels bosse:
O glorious golde, the gaping after thee,
So blindes mens eyes, they can no daunger see.
Now note my byrth, and marke how I began,
Beholde from whence, rose all this pryde of mine.
My father but, a playne poore honest man,
And I his son, of wit and iudgement fine,
Brought vp at schoole, and prou'd a good diuine:
For which great gifts, degree of schoole I had,
And Batchler was, and I a litle lad.
So, tasting some, of Fortunes sweete consayts,
I clapt the hoode, on shoulder, braue as Son,
And hopt at length, to bite at better bayts,
And fill my mouth, ere banket halfe were don.
Thus holding on, the course I thought to ron:
By many a feast, my belly grue so big,
That Wolsey streight, became a wanton twig.
Lo what it is, to feede on daynty meate,
And pamper vp, the gorge, with suger plate:
Nay, see how lads, in hope of higher seate
Rise early vp, and study learning late.
But hee thriues best, that hath a blessed fate,
And hee speeds worst, that worlde will nere aduaunce,
Nor neuer knowes, what meanes good lucke nor chaunce.
497

My chaunce was great, for from a poore mans son,
I rose aloft, and chopt and chaungde degree:
In Oxford first, my famous name begon,
Where many a day, the scholers honourd mee.
Then thought I how, I might a courtier bee:
So came to Court, and fethred there my wing,
With Henry th'eight, who was a worthy King.
Hee did with words, assay mee once or twice,
To see what wit, and ready sprite I had:
And when hee saw, I was both graue and wice,
For some good cause, the King was wondrous glad.
Than downe I lookt, with sober countnaunce sad,
But heart was vp, as high as hope could go,
That suttell fox, might win some fauour so.
Wee worke with wiles, the mindes of men like wax,
The fawning whelp, gets many a peece of bred:
Wee follow Kings, with many coning knacks,
By searching out, how are theyr humours fed.
Hee haunts no Court, that hath a doltish hed:
For as in golde, the pretious stone is set,
So finest wits, in Court the credit get.
I quickely learnde, to kneele and kysse the hand,
To waite at heele, and turne like top about,
To stretch out necke, and lyke an Image stand,
To taunt, to skoffe, and face the matter out,
To preace in place, among the greatest rout:
Yet like a priest, my selfe did well behaue,
In fayre long gowne, and goodly garments graue.
Where Wolsey went, the world like Bees would swarme,
To heare my speach, and note my nature well.
I coulde with tongue, vse such a kinde of charme,
That voyce full cleare, should sounde like siluer bell.
498

When head deuisde, a long discours to tell,
With stories straunge, my speach should spised bee,
To make the worlde, to muse the more on mee.
Each tale was sweete, each worde a sentence wayde,
Each eare I pleasde, each eye gaue mee the vewe,
Each Iudgment markt, and paysed what I sayde,
Each minde I fed, with matter rare and newe,
Each day and howre, my grace and credit grewe:
So that the King, in hearing of this newes,
Deuysed howe, hee might my seruice vse.
Hee made mee then, his Chaplayne, to say masse
Before his grace, yea twise or thrise a weeke:
Now had I time, to trym my selfe by glasse,
Now founde I meane, some liuing for to seeke,
Now I became, both humble, mylde, and meeke,
Now I applyde, my wyts and sences throwe,
To reape some corne, if God would speede the plowe.
Whom most I sawe, in fauour with the King,
I followde fast, to get some hap thereby:
But I obserude, a nother fyner thing,
That was, to keepe, mee styll in Princes eye.
As vnder wyng, the hawke in winde doth lye,
So for a pray, I prowlled here and there,
And tryed frendes, and Fortune euery where.
The King at length, sent mee beyonde the seas,
Embastour then, with message good and greate:
And in that time, I did the King so pleas,
By short dispatch, and wrought so fine a feate,
That did aduaunce my selfe to higher seate,
The deanrie then, of Lincolne hee mee gaue:
And bownty shewde, before I gan to craue.
499

