University of Virginia Library

THE STANLEY POEM.

[THE FIRST FITTE.]

I intend with true reporte to praise
The valiaunte actes of the stoute Standelais;
From whence they came, and how they came to that name,
I shall plainely and truly declare the same.
Theire names be Awdeley by very right dissent,
I shall shewe you how, if you geeve good attente,
As quickly as I can, without more delay,
How the name was changed and called Standley.
In antique tyme much more then two hundred yeare
Was on L. Audley, by stories does appeare,
Audley by creation and by name Audley,
Havinge a lordshippe is yeat called Standley,
Which lordship he gave to his second sonne,
For valiaunte actes that he before had donne.
There this young man dwelling many a longe daye,
And many yeares called Awdley of Standelay,
After he maried the heyre of Sturton;
And when Sturton died thether he went to wonne,
And as in length of tyme thinges be lost and wonne,
All the countrey called him Standley of Sturtonn,
The which name sticks still to all his succession.
Hit chaunced after, a godly man his sonne
Espowsed the daughter and heyre of Hooton;
After at Hooton, as chaunce him befalled,
Dwelled, and Standly of Hootoun was calld,
As it doth continue to this present day,
Prainge God that long with worshippe so it may
Thus sure undoubted there first name was Audley,
Then chaunged and by custom called Standley.
After a second sonne of Hootoun chaunced
By valiante actes was highly advaunsed.
To thenglishe coorte cam thadmirall of Henoode,
With gentlemen of Fraunce to prove their manhood.
On of them called the best with speare and shield,
The king set John Standley to meete him in the field:
He was also named the chiefest of all Fraunce,
But this stoute Standley had such fortune and chaunce,
He did not only put his enemie to lacke,
But also he slue him and brake his hors backe.
Mo gentlemen of England did worthilye,
For each on of their enimie gat victory:
Frenchmen for their adventure made themselves blame,
Though they went not all home, yeat they went with shame;
And for this acte the king made John Standley knight,
For he perceived him a man of greate might;
And for his hardie feate he gave to his heyre
Winge, Trynge, and Iving, in Buckingamshire.
Then of the king he desired earnestlye
Licence to passe the seas adventures to trye.
The king therewithall was very well contente,
And alowed him well for his manly entente.
Thus over the sea Sir John Standley is gonne
Straighte to the French courte, but medle with him wold non;
The admiralls jorney was not yeat forgotten,
How he and his compeers were right well beaten,
For which they bare John Standley malice and spite,
But to reconter with him non had delighte.
His jolly entertaynement of the French king
Was honorable and free in everye thinge,
Gave him pleasures and giftes right bounteouslye,
With gould and silver full plenteouslye
To maintayne his stoute liberall expences.
This John Standley thus departed thence is,
So visited all the countreys of Christendom,
And to the Turkes courte personallye did come,
Still getting great honor, therof did not faile
Against all those that in armes durst him assayle;
And in the Turkes pallace abode haulf a yeare,
Till with the Turkes daughter he became most deare:
Being yong with child, she secretly did saye
And privily gave warning to Sir John Standeley,
Said, Valiaunte knight, the case with me thus standes,
Thoughe thou gett honor dayly with harte and handes,
Hit is not that my deare love cann save thy life,
Thou hast me yong with child, and I not thye wife,
Which, if my father knew, I dare well saye
For no good ne riches might you skape awaye.
My father loves you well, and in the meane tyme
Take leave and go hence, while unknowne is your crime.
Alas! I speake against myn own hartes ease,
No worldly thinge like your presence can me please;
Father nor mother nor all my frindes and kinne
Like unto you I esteeme not of a pinne:
O what cruell payne now perceth my harte
To thinke that you, my deare, should thus from me departe,
Yeat to lose your company me thinke it meeter
Then to lose your life (deare harte) that is more sweeter;
I may yeat rejoyse, as long as yee have life,
To thinke it may happe me once to be your wife:
Call, and I come; send, and I will not tary;
For space of seaven yeares I will not sure marie;
Perceive you may I love you better than well,
I meane to save your life and mine owne to quell.
I trust no better after you be gonne hence
But right redie death for lacke of your presence.
And as for your yong child, I make mine avowe
I shall joy and play with it insteade of you,
And truly also remaine wholly your owne;
The godds send you to scape ere the truth be knowne!
Thus takes his leave, and away John Standley wendes,
Heare was heavie parting betwixte two deare friendes;
To England apace himselfe doth endeavour,
With renowne and honor to him for ever,
And had attempte all the courtes of Christendome,
And wann honor in each place wheare he did come;
Not setting in house with pen, incke, and paper,
But in camp advaunsed through stout adventure.
I do not speake nor meane anie to despice
That be enhaunsed by penn or marchandise,
For both must be hadd and both necessarie,
And both worthie praise, thoughe the seates do varye;
But to saie the truth, that man ought to be most praysed
That by hardy actes to honor is raised;
For of those be made bookes in prose and in ryme,
Of others not, and serves for the tyme.
Thoughe of them have divers comen full valliaunt,
Yeat they may not their originall advaunte,
Nor so largely set furth theire renowne so farre
As those whose advauncement have comen by warr.
Yeat I forgat on thing of Sir John Standley,
In his returne homeward he hard people saie
How that Sir Robert Knowlesse with greate defiaunce,
Newe come foorth of England had invaded Fraunce
With a jolly companye of Englishmen.
Sir John Standley left the righte way homeward then,
And repaired to Knowlesse with good speadie harte,
And manfully did take the Englishmens parte.
This Knowlesse was but litle and verye hardie,
And did service to his prince very notablye.
They burnt castells and townes and made foule araye,
Which be called Knowlesse Myters yeat to this daye.
They passed by Paris in battell aray,
And without notable battle came theire way.
When they had donne theire feates they ventured for,
They returned to theire King with much honor,
And then that gentle prince King Edward the Fourth
Did so welcome them home to theire greate comfforte,
And gave them such praise and honorable laude,
That they thought theire service never so well bestowede.
Thus is returned John Standley home againe,
Whereof the king and nobles were right fayne,
Who harde of his valiaunte actes more and more,
All sortes of people honored him therfore.
Now let us make heere a pretty watring place,
And leave Sir John Standley for a litle space,
And speake of Lord Lathum dwelling at Lathum Hall,
And what notable chaunce chaunced to befall.

THE SECOND FITTE.

THE THIRD FYTTE.

THEN came Thomas Derbye, that noble stoute earle,
Who amongeste menn may be taken as a peerle;
So appeareth by his actes which I shall tell,
That duelie and trulye may be proved well;
Not as some cronicles do flatter falsly,
Some doth leave out the truth, some shamefully do lye.
Heare shalbe no praises but that shalbe worthye,
Also that no man of truth cann not it denie.
Some croniclers omitte actes right notable,
And writtes fancies much like an Esope fable,
To leave out manly actes and put in trifles,
As on should go to a faire and buy nyffells.
I shall open divers thinges to the world hid,
Which be right worthye to have been cronicled,
Of due true right cannot be denied.
But he like a very man himselfe oft tried,
I meane Thomas Standley, heyre to Lord Harry,
And firste of that name that was Earle of Darby;
When he was but yonge, just xviii yeares of age,
The Scottes into the ile of Mann made a voiage,
There did burne and spoyle, and did much outrage,
But this yong man being of lustie courage,
His father also aged and unwedlye,
Had with him yong men a lustye company,
Tooke shipping, and in the ile of Mann arryved,
Thought to venge those harmes, or from life deprived.
From Man the wind scoured him into Scotland,
And shortely after he had set foote on land,
From to reward the Scottes with the same like light,
He set on fire a greate towne called Kirkobright,
With five villages mo, or he away went;
But since that tyme the Scottes in Man never brent.
There was good beginninge of a lustye ladde,
There was a noble child to venge his ould dadde!
I like mann well with home small doubtes be had,
But buckells himselfe to fighte as if he were haulf mad.
For his stoute harte and burninge Kyrkeobryghte,
The king to his worthie welcome home made him knight.
Then this gentle knighte soone after maried he
Doughter to the noble earle of Salisbury,
By whome he had divers sonnes notable,
To serve God and his prince were stoute and able,
Of whome hereafter I entend some what to speake,
But nowe I may not my grownded purpose breake.
This lady comen of noble parentage,
Died from her lond and lefte him in chiefe corage:
Leave this, and turne to his father Lord Henry,
Shortly after God tooke him to his mercy;
Lord Thomas Standley then of right did succeede,
And to Queene Margaret was sore compained on in deede.
This queene was a ladye of stoute greate prowesse,
And shee was doughter to the Duke of Angesse,
She tooke on her to keepe a parliamente
Pointed at Coventry herself there presente.
Thither came Lord Standley neither feard ne fainte,
To see who durst him of any crime attainte.
Hee kneeled humbly downe before her face,
Said, I am heare to submitte me to your grace,
Not as a traitor or such like offender,
Nor to your grace any such pretender,
But hether comen as a righte deffender,
Thoughe my power perchaunce som thinke it sclender.
I cry deffiaunce to any earthly mann,
Hereto I cast my glove, reprove me who can,
Beseching your grace be but indifferente,
And as you see cause let right have preferment.
I trust in God shortly such false surmysers
Shall before your grace be proved misers.
Stand up, my lord, quod she, I like your maner,
I trust ye will shewe yourself as ye are.
Three dayes the glove did ly on the chamber floore,
On still appointed to watch within the doore,
And every night watched with faire torch lighte,
But none tooke up the glove, yoman, lord, ne knight.
The queene her selfe tooke payne the third day
To take up the glove, and such like wordes did say:
Undoubted of you, my lord, some did tayles tell,
I cannot blame you though you take it not well;
And I not well contente, by God and by Sainct Ann,
To heare false reporte by any noble mann.
Returne you home againe, and care not therfor,
False tongues, my lord, henceforth shall hurte you no more;
And do good justice at home in your countrey,
And in readines to searve the king and me.
Thus lustye Lord Standley well disburdened,
And thanckes be to God, joyfully returned
To that noble woman and lady his wife,
Who not long after chaunged this mortall life.
Then he came in favour with Lady Margaret,
That was doughter to the Duke of Somerset,
And King Henry the Seaventh she was his mother,
She would have Lord Standley, she would have none other;
Wherewith the duke was grieved in his courage,
And devised how to let the mariadge.
He beethought him of a mischeevous acte,
Yeat, thanked be God, his purpose was backt.
To murther Lord Standley he was pretendid,
Hit chauncid the matter was better endid.
He sent over sea with devise much marvelous,
For a man of armes called most dangerous,
That had destroyed and killed many a knighte,
He was so puissant that none resist him mighte,
But he did almost him as lightly overthrow
As a good faucon will strike downe a poore crowe,
Willing him to come into England shortely,
And he should be rewarded honorably,
With horse and armour and speare would perce and frette,
In England he should doe some valiaunte feate.
This mightie mann to Englaund him advaunced,
He hadd better have taried as it chaunced,
And thoughe of him was such dredeful fame and brute,
The Lord Standley did him never the more impute.
Thoughe to worke secreatly was the dukes intente,
Yeat the Lord Standley knew it incontinent.
Looking for comminge of his geste every daye,
And provided him stoutely for such a fray.
Now is this dreadfull mann comen to the duke,
Who pretendid to put Lord Standley to rebuke,
And when he was comen even at the first,
He sent to Lord Standley to just if he durst.
The Lord Standley tooke the message in good worth,
Bad point the time and place where he will henceforth.
He is comen from farre, I redd rest him a while,
Lest his foolish enterprise do him beguile,
And longer then him list let him not forbeare,
I would he should knowe hit, I do him not feare,
But send him defiance with all my harte,
And all his maintainance the king set a parte.
So to his triumph they did proceede apace,
The day was pointed, and Smithfield was the place.
To view these champions both king and queene tooke payne;
Of lordes and ladies with them a noble trayne.
Now these menn of armes be commen to the campe,
Theire hardy horses apace did start and stampe,
And the two stoute menn tooke neither kreeke nor crampe,
Nor with cowardishe were striken into dampe.
Quod on, A mighty outlandishe man is this;
Quod Lord Standley, My harte is as good as his!
The trumpets gave warning and blew up apace,
Now lustye Lord Standley, God send thee good grace.
Together they rann with good sharpe speares and greate,
As God would thoutlandish man missed his feate,
For the Lord Standley with his greate sturdystaffe
Hardly overthrew him and laid him abaffe;
At the first race he killd him out of hand,
And brake his horse backe never did stande.
Englishmen rejoysed his expedition,
The sownd of trumpets sounded throughout London;
Of people could not have ben a greater shoute
If graves had opened and corses comen oute!
When his headpiece was of without taring,
On horsbacke presented himself to the king,
And said, My liege lord, your grace not offended,
Whoso is angry with my deede let him come amend it,
Christened or heathen, whatsoever he be,
I here defie him, excepting no degree;
And turned his horse, thinking to go away:
Quod the queene, A litle tary, Lord Standelay.
Downe shee went and straighte towards him doth repaire,
With a trayne of ladies right goodly and faire,
Said, Hould, lord, for your valiaunte enterprise
A ring of gould with a diamonde of prise,
Ye be worthie have it, and it were better,
It is well bestowed and to no mann meeter.
Thanked her humbly and courteously againe,
His soverainge lady and queene to take such payne,
And what lady shall neede with best of my mighte,
For such service as this let me be your knight.
And among these ladyes there was his owne love,
Who was more than glad to see fortune so prove;
She was the meriest woman in all this thraive,
She smiled in her sleeve that non might perceive.
The same ring and diamond that the queene did geeve
He ware on his chayne as long as he did live.
The dukes giftes for thoutlandishmans fayre mountinge
Lord Standley payde it, it had a shorte countinge.
The duke seeing his worthines and courage,
Caused his harte much yeald to the mariadge,
And soone after espowsed they were in deede,
And furthward in honor they did well proceede.
Then after was he creat incontinent
Earle of Darby at the nexte parliament;
So lived with honorable laud and praise
In quiet life all tyme of King Edwards dayes;
Saved King Edward had a busy brother,
That was called Richard Duke of Glocester,
For a fond fray had benne amongeste their tenantes,
The melancholicke duke tooke to much grievaunce,
And sware by cockes bludd, quod he, shortly I shall
Kill the Earle of Darby and burne Lathum hall.
He assembled many a man togeither,
To Preston in Amaundernes brought them thether,
And from Lathum hall xij. myles no further way,
For honor the duke had better ben away.
He sent to the earle that he would his house burne,
And also kill him, or do him a worse turne.
When the earle harde that, he sware by Sainct Thomas,
I will rather meete him in field face to face;
I payed to workmen much money for heyre,
I would be sory to see my house on fyre;
Though he be the kings brother, yeat no cause why
He should use the kings subjects unlawfully.
At Preston was the duke with an army bigge,
The earle cam to meete him hard at Rible brigge,
To knowe his pleasure: when the duke therof hard,
He would byd no talke, but fast toward northward,
I thinke some dreadfull thinge they did see or heere,
For amongst them was but dickeduckfarte for feare.
They strove for the vaward who might lead the way,
Ofte gazing backward as menn doubting some fray;
What they brought with them I cannot tell of righte,
The tooke nothing with them but that was very lighte.
Where they lodged something they left in every place,
For feare of being nighted spurred a pace.
Preston wished each weeke such companye,
Thoughe they payde no shotte but leave trumpanye.
There had beene a fray, but some rann from theire good,
And yeat to this day is called Waltoun woodde.
Jacke Moris of Wiggam brought the duke banner
To Wiggan kirke, yt served fourty yeares there.
This donne, the earle mad greate speade and hast upward,
With hast post made hast to noble King Edward,
Kneeled on his knee, sayd, My lord soveraigne,
I am come to your grace me to complayne;
I am your true subject never me abused,
I trust you wold not I should be misused;
The duke's grace your brother but even nowe of late,
Undeserved with me is fallen to debate,
Came neere to my house with a greate multitude,
And sent a message to me that is very rude,
That he would burne my house and also me kill,
I thought to doe my best to prevent his ill will,
And though I was your subjecte and mann onlye,
As redy to doe you service as he,
And subject to your grace and to none other,
Although that he was your naturall brother;
He is called wise that such rigour withstandes,
I thought better put myself into your handes,
Rather than wittingly to see my house burned,
I doubted and from his purpose him turned.
I went to meete him, but not followed him farre,
And used but only frindly neighbour warre;
It appeared he cam not for good entente,—
Beseeching your grace to be indifferente.
Stand up, my lord, ye be welcome hartely,
I am sory my brother did so lewdlye,
He is my brother, I cannot that deny,
And God wot some time will do full folishly.
I pray you, my lorde, beare with him for this tyme,
And I shall forsee for any more such crime,
I trust I shall declare him such a lesson,
For using noble menn after such fashion;
It was to princely donne, I am not well contente,
On king in a realme is right sufficient;
If ever he playe me such a parte againe,
I shall make the parte perchaunce to his payne.
Though he be my brother, yeat neverthelesse
I may not nor will not mainteyne his leaudnesse,
I must use my noble menn favourably,
I must mainteyne them and they must mainteine me,
And, good my lord, take this for no unkindnesse,
When my brother is come, I shall make redresse.
On the third daye after cam the duke full meete,
The king gave him a lesson was a bitter sweete;
Though he was his brother, he let him well knowe
He should not by power his nobles overthrowe.
Soone after the king agreede the earle and the duke,
Yeat he studied still to put the earle to rebuke,
But as happe is God is above the divell,
He devised good under the pretence of evell,
That his secret ire in maner made him sicke,
For spite desired he to besiege Barwicke;
And said he doubted not soone to make it Englishe,
Not so minding but meaning purpose peevishe,
Desiring also to have in company
The Earles of Northumberland and Darby.
The duke thought nothing lesse in his ireful harte,
Thoughe the king tooke it thankfull in good parte,
Sent his commissions both to thone and to thother
They should prepare them to waite on his brother.
The Earle of Darby perceived he must goe,
Thought he would have companye inough and mo,
And did mistrust the duke as he worthy was,
A man of greate ire and of litle grace;
And thoughe the duke meaned to him small welfare,
He went so stronge that hee neede not for him care.
The duke tooke with him the Earle of Northumberland,
And would needs have him neare him on his right hand.
To myles from the towne the duke camped his hoste,
The Earle of Darby but haulf a myle at the most.
Then the duke in the evening on the third daye
Tooke the Earle of Northumberland and went his way.
When the Earle of Darby harde the duke was so gonne,
Then he perceived his false collusion;
To leave him in danger was the duke's pretence,
Therefor so hastily the duke gat him thence.
Thought the Earle of Darby, is the duke thus gonne?
Surely meaning to me shame hath left me alone;
If it may happ unto myne honor redownde,
Heare will I leave my bones, or els Barwicke confownde.
The day before the duke went away at night,
With a gunne was slayne Sir John Dischfield, Knight;
I will not say his death drove the duke away,
But he went sodenly and late, as I say,
With small advisement, and all the hast might be,
With tentes and baggage quickly away went he.
Reason may judge that either for feare he went,
Or meaning to the earle sum mischievous intent;
With shame is he gonne, returned not againe,
He never bod field ne fray but when he was slayne.
Nowe this duke with all his company is gonne,
And hath lefte the Earle of Darby post alone;
Not long before this time King of Scottes did sende
To the Earle of Darby, and title did pretende
To the ile of Mann, and badde him deliver it,
Els with sword and fire he would worke an ill fitte.
The earle said stoutly, let the king make the hast he cann,
Least I come fro Scotland ere I come to Mann!
I hould non of him, I tooke not at his hand,
I hould my title by the crowne of England;
Tell the king even thus I do him not feare,
For ere he get my iland, he shall buy it deare;
I trust I shal be able to withstand his yll,
And not trouble my king, beging when he will.
Then therle sente to the king for a commission
To enter Scotland of his owne provision.
King Edwarde tooke it well therle submission,
And put the matter to his owne disposition,
And by his commission made therle his chieftayne;
Still when he sawe good time to worke Scotland payne,
And whan he perceived the duke was gonne sure,
He thought good to put this commission in ure.
Therle incontinent did himselfe dispose
Either to winne great honor or his life to lose,
And to his counsell wise did his minde disclose.
In the next morning toward Edenbourroughe he goes,
Passing by Barwicke with his goodly army,
Willing menn and forward, right tall and hardy,
Lustie Lancashire laddes with this earle did wend,
Hardy Cherrin and Welshmen were not behinde;
There was no cowards, but hardy company,
There was seene the arte of noble archery,
Arrowes strong and stiffe, with feathers xij. inches long,
Which, by the way flying, mad a lustie song,
As who should say, I come, I ridd thee take heede,
If thou dare stand stiffe, I dare make thee bleede:
Noe straung names of gunnes, as hagarbush and such,
All those dayes were knowne since have ben used much,
The beginning thereof all England may shrewe,
For of worthy archers I thinke be mor few;
England hath oft there enemies assayled
Though archery against greate oddes prevayled,
For our archery it hath well appeared,
All nations have us greately feared.
Arrowes were wont to have xij. inches of feather,
Nowe but six, and flyes but in fayre wether;
Then arrowes were wont to pricke theyre enemies bloud,
Now are they gladd to pricke xxij. roode;
Arrowes were wont to flee to your enemies payne,
And nowe, God wotte, they flee for lucre and gaine;
Then not gybcrabes nor such crafty invention,
Nor false shooting booty to make dyssention.
They drewe to the hard head, not there shutt lybbing,
Shoote at long outmarkes, now fall we to drybinge;
Arrowes gave warning to stand backe or do worse;
Now a shafte seales to the pricke like a pikpurse.
I redd us maintain archery in this land,
For it is the fayrest flowre in our garland.
Now is this earle gon, God and St. George him speede,
And passed is his way by Barwicke and Tweede,
Throughe Scotland to Edenborough is he gonn,
Well worthy of England to be champion;
His company only plaid not hardy partes,
But likewise to their master shewed loving hartes;
There was non gave backe from the least to the most,
But rather strove who might set his foote formost.
At these dayes who did well was rewarded,
Of late who does well is but smally regarded;
A fayre worde of a frinde doth a good harte feede,
And where on beareth love will joparde in deade,
But with a straung captaine not looking for meede,
Makes ofte a good mann to shrynke in tyme of neade;
The profit of a yonker is seen somewhile
A straung souldiour a straunge capteine beguile.
To strange captayne to put men is a fonde prancke,
Who list jeopard life while he lookes for a thanke.
These men were the erles owne menn, there hartes non devided,
And ever for his hurte men he well provided;
I never knewe non that with him cached harme,
That after did begg, but kept well and warme.
It seemed in Scotland he was not affrayed,
But went to Edenborough with banners displayed,
With egle and child fayre wavering in the winde,
Which comforted souldiours before and behinde;
To Edenborough cam in the morning the next daye,
And to the greate gates he tooke the redy way;
When they came, the greate gates were open set;
They entred apace, not doubting fray nor let;
The Scottes at that tyme had of them litle feare,
But playnely thought they durst not have entred there.
It seemed the earle cared not for gayne or losse,
For in complet harnesse he stoode at the crosse;
The King of Scottes hearing and seeing the same,
Mad proclamation in King Edwards name,
As King of England, Fraunce, and Scotland also:
Of such a subjects actes I reed of no mo,
Neither Englyshmenn nor of other nation,
Without a kings power make like proclamation.
When he had taried there a good honest space,
He returned homeward a softe souldiers pace,
And marched meetely in fayre battle aray,
And straight again to Barwick he tooke the way.
The Scottes made greate shewes in harnesse black as soote,
But they would never byd on horsbacke nether foote.
First day he camped in Scotland beyond Tweede,
The next day he came neer Barwicke in dead,
The other morning, by dawning of the daye,
With the stoute souldiers of this Earle Standley;
The towne of Barwicke was environed,
Very well shielded, very well trenched;
And bad the Scottes good morowe with a peale of gonnes,
Which made them quickely to start up like good sonnes.
This stoute earle lay there many a day and night,
There he made Edward his second sonne a knight,
With many mo then I can redily tell
Were made knights, and, God wot! deserved it well.
The king hearing of this valiaunte enterprise,
He straight, like a noble prince and a wise,
Sent him a greate summe of silver and gould,
And bad him send for menn what place he would,
With greate thankes, to Lancashire, Cheshire, and Wales,
Through comforte whereof the menn straighte the walles scalles;
Though they were backed, their manhood was neverthelesse.
Soone after manfully they did hit redresse,
And tooke of theire enemies the Scottes greate vengaunce,
And still put them to wonderfull greevaunce.
The winning of this towne and the earles good chaunce
Would aggravate hearers with much circumstance,
But to make shorte, and speake of that is most nead,
With manhood and sore strokes wann the towne indeed.
This same noble earle, this valiaunte Standelay,
Till he had the towne he would not sure away;
In King Edwards name he did the towne receive,
With bagge and baggage he let go all the lave,
And put in Englishmen an honest number,
So lafte it Englishe without cumber.
Thus Barwicke became Englishe by therle Standelay,
There is no true man that therto dare say nay;
A thousand four hundred lxxij. no doubt
Barwicke was made Englishe, or neere thereaboute.
At his returne home he had thankes notable,
The king made him of England the highe constable.
Now heare I do reporte me to you all
If this acte be not worthy a memoriale;
I thinke ould true chronicles be gonne there wayes,
Stollen or purloyned from suppressed abbayes;
Croniclers to flattery have such respecte,
They set in trifles, and noble actes neglecte.
As, such time William Horne was maior of London,
Sheriffes William Fynkle and John Rymyngton,
A bushel of wheate vid., iiid. bay-salt,
Cronicled there wheate was with you under mault;
Next yeare divers bakers were put on pillory:
These be high matters to put in memory!
In Oxford, Robin Karper killed a louse,
I assure you a highe point in a lowe house.
Croniclers have used much flattering phrases
To put in some lies, and leave that worthy praise is.
This noble earle, with valiant victory,
Is returned home with his stoute companye.
Now let us somewhat speake of Richard the duke,
That pretended to put this earle to rebuke,
And that which he wrought to be his confusion
Redounded to the earles honor in conclusion.
Then this duke and earle were better made at on,
Living quietly till King Edward was gonne.
Edward Fourth is dead, Edward fifte should raigne,
Poore infant, alas! in the towne he lyes slayne
Through his uncle Richard, most unnaturall,
For which soone after he had a shamefull fall.
O Richard, Richard, what hast thou thereby wonne,
So cruelly to kill thine owne brother's sonne?
For covetousenes so destroyed thine owne bloud,
Slewe an innocent and didst thyselfe small good.
But when the prince was dead and so laid in mould,
Then to weare the crowne thou thought thou might be bould;
But when thou had it, thou came to it with shame,
Shortely lost thy life, and for ever thy good name.
If thou had permitted God to make thee heyre,
Before God and man thy right had ben more fayre.
He should make heyres that thy monstrous body wrought,
The enterprise of his office brought thee to nought.
Thus, lo! Richard the usurper was made king,
A mercilesse manne and a monstrous thinge,
A wretched body and a tyrante in harte,
A devill in his deedes, deformed in ech parte;
In the yeare of our lord his raigne began he,
A thowsand, foure hundred, fourescore and three.
Sitting in the towre of counsell, sodenly
He stroke of Lord Hastings head cruelly;
And on Boswell of his guard with an halbarte
Strooke the earle of Darby, I beshrew the Boswell's harte!
But that the earle quickely stooped under the borde,
There had he been slayne never have spoken word.
The king kepte him still till his head was whole,
To let the earle goe home the king might not well thole;
Yeat at length King Richard thought good for a chaunge,
To let the earle goe and keepe his son Lord Straunge.
To proceede quickly and theron not tary,
To avenge God's quarell came in King Harry,
And brought no mo with him but five hundred menn;
Right quickly therle of Darby went to him then,
And his brother, Sir William Standelay, stoute knighte,
These two were cheife helpers of him to his right.
When Richard went to field to meete King Henry,
Lord Straunge with him his prisoner did cary,
King Rychard sent quikly word to the Earle of Darby,
To come take his parte or his sonne Lord Straunge dy:
He bad make meate of him to eate with his spoone,
And he would visit him ere the feast were doone;
And sent him word he had killed his master,
He tooke him for no king but for an usurper.
The Lord Straung to be headded was brought out twise,
Yeat reprived through such concell as seemed wise,
Said, after field take the Standelays together,
And head them or hang them all in a tether:
But that same day was Richard the murderer,
On horsebacke naked brought to Leicester.
Then therle of Darby without taking more reade,
Straighte set the crowne on King Harry the Seaventh his heade.
Sir William Standleyes tongue was somewhat to ryfe,
For a fonde worde he spake soone after he lost his lyfe,
Said, set it on thine owne head, for nowe thou maye.
King Henry afterwarde hard tell of that saye:
In such cause is not meete with princes to boorde,
Good service may be soone loste with a fonde woorde.
At Bosworth did Harry Richards life deprive,
And lefte the Lord Straunge, thankes be to God, on live;
Like sacke on horsebacke, without cover or shield,
Was Richard brought to Leicester from the field.
Lo, the ende of his covetousnesse and glorye,
And the successe of his cruell tyrannye!
Thus died he wretchedly with many a coorse,
Yeat I feare his after paynes was much woorse.
A thowsand foure hundred foure score and five
Reigned seavent Harrye, toke Elizabeth to wife,
The eldest doughter of Kinge Edwarde was she,
And verye mother of the eighte King Henrye.
The redde rose and white were joyned there in one,
God have mercy on theire soules, they be all gonne.
Nowe to this noble earle we will turne backe,
Him further to praise a litle yeat I lacke;
And of his three sonnes who were honorable,
To serve God and theire prince were prudent and able.
He maried his first George to no ferme nor grange,
But honorably to the heyre of the Lord Strange.
Who lived in such love as no man els had,
At the death of him divers went almost mad;
At an ungodly banckquet was poysoned,
And in London at Sct Buttells lyes buried.
Thus throughe a vayne mistruste and false jelousye,
This stoute gentleman yll cast away was he.
His second sonne Edwarde maried to an heyre,
A thowsand markes a yeare of good landes and fayre.
His plainge of instrumentes was a good noyse,
His singing as excellent with a sweete voyce;
His countenaunce comely with visage demure,
Not moving nor streining, but stedfast and sure.
He would shewe in a single recorder pipe
As many partes as any in a baggepipe.
When the king of Castyle was driven hyther
By force and violence of stormye wether,
He broughte with him were thoughte fine musitions,
There was none better in theyre opinions;
Kinge of Castile said, theyre actes more to able,
They were gentlemen of houses notable.
I have, quoth Henry seaventhe, a knighte my servante,
One of the greatest earles sonnes in all my land,
His singing gallante with a voyce most sweetelye,
His plainge pleasante much better then meetelye;
He playes of all instrumentes, non comes amisse;
Call Sir Edward Standley: lo, sir, heere he is!
Come neere, good Sir Edward Standelaye, quod the king,
For the honowre of us shewe parte of your conninge.
He stoode before the kinges, doubtles this was true,
In a fayre gowne of cloth of gould of tissiue,
Like no common minstrell to shewe taverne myrth,
But like a noble mann both of land and byrth;
He shewed much conning those two kings before,
That the others had no luste to playe any more.
He played of all instrumentes notable well;
But of all thinges mused king of Castell,
To heare two partes in a single recorder,
That was beyond all their estimations far.
And then King Harry made him to blowe his horne,
They had never hard such one since they were borne;
In no realme any for true and fyne blowinge,
Since Tristram the prince of huntesman was livinge,
In two hornes at once would a wonderouse noyse make,
In the one rochate and in the other strake,
Blowinge divers measures was very diffuse,
Before kings and others he did it of use.
He had more quallities like a gentleman
Then in all his time had any other mann,
And for his hardines, to saye truth and righte,
He was a stoute mann and a valiante knight,
As at the deathe of King Jamye did appeere;
He used himselfe so valiante there,
That King Harry the eighte made him soone after
Of that noble order knight of the garter,
And created him Lord Mountegle by that name,
Seeinge he had right well deserved the same.
Sheriffe of Lancashire he was made full sure,
And well enjoyed it while his life did endure,
With Arndernes and Booland that fayre forest,
With many mo good thinges he had well in rest.
Parland by Colbrooke King Henry did him give,
And well enjoyed it so long as he did live;
He thought it so sure by the kings promisinge,
That he spent there xij. hundred pownds on buildinge.
Cardinall Wolsey, being Lord Chaunceler,
Staied the greate seale, which lost it his heyres after.
This was Sir Edward Standley, the earles second sonne,
Who at the Scottishe field much honor had wonne;
Edward his bastard sonne, but eighteene yeares of age,
Did beare his standard with hardy courage.
That time was second Thomas Earle of Darbye,
Beyond sea in Fraunce viijth king Henrye,
A noble, vertuous, godly earle was hee,
A charitable and full of greate pittie,
For all goodes and landes be under the sunne,
He would not wittingly eny wronge have donne,
But soone as it came to his intelligence,
Incontinently would make due recompence;
In Fraunce helped many souldiours in distresse,
All the world loved him for his gentlenesse,
He did all men righte, good to the poore withall,
Wherefore his good deades be better to his soule.
He served God wel, and much did fast and praye,
Such one to the poore hath not beene manye a daye.
He was egre and forward in all his factes,
That he wanne much honor for his noble actes;
And in both the realmes this cannot be denayed,
His banners and standards at once were displayed.
So was no mo lordes in England, earle ne duke,
Thankes be to God, in neither place had rebuke.
Served his king against two kinges on a day,
Captain of his menn was Sir Harry Kighley;
Sir John Standley at that field was presente then,
A forward captayne, with Bishopp Standleys men,
Lord Mountagle of those had prœheminence,
He was chiefe Lancashire mann in therles absence.
Lancashire and Wales did nobly in that fraye,
The king made of them twenty knightes on a daye;
That they were styffe and stoute, and rann not away,
England hath yeat cause for theyre soules to praye;
Syth death doth there bodies and lives dissever,
Deare God keepe there soules for ever and ever.
Yt was never seene, theire captayne being Standlay,
That Lancashire, Chessire, and Wales ranne awaye.
His third sonne was James, a goodly man, a priest,
Yeat litle pristes metall was in him, by Christ;
As many (more pittye) sacred orders take
For promotion rather then for Christes sake,
And ofte most longe of frindes, the very truth to tell,
It is a greate grace if such on doe prove well.
Greate abuse in priesthoode and matrimony,
When fancie of frindes shall choose for the partye.
A goodly tall man as was in all England,
And sped all matters that he tooke in hand.
King Harry the seaventh, a prince noble and sage,
Made him bushoppe for wisedome and parentage,
Of Eely many daye was he bushoppe there,
Builded Somersame, the bushoppes chiefe manor there;
A greate viander as any in his dayes,
Two bushoppes that then was, this is not disprayse.
Because he was a priest I dare doe no lesse,
But looke as I knewe not of his hardinesse.
What priest hath a blow on the one eare sodenlye,
Turne the other likewise for humilitye;
He would not so doe by the crosse in my purse,
And yeat I trust his soule fareth never the worse,
For he did actes bouldly divers in his dayes,
If he had beene no priest had beene worthye prayse.
He did end his life in mery Mainchester,
And right honorably lies buried there,
In his chappell which he begann of free stone,
Sir John Standley made it out when he was gonne;
God send his soule to the heavenlye companye,
Farewell, goodly James bushoppe of Ely.
Of this earles three sonnes heere I have you tould,
Who were all noble men valiante and bould,
Yeat is there one whome I maye not well forget,
To saie something to his prayse I will not let,
Of Thomas Lord Mountegle, sonne to Edward,
A stoute hardye knighte, yeat gentle not foroward,
And in the kings warres valiaunte and forward,
As in Scotland he shewed himself no coward,
But redy, on horsebacke or foote, nighte and day,
At skry or skirmishe neaver absent away;
For his readines he was worthy greate praise,
Not long ago, in King Henry the eightes dayes,
A fayre man on horsbacke as ever on horse rode,
And sure in his sadell as ever horse bestrode;
Hath lefte behinde him on memoriall sure,
His free gentlenes to every creature.
Yf a poore mann had donne him courtesye,
He was againe with speach or cappe as ready,
Whereby undoubted he wanne love and renowne,
And each mann did laud him in countrey and towne;
He loved mirth and musicke and a good songe,
More pittie his fortune was not to live longe.
Now noble Thomas departed is he,
At whose funerall was many weeping eye,
Many doth for him praye, non doth curse and banne,
Which seemed he was a charitable man.
Yeat of his noble succession divers be
Righte honorable and righte greate praise worthy;
As Edward that righte noble Earle of Darby,
Greate houskeeper of all England is he,
God save his life, for as longe as he doth live,
Condigne laud and praise my penne may him not give,
Nor of his children ther noble worthinesse,
Being yeat living I may it not expresse,
For feare it should be thought a flattering parte,
I must stay my penn contrary to my harte,
And laud them litle or nothing at all,
Lest it chaunce my doing be judged partiall.
I referre to those that live when I am donne,
To make a full end of that I have begunne.
Yeat is there three impes so well have played the men,
That with honesty I cannot stay my penne,
Who in there youthes did jopard their life so sore,
I most say something, thoughe they deserved more.
First William Lord Mountegle, sonne to Thomas,
Who in his tyme second Lord Mountegle was;
This William bestowed himselfe in his tender age,
In warres against the Scottes with manly courage,
Without the consent of kinne or creature,
Amonges the irefull Scottes tooke his adventure,
Much honor with greate daungers he did deserve,
But God and his manhoode did him still præserve.
All skryes and skirmishes he well observed,
And with his bright brand manfully cutte and carved;
That newes came from Scotland almost day by day,
How non played the man like Sir William Standlay.
Amonge other actes which be right notable,
Forget not, Scottes, ye knowe it is no fable,
Remember Swynketon Chase, there ye Scottes him tried,
Like a very mann there he baded your pryde;
Be no whitte ashamed to heare of that day,
Being five to one he made you runne away.
Longe of him only therefore it was his acte,
Through his stoute advauncement all the Scottes were backte;
He begonne the onset himselfe, and no man els,
All menn that were there declare this and tells;
Drue his sword, and faste ranne to the Scottes, then
Said, Follow me, felowes, all ye that be menn;
And then with a greate shoute they followed him apace,
Longe of his hardy onset God wrought this grace.
Such Englishmen as were minded to take flighte,
Turned manfully throughe this valiaunte knighte;
He bad followe, he bad not goe before,
His acte was honorable so much the more.
The veangeaunce that the Scottes thought to the Englishmen
Light on themselfes, thanks be to God, Amen.
Yeat hardly Scottes forget this yrefull daye
When thenglishemen cryed, A Standley, a Standley!
Me thinke the sounde therof should sticke in your eares,
I dare say many Scottes of ould that name feares;
Thinges so worthy memory perpetuall
Ought to be written for a memoriall.
That day was Sir William Standley generall,
Thus saved his menn and wann honor withall.
I beseech God longe in honor him preserve,
I may not so praise him as he did deserve:
When he is gonne and dead, as Jesu him save,
Then shall abroade the fame he is worthy have,
And from his yll willers Jesu him defend,
Heerof some good man heereafter may make end.
Howe yonge Sir William worthyly hath wrought,
In warre wanne much honor and dearely hit bought,
He oughte to have dame Fame for his hardy pranckes,
For oughte I perceive he had small other thankes.
Seconde impe Sir Edwarde Standley fine and handsome,
Who on both the sides of hardy kinne doth come,
On the stoute Standleys that allwayes doth abyde,
And the hardy Hawardes on the other syde.
He not passinge on and twenty yeares of age,
With wild Scottes and Irishe proved his courage,
He doubted not the dintes of any manes hande,
He was both hard and hardy on sea and land;
Amongest his enimies in daunger divers wayes,
He foughte not for pillage but only for prayse;
A greate matter that such a yonge impe as he
Emonge mercilesse menn voyd of all pittie,
And comminge of such noble parentage,
But it came of greate valiaunte courage.
Heere the ould proverbe true in him we may see,
Tymely crookes the boughe that good camock wil be.
To put him in presse amonges people froward,
Especiall ones where he scaped so hard,
They gote him in a streete with a wyly trayne,
Where he fought manfully or ells had beene slayne;
To helpe no pollicy could countervayle,
But his very manhoode did his lyfe prevayle.
I red of non so yonge a man, nor I thinke never shall,
So stoutely winne and come from them all,
To therle of Southsex, his kinsman righte neere,
Who at that present time was chieftayne there,
And lord deputy visiting the north border,
Who with his manhood held them in good order.
He honorably tooke this journey in hand,
Many myles by sea, to James Macke Conells lande.
There did burne and spoyle, and taried divers dayes,
So returned homewards with greate honor and praise.
Sir Edward Standley was with him presently,
On sea and land non more hardy and stoute then he.
And there was the third impe, blacke Sir George Standley,
Who never shrancke at neade in fild nor in fray,
He shewed him a boorde of the true neast right well,
Hardy as Hancke, an old ladde of the castell;
He would not shrincke neither on horsebacke nor on foote,
But byd byllinge bouldley, like the ould blacke soote;
Amongest his enimies environed full ofte,
But ever he gate him roome his strokes were not softe.
Divers times was he unfrindly betrapped,
But still when he was amongest them unwrapped,
He stoutely upon them so manfully rapped,
And cutte them so sore and on the sculles knapped,
He made them crye, Kroughe krishe shave my cramorcry!
Well was him sonest could get away and flye.
He used with them such hardy feates and trickes,
Non such before came amonge the kekryckes,
Of his degree in Ireland even very mon,
In all kind of daungers he was ever on,
And still wann worshippe, honor I may it call,
Whie not being so hardy and liberall;
I flatter not nor looke for meade or living,
All byrdes of that neast may rejoyce his doing.
He was longe knight marshall, nowe I saye no more,
But God give him like loocke he hath had before.
Nowe againe with the first earle I make ende,
To tell truth of the dead should no man offend,
For there is no doubte when low layd is the heade,
If we deserve such reporte dame Fame will spreade,
Let us truste no lesse in this world and the nexte,
God regardes no mans personn, saith the texte.
Syth I have declared heartofore playnly
Of his worthy actes and noble chyvalry,
I will somewhat in other matters proceede,
Of his edyfices will speake in dead.
First he builded fayre Lathum out of the grownde,
Such a howse of that age cannot be fownde,
I meane not for the beauty therofe only,
But each office sitte so necessary,
Both fayre and large, and in place so apte and meete,
With each on a fayre well with water full sweete,
Save only the pantry, which therof had no neade,
Butler, seller, kitchin be noble in deade.
King Henry the Seaventh, who did lye their eight dayes,
And of all houses he gave it the most praise,
And his haule at Richmond he pulld downe all,
To make it up againe after Latham hall;
To speake of his fare was sure so excellente,
The king and his company so well contente,
I hard noble men say that were of his trayne,
They thought they should never se such faire againe.
The king and all mused how he such fare did get,
They sawe never king have lyke chiere of a subjecte;
And each meale newe plate, they saw no more the ould,
Silver nor gilte, onlesse it were playne gould;
Counseller nor head officer was there non,
But the chamberpottes were fine silver each on;
The earles buttry and seller open night and day,
Come who would and welcome, no man was said nay:
After all such cheere yeat he gave such a thinge,
Was a princely gifte to such a noble king,
Pictures of all apostles he gave him all twelve,
Of silver and gwylte, also of Christ himselfe,
To parte with them would have made some mannes harte sory,
For they were each on a cubite lenghe and more;
In the jewell house who so liste to desire,
May se them if they be not hurte with fyre:
Thus is this king gon with honorable cheere,
Which was remembred after many yeare.
And propper Greenehoghe tower also he builded,
Which hath fewe fellowes all thinges considered,
Of pretty straunge fashion made all of free stones,
Yeat two lordes may well keepe howse there both at ones,
And the one not troble the other anye white,
So made of small compasse came of a greate witte.
At Handen and Knowesley made a greate reparation,
And on Robert Rochdale was his free-mason;
Curstange bridge that standes on the river of Wyer,
Rochdale made the same on this earles coste and hire,
And Warington was kepte a commen ferry,
Which polled the people unresonably;
None might go to or fro on horsbacke nor foote,
But paye ere they past, there was no other boote.
The good earle considering the peoples coste,
And to make the way more ready to runne poste,
Being tediouse to passe by boate or by barge,
The earle made a goodly bridge on his owne coste and charge;
With another good substantiall purveiaunce,
Also gave landes therto for it maintaynance;
This was a noble harte, liberall, and kinde,
And people will praye for him tyme out of mynde.
And Paules Chayne in London he made a howse full fayre,
And his howse in Holborne he did righte well repayre;
At Colham courte and Cadysdayne he made greate coste,
Jesu save his soule, there was no labour lost!
When Lathum manor was made after not longe,
A gentlemann sayd, My lord, this howse is stronge,
And enemies came neare, they would fall on quaking.
Quod he, I have a stronger wall a making,
That is my neighbours to get theyre god willes all,
To love me truelly, that is a stronger wall!
He used them so he did them thereto bringe,
Excepte a fewe which thereby wann nothinge;
Whoso loved him he did to him the same,
And who loved him not gate but losse or shame.
But the chiefest thinge that gate the people's love,
When Henry the Seavanth first exaccion did move
Lancashire and Chessyre first fifteene to pay,
The people grudged and in maner said nay.
The king hard therof, was greeved in his harte,
And there the loving earle plaied a frindly parte,
Well considering the state of his countrey,
Went to the exchecker and laide downe the mony.
Sir, saide, your feefetaene in the exchecker is payde,
Of Lanchashire and Chessyre, it was not denayed.
I am glad, saide the king, it does so well chaunce.
Thus the good earle cooled the kinges greevaunce.
But for the earle might happe throughe this exaccion,
Possybly have proved some fond commotion.
So heere he gate not his love with cruelty,
But with gentlenesse and liberalitie.
For all controversies he found provision,
That but fewe for suytes travayled to London;
In such matters, God wote, greate payne tooke he,
Saved the countrey travayle and much money,
And eased the poore that had litle to spend,
And, thanckes be to God, on each matter made goode ende.
Nowe for there most travayle poore rich and all,
And for the most parte greate fishe devoures small;
Thus walkes the world forthward and apace doth go,
Stedfast in no pointe, it shal be proved so.
Thinke it no surer but weake slipper as ise,
And who trustes other in it sure is not wise;
No man can last any longer then the time
Which God hath appoynted, therefore shake of all crime;
We most after this earle happen not all thither,
Where his sonnes is I thinke some be to lyther.
We be precisly sure each one for to dye,
No mankind hath charter to the contrary.
If mighte or money could save this man,
Or love of his neighbours, he had not died than.
But seing death is to us so naturall,
Pray we charitably for each others soule,
And specially for this soule nowe let us praye,
Of this honorable earle Thomas Stanley,
Who in honor and love hath ended this life,
With truth ever in wedlocke to God and his wyfe.
The love which he wann with liberality,
God keepe it so styll with the same propertye!