The Historie of Edward the Second :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Historie of Edward the Second

Surnamed Carnarvan, one of our English Kings. Together with the Fatall down-fall of his two vnfortunate Favorites Gaveston and Spencer. Now Published by the Author thereof, according to the true Originall Copie, and purged from those foule Errors and Corruptions, wherewith that spurious and surreptitious Peece, which lately came forth vnder the same Tytle, was too much defiled, and deformed. With the Addition of some other Observations both of vse and Ornament. By F. H. [i.e. Francis Hubert]

Hubert, Francis

[dedication]

[section]

THE AVTHORS PREFACE.

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF Edvvard the Second.

THE AVTHORS Noli peccare.

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THE AVTHORS PREFACE.

1

Rebellious thoughts why doe you tumult so?
And striue to breake from forth my troubled brest?
Is't not enough that I my selfe doe know
The mouing Causes of mine owne vnrest?
Is't not enough to know my selfe distrest?
O no: Surcharged hearts must needs complaine,
“Some ease it is (though small) to tell our paine.

2

Yet weyward thoughts retire vnto your home,
Vnto my heart (your proper home) retire.
There rest in your vnrest, till Death doth come,
And Death will come, call'd by conceal'd desire,
“For Coales rak'd vp glow more then open Fire,
And deepest streames doe run with smoothest speed,
And silent griefes are the true griefes Indeed.

3

But if my heart bee so Inur'd to groaning,
Or if my tongue must bee the voyce of Sorrow,
Or that my Pen bee still Injoyn'd to moaning,
Because my night of Care hath neuer morrow,
Yet of my griefe thus much at least I'le borrow.
That for a time, J may surcease mine owne.
And tune my Muse to tell anothers moane.

4

Anothers moane to tell my Muse is tun'd,
(If any tune can bee in jarring Griefe)
And J a King for subject haue assum'd,
An English King: Who, whilst he liu'd, was chiefe
Jn Honours height, yet dyed without reliefe;
So true is that, which Solon once did say;
No man is Happie, till his dying day.

F. H.

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF Edvvard the Second.

5

It is thy sad disaster which I sing
Carnarvan Edvvard: Second of that name,
Thy Minions pride, thy States ill-managing,
Thy Peeres revolt, the sequell of the same,
Thy Life, thy Death I sing, thy Sin, thy shame;
And how thou wert depriued of thy Crowne,
In highest fortunes, cast by Fortune downe.

6

Did I say Fortune? Nay, by Folly rather,
By vnrespect vnto the rules of State.
For let a Prince assure himselfe to gather
As he hath planted: eyther Loue, or Hate.
Contempt, or Dutie: not the workes of Fate,
Much lesse of Fortune, but of due respects
To Causes, which must needs produce effects.

7

As if a Prince doe draw his plat-forme right,
And then with courage builds vpon the same.
His ends proues happie: But by ouersight
Hee that is weake, wholly subuerts the frame
Of his owne building, and doth Idly blame
Fortune, the seruant to deseruing merit,
But the Commander of the abject spirit.

8

In which discourse, if I shall hap to touch
Those faults, wch in our time are frequent growne
Let not the gall'd offender winch, or grudge.
For I intend a priuate wrong to none,
Onely I would haue those same errours knowne
By which the State did then to ruine runne,
That (warn'd by theirs) Our Agelike sins might shunne.

9

Nor doe I meane, to bound my selfe so much,
As onely for to tye mee to those Times,
The causes, courses, consequents I'le touch
Of later Ages, and of their designes,
And if detractions breath doth blast my Lines,
Bee it for me, I haue for my defence
The priuie-Coat of harmlesse innocence.

10

And thou

Iacobvs, I

great King that now do'st weild our State
Building on that, which former times did square
O let it not be thought to derogate
From thy perfections; (admirably rare)
If I some errours of these Times declare.
“Since neuer State was so precisely good
“But faults haue scap'd, which could not be withstood

11

For men are not like God, compleat, divine,
“Whom neither passions moue, nor errors blind,
“Who is not limited with any time,
“Nor tyde to meanes, nor into place confin'd;
“But free in all, no counter-checke doth find
“To contradict the least part of his will,
“But worketh all in all, and nothing Ill.

