The Famous History of Guy Earle of Warwicke By Samvel Rowlands |
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| XII. | CANTO XII. |
 | The Famous History of Guy Earle of Warwicke |  |
CANTO XII.
Guy after many years comes home,
To England for his grave,
Kills Colbrond the great Giant, and
Dies poorly in a Cave.
To England for his grave,
Kills Colbrond the great Giant, and
Dies poorly in a Cave.
Ev'n as the brightest glorious shining-day
Will have a night of darkness to succeed;
Which takes the pride of Phœbus quite away,
And makes the Earth to mourn in sable weed:
Presenting us with drowsie heavy sleep,
Death's memory in careful thoughts to keep:
So youth the day of Nature's strength and beauty,
Which had a splendor like fair Heaven's eye,
Must yield to age by a submissive duty,
And grow so dark, that life of force must dye,
When length of years brings ancient evening on,
Irrevocable time is posting gone.
This cogitation in Guy's breast appears,
By his returning from the Holy Land;
He finds himself to be a man in years,
And that his Glass had but a little sand
To run, before his date of life expire,
Therefore to England he doth back retire,
There to be buried where he had been born,
Was all the cause that did induce him back:
To end his evening where he had his morn,
In doleful colours of a dead man's black:
And let that body rest in English ground,
Which through the world no resting place had found.
When he arrived on his native shore,
He found his Countrey in extream distress;
For through the Kingdom armed troops great store,
Against the Foe was all in readiness,
The King of Denmark, whose destroying hand,
A mighty Army did securely land;
And marched from the Coast with devastation,
Destroying Towns, Villages set on fire;
Working such terror unto all the Nation,
King Athelstone was forced to retire
To VVinchester. Which when the Danes once knew,
Towards the City all their strength they drew,
Which was too strong for Spear and Shield to win,
(Invincible their walls of stone were then)
They wanted Cannon keys to let them in.
Hell's picklock powder was unknown to men:
The Devil had not taught such murthering smoak;
A Soldier's honour was in manly stroke:
Beholding now how they repulsed were,
That VVinchester by no means could be won:
They do conclude to summon parly there,
And with a Challenge have all quarrels done;
An English man to combat with a Dane,
And that King lose, that had his Champion slain.
Wherewith a huge great Giant doth appear,
Demanding where the Foxes all were crept;
Saying, if one dare come and meet me here,
That hath true valour for his Countrey kept,
Let him come forth, his manhood to disclose,
Or else the Eaglish are but cowards foes.
Why, very Cravens on their Dunghils dare
Both crow and strike, before they run and cry;
Is English Courage now become so rare,
That none will fight, because they fear to dye?
That I pronounce you all faint-hearted fools,
Afraid to look on manly martial tools?
What slanders I have heard in foreign lands,
Of those poor men for deeds which they have done!
Most false they are belied of their hands;
But he says true, that says their feet can run;
They have a Proverb to instruct them in,
That 'tis good sleeping in a sound whole skin.
Thus did he vaunt in terms of proud disdain,
And threw his Gauntlet down, say'ng, There's my glove:
At length great Guy no longer could refrain,
Seeing all strain court'sies to express their love:
But comes unto the King, and says, Dread Lord!
This combate to thy unknown Knight afford.
Although in simple habit I am hid,
Yeilding no shew of that I undertake,
I ne're attempted ought but what I did;
An end of Colbrond, on my soul, I'le make.
Palmer (quoth Athelstone) I like thy sprite,
God send thee thither, and He aid thee right.
His Powerful Hand lend vigour to thy blows,
And grant thy foot upon thy Foe may tread;
Amen, quoth Guy, and with great courage goes
Forth VVinchester's North-gate unto Hide-Mead
Where that same Monster of a man he found,
Treading at every step two yards of ground.
Art thou the man (quoth Colbrond) art thou he
On whom the King will venture England's Crown?
Can he not find a fitter match for me,
Than this poor Rascal in a thred-bare Gown?
Where's all his Knights and worthy Champions now?
I do disdain so base a Slave as thou.
