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A Commemoration of the Right Noble and vertuous Ladye, Margrit Duglasis

good grace, Countis of Lennox, Daughter to the renowned and most excellent Princesse Margrit, Queene of Scotland, espowsed to King Iames the fourth, of that name: In the daies of her most puissaunt and magnificent Father Henry the seauenth, of England, Fraunce and Ireland King [etc.] [by John Phillip(s)]

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To all Right Noble, Honorable, Godlye and Worshipfull Ladyes, Iohn Phillip wisheth the feare of God, prosperitie and peace in Iesus Christ.


A freendly Farewell geuen to Honorable and vertuouse Ladyes.

Good Ladies al your listning eares I craue,
Til time my tale be fully brought to end:
Though yt my corps be subiect to the graue,
Yet vouch awhile to heare your faythful freend.
To you these lines for my farewell I sende,
Accept them then, and reade them for my sake,
And of my name, a new memoriall make.
I neede not shew to you my bloud and byrth,
Nor parentage deseruing high renowne:
That thing was knowne whilst I enioyd ye earth
though now of late Parchas hath cut me downe.
Henry the seauenth that ware the royall crowne,
Of England, was my Grandfather most deare,
As plaine by proofe Historians witnesse beare.
My Grandam hight, Elizabethes good grace,
And eldest Daughter was, as is well knowne:
Unto a perelesse Prince, of royall race,
whose worthy facts through out the world was blown.
Of England he atteind the kingly throane,
Edward the fourth euen so was clypt his name,
And Henry the seauenth espowsd this noble dame.
The knot thus knit to Brittains lasting ioy,
The house of Yorke and Lancaster was one:
Where discord erst, did commons hartes anoy,
Loue now had place, and they smale cause to mone.
A blast of blisse in euery place was blowne,
For perfit peace, whyrld enuy headlong downe.
whē that these states enioyed the regall Croune.


Though rebelles radge did kindle oft the brand,
Of dyre debate, ye mortall wars and strife:
Yet did this Prince, with his out stretched hand,
Prepare to daunt, his foes with bloudy knife.
As iust he was, so mercy was as rife,
To all his actes, God gaue so good increase,
That by his meane England, possessed peace.
In wedlockes right to make the commons faine
God on the earth did multiply his seede:
He by his Queene eight Children did obtaine,
which did his ioyes and subiects heape indeede.

Prince Arthur weded to Kathren daughter to Fardinando king of Spaine.

His eldest Sonne that should the crowne succeede

He did conioyne in wedlock this is plaine,
With Kathren Daughter to the king of Spaine.
Who with her in that holy sacred state,
Not full sixe monthes, enioyed vitall breath:
Amydst his blysse Ioue did cut short his fate,
And in his youth his body brought to earth,
When time is come death waies not bloud nor birth
He strikes aswel the Prince that wers ye crown,
As he doth tach the begger and the clown.
No giftes of goulde, no houldes nor yearely fee,
Can cause him staye when God commaundes to strike,
He feares no state, he spares no high degree,
The ritch and poore to him are all alike.
He doubtes not he the Champions push of picke,
The strong and weake he makes full soone to bende,
Its vaine alas with death for to contende.
The Prince cut off by dent of death thus wise,
The Duke of Yorke that noble Henry hight:
Whose fame Report beares to the orient skies,
Proclamed was of Wales the Prince by right.


Though the fyrst Sonne were reft the Fathers sight,
The second did King Henryes ioyes increase.
Whose praise to vaunt the commons neuer cease.
My noble Mother then Margrit clipte by name,
His eldest Daughter much he did delight:
He sought hir wealth and high renowne to frame,
And vnto Iames the fourth did her behight.
Who ware the crowne of Scotland as his right,
And she to him was spowse and crowned Queene,
Such care for peace was in my Grandsire seene.
And for myne Aunt the Lady Maries grace,
His hart was bent beningly to prouide:
Twixt Christian Realmes he sought sound loue to place,
The fruites whereof myght discord thrust aside.
Fyue of his Children here before him dide,
And with the last my Grandams daies did ende,
And after soone the King to death did bende.
Thus tyme worne out there can remaine no staye,
For sicknesse health efte soones we see doth wound:
It strength consumes, and beauty weares away.
And last comes death to driue vs to the ground.
From earth we came and earth a meane hath found,
To clame her own, from whome, when death hath done
No meane is left for vs to start or ronne.
No Potenstate, no Caiser, no Prince nor King,
No Duke, no Marquis, earle nor Lorde be bould:
Of dreadfull death san scape the bitter sting,
When God appoyntes all flesh must turne to mould.
He strickes the young, he tames the aged ould,
The Misers mucke can not his life prolong,
When God decrees, death forth to stricke must throung


The wise mans skill, nor cunning cannot serue,
When death doth come his sauegarde to procure:
He from the heastes of Ioue will no time swarue,
The foole and wise, of death may be most sure.
Then worldly wightes whilst here you do indure,
Know life to death is subiect euery hower.
Whose stroake to shun no creature hath the power.
Henry the seauenth his Queene and children fyue,
Resining life as her by me is toulde:
Henry the eyght as king remaind aliue,
Whose praise of right ought for to be enroulde.
And regestred by Fame, in letters writ of goulde
That all estates may know and vnderstand,
How nobly he did gouerne this land.
Queene Margrit my mother did then remaine,
In Skotland with the king, Iames, clipt by name:
But the Lady Marie I must be plaine,
Aboode with a Prince of fame
He sought of her estate the wealth for to frame,
And minding each tide her name to aduaunce,
He maried his sister, to the king of Fraunce.
The spowsals solempnist, with ioy and with glee,
In Parris mine Aaunt was crowned the Queene:
But king Iamy the fourth did soone decree,
To enuy king Henry as well it is seene.
The read Roase that flourished with leaues full greene,
He sought to extirpe and pluck vp by roote,
But soone his vaine hoape was trod vnder foote.
The Queene my mother of curtesie flower,
Would oft on hyr knees, perswade with his grace:
To stay from his purpose and leuye no power,
The borders of Brittane to spoyle and deface.


She could not preuaile, he would follow the chase
His stomack found sturdy, would nothing relent.
He rainged all heedlesse, to pine and to detriment.
Thus reason made subiect vnto his wil,
He sought to enlarge his pine and his paine:
But a prince to be ruled by his owne skill
Can not secure nor safe long time remaine.
All goeth to wrack where men good counsell disdainde,
Raishnesse bringes peril and daunger ten fould,
(But wisedome makes Princes alwaies extould.
To great was the follye of king Iames be you sure.
Whose arrogant hart and asspiring minde:
His spoile and decay in time did procure,
So list ambition his sences make blind.
To Henry the eight, he waxed vnkinde,
And sought the seedes of discorde dire to sowe:
UUhere frendship and faith, of right ought to growe.
His furie increasing an hoast he prepared,
His rage founde restles, reuenge did desyre:
Yet when he thought least, with thrall he was snared,
And supt vp the dregs of his conceiued yre.
Presumption, reuenge doth alwaies require,
The greater the gilt, the scourge sharper found,
For Iustice the vniust whirles still to the ground.
My Uncle King Henry the eight of that name,
Beholding of Iames, the surquedie and pride:
Assembled his power this Prince for to tame,
Whose folly a rod for him selfe did prouide.
At Bramstome this battell should manly be tryde,
In which as God would king Iamy was slaine,
His Army dispersest and Skots put to paine.


Lo this was the fine of this abusion,
Here enuye was plauged according desert:
His vnkind dealing wrought his confusion,
His to fond bowldnesse through pearced his hart.
Temeritie was cause of his spoyle and his smart,
His guerdon was death and losse of renowne,
For God the proud hart doth dayly cast downe.
The Queene my Mother then hearing these newes,
The kings infortune did greatly lament,
She mourned that he did counsell refuse.
And with his estate would not be content,
But such is the ende of those that be bent,
To perseuer in pride mischiefe and ill,
Shame is the reward of foolish fond will.
In Skotland my carefull Queene mother I leaue,
To take the garde of king Iames her young sonne:

Iames the fift, Sonne and heire to kinge Iames the fourth.

And to Fraunce my tale tendes ye may perceiue,

With the Queene mine Aunt I haue not yet donne.
The thread of life that Lachasis bad sponne,
Atropos prest forth in sunder to share,
Of her husband the king, to dye we borne are.
All flesh is grasse and doth wither away,
Euen as the flower that doth partch with the sunne,
No Phisick can serue our lyues for to staye,
When the clockes past and the hower full runne.
By death to all sortes, Gods will must be donne,
But how, or when, no mortall man doth knowe,
Ne yet in what sorte death will bring him lowe.
Some by long sicknesse theyr lyues do resigne,
Some with the sworde are constrained to dye:
And some by famine to earth do incline,
And some in the floudes deepe drentched do lye.


Some by the lawes from death cannot flye,
Subiect to miseries we are on the earth,
And certaine to dye euen from our fyrst byrth.
No charter of life is graunted to man,
Our time is but short our dayes are not long:
Our substaunce is earth and do what we can,
To earth we shall tourne be we neuer so strong.
Let vs not thinke then that death doth vs wrong,
When, or in what sort, he shall vs arest,
No, let vs be ready to welcome this guest.
Consider that time runnes on without stay,
If he once passe by, he will not turne back:
And as the time fades mans dayes weare away,
For the Web of this lyfe, runnes still vnto wrack.
In time keepe watch then, least death the house sack,
For such as liue carelesse glorying in sinne,
Seeke to themselues distruction to winne.
Queene Mary mine Aunt a widdowe now left,
And so was my Mother of Skotland the Queene:
Theyr Princes by death both from them bereft,
A cause of care in each of them was seene.
Myne Unckle king Henry, whose fame lasteth greene,
Did comfort them both in their great distresse,
As one well content theyr cares to redresse.
Queene Mary myne Aunt his sister moast deare,
He sent for agen to come into England:
And wedded she was to a noble Piere,
Of Sulfolcke the Duke, named Charles Brandon.
To him she byhight her hart and her hande,
And God on the earth theyr seede did increase,
Who gaue them prosperity, plenty and peace.


My Mother in Skotland vnknowen to the king,
Did enter the knot of wedlocke againe:
With Lord Archimball Duglas consider this thing,
Of Angus the Earle, as knowne it is plaine.
Unruly the Skotes as then did remaine,
For which cause the Queene to England her tooke,
And Sotland awhile she left and forsooke.
The king her brother of loue moast intire,
At Harbotell Castell her harbour appointed:
Where and in which place sith to know ye desyre,
I was borne of my mother a Queene anointed.
And at the fountstoone, as the Prince appoynted,
Margrit I was clipt this is most true,
As you that list search in Cronacles may view.
In youth I was trained, to vertue and grace,
In age I hild that in youth I did learne:
In fayth and Gods feare I ran on my race,
Obedience and trueth I helde as chiefe sterne.
No lightnesse in me could any discerne,
My hart and my hand to do good was bent,
And wisedome to learne I was well content.
But such is the time and date of our dayes,
That lyfe cannot last as flesh doth require:
Though pleasure doth graunt to garnish our wayes,
And Fortune accorde to content our desyre.
Yet when we thinke least, to death we are nyere,
Our musick hath ende our pleasure doth fade,
Our pomp as nothing in moment is made.
Our eyes that delight the courser to view,
Are dazled of trueth in taking abreth:
Though knightes at the tylt our ioyes do renew,
Yet both we and they shall turne vnto earth.


No marciall Captaine can once conquer death,
He feares no armour nor yet barbed steede,
The conquest to death belongeth indeede.
It is neyther fare nor coastly attyre,
Matches moast ritch nor Iewels worthy price:
No, mountaines of gould may death no time hyre,
No, beauty to saue you can him once intice.
Then hunt after vertue, learne to loath vice,
For vertue though death cut all degrees downe,
Doth mauger the graue purchace renowne.
My mother the Queene, king Iamies true wife,
A Ruler of Skotland from death could not flye:
Queene Mary of Fraunce, myne Aunt lost her lyfe,
You see death doth kingdomes and Monarkes defy.

Iames the fifte brother to the noble lady Margarit Duglas.


He will not be parciall, no state he sets by,
The' rle Angus my Father did bow to the ground,
And so did my brother the king of Skots cround.
My parents bereft me, and also myne Aunt,
My brother and kinsfolke to myne anoy:
Yet list myne Unckle the eight Henry graunt,

The Lady Maries grace and Elizabeth daughters to King Henry the eight Cosin germaines to the Lady Duglasis good grace.


A meane distressed to bring me to ioy.
To call me to Court his grace was not coy,
With Maries good grace his daughter by right,
My roome to alot his highnesse did delyght.
And after in tyme when God did decree,
Elizabeths grace to the world to bring:
Myne Unckle her Father so tendered me,
That with her in the Court I had my chiefe being.
So dærely loued me Henry the eight King,
Whose bounty and kindnesse I may not forget
That by me his Nece so greatly did set.


In Court I was lyked and loued of all,
At vertue I laboured still for to ame:
To loosenesse of lyfe I was neuer found thrall,
My wordes on wisedome I sought for to frame,
By meanes whereof I purchased fame
But when I thought leste to griefe I was thrall,
From reason, by loue, to soone I did fall.

A contract betwixt the Lady Margarit Duglasis grace, and Lord Thomas Howard youngest sonne to the Duke of norfolke who were therefore sent to the Tower.

Unknowen to the king my Unckle most deare,

My fayth to Lorde Thomas Howard I plight:
Most trusty to me his troath did appeare,
But fortune her fawning list chaunge vnto spyght.
Our loue she reducst, into the kings sight,
Who for our offence to the Tower vs sent,
Where much our infortunes we both did lament.
I mourned that I by Phansie was led,
And yet from my loue I could not recoyle:
The Princes dispeasure, my cause of care bred,
But trew loue sought still my dolors to foyle.
But loue of, my loue prepared the spoyle,

The lord Thomas did fynish his life in the tower.

And he in the Tower did finishe his lyfe,

To whome by contract I had vowed my selfe wife.
His death with my teares I did often lament,
Myne Unckles displeasure did grieue me as mutch:
Yet Patience gaue charge I should be content,
She in my distresse with hoape did me tutch.
And though fortune did against my blisse grutch,
Yet hoape at the last her hate did restraine,
And to the kinges fauour did bring me againe.

The lady Margarits grace pardoned and restored to the Kinges fauour.

My faulte he remitted and tooke me to grace,

My bondage was past, my hoape, freedome won:
Yet when of my Lorde I constred the case,
And how for my loue his lyfe was vndon.


I wept the young wight, the Duke Norfolckes Sonne,
That for my loue did, his lyfe in bondes paye,
And yelded his corps, to slumber in claye.
To banish my cares and my blisse to augment,
Therle Lennox for me the king did prouide:

The earle Lennox espoused to the Ladye Margarit Duglasis grace.


To whose heast of trueth, I gaue my consent,
Euen he was my spowse, and I his true bryde.
Unto my Lorde, stedfast my fayth was tryde,
By whome in wedlocke eyght Children I had,
Our cares to diminish and make our hartes glad.
But death vnto lyfe found dayly a foe,
Sir of our Children away from vs hent,

Henrye Lorde Darley and Charles left as liue.


In tender youth he layed them downe lowe,
Whose losse with teares we much did lament.
But yet with Gods will we stoode well content,
Whose diuine working we could not withstande
Who maketh and killeth in turning a hande.
But anew t'inlarge our myrth and our glee
A Prince, to the king myne Unckle he sent:
And Edward the sixt then named was he,
Whose byrth of the commons, the ioyes did augment.
But after (alas) dire death from me hent,
The king mine Unckle a Prince worthy fame
Whose actes through the world reuiueth his name.
No meruaile it was though then I were woe,
My griefes did increase, my playntes did abounde:
And with me all England, theyr sobes did bestowe,
To waile for his want moast highly renounde.
To Frentchmen and Skots, a scourge he was founde,
Their Bulwarkes he racst and sackt many houlde,
Yet Mauger his myght, death sent him to moulde.


A Mars he was named such was his power,
He gloried in fight to vaunt sworde and shield:
With thump of Canon, he sackt many tower,
He with fire and sword his foes forcst to yeld.
Not Hector could gayne more honor in fielde.
Then Henry the eight in battell hath wone,
Yet death to the graue constraind him to ronne.
Thus here you may see that death is the wight,
That neyther spares king, Kaisar nor Prince:
He will not be hyred death all doth smyght,
The Conqueror he dreades not to conuince.
He fauours no towne, he cares for no Prouince,
No Canon can scare him of this be you bould,
Death stricketh all states they must turne vnto mould,

King Edward the sixt Cosen germain to the noble Ladye Margarit Duglasis good grace

The death of the kinge the Commons did greeue,

Yet did his seede theyr solace sweete increase:
King Edward the syxt theyr cares did releeue,
Who planted in England tranquilitie and peace.
Of Scotland he gan the rage for to cease,
And calmed the brages of the hardy vniust,
To whose smooth tongue he had smale cause to trust.
King Edward the syxt enioying the Crowne,
Was cut downe by death in his tender yeares:
Whose name yet liueth deseruing renowne,
Report to the Clowdes his prayses pure reares.
His losse to Brittaine procured salt teares,
Bewayled he was in porte and in towne,
Ere seauen yeares were past death cut him downe.
Soone after him then Queene Mary did sucseede,
The Scepter and Sword came to her hande:
To cut her downe also death doubtlesse decreed,
When she not sixe yeares had ruled this lande.


Before those Princes I constant did stande,
My trueth vnblemisht I faythfull was found,
Obedience and trueth was my chiefest ground.
Queene Mary disceast, to Englands great ioy,
Elizabeths grace attained the crowne:
Who laboured her subiects to shielde from anoy,
Gods trueth she aduauncst, and fasehood put downe.
Through Europ is blowen her highnesse renowne,
Whose flowring fame brauncheth lyke tholiue greene
Tryumph you Brittaines in your royall Queene.
For since that Brutus this Land did atchieue,
Her lycke hath not beene of this be you boulde:
For wisedome a Saba your blisse to reuiue,
You all do possesse, then let be extoulde.
Her vertue to skies let each tongue vnfoulde,
The praise of this Queene (a Princesse of peace)
Who seekes of the commons the ioyes to increase.
Like Iudeth she sittes with sworde in her hande,
To daunt Holophernus and beate downe his pryde:
By her, the three graces continue and stande,
About her princely seate, Sibelles abide.
Such fate list Ioue for this your Queene prouide
The Muses nine, with hyr good grace to dwell
For prudent skyll, your Princes doth excell.
With in her brest Iustice a place hath pyght,
And in her mercy welds the supreme sway:
The poore opprest, to helpe she doth delight,
Her hand is prest to shield them from decay.
To al the fruites of loue, she doth display,
Her eares attend to heare each subiects wrong,
Lyke Saba she her subiectes rules among.


The sacred Nimph that noble Vesta hight,
Within her bower, accompanies this Queene:
Like Phebus rayes, her glorye glisters bright,
Adornde she sits with Lawrill lasting greene.
Pernassus mount to scale this Prince is seene,
Of Helicon that Riuer running cleere,
To taste her fill our Pandra hath desyre.
The scepter she, like sad Cassandra swaies,
Corinna like, augmentes her learned skill:
Then Triton see, in haste thou take thy wayes,
To spred her fame with taunting trumpet shrill.
Extoll our Queene of God be loued still,
Whose word and will, dispight of Chacus yre,
She, to defende hath settled true desyre.
Her countryes weale, to worke her hart is bent,
Haute Hydrais head, she hath cut of indeede:
Each Minataure, by skill she doth preuent,
That in her soyle, of strife would sow the seede.
The woolfe she quailes, the lambe she seekes to feede,
With pleasant mylke, and honey passing pure,
God graunt on earth her grace may long indure.
Whose blessed dayes all faythfull hartes assent,
On bended knees of ruling Ioue to craue:
With all your powers let hartes and tongus consent,
To pray to God this ruling roase to saue.
Thrise Nestors yeares, wish that her grace may haue,
And as her loue, to God is faythfull seene,
So pray, alway, that God may shielde our Queene.
In court, my lyfe, with soueraine mind I lead,
To whom my fayth, most loyall I behight:
When I thought least, a cause of care was bread,
To banish blisse, and thrust my ioyes to flight.


I felt the force, of cruell Fortunes spight,
A web of woe, she tought my handes to weaue,
As by my tale, ye shall anon perceaue.
Myne eldest Sonne, Lord Darly, namd of right,

Henry the Lord darley went from Engeland and was maried to Marye Queene of Scotlād by whome he had a son, which Queene Elizabeth of england Fraunce & Ireland Queene, & the Kinge of Fraunce did baptise his name Charle Iames


From England went, to Skotland this is plaine:
Mary the Queene, his presence did delight
And for him did, of Skotland rule ordaine.
Wedded they were, and he theyr king did raine
And God on the earth to maintaine theyr peace,
Did geue them a Prince, their ioyes to increace.
The Queene of England, Elizabethes grace,
And Charles, of Fraunce the king this is plaine:
Did baptise the Prince this is a plaine case,
Against which season, I lyst not to faine.
Our royall Queene certes a fount did ordaine
Of fine pure goulde, most cunningly wrought,
Loue to establish, she in this sorte sought.
Charles Iames, this Prince, at the fount they then named
Whose byrth to my state did yeelde some delight:
But Fortune afresh, my new sorrow framed,
My honey with gall, she saucst through her spight.
The king my Sonne a wise worthy wight,
(Alack) my tongue fayntes, the sequell to shoe,
Without his desert did purchase a foe.
Where he did most trust his trust him deceiued,
For trecherous treason did compasse him rounde:
His hoape as haplesse, of blisse him bereaued,
And causelesse ingratitude, gan him to wounde.
The guiltlesse to harme, deceit a meane found,
Flattery bewitcht him, some Skots were vntrue,
And credit to light, to late made him rue.


A straunger in Court incencst him to yre,
Whose hauty contempt he could not abyde.
But death in the Court remayned his hyre,
As meetest rewarde to laye downe his pride.
The slaughter of whome his lyfe dyd deuide,
For where he most firmely sought safts to buylde,
Most soonest of all my Sonne was beguilde:
Alas that treason should counteruayle troath,
And falshood the clooke of freendship should vse:
Alas that Rebelles should frustrate theyr oath,
And fayth vnto God and Prince so refuse.
At Glasco, (O place) thou makest me to muse,
To noate what solace in thee was frequented,
And yet what mischiefe false traitors inuented.
What banquetes most braue in thee were prepared,
What Musick, what sporte, what triumph and ioy:
No cost for vnitye alas there was spared,
To boast of true freendship, no state was found coy.
Those that most bragged wrought my Sonnes anoy,
But as vnder honey gall often doth lurke,
So clocked craft (causelesse) agaynst him dyd worke.
The fowlers theyr nets in secreete had spread,
The byrd to intrap (alas) all vnware:
The bayght, was perill, whereon the fish fed,
Although of pleasure he sometymes haue share.
The hooke concealed doth worke the fish care,
Euen so dyd flatery, most craftely frame,
The death of my Sonne king Henry by name.
By whose rufull fine let Princes take heede,
How or on whome, they do settle theyr trust:
Remember this prouerbe as true as the Creede,
For treason most tretcherous, raines in thuniust.


To ground on flattery let them that will lust,
Faire wordes and no deedes, at all they shall finde,
Beware adulation make you not blinde.
But flatterers presume to reatch to the Court,

A Cauiate for Princes and noble estates, by the spoile of Cæsar to flie & hate smoothe tongues that by the meanes of their fayned flatteries seeke the spoile of Princes & depotulation of countryes.


Cleo with Princes seekes to beare sway:
The iust by flatteres oft times do take hurt,
Note, flattery of Cæsar wrought the decaye,
Sy no that Gorgon his parte so did playe,
That Troy by flattery was layde in dust,
For trecherous treason consisteth in trust.
Thus flattery doth sacke Regions and Townes,
Flattery bereaues man of lym and of lyfe:
It spoileth Princes of theyr royall crownes,
(A flatterer) glorieth in mischiefe and strife.
In smooth tonges commonly deceipt is found rife,
Trust not such Syrens their hermonies hate,
Least in Charibdis you drowne also late.

Henry Kinge of Scots secured by flattry, which wrought his causes confusyon.

As did king Henry who yeelding to such,

As smoothly could cloake and couer theyr guile:
Suffred hipocrisie his state for to touch,
The proofe wherof, did broch treason vile.
Obedience and loue, false rebelles exile,
Their king they murthred (O woe, and alas,)
How may I with teares his death ouerpas.
B But yet remember thou and thy trayne,
O Offenders moast vile wicked and ill,
D Doth God, not traytors hate and disdaine,
VV We reade in his wrath destroye them he will.
E Esteeme that his iustice lots them to spill,
L Looke with thy consorts from the East to the West,

Bodwell aucthor of the most cruell and & blodye slaughter.


Your guile is ostended, God doth you detest.


Your crime is to great your fades worthy paine
A scourge moast sharpe your sinne doth require:
what subiects nay traitors their prince would haue slain.
That dayly theyr welfare sought to desyre.
Correction most sharpe your sinne doth require,
In whome neither wisedome nor reason had place,
O Caines moast cruell and people past grace.
But (ah) why do I exclame in this sorte,
Oh silly woman too weake then art founde:
To vanquish these rebbelles so rype t'extort,
Their Prince most faythful that did on trueth ground.
But rest thee content though care do thee wound.
Appeale thou to God on him cast thy care
who for the vniust his wrath doth prepare.
Thus lingring in woe my dolor increast,
Dame Nature constraind me to rush foorth my teares.
To sende foorth my sobs I no time haue ceast:
The heauens of my cryes iust record still beares,
The facte of this slaughter blowne in myne eares,
My cares made dubble I wayld day and night,
Yet pacience pure I plast in my sight.
But tyme at the last my cares did exile,
And Fortune prepard afresh for to smile:
Her pleasant lookes did last but small while,
Euen so list that dame of blisse me beguile.
Some Skots continuing theyr myschiefe moast vile,
Did yeelde me to drinke a cup of new care,
Wherein of sorowe, I tasted my share.
My anguish was such as to beare was to great,
Yet God was my guide on whome I did staye:
Though Fortune gan hardly me to intreate,
Yet to God, by prayer I styll made my waye.


And though on my neck his scouge he did laye,
I gladly did yeelde his crosse for to beare,
And hoapt at the last, the clowdes would wax cleare.
The Earle Lennox my spowse, Lord Steward by name,
In Skotland as regent did beare the sway:
Under whose charge, the younge king worthy fame,
As his Protector and Gouernor did stay.
To vpholde Iustice he laboured night and day,
The commons weale he sought still to procure,
But no state of safegarde him selfe can assure.
At Starling, he ment, a Parliment to houlde,

The Earle Lennox Regent of Scotland, ment to hould a Parlament at starling.


Whereunto the states resorted with glee:
He sought that vertue myght still be extoulde.
And labour there to place loue and vnitie.
To him did accorde all the nobilitie,
Saue some most vnkinde, that vertue did hate,
The foes of theyr countrey, and regent my mate.
H Hautinesse came on to martch with his traine,

Hambletouns treacherous treason.


A And treason the Ensine and Standert did beare:
M Myschiefe made speede the innocent to paine,
B Bouldnesse stept vp his rancor to reare.
L Lust longed to haue the blood of my deare,
E Enuy prest on at vnitie to grudge,
T Treason in this case, presumd to be iudge.
O Order by fraud and contempt was troode downe,
V Uertue was quaild vice beare the sway:
N None more prest, to blemish their Regentes renowne,
Then they that of right, were bound him to obay.
Early in the morne, to his place they tooke way,
His house they beset (O cause of great care)
And entred the gates or ere he was ware.


Thus traitors through treason my deere in his bed,
With violence did of trueth rounde beset:
The voyce of theyr clamor amazed his bed,
The rage of these Rebels, he, ne might forget.
To weake was his force theyr practise to let,
Yet keept he his chamber mauger their yre,
Tyll they did threate, to consume him with fyre.
Yet came he to parley before he did yeelde,
To those (most sedicious) cheefe aucthors of strife:
Who promisde theyr regent from perrill to shielde,
And vowde by oathes, he should haue his lyfe.
But hard its to trust, where treason is ryfe,
Yet he to theyr handes him selfe did commit,
Supposing that they from fayth would not flyt.

Therle Lenox Regent of scotland most traiterouslye slaine in the Towne of Sterling with apistole.

But they not waying, his estate nor renowne,

Nor yet dreading God, that gouerns the skye:
With a pistole slew him in midst of the towne,
These Rebels, thus wise theyr Regent made dye.
Faith was forsaken and nothing set by,
Thus treason bereft me of my Sonne and mate,
So froward lyst Lachas twist on my fate.
O people most peruerse stubborne and ill,
(O Rebels ruthlesse) and falsely forsworne:
What ment ye my Sonne, and husband to kill?
Would God I wish it, ye had neuer beene borne.
The death of your king first made me to mourne,
The spoyle of your regent, my cares makes duble.
Woe worth you Rebels, cheefe cause of my trouble.
To heauen I appeale in this mortall lyfe,
For these great iniuries vnto me done:
To you that skorne peace and glory in strife,
Gods vengaunce in tyme, no doubt wyll be wone.


Through Europ defame see that thou do rone,
To publish the actes of these Skots vntrew,
That theyr king and Regent, thus did subdew.
Thinke you good Ladyes care cut not my hart?

Lorde Charles maried to the daughter of the lady Sentlowe nowe Countise of Sherisbury who diseased at hacnye by whō he had the Ladye Arbella.


Thinke you that these paines ransackt not my brest:
These murthers (God knowes) enlarged my smart,
And made me to waile, when I should take rest.
In bed, and at boorde, my plaintes were exprest,
My sobs like larums to heauen I vp sent,
But patience perforce bad me be content.
At Hackney with me Lord Charles did abyde,
And wedded he was to a Lady full deare:
By whome God for my comfort lyst to prouide,
Young tender infant my hart for to cheare.
Arbella was named, the young Lady fayre,
But death from me reft her Father my Sonne,
Whose losse to lament with teares I begonne.
Thus Fortune still bent my ioyes to diminish,
In this mortal lyfe my cares did augment:
But shortly after my turmoyles to finishe,
Sicknesse to tach me by Gods will was sent.
To whome for to yeelde me I was content,
On God I did build my fayth was most true,
Whose ayde I required my flesh to subdue.
Heauen was my hoape this world I did hate,
Sweete Christ was the Rock on whome I did ground:
His death was sufficient I knew to abate,
His Fathers displeasure, and cure the wound.
That Sathan through sinne, to make in man found,
By his illusion: the meane and high way,
To spoyle vs of blysse and worke our decay.


But Iust was our God I cannot denye,
Condemned we were for Adames offence:
I know as iustice did lot vs to dye,
So mercy most milde should be our defence.
The seede of the woman a gem of excellence,
Was graunted of loue the Serpent to foyle,
Us to reuiue that sinne sought to spoyle.
Which seede was sweete Christ, the Sonne of God sure,
Who did for our sakes his essence imbace:
His conseption was holy his byrth most pure,
Such was the working of God by his grace.
Gods sacred spirit considering our case,
Did light on a Uirgin by his diuine power,
Of whome was begotten Christ our sweete flower.
Flesh of her substaunce I knowe he did take,
And for our sakes he became perfect man:
Sinne onely except, and thus for to make,
Our attonement with God of loue he began.
He quailed the boast and power of Sathan,
But as he was man marke well what I saye,
He was also God, beleeue me ye maye.
For from his humanitie this thing is trew,
His Godhead diuine was not inseperate:
Christ God and man our welfare did renew,
From death by his death the trueth to relate.
He throughly beholding our wretched estate,
Reducst vs from death and brought vs from hell,
God graunt that in him we faythfull may dwell.
For he it is sure that hath done vs good,
Not for deserts but of loue by his grace:
Our sinnes are remitted in his deerest blood,
Our guile is forgotten, and we in good case,


If firmely our hoape in heauen we do place.
If we on Christ builde and settle our trust,
His merites are ours he will make vs iust.
In health and in sicknesse, I this did beleeue,
And euen tyll that death did finish my dayes:
No paine nor yet Crosse could my fayth remeeue,
For Christ my sweete Lorde his name I did praise.
Then learne God Ladyes to follow my wayes,
Hoape still for heauen this world is but vaine,
Let Christ your comfort in your hartes remaine.
And vnto your Queene be trusty and kinde,
Her statutes and lawes obserue and obay:
Her bounty I wish you to beare still in minde,
For whose secure state, to God do you pray.
Whose presence God sende you to the last day,
Then Brittaine shall prosper and florish with fame,
That so it may be saye amen to the same.
My sicknesse increasing my strength gan to fayle,
No Phisick could serue my health to restore:
For death against lyfe began to preuaile,
Such is the state of the ritch and the poore.
Learne to be reddy good Ladyes therefore,
Let fayth be your shielde with sinne for to striue,
Then lyfe euerlasting you shall atchieue.
In charity and loue my lyfe long I lead,
The poore as my guestes I dayly did feede:
But fayth hath my ioyes in Iesus Christ breede,
Who to his flocke doth watch and take heede.
He was my comfort in dainger and neede,
From death and decay, the Lambe set me free,
So great was his bounty showne vnto mee.


At Heackney to death my lyfe did I bende
My soule to my Christ I ther did commit:
My body to clay did ioyfully wende,
Where it remaines tyll God thinke it fit,
My body and soule together to knit.
Where and in which time before the Iudge iust.
I shall be sanctified such is my trust.
And thus good Ladyes farewell and adew,
My race is full run, my trauels haue ende:
As death in this lyfe, my lyfe, did subdew,
So death vnto you his footesteps will bende.
Regarde my sayinges, thinke you on your freende,
For as I am gon, beleeue me you maye,
You needes must follow your sustaunce is clay.
Dixi.
FINIS.
Yours at commaunde (in the Lord) John Phyllips.