His Amner to, hee made mee all in haste,
And threefolde gyftes, hee threwe vpon mee still:
His counslour straight, listewise was Wolsey plaste,
Thus in shorte time, I had the world at will:
Which passed far, mans reason, wit, and skill.
O hap, thou haste, great secrets in thy might,
Which long lye hyd, from wily worldlyngs sight.
As shures of raine, fall quickly on the grasse,
That fading flowres, are soone refresht thereby:
Or as with Sun, the morning dewe doth passe,
And quiet calme, makes cleare a troubled skye:
So Princes powre, at twinkling of an eye
Sets vp a lofte, a favret on the wheele,
When giddy braynes, about the streetes doe reele.
They are but blinde, that wake where Fortune sleepes,
They worke in vayne, that striue with streame and tyde:
In double garde, they dwell, that destnye keepes,
In simple sorte, they liue that lacke a gyde:
They misse the marke, that shoote theyr arrowes wide,
They hit the pricke, that make theyr flight to glaunce
So nere the white, that shafte may light on chaunce.
Such was my lucke, I shot no shafte in vayne,
My bow stoode bent, and brased all the yeere:
I wayted harde, but neuer lost my payne:
Such wealth came in, to beare the charges cleere.
And in the end, I was the greatest peere
Among them all, for I so rulde the land,
By Kings consent, that all was in my hand.
Within on yeare, three Bishoprickes I had,
And in small space, a Cardnall I was made:
With long red robes, rich Wolsey then was clad,
I walkte in Sun, when others sate in shade:
500

I went abroade, with such a trayne and trade,
With crosses borne, before mee where I past,
That man was thought, to bee some God at last.
With sonnes of Earles, and Lordes I serued was,
An hundreth chaynes, at leaste were in my trayne:
I dayly dranke, in gold, but not in glas,
My bread was made, of fynest flowre and grayne:
My daynty mouth, did common meates disdayne,
I fed like Prince, on fowles most deare and straunge,
And bankets made, of fine conceites for chaunge.
My hall was full, of Knightes, and Squires of name,
And gentlemen, two hundreth tolde by powle:
Tale yeomen to, did howrely serue the same,
Whose names each weeke, I saw within checke rowle.
All went to church, when seruis bell did knowle,
All dinde and supte, and slepte at Cardnalls charge,
And all would wayte, when Wolsey tooke his barge.
My householde stuffe, my wealth and siluer plate,
Mighte well suffice, a Monarke at this day:
I neuer fed, but vnder cloth of state,
Nor walkt abroade, till Vshars clearde the way.
In house I had, musitions for to play,
In open streete, my trompets lowde did sownde,
Which pearst the skies, and seemde to shake the grownde.
My men most braue, martcht two and two in ranke,
Who helde in length, much more then half a mile:
Not one of these, but gaue his maister thanke,
For some good turne, or pleasure got some while.
I did not feede, my seruantes with a smile,
Or glosing wordes, that neuer bring forth frute,
But gaue them golde, or els preferde theyr sute.
501

In surety so, whiles God was pleasde, I stoode,
I knewe I must, leaue all my wealth behinde:
I sawe they lou'd, mee not for byrth or bloode,
But serude a space, to try my noble minde.
The more men gieue, the more in deede they finde
Of loue, and troth, and seruice, euery way:
The more they spare, the more doth loue decay.
I ioyde to see, my seruantes thriue so well,
And go so gay, with little that they gote:
For as I did, in honour still excell,
So would I oft, the wante of seruantes note:
Which made my men, on maister so to dote,
That when I sayde, let such a thing bee donne,
They woulde in deede, through fyre and water ronne.
I had in house, so many ofsars still,
Which were obayde, and honourde for their place,
That carelesse I, might sleepe or walke at will,
Saue that sometyme, I wayde a poore mans case,
And salude such sores, whose griefe might breede disgrace.
Thus men did wayte, and wicked world did gaze,
On mee and them, that brought vs all in maze.
For worlde was whist, and durst not speake a woorde
Of that they sawe, my credite curbde them so:
I waded far, and passed ore the foorde,
And mynded not, for to returne I troe.
The worlde was wise, yet scarce it selfe did knoe,
When wonder made, of men that rose by hap:
For Fortune rare, falls not in each mans lap.
I climde the clouds, by knowledge and good wit,
My men sought chaunce, by seruice or good lucke:
The worlde walkte lowe, when I aboue did sit,
Or downe did come, to trample on this mucke:
502