Giant, said Guy, Manhood should never rail,
To breathe the air with blast of idle wind;
A Soldier's weapon best can tell his tale,
Thy destiny upon my Sword I find;
'Twill let thee blood, while thou hast drops to bleed,
And spell thy death for all the Danes to read.
Thus I begin; and on his armour laid,
That Colbrond's Coat was never cudgel'd so,
Who with his Club did watch to meet his blade,
Intending to have brok'n it with a blow;
But Guy was sure his sword would hold out play,
It had been trusted many a cruel fray
And therefore boldly he presumes thereon,
Laying about as fast as he could strive,
Until the Lubbers breath was almost gone,
(For with a weighty Club did Colbrond strive)
Which lighting on the ground, made earth give way,
As if some Devil did about him lay.
So long they held this stern and ireful fight,
That the beholders knew not what to deem,
Yet still some wounds to Colbrond's share did light,
Which to the English did great comfort seem.
Besides, their Champion gave encouragement,
By active carriage, danger to prevent.
Quoth Colbrond, English man, wilt thou forbear,
And sue for mercy, let the fight alone?
Villain (quoth Guy) I scorn thy Coward fear,
I'le have thy life, or it shall cost mine own:
We'l never part till one be soundly sped,
The King hath ventur'd England on my head.
For twenty Denmarks (if they might be found)
And all the wealth that on the Ocean swims,
I will not yield an inch of English ground;
Thou shalt find metal in these aged limbs:
Although thy bodie's height be more than mine,
I have a heart bigger by odds than thine.
Think on thy ancient Grandsire, Gogmagog,
Whom Corineus dealt withall at Dover;
How that same Lubber, like a Timber log,
Was by the worthy Britain tumbled over;
For his bold challenge, he had such a check,
There was no Surgeon could amend his neck.
Thou art deceiv'd in me, poor silly Sot,
I am untaught to bend submission's knees:
Hold me no Christian, if I fail a jot,
(And for the world that title I'le not leese)
Betake thee to thy Tools, honour thy king,
Upon thy manhood lies a mighty thing.
And thus I do encounter thee afresh:
With that he lent him such a powerful stroke
It made wide ruptures in the Giant's flesh,
And did his furious choler much provoke;
Laying about him in most cruel rage,
Till the next wound did all his heat asswage,
It was so mortal that it brought him down,
To lie and groan upon the bloody ground:
Forthwith a shout was heard from out the Town,
That all the skie did eccho to the sound;
Great joy was made by ev'ry English heart,
And all the Danes with extream grief depart.
King Athelstone sent for his Champion then,
To do him honour for his famous deed:
Who was received by the Clergy-men
With all solemnity, for such high meed:
Embraced by the Nobles, and renown'd,
With Martial Musick, Drum, and Trumpets sound.
But little pleasure Guy conceives herein,
Refusing Jewels, costly ornaments,
Saying, with these he out of love had been
For many years by true experiments:
Only thanks God, that blest him with an hour,
To free his Countrey from invading pow'r.
And so intreats that he may pass unknown,
To live where poverty regards not wealth,
And be beholding to the help of none,
Seeing the world but now and then by stealth.
For true content doth such a Treasure bring,
It makes the begger richer than a King.
With true content (said he) I will abide,
In homely Cottage, free from all resort;
But I have found, content cannot be spy'd,
To make abode within a Monarchs Court:
No there's ambition, pride, and envy seen,
And fawning flatt'ring stepping still between.
Yet gentle Palmer (said the King) agree,
Where-ever thou resolvest to remain:
Acquaint thy name in private unto me,
And this is all thy Soveraign will obtain:
Tell me but who thou art, I will conceal it,
As I am England's King, I'le not reveal it.
Why then (quoth he) your Grace shall understand
I am your Subject, Guy of VVarwick named;
That have these many years not seen your Land,
But been where youth by ancient age is tamed:
Yet there experience taught me wit, dread Prince,
The world of many follies to convince.
And now am come to bring my bones to grave,
Within the Kingdom where I first took life;
Yet shall no creature else the notice have
Of my arrival, not my dearest Wife,
Till sickness come, and doth my death foretell.
Then I'le acquaint her with my last farewell.
