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Albions England

A Continued Historie of the same Kingdome, from the Originals of the first Inhabitants thereof: With most the chiefe Alterations and Accidents theare hapning, vnto, and in the happie Raigne of our now most gracious Soueraigne, Queene Elizabeth: Not barren in varietie of inuentiue and historicall Intermixtures: First penned and published by William Warner: and now reuised, and newly inlarged by the same Author: Whereunto is also newly added an Epitome of the whole Historie of England
  

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 LXIX. 
 LXX. 
 LXXI. 
 LXXII. 
 LXXIII. 
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CHAP. LXXV.
  
  
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CHAP. LXXV.

At Ware (in Hertford-shire a Towne, not bettered, I winne,
Of thorough-Faires, from Thence to Twede for many an harbrous Inne,
Washt with the once ship-bearing Ley, by Alfred slu'ste in Three,
To dissipate the Dane-Fleete, that expugning Hertford bee.)
Next day they timely tooke their Inne, had sup't ere Sunne was set,
Abroad walkt she, vnseene did he into her Chamber get:
First giuing out he would to bed, least, mist, be marde the Sport,
And, least she feare, the day before had made to her report,
In Merriment, that oftentimes he walked in his Sleepe,
And then nor Lock, nor Let could him from Place or Person keepe:
If in this fit I chance on you, be not afrayd, quoth he:
But, if you come, I'le whip you thence, then best not come, quoth she.
Thus, and with this Preparatiue, he counts the Bootie his,
And on the Rushes, vnderneath her Bed, he couched is:
And what with watch the night before, and wearines that day,
And to be fresh anone, he slept assoone as downe he lay.
Meane while, a lustie Yeoman of a Northerne Bishops (who
Was often there a Guest, ane good) alights and goes into
The Gentlewomans poynted Roome, and, say what they could say,
There would he lodge, for that had bin his Lodging many a day.
Loth were they to displease him (for an Harbinger he was)
And then were Bishops bountious as they too and fro did passe:

311

For, whensoeuer they remoou'd to Place or Parlament,
Their common Meany (not a few) on Foot with Bowes fore-went,
Nor niggardly was then to them allowed to be spent.
Themselues, with learned Chaplains & great Traines did follow then,
And frankl'y spent in euery Place, relieuing many Men.
Yea, Monasteries, Colledges, Schooles, Hospitals, Hie-waies,
Bridges, and like were founded by the Prelats in those daies.
But Laters could not so, for why? were Those so fleeced Theirs,
As but a thousand yearely Fee some purcha'st to their Heires.
But is it Sooth, haue Cleargie-men Coshaiters? tush a Lye:
To aske doe Courtiers Church-men shame to offer Simonie.
And that should be such Fault appeares small likelihood, say I:
Obscurely more, with lesser Port, lesse hospitalious too
The great-Ones neuer liu'd nor rack't their owne as now they doe.
Then either this is false that thus they fleece, or this is true,
That euen Consumption of their owne is Sacrileges due.
But wander doe we from our Iest, of that doth thus ensue.
The Bishops man sups, and to bed, whilst soundly sleepes that other:
The Gentlewoman, barr'd that Roome, is lodged in another:
That in the Bed fell fast asleepe, This vnderneath awakes,
And, in his creeping out and vp, no dinne at all he makes.
One heard he breathe, ar't there? thought he, haue with thee by and by,
And softly kist wheare felt so rough he fear'd t'haue kist awry:
He grop't therefore her Face, and caught the Yeoman by the Beard:
Who rudely starting vp (not more in all his life afeard)
And buskling to his sword, cride Theeues: That other in such taking,
As though he were a Man right good, he stood amaz'd and quaking.
The Oste and Ostlers with a Light and Tooles, then next to hand,
Came in, where he, almost vnstript, but wholly skar'de did stand.
They wonder (for they knew him well) that he should be a Theefe:
Good Sirs, quoth he, be still, we all deceiued are, in breefe.
Then, taking some a-part, he tolde his Cause of being theare,