And I did swim, as dainty as a ducke,
When water serues, to keepe the body braue,
And to enioy, the gyftes that Fortune gaue.
And though my pompe, surpast all Prelates nowe,
And like a Prince, I liu'd and pleasure tooke:
That was not sure, so great a blur in browe,
If on my workes, indiffrent eyes doe looke.
I thought great scorne, such liuings heare to brooke,
Except I built, some howses for the poore,
And order tooke, to gieue great almes at doore.
A Colledge fayre, in Oxford I did make,
A sumptuous house, a stately worke in deede.
I gaue great lands, to that, for learning sake,
To bring vp youth, and succour scholers neede.
That charge of myne, full many a mouth did feede,
When I in Courte, was seeking some good turne,
To mend my torch, or make my candell burne.
More houses gay, I builte, then thowsands do
That haue enough, yet will no goodnes shoe:
And where I built, I did mayntayne it to,
With such great cost, as few bestowes I troe.
Of buildings large, I could reherse a roe,
That by mischaunce, this day haue lost my name,
Whereof I do, deserue the only fame.
And as for sutes, about the King was none
So apte as I, to speake and purchase grace.
Though long before, some say Shores wife was one,
That oft kneelde downe, before the Princes face
For poore mens sutes, and holpe theire woefull case,
Yet shee had not, such credite as I gate,
Although a King, would heare the parret prate.
503

My wordes were graue, and bore an equall poyes,
In ballaunce iust, for many a weighty cause:
Shee pleasde a Prince, with pretty merry toyes,
And had no sight, in state, nor course of lawes.
I coulde perswade, and make a Prince to pawes,
And take a breath, before hee drew the sworde,
And spy the time, to rule him with a worde.
I will not say, but fancy may do much,
Yet worlde will graunt, that wisdom may do more:
To wanton gyrls, affection is not such,
That Princes wise, will bee abusde therefore:
One sute of mine, was surely worth a score
Of hers indeede, for shee her time must watch,
And at all howres, I durst go draw the latch.
My voyce but heard, the dore was open streyght,
Shee might not come, till shee were calde or brought:
I rulde the King, by custom, arte, and sleight,
And knew full well, the secrets of his thought.
Without my minde, all that was done was nought,
In wars or peace, my counsayle swayed all,
For still the King, would for the Cardnall call.
I kept a court, my selfe, as great as his,
(I not compare, vnto my maister heere)
But looke my Lords, what liuely worlde was this,
That one poore man, became so great a peere?
Yet though this tale, be very straunge to heere,
Wit wins a worlde: and who hath hap and wit,
With triumph long, in Princely throne may sit.
What man like mee, bare rule in any age,
I shone like Sun, more cleare then morning star:
Was neuer parte, so playde in open stage
As mine, nor fame, of man flewe halfe so far.
504

I sate on bench, when thowsands at the bar
Did pleade for right: for I in publique weale
Lorde Chaunclour was, and had the great broad seale,
Now haue I tolde, how I did rise aloft,
And sate with pride, and pomp, in golden hall,
And set my feete, on costly carpets soft,
And playde at goale, with goodly golden ball:
But after, Lord, I must rehearse my fall.
O trembling heart, thou canst not now for teares
Present that tale, vnto the hearers eares.
Best weepe it out, and sodayne silence keepe,
Till priuy pangs, make pinched heart complayne:
Or cast thy selfe, into some slumbring sleepe,
Till wakened wits, remembraunce bring agayne.
When heauy tears, do hollow cheekes distayne,
The world will thinke, thy sprits are growne so weake,
The feeble tongue, hath sure no powre to speake.
A tale by signes, with sighes and sobs set out,
Moues peoples mindes, to pity plaged men:
With howling voyce, do rather cry and showt,
And so by arte, shew forth thy sorrow then.
For if thou speake, some man will note with pen
What Wolsey sayde, and what thrue Wolsey downe,
And vnder foote, flings Wolseys great renowne.
What force of that, my fall must needs be herd,
Before I fell, I had a time to rise:
As fatall chaunce, and Fortune mee preferd,
So mischiefe came, and did my state despise.
Yf I might pleade, my case among the wise,
I could excuse, right much of mine offence:
But leaue a while, such matter in suspence.
505

The Pope, or pride, or peeuish parts of mine,
Made King to frowne, and take the seale from mee:
Now seru'd no words, nor plesaunt speeches fine,
Now Wolsey, lo, must needs disgraced bee.
Yet had I leaue (as dolefull prisner free)
To keepe a house (God wot) with heauy cheere,
Where that I founde, no wine, ne bread, nor beere.
My time was come, I coulde no longer liue,
What should I make, my sorrow further knowne?
Vpon some cause, that King that all did giue
Tooke all agayne, and so possest his owne.
My goods, my plate, and all was ouerthrowne,
And looke what I, had gathred many a day,
Within one howre, was cleanly swept away.
But harken now, how that my Fortune fell,
To Yorke I must, where I the Bishop was:
Where I by right, in grace a while did dwell,
And was in stawle, with honour great to pas.
The Priors then, and Abbots gan to smell,
Howe Cardnall must, bee honourd as hee ought,
And for that day, was great prouision brought.
At Cawood then, where I great buildings made,
And did through cause, exspect my stawling day,
The King deuisde, a secrete vnder shade,
Howe Cardnall shoulde, bee reste and brought away.
One Wealsh a Knight, came downe in good aray,
And seasned sure, because from Courte hee cam,
On Wolsey wolfe, that spoyled many a lam.
Then was I led, toward Courte, like dog in string,
And brought as biefe, that Butcherrowe must see:
But still I hoapt, to come before the King,
And that repayre, was not denyde to mee.
506

But hee that kept, the Towre, my guide must bee.
Ah there I saw, what King thereby did meane,
And so I searcht, yf conscience now were cleane.
Some spots I founde, of pryde and popishe partes,
That might accuse, a better man then I:
Now Oxford came, to minde, with all theire artes,
And Cambridge to, but all not worth a flye:
For schoolemen can, no fowle defects supplye.
My sauce was sowre, though meate before was sweete,
Nowe Wolsey lackte, both conning, wit, and spreete.
A deepe conceyte, of that, possest my heade,
So fell I sicke, consumde as some did thinke.
So tooke in haste, my chamber and my bed,
On which deuise, perhaps the worlde might winke.
But in the heart, sharpe sorrow so did sinke,
That gladnes sweete, (forsooke my senses all)
In those extremes, did yeelde vnto my fall.
O let mee curse, the popish Cardnall hat,
Those myters big, beset with pearle and stones,
And all the rest, of trash I know not what,
The saints in shrine, theyr flesh and rotten bones,
The maske of Monkes, deuised for the nones,
And all the flocke, of Freers, what ere they are,
That brought mee vp, and left mee there so bare.
O cursed priestes, that prate for profits sake,
And follow floud, and tyde, where ere it floes:
O marchaunts fine, that do aduauntage take
Of euery grayne, how euer market goes.
O fie on wolues, that march in masking cloes,
For to deuoure, the lambs, when shepperd sleepes,
And woe to you, that promise neuer keepes.
507

You sayd I should, be reskude if I neede,
And you would curse, with candell, booke, and bell:
But when yee should, now serue my turne indeede,
Yee haue no house, I know not where yee dwell.
O Freers and Monkes, your harbour is in hell,
For in this world, yee haue no rightfull place,
Nor dare not once, in heauen shew your face.
Your fault not halfe, so great as was my pryde,
For which offence, fell Lucifer from skyes:
Although I would, that wilfull folly hyde,
The thing lyes playne, before the peoples eyes,
On which hye heart, a hatefull name doth ryes.
It hath beene sayde, of olde, and dayly will,
Pryde goes before, and shame comes after still.
Pryde is a thing, that God and man abores,
A swelling tode, that poysons euery place,
A stinking wounde, that breedeth many sores,
A priuy plague, found out in stately face,
A paynted byrd, that keepes a pecocks pace,
A lothsome lowt, that lookes like tinkers dog,
A hellish hownd, a swinish hatefull hog
That grunts and groanes, at euery thing it sees,
And holds vp snowt, like pig that coms from draffe.
Why should I make, of pride all these degrees,
That first tooke roote, from filthy drosse and chaffe,
And makes men stay, vpon a broken staffe?
No weakenes more, than thinke to stand vpright,
When stumbling blocke, makes men to fall downe right.
Hee needes must fall, that looks not where hee goes,
And on the starrs, walkes staring goezling like:
On sodayne oft, a blostring tempest bloes,
Than downe great trees, are tumbled in the dike.
508