12

“Whereas our humaine actions all are mixt,
“Men liue in motion, so doe theyr designes;
“Nothing is simply good, or firmely fix'd.
“All haue defects: Nature it selfe declines,
“Darknes oft clouds the clearest Sun that shines.
“Our purest streames are not without their mud
“And we mistake, what oft we take for good?

13

Besides, Kings needs must see with others Eyes,
From whence mistakings cānot choose but spring,
And when the offence from Error doth arise,
Why should men cast the Enuie on the King?
And not on those, that mis-informe the thing?
“It is the gall most banes the Kingly throne,
“That of his faults the least part is his owne.

14

For hee him-selfe is blamelesse oft (God knowes)
Except it bee, because hee doth not know
The noted Scandals, that arise from those
On whom, hee doth his fauours most bestow
Which they abusing, discontents may grow
Against the Prince, though not deseruing them,
“So apt wee are eu'n Goodnes to condemne.

15

Nor must we with a blacking Coale streight brand
A Prince, or State, because of some defect,
Who can be free from Sulley (if so scan'd)?
But that same Prince or State deserues respect,
Whose actions doe in generall affect.
And ayme at good: for in particulers
“None can be so compleat, but often erres.

16

And much they are deceiu'd, that thinke to find
A State, without some blemish, or a staine.
Conceit may cast Jdeas in the mind.
And forge strange formes, in th' inuentiue braine.
But States consist of men, and men retaine
One natiue badge, which vnto all doth cleaue,
That is, to be deceiu'd: and to deceiue.

17

It is the sole Prerogatiue of Heau'n
Not to be tainted with the smallest error,
But that Immunitie was neuer giu'n
To Earth; wise Soloman be thou the mirrour
Where all may see their frailties euen with terror.
Thou mouing in perfections higest Spheare
Fell from thy orbe: who hath not cause to feare?

18

The Warlike Trumpet sounding to the fight
Commands the hearing more then doth the Reed.
Each eye is fixed on the Eagles flight,
When little Wrens deserue not any heed.
The greatest men shall haue the greatest meed.
Marke who so list, and they shall find it try'd
“That all mens eares to Princes tongus are ty'd.

19

Then let the world attend King Edwards words
(The second Edwards) matter fit for moane,
Whose smiles gaue life, whose frownes did wound like swords
Whilst he did sit vpō ye Kingly throne.
Nor minded now, nor moan'd by any One.
“So time (we see) cuts down with fatall blow
“As wel proud oakes, as humble shrubs below.

20

Imagine with your selues, you see him come
From forth the deep darke Cauernes of the earth,
Starued, and pin'd, Nothing but skin and bone
In Princely plentie suffering want and dearth,
As naked as an Infant at his birth.
“So pinching need doth pluck what Pride did plant.
And wastfull Ryot is repay'd with want.

21

And thus poore Prince (begins his tragick plaint,
Am I the same that was first Edwards Sonne?
By Nature borne to liue without restraint.
Were there for me so many Trophies wonne?
By Long-shanks, and such great atchiuements done?
I am the same; and he so great did leaue me,
As none (I thought) of Greatnes could bereaue me.

22

But now I find by proofe, that One there is
(And well it is, that there is such an One)
Who is not hood-winckt vnto our amisse,
And he can pull vs from our Kingly Throne,
For all our Guards; our Forts, our walles of stone.
Know King, how great-soeuer that thou be,
The King of Kings still ruleth ouer thee.

23

Thou do'st command on Earth, well, be it so,
That Earth which thou cōmand'st, his foot-stoole is:
Thy power but reacheth things that are below,
Heau'n, Earth, and Hell are subiect vnto his.
Th' Infernall Agents, and the spirits of blisse
His Seruants are, to execute his will,
“What wants nor might, nor means to punish Ill.