The King with joy imbrac'd him in his arms,
And with great admiration answers thus;
Most worthy Earl, freer of England's harms,
It grieves my soul thou wilt not live with us:
Oh were thy resolutions thoughts, but now,
That my perswasions might prevent thy vow,
But, 'tis too late, they are grown ripe, I see
Thou art too setled in determination;
Well, Honoured man, yet this joys me,
Thou bring'st thy bones unto thy dearest Nation;
Where Monuments of thy great deeds shall last,
Till after-ages of the world be past.
In VVarwick Castle shall thy Sword be kept,
To witness to the world what thou hast been,
And least forgetful time should intercept,
A President, I present will begin;
The Castle-keeper shall receive a Fee,
To keep thy sword in memory of thee.
Thy Armour likewise, and thy Martial Spear,
That did thee service in thy high designs,
Shall be preserved very careful there,
That all such men as have distrustful minds,
May think (if from a truth it did not grow)
A King would scorn to cozen people so.
And in thy Chappel (distant thence a mile)
A bone shall hang of that same cruel beast,
Which near to Coventry remain'd long while,
Whose rib by measure is six foot at least;
Destroying many that did pass that way,
Until thy manhood did the Savage slay.
That by tradition, men may speak and tell,
This was Guys Armour, this his Massie blade;
These bones of murthering beasts which men did quel,
And this the Tomb wherein his Corps where laid.
This the true Picture of his shape at length.
And this the Spear did oft express his strength.
For sure I hold it an ungrateful thing,
(When thou by Natures course in dust shall lie)
No memory shall cause some Muse to sing
The worthiness of matchless English Guy:
Thy Country-men would prove too far unkind,
When out of sight, they leave thee out of mind.
This said, in humble duty (wondrous meek)
Guy reverenceth the King, and so departs,
Some solitary Den, or Cave to seek,
Which he unto his Mansion-house converts:
And so lives poorly in the hollow ground,
Making his meat of herbs and roots he found.
Sometimes he would to VVarwick Castle go,
And crave an alms at his dear Ladies hand,
Who unto Pilgrims did more bounty show,
Than any Noble woman in the Land;
And she would ask all Palmers that came there,
If at the Holy Land they never were?
Or in their travels, if they had not seen
An English man was Lord of that same Tower?
Who many years away from hence had been,
A Knight ne're conquer'd yet by human Power.
But there's a Tyrant whom I only fear,
They call him Death, that murthers every where;
If he have met him (O my dearest Lord)
I never shall behold thy face again,
Till that same Monster do as much afford
Unto my heart, and so release all pain.
Which gracious Heaven grant, if Guy be dead,
Upon the earth let me no longer tread.
Thus did he often hear his Wife enquire,
With deep complaints from extream passions flowing;
Yet by no means would grant her kind desire
The comfort of a hopeful word bestowing;
But look upon her as his heart would break,
Then turn away for fear his tongue should speak;
And so departs with weeping to his Cell,
Setting a dead man's head before his eyes:
Saying, with thee I shortly come to dwell,
This sinful flesh I constantly despise,
My soul is weary of so bad a guest,
And doth desire to be at home in rest.
My feeble limbs weakness doth sore possess,
And sickness gripes do touch about my heart;
I feel I am not far from happiness,
But am in hope my foe and I shall part;
This adversary which I long have fed,
By whom my soul hath been so much misled.
To my dear Phælice I will send my Rring,
Which I did promise for her sake to keep:
I may no longer time defer the thing,
For fear that death prevent me with his sleep;
I feel his messenger approach apace,
And poor weak nature must of force give place:
So call'd a Herds-man as he passed by,
And said, Good friend, do me a special favour,
Even in a matter that concerns me high.
(My hope relies upon thy kind behaviour)
To VVarwick Castle speedily repair,
And for the Countess ask, with trusty care
Deliver thou this Ring to her own hand,
And say, the ancient Pilgrim sent the same
That lately at her Gate with Scrip did stand,
To beg an alms in blessed Jesus Name.
And if she ask thee where I do remain,
Direct her hither, she'l requite thy pain.