Who knowes the time, and howre when God will strike?
Then looke about, and marke what steps yee take,
Before you pace, the pilgrimage yee make.
Run not on head, as all the worlde were youres,
Nor thrust them backe, that cannot bide a shocke:
Who striues for place, his owne decay procures:
Who alway brawles, is sure to catch a knocke:
Who beards a King, his head is neere the blocke:
But who doth stand, in feare, and worldly dreede,
Ere mischiefe coms, had neede to take good heede.
I hauing hap, did make account of none,
But such as fed, my humour good or bad.
To fawning doggs, sometimes I gaue a bone,
And flong some scrapps, to such as nothing had:
But in my hands, still kept the golden gad,
That seru'd my turne, and laught the rest to skorne,
As for himselfe, was Cardnall Wolsey borne.
No, no, good men, wee liue not for our selues,
Though each one catch, as mutch as hee may get:
Wee ought to looke, to those that diggs and delues,
That alwayes dwell, and liue in endles det.
Yf in such sort, wee would our compas set,
Wee should haue loue, where now but hate wee finde,
And hedstrong will, with cruell hollow minde.
I thought nothing, of duty, loue, or feare,
I snatcht vp all, and alwayes sought to clime:
I punisht all, and would with no man beare,
I sought for all, and so could take the time.
I plide the Prince, whiles Fortune was in prime,
I fild the bags, and gold in hoorde I heapt,
Thought not on those, that thresht the corne I reapt.
509

So all I lost, and all I gat was nought,
And all by pride, and pompe lay in the dust:
I aske you all, what man aliue had thought,
That in this world, had beene so litle trust?
Why, all thinges heare, with time decline they must.
Than all is vaine, so all not worth a flye,
Yf all shall thinke, that all are borne to dye.
Yf all bee bace, and of so small a count,
Why doe wee all, in folly so abound?
Why doe the meane, and mighty seeke to mount,
Beyonde all hope, where is no surety found,
And where the wheele, is alwayes turning round?
The case is plaine, if all bee vnderstood,
Wee are so vaine, wee knowe not what is good.
Yet some will say, when they haue heapes of golde,
With flocks of friends, and seruaunts at theyr call,
They liue like Gods, in pleasure treble folde,
And haue no cause, to finde no fault at all.
O blinde conceite, these gloryes are but small,
And as for friends, they change their mindes so mych,
They stay not long, with neither poore nor rich.
With hope of friends, our selues wee do deceaue,
With feare of foes, we threatned are in sleepe:
But friends speake fayre, yet men alone they leaue
To sinke or swim, to mourne, to laugh, or weepe.
Yet whan foe smiles, the snake begins to creepe,
As world falles out, these dayes in compasse iust,
Wee knowe not howe, the friend or foe to trust.
Both can betray, the truest man aliue,
Both are to doubt, in matters of greate weight,
Both will somtime, for goodes and honour striue,
Both seemeth playne, yet both can shewe great sleight,
510

Both stoups full lowe, yet both can looke on height,
And best of both, not worth a cracked crowne:
Yet least of both, may loase a walled towne.
Talke not of frends, the name thereof is nought,
Then trust no foes, if frendes theire credit loes:
If foes and frendes, of on bare earth were wrought,
Blame nere of both, though both one nature shoes,
Grace passeth kinde, where grace and vertue floes,
But where grace wantes, make foes and frends alike,
The on drawes sworde, the other sure will strike.
I prou'd that true, by tryall twenty times,
When Wolsey stoode, on top of Fortunes wheele:
But such as to, the height of ladder climes,
Knowe not what led, lies hanging on theire heele,
Tell mee my mates, that heauy Fortune feele,
Yf rising vp, breede not a gyddy brayne,
And faling downe, bee not a greuous payne.
I tolde you how, from Cawood I was led,
And so fell sicke, when I arested was:
What needeth nowe, more wordes heere in bee sed?
I knewe full well, I must to pryson passe,
And sawe my state, as brittell as a glasse:
So gaue vp ghost, and bad the worlde farewell,
Where in, God wot, I could no longer dwell.
Thus vnto dust, and ashes I returnde,
When blase of life, and vitall breath went out,
Like glowing cole, that is to sinders burnde:
All fleshe and bloud, so ende, you neede not dout.
But when the bruite, of this was blowne aboute,
The worlde was glad, the Cardnall was in graue,
This is of worlde, lo all the hope wee haue.
511

Full many a yeare, the world lookt for my fall,
And whan I fell, I made as great a cracke,
As doth an oake, or mighty tottring wall,
That whirling winde, doth bring to ruin and wracke.
Now babling world, wil talke behinde my backe
A thousand things, to my reproache and shame:
So will it to, of others do the same.
But what of that? the best is wee are gone,
And worst of all, when wee our tales haue tolde,
Our open plagues, will warning bee to none,
Men are by hap, and courage made so bolde:
They thinke all is, theyr owne, they haue in holde.
Well, let them say, and thinke what thing they please,
This weltring world, both flowes and ebs like seas.
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