24

I know, that Nature (apt to ouer-weene)
May easily straine a Prince his thoughts to high.
I know it is, and euermore hath beene
A common course, to flatter Maiestie.
“Greatnesse is apt to sinne in surcudrie,
(Yet thogh) like Hils we ouer-look low grounds
All vertuous Kings doe know they haue their bounds

25

And therefore, though we haue Prerogatiues,
Yet there are certaine limits to the same.
Which keepes not Kings from being Superlatiues
To sway (as Gods-Lieue-tenants) this faire frame
And those Aspirers merit death and shame,
That doe repine against those supreame powers
Whom God hath made his vnderlings, not ours

26

Yet grant their State free from coerciue force,
That giues not lawlesse libertie in all,
Kings must obserue a just and rightfull course,
God is their King, by whom they stand or fall.
Who all their acts to strickt acccount will call,
Besides, their Oath, their vertue, their Renowne
Are Diamantine chaines to tye a Crowne.

27

And such as are not mou'd with these respects,
But make their power to serue their will in all.
Leaue them to God, who ruine, sand erects,
Sets vp a Dauid, and puls downe a Saul.
Hee prospers: Houses rise: he frownes: they fall,
'Tis not discents, nor fortune, force, nor fate,
But God supports, and God supplants a State.

28

Nine Kings had raigned since the Conquest here,
Whom I succeeded in a rightfull line.
My Father (all domesticke tumults clere)
Did warre, and win in fruitfull Palestine.
This Northerne Sunne eu'n to the East did shine.
The French were fearfull hearing but his name,
French, Scots, and Turkes æternized his fame.

29

No Realme but did resound first Edwards praise.
No praise was euer wonne with more deserts,
And no deserts (though great) could counterpoise
Much lesse out-balance his Heroyicke Parts,
Mars taught him Armes, the Muses taught him Arts,
Whereby so great he grew, that might there bee
A Ioue on Earth, that earthly Ioue was he.

30

A King may leaue his name vnto his Sonne,
But to his Sonne, no King can leaue his nature.
In outward forme and shape they may seeme one.
His posture, speech, his Countenance and feature.
May make the Son be thoght the selfsame creature.
'Tis true, in face Sonnes may be like their Sires
But faces like haue oft vnlike desires.

31

For why, our Bodies made of humaine seed
Resemble them, whose matter was our making,
Yea so farre forth as often times we read
Of many griefes hereditarie, taking
First roote from Parents loines: and not forsaking
Their Issues issue, vntill many Ages,
To wofull masters most vnwelcome Pages.

32

But mindes not cast in any mortall mould,
Infus'd from Heau'n, not tyed vnto succession.
Are freely left, (for so the Maker would)
Vnto his wise all-gouerning discretion,
Like softned wax, apt to receiue impression.
But when the forme is once imprinted In
“'Tis hardly lost, what Nature first did win.

33

'Tis somewhat to bee borne of vertuous seed,
An honest bellie beares a hopefull Sonne.
And yet (we see) good Parents often breed
A wild and wicked Issue, which doe run
Most impious courses, till their liues be done.
As was the Sire, the Sonne himselfe will fashion
Is probable: but yet no demonstration.

34

That vertuous Romane great Germanicus
One of the peerelesse worthies of that State,
Begets Caligula, a Prince most vicious,
Most bloudie, furious, and vnfortunate.
How much Domitian did degenerate
From his braue Sire, warlike Vespatian.
Is not vnknowne to euery knowing man.

35

The same is truly instanced in mee,
For I was farre vnlike my worthy Sire.
A sower Crab, from sweetest Apple-tree,
A Cloudie smoake from Sun-bright shining fire.
And that small good that Nature did inspire,
By soothing tongues too soone was turn'd to Ill,
So smallest frost vntimely fruit doth kill.

36

For when men did perceiue my youthfull Itch.
To vaine delight, and saw my mind affected
Vnto the flight, where pleasure made the pitch,
How all my noble studies were neglected,
My youth with ease, my ease with Lust infected.
Streight some sow'd pillowes vnderneath my sin,
And prais'd that most, I most delighted in.