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And praies their silence, and in Wine was washt away that Feare.
The Gentle woman, hearing this, vn-Inn'd by day did peepe,
And (honester than would himselfe) left him to wake or sleepe.
This stale-Iest tolde, Of Mandeuil now let vs Promise keepe.
With modest Mirth were ended now the Maske and Reuels, when
Vnto their Lodging Stafford did the Ladies Vsher then.
There Elenor was passing sad, and, being ask't, did tell
The Circumstances of her Ring in order as befell,
And shewes the gaged Tablet, seene and knowne of Stafford well.
Her, weeping ripe, he, laughing, bids to patient her a while,
For Mandeuil supposd him wrong'd, and wrought, quoth he, that wile:
But how for you he loueth yours, it argues, and withall
A gentle manly minde his great Exchange for value small.
Nor thinke I lesse, nor argue lesse of Loue and Gentrie too
May what, in both preuenting him, I meane, quoth she, to doo.
His Tablet sent she, and there with this Breuiat by a Page:
Of you I aske not backe my Loane, but take it and your Gage:
Yours Either, Neither say I mine, Both shall be, I presage.
He musing of her Meaning, thus to her lets his be knowne:
Of you I aske not back my Gage, but take it for your Loane:
Mine triples yours, not yours, and yeat for Price gets yours but One.
Not musing of his Meaning (which to her was not for Newes)
She of her Meaning also meanes that he no longer muse.
Now Mandeuil, though grieued much at Stafford, whō he thought
In Rome to riot, Doreas not esteemed as she ought,
And for his blabbing him to her the which had had his Ring.
Against an Oth, meanes nerethelesse him on his way to bring,
And comes to Staffords Lodging, who prepar'd for no such thing:
But for a Bridegroome trimd, and trim was All, and She for Bride
Him contradicted, when, as sayd, had Mandeuil espide
That likelihood: who, sighing, sayd, not henceforth will I chide,

313

But pitie Stafford, now so farre from wonted Stafford wide:
A Friend should not, nor you will I in this Infirmnes flye,
Alone of Dorcas wronged here not witnes shall mine Eye.
Came you to Rome to lose your selfe, and finde at Rome a Friend,
There to begin his Sorrowes where your Senses make an end?
Or thriue they more, or trauell lesse may Englishmen, wish I:
Hence should they profit, whence for most they least doe fructifie.
How stoicall growes Mandeuil, quoth Stafford, since his Trauell:
With you for like may I, ere long, haue cause no lesse to cauell.
With that, from out another Roome to him, that would away,
Then Dorcas-like came Dorcas out, intreating him to stay.
What should we say his Ioy, that his Mis-deemes did sort to this?
Was not a gladder man, and yeat anon he gladder is,
When Elenor, then like her selfe, to him came also out:
But whether gladder he or she, thus met, shall rest a doubt.
That very day both Couples wead, but what they did that night,
Not menvnpractis'd can report, for Action or Delight.
Nor creeded be this Loue-Tale of this Ladie and this Knight.
But be no Infidels in this that now we shall recite.
The pompious Prelacie of Rome, and liues lycentious thear,
Italian Driftings, and such Sinnes to Mandeuil appeare,
That then Deuinitie seem'd thear for Atheisme but a Stayle,
And wheare Religion most had boaste Religion most to fayle.
Nor wanted thear (may now and here we wish) that did relye
On Physickes and on Ethickes, and (O sinne) a God deny:
Wheare sully those Philosophies point out a Deitie.
Could all, in soule, of very God say as an Ethnick sayde
To one that preached Hercules: what need'st, quoth he, perswaide,
What all men graunt, his Godhead is beleeued and obaide,
Then this of God gainst Atheistes that enseweth should be staide.
But for not so, of that huge Sea let's through a Riblet waide: