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Vertues due

or, A true modell of the life of the right Honourable Katharine Howard, late Countesse of Nottingham, deceased. By T. P. [i.e. Thomas Powell]
 
 

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Uertues due.

The Sunne but now began to gather fire,
And lay a sharper edge vpon his beames,
Abated to the fulnesse of the yeere,
As fretted with the salt of Neptunes steames,
When blacke solemnity enuide anew,
And soyld his face with a more precious dewe:
Dew'd with the most religion of affection,
Made soft in nature, and in Heraldry:
The one accusing fate for his election:
The other, weeping his seuerity.
Both from their Cyprus altars offring teares,
Ynowe to make him aged in yong yeares.


It was not for the gods Arcadian theft,
When he drew dry their vdders milch-excesse,
Nor for his mother Pthias, when she wept
His rage, that earth malign'd his murrinesse.
But, loe, affections law of like for like:
It is our natures freedome to requite.
For he had lustre on his infant rayes,
To blandish out the glory of his Spring,
Reft from the falling Load-starre of our dayes,
Whose motion was the musike which I sing;
The measure of consent to all her sphere:
Indeed she was the best in Cynthia's quiere.


She was, (and so are loosers still in leesing,
When they recount the worth of what is lost)
And is not. Cold remembrance euer freezing,
When it shall reade the story of what's past.
Yet as she was, repeate for president
More of succession, then griefs argument.
Was of her trayne. Eternities decreeing
Did dedicate her in her parentage,
Whose neere alliance askt as neere a beeing,
And gently seal'd it on her virgin waxe:
And so, for nature and election,
Would Cynthia's self endeere her as her own.


She gaue her ranke, respect, and full accesse,
Agnizing her affinity and merit
With fauours, graces after graciousnesse;
Wherein she seem'd as if she did inherit
The trust and dignities, which long before
Her Honourable Ancestors did store.
Her parents honours did she extraduce
Into her very disposition;
As if the generall Carey were infusde
And had no other formes of his diuision.
Their ancient vnattainted loyalty
Broad blow'ne, and flush vpon her infancy.


Yet beauty was not onely of her blood:
Her birth-day Solstice height vnto perfection.
The Cantharis enuies a verdant bud,
And birth does only counsaile to protection.
So learnd she with the chāge of euery spring,
To saue her blood with heedfull dyeting.
Her youth preseru'd it chaste with continence;
A virgin diet for the hote intention,
Which might vnglosse his colour: adde expēce,
Both of the length & bredth of their dimēsion.
But the example of her mariage bed,
Were Oratory to perswade to wed.


For after she had blest so many moones,
As had Astræa, when she was transfixt;
With more austerity, than that which crownes
The Romane chastity, did she commixe
Her birth, her blood, Nobility and name,
To flowe more lofty in as rich veyne:
In Howards ample veynes; a Family
Of eminence, deryu'd without distent,
From the first shield of all their Auncestry,
To this of Charles, the latest Eminent:
Whose fayth and fortunes may they ne're expire,
But in a melting firmament of fire.


She wedded, yet she was a Votary,
To minister-in consecrated flame,
And weare Dianaes bow vpon her thigh,
Till on a day of sanctified name,
To store eche Nymph with shafts, the goddesse bids,
To fill her quiuers all with Poplar twigs,
That grew vpon a leuin, which the sea
Had season'd thriftily within the shore:
There Neptune fell in loue with Momone,
That till this day ne're sawe the Nymph before,
Ne're had his brest improou'd or softened,
But like the temper of his Corall bed:


From which he lately risse to lay her in,
And plac'd his Aggot wreath vpon her browes,
Whose potent charmes Diana pardon'd him,
And gaue her back the freedome of her vowes;
So she might still be of her fayrie trayne,
He war with Saturnes sonnes vpon the mayne.
And now, Eliza, with her wedlocke fate,
Did wed her to a higher dignity.
She kept the chayre that did suborne her state,
And grac'd it like the blue-eyde Cassiope:
She ne're surcharg'd ability with grace,
But still her owne dimensions fild the place:


Wherein this noble Lady Katherine seemd
T'anticipate her Mistris bounteous hand,
As if her offices were but redeemd
From vnder meriting, and she did stand
Alone, and vnencountred in her worth;
One whom inheritance had called forth;
Or rather prouidence: for what she was,
She was to others, through her selfe intended:
Like to some interiected leafe of glasse,
That breaks, yet heats, when neerer rayes offended.
She was all Organs, euen to the mind,
Whereby God did insinuate with mankind.


Her whole mortality had this extent.
She had affections of immortall sense:
For she would pity much, and much relent:
But the affect of greatest presidence
Ouer her nature, held no sinne to this;
To leaue apt good vndone, or doo't amisse.
The more they misse of her that are imbayd,
And fortune fixt for want of sea and scope,
Their burden with their sayle being ouerlayd:
Vnlesse they Anchor all their after-hope,
They misse: alas, I write of that too soone,
And lend her liuing worth for griefe to come.


Yet liu'd she to outliue that old report,
Which now againe our new worlds formes approue:
That, there is no retiremēt in the court,
Where there is much variety to moue,
And steale away. O, there's no life like hers,
That liu'd to bury her executers.
For softnesse neuer seyz'd her appetite.
A bloodlesse lyuor liues not on his heat:
Her resolution was Proponticks right,
And forward stem'd against the Moones retreat.
No change, no liberty, no ful-eyde pleasure
Could bring deuotions musike out of measure.


It was for her, the million of her sexe,
And calling, doe beside approue their kind;
Whose story often read, as oft begets
Opinion, that the sexe is so inclin'd,
And calling, so disposed vnto good,
As well in Courtship, as in woman-hood.
She was a woman, yet, not one of those
Whose erogated heate conuerts to hate.
It was her honour to forgiue her foes,
Euen in their ebbe, and full distent of state.
Alas, she would not take aduantage than,
Lest she should trip the fraylty of his man.


She would not glory his humility,
Nor actuate her old aggreeuances
O're weake distresse, and present misery:
Such conquest! O, tis base and honourlesse,
For when I doe but second Fortunes stroke,
I wound a heart that is already broke.
She was a Courtier too; but as a Starre
Vnfixt, and like Orion in a streame;
As free as featherd Faulcons in the ayre,
Moou'd on no other line, but Cynthia's beame:
Her freer spirit ne're was put in frame,
Though she put on her self a Courtiers name.


For she did hospitable bounty too,
And euer kept her influence at home;
Which euery Courtier vses not to doe,
Why, she was nothing Courtier, nor her owne:
Her light was made a Sea-marke to distresse,
Where Fortunes wracks arryu'd their needines.
In Court, no study that would apprehend,
Or aske Religion of her duty more,
Than, what Eliza gaue, might still commend
Her most magnificence, and fountayne store:
She was not like a Conduit-pipe fast by,
To turne the streame, & leaue the channel dry.


How many seruants of that Royall trayne
Could the fresh image of her loue excite,
To witnesse, she preferd Elizaes fame
Aboue her priuate reputations height!
She hated to be hyr'de to doe them good,
Or begd to buy their merits, though she cou'd.
And yet did her contentment stretch it selfe
More amply: Greatnesse was aboue her feare;
A faith beyond the curse that followes wealth,
Who euermore suspects eruptions neere,
Whose chāge does chāge the state of their subiectiō,
And giues this duty to the next electiō.


Great & secure! Me thinks, tis wōdrous strange:
But gracious not enuyde! Impossible:
For discontent makes worth his Fret of change,
And not seruility it selfe speakes well
Of Honourable birth or betterment:
Respect, with him is feare; & feare, contempt.
I know not how respect came ouer all;
But the most humble did admire her most:
A branch of ranke loue turnd to prodigall:
Such loue is still exhaust, or ouerflowes.
Ile learne ye how she did diuert their hate:
She made her selfe as humble as their state.


The lyst of all her vertues had a name
Of greater reuerence, than had the rest.
Religion. Tis a sessions to arraigne,
Detect, and bring our actions to the test.
And where that list was slack, remisse, & loose,
Assure ye, it was frailty extraduc'de.
She had no other principles (God wot)
Whereby to leuell and conforme her life:
All was not honest that was safely got:
She would not by iniustice compasse right,
Nor vsde to say, Tis Cæsar answeres all;
So thou reserue to stand, may kingdomes fall.


Her life was but a modell imitation,
Drawne with the freshest colours instance had
In holy writ, which gaue it approbation;
They were her essence (therfore could not fade)
Like colour layd in wine: her Lenten blacke
Did sit, like Nessus shirt vpon her backe.
At this perfection and maturity,
She stood in natures frayle adoption heere,
When heauen would vouchsafe her first to be
A mother, and her vertues to appeare
In propagated noblesse of a sonne,
That layd his roote as far as she begunne.


That first, L. William was of Essingham,
A Barony, that field and Knighthood earnd
With sweating spurs, when heraldry deraignd
His hardiment. O, 'twere a sight to learne,
And put ambitious fire in any Swayne,
To see Nobility so dearely gaynd.
Heauen was delighted in his workmanship,
And now became more boūtious of his breath,
Which sweld her womb to be more fruitful yet,
Deriu'd a second labors where she left,
A second blessing, and a Charles beside;
For Honours lofty bed did open wide.


A third. Inuention, giue me backe, my selfe
Deuided. All my numbers keepe consent,
And with my soule my stiles ambition melt.
Eche sinew of our duty be attent;
Forget the funerall state and maiesty,
And prostitution wholly summon me.
Call her by any epithite exprest
In vertues Inuentory; nay discourse
Her mothers life: see with what liuelinesse
She does insert it, freely, and vnforc'd.
Be she the noble Countesse of Kildare,
Or Cobhams Baronesse; shee's wondrous faire.


A next. The Lady Southwel; here I should
Confound my methode with a plentious vayne
Of great deuotion, and of wyddowhood:
But my more free proposements are restraynd,
To shew the lost, their last similitude,
To which the Lady Luson much accrude.
Here, happinesse did floate at all the lyne:
This day accounted for the greatest debt,
That grace and goodest Stars could her assigne:
And till this day her circle neuer met;
Now was her happinesse so satisfide,
She knew not what her wish might adde beside.


Contentment crownd her streight beyond the mayne,
And roughest oppositions in her birth;
The weeping Crocodile, the Syrens strayne,
And all the Delinitions that inuert
Our, Fye, what ist that we can call our owne?
She past the seas, & shipwrackt here at home
Within the hauen. Now, it was disposd
With heauenly wisdome, to the best of vses.
So, we are wise, to purchase from our foes,
T'enrich the sea with that which land abuses.
We doe secure vs in their feebled store.
Securenesse hurts least, when it is most poore.


The goodnesse of the Highest left her not:
For Neptune, conquering Argo vnarriu'd,
Must disimbark the golden Fleece she brought,
In her owne hauen to be stellifyde,
And seem aboue her weeping Marble sphere,
To swimme as free in heauen, as she did heere.
'Twas onely in her wishes now to dye,
When as her fulnesse fear'd to be o're-ioyd;
Like those that surfet of saciety,
And yet their surquedry is euer voyd:
These haue their fulnesse so intemperate,
Nothing refreshes, till it suffocate.


She would not haue her Sūmer beames to light
Vpon the rancke, and thrifty slyme beneath,
Where honours heat begets the parasite,
And other monstrous shapes, that wil bequeath
Vnto their Cesar, Ioues owne heritance,
And swell his greatnesse into arrogance.
She fear'd that such shuld know her to be great.
She knew her greatnesse was superlatiue.
Nature, and grace, and stars their rest had set,
And euery opposition left to striue,
She wanted nothing of felicity,
But free commission to desist and dye.


She prayd it, and preuented constant fate,
That would not her delight shuld see her sweat
Out of conuerse familiar, and innate.
Ioy, longer then tis fresh, is not compleat:
But like to Times own tunes, that rauish not,
Because they iygd it, when we were begot.
This burthen would be fayne deliuered,
When she had reckon'd to maturity,
Appealing from the Moone that followed,
The eyght, which mortals call an enemy
Vnto conception. Fate and she complyde,
And in a seuen-fold happinesse she dyde.


The Offering.

Thou that ow'st this breathles beauty,
Mistris of the dayes deuotion,
And her blackest rites of duty,
Guyd'st her timeles, tuneles motiō:
O! I would not leaue thee yet,
Till I see thy Searements fit.
Thou, that art complexion carelesse,
Let affections armes vnfold,
After last imbracings durelesse,
And vpon the hallowedst mold,
Left for monumentall vse,
By thy iust extensure chuse.


If the earth deny thee rest,
Like the soule that lyes so soft
In her groning, grieued brest,
Shalt thou there be buried oft.
Earth affords no freer Toombe;
None so wide as sorrowes wombe.
There in stead of balmde confection,
Righteous teares, and season'd sighing
Sprinkle o're thy ceast complexion,
Till they seale thy searements plighting.
Gratefull odours be about thee:
Truce within, and teares without thee.


Next, for Scuchions o're thy herse.
I that truly would display thee,
Offer vp this sacred verse,
VVith the greatest zeale that may be:
Though thy Herald, length they lacke,
Yet our Scuchion staues are blacke.
Leafe by leafe, be open wide;
Speake to all that passe this way,
That they part not from thy side,
Till they read, and reading pray.
May this story neuer fade,
Till thy soule be quicke conuayd.


Angels with their musike charmes
All vnknowne malignity;
Drowne the midnights hye allarme,
When the sacring summons be:
Let not her vnhallowed breath
Enter in thy house of death.
Spirits sanctifide secure thee:
All corruption quite be spent.
Let thy natures workes assure thee
Consummation imminent.
Though thou left'st them all behind thee,
Yet their merits there refine thee.


Workes and fayth thy soule conuay,
On a heauen-deuiding wing.
Let deuotion reade and pray.
Saints and ministring Angels sing.
All, with natures latest debt,
Wype away thy Marbles sweat.
FINIS.