37

Vpon the earth where is that happie ground
Wherein such answering Ecchoes are not heard?
But most of all such pleasing voyces sound
About Kings Courts, there find they best reward,
And that's the chiefest end, that they regard,
But that poore Prince which such flies blow vpō.
Shall scarcely know his owne Complexion.

38

Blest are those times (saith an

Tacitus.

Historian)
The grauest, wisest, worthiest of that kind,
Wherein 'tis lawfull for an honest man,
Freely to thinke, to speake, to write his mind.
And you great earthly Gods shall euer find
More truly louing hearts, in such free tongues.
Then in th' impostum'd breath of flatt'ring lungs.

39

Amongst the rest one Peirce of Gaueston
(Pleasing in speech, and gracefull in behauiour,
One, that Indeed was second vnto none
In winding in himselfe to great mens fauour,
That by their hazards he might be the Sauer)
When he did spye the marke whereat I ment
Streight gaue the meanes to giue my bow more bent,

40

VVe liu'd together eu'n from prime of yeares,
VVhereby our joynt affections were combin'd.
The mutuall consort of our infant Pheeres
Doth keepe a long possession of the mind,
And many deepe Impressions leaues behind.
VVouldst thou haue Loue to last beyond the tomb.
Thē let it take beginning at the wombe.

41

So hunts the Hound, and so the Hauke doth flye.
As at the first entrance they are made, and man'd,
And so those springing humours seldome dye.
That in our first conceit Ingraued stand,
Though childish loue seeme to be built on sand,
Yet euery one eu'n in himselfe may proue
He likes it still, what he at first did loue.

42

Princes, that doe intend your Heires such good
As shall enable them for to succeed,
And no way to disparage their high blood,
O let it be your most respectiue heed,
To sow their tender yeeres with vertues seed.
For so the well, or ill-manured field
As it is till'd doth Corne or Cocle yeeld.

43

Inure their youth vnto their Peeres conuerse,
From whence, some seeds of liking first will grow,
VVhich eu'n the Soule it selfe in time will peirce
And proue a constant zeale: from whence will flow
All dutious offices, that men may shew.
And then, Designes of Princes happiest proue
VVhen their great Peeres do serue, because they loue

44

Besides, there is a secret trust repos'd,
In those, whom long assurance hath combin'd,
And when we know, how humors are dispos'd,
VVe frame our councels fitter to the mind.
“Vnsounded Natures sharpest judgements blind
“And those we entertaine with diffidence
Of whom we haue but small experience.

45

So that to win a trust, to plant a Loue,
To gaine a settled Seruice of the Peeres,
It is the safest way, that Kings can proue,
To glew them close eu'n in their Infant yeeres,
And here my Fathers Error much appeares,
VVho did ingrift me into Gaueston,
By so vniting both our youths in one.

46

Hee was in face a Cupid, or more faire.
A Mercurie in speech, or else as much.
In actiue vigor hee was Mars his heire,
In wit Joue-bred Minerua was not such.
But (O) these guifts will not abide the touch,
Except with Inward vertues of the mind.
Both beautie, speech, strength, wit are all refin'd.

47

But why should Nature set so faire a Glosse
Vpon a mind, which sinne did so deforme?
Why should shee gild and polish such base drosse?
As if she did the Soules perfection scorne,
And onely would Impietie adorne.
Or else seduce those mindes from judging right,
Who doe conforme their censures to their sight.

48

But oft we see a sweet and mild aspect,
A comely presence, winning vpon all.
A face that seemes all vertue to affect
Doth hide a heart of stone, a mind of gall,
A crabbed will, a Soule to sinne most thrall.
And therefore he in Iudgment shootes awry
That takes his leuell onely from his Eye.

49

Because, the glorious inside of the mind
Hath no dependance on the outward forme,
In which, if erring Nature proue vnkind,
And disproportions doe the shape deforme
Shee commonly endeauours to reforme
The bodies error, with the mindes supply,
So richest Iemmes in Earths base entrailes lye.

50

“The face is false, the looke is but a lyer,
“The habite and the heart doe much discent.
“For good pretences cloake a bad desire.
“Faire complements varnish a foule entent,
“Who doth relye on them may chance repent.
Which was my Case, and caus'd my ouerthrow;
For I did prize the substance by the shew.

51

If one may vse that word without controule,
If euer any

A transmigration of the soule frō one body to another. One of Pythagoras his dreames.

Metempsicosis was.
I thinke the last

Sardanapalus.

Assyrians Monarchs soule
By due descent to Gaueston did passe.
For he a right Sardanapalus was:
Drown'd in delights (if one may tearme them so)
That hatch in lust, and breath their last in woe.

52

This highest Scholler in the Schoole of Sinne,
This Centaure, halfe a man, and halfe a Best,
This pleasing Syren so my soule did win,
That he was deere to mee aboue the rest
Looke what he said, was Gospell at the lest.
Looke what he did, I made my President.
So soone we learne, what wee too late repent.

53

This Angell-Diu'll thus shrined in my heart,
This Dragon hauing got the golden fruit,
My very Soule to him I did impart,
Nor was I euer deafe vnto his suit.
Hee acted all, I was a silent mute.
My being seem'd to be in him alone
Plantaginet was turn'd to Gaueston.

54

And hauing seiz'd me thus into his hands
(For feare belike least he should bee diseased)
Hee thought to tye me still in streighter bands
By praising that, wherwith my sense was pleased;
Affirming, that our liues were to be eased
Of many cumbers, which the curious wise
Had layd on men, the more to tyrannize.

55

For what are Lawes, but seruile obseruations
Of this, or that, what pleas'd the Makers mind?
The selfe-conceited-sowen Imaginations
Of working braines, which did in freedome find
Our humaine state, wch they forsooth would bind
To what they lik't, what lik't not, was forbidden,
So Horse and Mule, with bitt and spur are ridden.

56

Which well inuented scar-Crowes, though they serue
For mud-borne men, to keepe them in some awe.
Yet Princes are not borne, so to obserue
The strict precisenesse of th' incombring Law.
Which their high state to base cōtempt doth draw.
Kings made those lawes, & Ks. may break thē now
That pleas'd them then, & this now pleaseth you.

57

No, no (sweet Prince) saith he, There is no law
Can bind a King, but onely his desire.
And that full well Th' Assyrians Monarcks saw,
Who had before them borne consuming Fire.
(Embleme of Regall power) which all admire
But none must touch, for feare of following harms
For Fire we know consumes, as well as wormes.

58

The Spiders web holds fast the silly Fly.
The Hornet breakes It, like a mighty Lord,
That

Alexander magnus.

King of Kings when he could not vntye
The Gordian knot diuides it with his Sword.
That Act of his fit matter doth afford
For President: were I, as thou shalt bee.
No Law at all, should giue a law to mee.

59

Except it were the golden law of Nature,
Sweet Nature, (sweetest Mother of vs all)
Who hath infus'd thus much into each Creature
To loue the Honey, and to loath the Gall.
To serue delight, not to be Sorrow's thrall;
For pleasure doth with Nature so agree,
As Bees with hiue, as Honey with the Bee.

60

For in the Prologue of our Infant play.
Eu'n in our Cradle, wee doe cry, and yell
For Nurses breast: why so? For food (you'l say)
'Tis true: and food (say I) doth please vs well,
As Hunger seemes to bee a second Hell.
So that (in truth,) The motiue of our Cry,
Is to bee fed, and to bee pleas'd thereby.

61

As in our Prologue, so in our next Act
(I meane in Childish yeares) who doth not see
That euery thought of ours, and word, and fact
Doe ayme at Sport, at Pastime, and at glee?
Which daily cares, and nightly studies bee.
Witnes the checks, the Rods, the blowes we take
The many blowes, and all for Pleasures sake.

62

But when our Youth doth step vpon the Stage,
(The sweetest part, that any man can play)
Then pleasing Loue, & hope (loues pleasing page)
And Courage (hops Attendant night, and day)
And fortune seldome saying Courage Nay
With full-sayl'd course doth carry vs amaine,
To seek the Coast, where ful content doth raigne.