Sir (quoth the Herds-man) I shall be asham'd,
That ne're durst speak to Lady in my life:
Nay more, and't please you, I may much be blam'd,
To carry Rings to such a great man's Wife.
Besides, if I should lose it by the way,
Why what would you and Madam Phælice say?
Prethee (said Guy) frame not such idle doubt,
No prejudice can light on thee at all;
The act is honest which thou go'st about,
And for it none can thee in question call:
A courteous ear the Lady will thee lend,
Upon my warrant, fear you nothing friend.
With that he goes, and mannerly betakes
The token, to the Countess; which she seeing,
Most admirable wonder at it makes,
Ah friend (quoth she) where is my Husband's being?
Husband (said he) that news I do not bring,
From an old Begger I receiv'd the Ring.
His house was made of neither wood nor stone,
But under ground into a hole he went:
And in my conscience there he dwells alone,
And never pays his Landlord quarters rent.
Ah 'tis my Guy, she said, shew me his Cell,
And for thy pains I will reward thee well.
So he directs VVarwick's fair Countess thither,
Who entring in that melancholy place,
Her Lord and she imbracing, weep together,
Unable to pronounce a word long space,
Long time them two had not a word to speak,
Till Guy's discretion Sorrows door did break:
Phælice, quoth he, now take thy leave of Guy,
That sent to see thee e're his sight decay:
Within thy arms I do intreat to die,
And breathe my spirit from thy sweat soul away.
Thou gav'st me alms at VVarwick Castle late:
'Tis blessedness to pity poor mens state.
Look not so strange, bewail not so my Dear;
Ah! weep not Love, I do not want thy tears:
I have shed plenty since my coming here;
Of true Remorse, my conscience witness bears,
Thou weep'st not now, because I wept no more,
But to behold me friendless, hapless, poor.
Wife, I have sought the place that I desire,
Though few endeavour for eternal rest;
The soul which to that Heaven doth aspire,
Must leave the world, and worldly things detest;
'Tis full of Devils that on Souls do wait,
And full of mates; in every place some bait.
Ah Phælice, I have spent (and then he wept)
Youth (natures day) upon the love of thee;
And for my God, old rotten age have kept,
The night [illeg.] Christ forgive it me;
Sorrow lies heavy on my soul for this,
Sweet Saviour Christ, pardon thou my amiss.
In that I had destroy'd so many men,
Even for one Woman to enjoy thy love;
Therefore in this solitary Den,
I sought my peace with that great God above,
'Gainst whom by sin I have been more mis-led
Than there be hairs upon my hoary-head.
The other day, seeing my Body ill,
And all the parts thereof opprest with pain,
I did compose a Testament and Will,
To be the last that ever I ordain.
Lo here it is, I'le read it if I can,
Before I cease to be a living man.
Will have a night of darkness to succeed;
Which takes the pride of Phœbus quite away,
And makes the Earth to mourn in sable weed:
Presenting us with drowsie heavy sleep,
Death's memory in careful thoughts to keep:
So youth the day of Nature's strength and beauty,
Which had a splendor like fair Heaven's eye,
Must yield to age by a submissive duty,
And grow so dark, that life of force must dye,
When length of years brings ancient evening on,
Irrevocable time is posting gone.
This cogitation in Guy's breast appears,
By his returning from the Holy Land;
He finds himself to be a man in years,
And that his Glass had but a little sand
To run, before his date of life expire,
Therefore to England he doth back retire,
There to be buried where he had been born,
Was all the cause that did induce him back:
To end his evening where he had his morn,
In doleful colours of a dead man's black:
And let that body rest in English ground,
Which through the world no resting place had found.
When he arrived on his native shore,
He found his Countrey in extream distress;
Against the Foe was all in readiness,
The King of Denmark, whose destroying hand,
A mighty Army did securely land;
And marched from the Coast with devastation,
Destroying Towns, Villages set on fire;
Working such terror unto all the Nation,
King Athelstone was forced to retire
To VVinchester. Which when the Danes once knew,
Towards the City all their strength they drew,
Which was too strong for Spear and Shield to win,
(Invincible their walls of stone were then)
They wanted Cannon keys to let them in.
Hell's picklock powder was unknown to men:
The Devil had not taught such murthering smoak;
A Soldier's honour was in manly stroke:
Beholding now how they repulsed were,
That VVinchester by no means could be won:
They do conclude to summon parly there,
And with a Challenge have all quarrels done;
An English man to combat with a Dane,
And that King lose, that had his Champion slain.
Wherewith a huge great Giant doth appear,
Demanding where the Foxes all were crept;
Saying, if one dare come and meet me here,
That hath true valour for his Countrey kept,
Let him come forth, his manhood to disclose,
Or else the Eaglish are but cowards foes.
Why, very Cravens on their Dunghils dare
Both crow and strike, before they run and cry;
Is English Courage now become so rare,
That none will fight, because they fear to dye?
That I pronounce you all faint-hearted fools,
Afraid to look on manly martial tools?
What slanders I have heard in foreign lands,
Of those poor men for deeds which they have done!
Most false they are belied of their hands;
But he says true, that says their feet can run;
That 'tis good sleeping in a sound whole skin.
Thus did he vaunt in terms of proud disdain,
And threw his Gauntlet down, say'ng, There's my glove:
At length great Guy no longer could refrain,
Seeing all strain court'sies to express their love:
This combate to thy unknown Knight afford.
Although in simple habit I am hid,
Yeilding no shew of that I undertake,
I ne're attempted ought but what I did;
An end of Colbrond, on my soul, I'le make.
Palmer (quoth Athelstone) I like thy sprite,
God send thee thither, and He aid thee right.
His Powerful Hand lend vigour to thy blows,
And grant thy foot upon thy Foe may tread;
Amen, quoth Guy, and with great courage goes
Forth VVinchester's North-gate unto Hide-Mead
Where that same Monster of a man he found,
Treading at every step two yards of ground.
Art thou the man (quoth Colbrond) art thou he
On whom the King will venture England's Crown?
Can he not find a fitter match for me,
Than this poor Rascal in a thred-bare Gown?
Where's all his Knights and worthy Champions now?
I do disdain so base a Slave as thou.
Giant, said Guy, Manhood should never rail,
To breathe the air with blast of idle wind;
A Soldier's weapon best can tell his tale,
Thy destiny upon my Sword I find;
'Twill let thee blood, while thou hast drops to bleed,
And spell thy death for all the Danes to read.
Thus I begin; and on his armour laid,
That Colbrond's Coat was never cudgel'd so,
Who with his Club did watch to meet his blade,
Intending to have brok'n it with a blow;
But Guy was sure his sword would hold out play,
It had been trusted many a cruel fray
And therefore boldly he presumes thereon,
Laying about as fast as he could strive,
Until the Lubbers breath was almost gone,
(For with a weighty Club did Colbrond strive)
Which lighting on the ground, made earth give way,
As if some Devil did about him lay.
That the beholders knew not what to deem,
Yet still some wounds to Colbrond's share did light,
Which to the English did great comfort seem.
Besides, their Champion gave encouragement,
By active carriage, danger to prevent.
Quoth Colbrond, English man, wilt thou forbear,
And sue for mercy, let the fight alone?
Villain (quoth Guy) I scorn thy Coward fear,
I'le have thy life, or it shall cost mine own:
We'l never part till one be soundly sped,
The King hath ventur'd England on my head.
For twenty Denmarks (if they might be found)
And all the wealth that on the Ocean swims,
I will not yield an inch of English ground;
Thou shalt find metal in these aged limbs:
Although thy bodie's height be more than mine,
I have a heart bigger by odds than thine.
Think on thy ancient Grandsire, Gogmagog,
Whom Corineus dealt withall at Dover;
How that same Lubber, like a Timber log,
Was by the worthy Britain tumbled over;
For his bold challenge, he had such a check,
There was no Surgeon could amend his neck.
Thou art deceiv'd in me, poor silly Sot,
I am untaught to bend submission's knees:
Hold me no Christian, if I fail a jot,
(And for the world that title I'le not leese)
Betake thee to thy Tools, honour thy king,
Upon thy manhood lies a mighty thing.
And thus I do encounter thee afresh:
With that he lent him such a powerful stroke
It made wide ruptures in the Giant's flesh,
And did his furious choler much provoke;
Laying about him in most cruel rage,
Till the next wound did all his heat asswage,
It was so mortal that it brought him down,
To lie and groan upon the bloody ground:
That all the skie did eccho to the sound;
Great joy was made by ev'ry English heart,
And all the Danes with extream grief depart.
King Athelstone sent for his Champion then,
To do him honour for his famous deed:
Who was received by the Clergy-men
With all solemnity, for such high meed:
Embraced by the Nobles, and renown'd,
With Martial Musick, Drum, and Trumpets sound.
But little pleasure Guy conceives herein,
Refusing Jewels, costly ornaments,
Saying, with these he out of love had been
For many years by true experiments:
Only thanks God, that blest him with an hour,
To free his Countrey from invading pow'r.
And so intreats that he may pass unknown,
To live where poverty regards not wealth,
And be beholding to the help of none,
Seeing the world but now and then by stealth.
For true content doth such a Treasure bring,
It makes the begger richer than a King.
With true content (said he) I will abide,
In homely Cottage, free from all resort;
But I have found, content cannot be spy'd,
To make abode within a Monarchs Court:
No there's ambition, pride, and envy seen,
And fawning flatt'ring stepping still between.
Yet gentle Palmer (said the King) agree,
Where-ever thou resolvest to remain:
Acquaint thy name in private unto me,
And this is all thy Soveraign will obtain:
Tell me but who thou art, I will conceal it,
As I am England's King, I'le not reveal it.
Why then (quoth he) your Grace shall understand
I am your Subject, Guy of VVarwick named;
That have these many years not seen your Land,
But been where youth by ancient age is tamed:
Yet there experience taught me wit, dread Prince,
The world of many follies to convince.
Within the Kingdom where I first took life;
Yet shall no creature else the notice have
Of my arrival, not my dearest Wife,
Till sickness come, and doth my death foretell.
Then I'le acquaint her with my last farewell.
The King with joy imbrac'd him in his arms,
And with great admiration answers thus;
Most worthy Earl, freer of England's harms,
It grieves my soul thou wilt not live with us:
Oh were thy resolutions thoughts, but now,
That my perswasions might prevent thy vow,
But, 'tis too late, they are grown ripe, I see
Thou art too setled in determination;
Well, Honoured man, yet this joys me,
Thou bring'st thy bones unto thy dearest Nation;
Where Monuments of thy great deeds shall last,
Till after-ages of the world be past.
In VVarwick Castle shall thy Sword be kept,
To witness to the world what thou hast been,
And least forgetful time should intercept,
A President, I present will begin;
The Castle-keeper shall receive a Fee,
To keep thy sword in memory of thee.
Thy Armour likewise, and thy Martial Spear,
That did thee service in thy high designs,
Shall be preserved very careful there,
That all such men as have distrustful minds,
May think (if from a truth it did not grow)
A King would scorn to cozen people so.
And in thy Chappel (distant thence a mile)
A bone shall hang of that same cruel beast,
Which near to Coventry remain'd long while,
Whose rib by measure is six foot at least;
Destroying many that did pass that way,
Until thy manhood did the Savage slay.
That by tradition, men may speak and tell,
This was Guys Armour, this his Massie blade;
These bones of murthering beasts which men did quel,
And this the Tomb wherein his Corps where laid.
And this the Spear did oft express his strength.
For sure I hold it an ungrateful thing,
(When thou by Natures course in dust shall lie)
No memory shall cause some Muse to sing
The worthiness of matchless English Guy:
Thy Country-men would prove too far unkind,
When out of sight, they leave thee out of mind.
This said, in humble duty (wondrous meek)
Guy reverenceth the King, and so departs,
Some solitary Den, or Cave to seek,
Which he unto his Mansion-house converts:
And so lives poorly in the hollow ground,
Making his meat of herbs and roots he found.
Sometimes he would to VVarwick Castle go,
And crave an alms at his dear Ladies hand,
Who unto Pilgrims did more bounty show,
Than any Noble woman in the Land;
And she would ask all Palmers that came there,
If at the Holy Land they never were?
Or in their travels, if they had not seen
An English man was Lord of that same Tower?
Who many years away from hence had been,
A Knight ne're conquer'd yet by human Power.
But there's a Tyrant whom I only fear,
They call him Death, that murthers every where;
If he have met him (O my dearest Lord)
I never shall behold thy face again,
Till that same Monster do as much afford
Unto my heart, and so release all pain.
Which gracious Heaven grant, if Guy be dead,
Upon the earth let me no longer tread.
Thus did he often hear his Wife enquire,
With deep complaints from extream passions flowing;
Yet by no means would grant her kind desire
The comfort of a hopeful word bestowing;
But look upon her as his heart would break,
Then turn away for fear his tongue should speak;
And so departs with weeping to his Cell,
Setting a dead man's head before his eyes:
This sinful flesh I constantly despise,
My soul is weary of so bad a guest,
And doth desire to be at home in rest.
My feeble limbs weakness doth sore possess,
And sickness gripes do touch about my heart;
I feel I am not far from happiness,
But am in hope my foe and I shall part;
This adversary which I long have fed,
By whom my soul hath been so much misled.
To my dear Phælice I will send my Rring,
Which I did promise for her sake to keep:
I may no longer time defer the thing,
For fear that death prevent me with his sleep;
I feel his messenger approach apace,
And poor weak nature must of force give place:
So call'd a Herds-man as he passed by,
And said, Good friend, do me a special favour,
Even in a matter that concerns me high.
(My hope relies upon thy kind behaviour)
To VVarwick Castle speedily repair,
And for the Countess ask, with trusty care
Deliver thou this Ring to her own hand,
And say, the ancient Pilgrim sent the same
That lately at her Gate with Scrip did stand,
To beg an alms in blessed Jesus Name.
And if she ask thee where I do remain,
Direct her hither, she'l requite thy pain.
Sir (quoth the Herds-man) I shall be asham'd,
That ne're durst speak to Lady in my life:
Nay more, and't please you, I may much be blam'd,
To carry Rings to such a great man's Wife.
Besides, if I should lose it by the way,
Why what would you and Madam Phælice say?
Prethee (said Guy) frame not such idle doubt,
No prejudice can light on thee at all;
The act is honest which thou go'st about,
And for it none can thee in question call:
A courteous ear the Lady will thee lend,
Upon my warrant, fear you nothing friend.
The token, to the Countess; which she seeing,
Most admirable wonder at it makes,
Ah friend (quoth she) where is my Husband's being?
Husband (said he) that news I do not bring,
From an old Begger I receiv'd the Ring.
His house was made of neither wood nor stone,
But under ground into a hole he went:
And in my conscience there he dwells alone,
And never pays his Landlord quarters rent.
Ah 'tis my Guy, she said, shew me his Cell,
And for thy pains I will reward thee well.
So he directs VVarwick's fair Countess thither,
Who entring in that melancholy place,
Her Lord and she imbracing, weep together,
Unable to pronounce a word long space,
Long time them two had not a word to speak,
Till Guy's discretion Sorrows door did break:
Phælice, quoth he, now take thy leave of Guy,
That sent to see thee e're his sight decay:
Within thy arms I do intreat to die,
And breathe my spirit from thy sweat soul away.
Thou gav'st me alms at VVarwick Castle late:
'Tis blessedness to pity poor mens state.
Look not so strange, bewail not so my Dear;
Ah! weep not Love, I do not want thy tears:
I have shed plenty since my coming here;
Of true Remorse, my conscience witness bears,
Thou weep'st not now, because I wept no more,
But to behold me friendless, hapless, poor.
Wife, I have sought the place that I desire,
Though few endeavour for eternal rest;
The soul which to that Heaven doth aspire,
Must leave the world, and worldly things detest;
'Tis full of Devils that on Souls do wait,
And full of mates; in every place some bait.
Ah Phælice, I have spent (and then he wept)
Youth (natures day) upon the love of thee;
And for my God, old rotten age have kept,
The night [illeg.] Christ forgive it me;
Sweet Saviour Christ, pardon thou my amiss.
In that I had destroy'd so many men,
Even for one Woman to enjoy thy love;
Therefore in this solitary Den,
I sought my peace with that great God above,
'Gainst whom by sin I have been more mis-led
Than there be hairs upon my hoary-head.
And all the parts thereof opprest with pain,
I did compose a Testament and Will,
To be the last that ever I ordain.
Lo here it is, I'le read it if I can,
Before I cease to be a living man.
HIS WILL.
Even in the name of him whose mighty PowerCreated all in Heaven and Earth contained,
As one to dye this very instant hour,
I leave the world, and all therein, unfeigned:
My Soul I give to him that gave it me;
Receive it Jesus, as I trust in thee.
I owe a debt of Life is due to Death,
And when it's paid him, he can ask no more;
A very vapour of a little breath;
Would he had had it many years before;
But here's my comfort, if he come or stay,
'Tis ready for him (if he will) to day.
I owe the world a stock of wealth is lent,
When I did enter traffique with the same:
Less would have given Nature more content,
'Tis happiness to want a rich mans name.
World, leave me naked, as I did begin;
I ask but one poor sheet to wrap me in.
I do bequeath more sins than I can number,
My deadly evils in a countless sum;
Even from my cradle unto death's dead slumber,
These past, these present, all that are to come,
To him that made them loads to burthen me,
Satan, Receive them, for they came from thee.
I give good thoughts, and every vertuous deed,
That every grace hath guided me unto,
To him from whom all goodness doth proceed,
For only evil, Nature taught me do:
Twas conceived, bred and born in sin,
And all my life most vile and vain hath been.
I give to sorrow all my sighs end cryes,
I give repentance, tears, and watry eyes,
The sign unfeigned of a true Convert.
Earth yield a grave, or Sea become a tomb,
Jesus unto my Soul grant Heaven room.
Phælice, I faint, farewel true loyal wife,
Assist me with thy Prayers, thy Husband dies,
I trust to meet thee in a better life,
Where tears shall wiped be from weeping eyes.
Come blessed spirit, come in Jesus Name,
Receive my Soul, to him convey the same.
And with these words his quiet Spirit departs,
While mournful Phælice well-nigh dead with woe,
Her Senses all to sorrows use converts,
And too abundant doth her tears bestow,
Beating her breast, till breast and heart be sore,
Wringing her hands till she could strive no more
Then sighing, said, Ah Death! my sorrows cause,
Thou hast depriv'd me of my dearest Lord!
Since loathsom air my vital spirits draws,
This favour for thy Tyranny afford,
Do me a good to recompence thy ill,
And strike the stroke that all my cares can kill.
Let me not live to see to morrows light,
But make me cold, bloodless, pale and wan,
As this dead Carkass doth appear in sight,
This true description of a mortal man:
Whose deeds of wonder past and gone before,
Hath left him now at Deaths dark prison-door.
Kissing his face, with a farewel of tears.
She leaves the body for the grave to claim;
And from that place as sad a Soul she bears,
As ever woman that the world can name;
Living but fifteen days after his death,
And then through extream sorrow yieldeth breath.
While mournful Phælice well-nigh dead with woe,
Her Senses all to sorrows use converts,
And too abundant doth her tears bestow,
Beating her breast, till breast and heart be sore,
Wringing her hands till she could strive no more
Then sighing, said, Ah Death! my sorrows cause,
Thou hast depriv'd me of my dearest Lord!
Since loathsom air my vital spirits draws,
This favour for thy Tyranny afford,
Do me a good to recompence thy ill,
And strike the stroke that all my cares can kill.
Let me not live to see to morrows light,
But make me cold, bloodless, pale and wan,
As this dead Carkass doth appear in sight,
This true description of a mortal man:
Whose deeds of wonder past and gone before,
Hath left him now at Deaths dark prison-door.
Kissing his face, with a farewel of tears.
She leaves the body for the grave to claim;
And from that place as sad a Soul she bears,
As ever woman that the world can name;
Living but fifteen days after his death,
And then through extream sorrow yieldeth breath.
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