63

Not staying here, still Nature drawes vs on
To new delights, but of a diuers kind,
For middle Age to Armes will needs be gone.
With honours sweets to feed his hungry mind,
And what is Honour but a pleasing wind?
Remember what, the famous

Themistocles.

Græcian sayes,
The sweetest Musicke is a Mans owne praise.

64

Next elder-Age, and Siluer-seeming hayres
By Nature run full chase still after pleasure.
For (O) the solace of the waning yeeres!
To view their Rudducks, & their heaps of treasure
To weigh, and tell their gold at euery leasure
How great it is; speake they, that rather choose
Gold should loose them: then they their gold would loose

65

The Epilogue of all our former time
More hunts for joy then any of the rest.
Decrepit Age doth pray before the prime,
VVith weeping eyes, and knocks vpon his Brest
And giues his Almes, to them that are distrest,
And what's his end? that he might Heau'n obtain
“And what is Heau'n, but pleasure void of pain

66

And as the mind hath motions to affect,
So haue we meanes to satisfie the mind.
“Our little world is made with much respect,
Our Mother Nature hath bin wise and kind;
By whom, we haue apt Organons assign'd
To execute, what so our thoughts intend,
“And all our thoughts ayme at some pleasing end

67

Is not the Head the store-house of conceit
Plotting the meanes, to compasse our delight?
Our Eyes Attendants, that doe daily waite
Vpon such objects, as may please the sight?
Witnesse the cherry-cheeke, & brow milk-white.
Witnesse no other witnesse, but my wish,
How sight, and Soule, both likes, and longs for this.

68

What mind, what man, what man of any mind
That is not touch'd, & mou'd with Musicks sound?
Whose deepe Impressions worke in bruitish kind,
As Dolphynes, Else Arion had bin drown'd.
The saluage beasts, that would not Orpheus wound
The sencelesse stones, whō Phœbus harp did moue
Doe witnesse all, how all doe Musicke loue.

69

The bubling murmur of a sliding Spring
That seemes to runne with sweet, yet sullen mind.
By which the winged Quiers in Consort sing
VVith faire-fac't Eunuches (the defects of kind)
VVhose Notes are answer'd by a soft still wind.
Some dear lou'd Dame, bearing her part wth kisses
Who would not thinke that place a heau'n of blisses?

70

As head, and eares, and Eyes; So are our hands
Flesh-hookes to draw, and gather all vnto vs
That with our pleasure, or our profit stands,
Thrusting aside, what euer may vndoe-vs
For which Imployments are alloted to vs
Two hands, two feet, The Agents of our wills.
To follow rest, and flye from restlesse Ills.

71

“So likewise, in the structure of this frame
“What is not made with admirable Art?
So likewise in the guidance of the same,
What is deny'd vs, that may please the heart?
Most sencelesse man (what man so e're thou art)
That in the very fulnesse of such store,
By wilfull wants wilt make thy selfe most poore.

72

In heate of Summer, when the burning Sunne
Doth crust the Earth, are there not shadie bowers
Are there not Riuers, that doe mildly runne?
And now, and then some cooling dewie showers
To keepe the beautie of the blooming flowers?
Wherwith our mother Earth (so fairely drest)
Seemes, to Invite her sonnes to pleasures feast.

73

I will not speake of euery dayes delight
They are so various, full of Rarities.
But are there not sweet pleasures for the night?
Maskes, Revels, Banquets, mirthfull Comedies,
Night-Sunnes, (kind Natures dearest Prodigies)
Which worke in men with powerfull Influence
As hauing their first life, best motion thence.

74

O glorious Peeces, (the best guifts of Heau'n)
Fairer thē those faire lights, that make Earth fair
Why were you vnto wretched mortals giu'n
But to bee Cordials 'gainst heart-eating Care,
B'Imparting vnto vs your beauties rare?
You are the Starres, which when the Sun is set
Both heate, and light, and life in vs beget.

75

Hath then the Mouer of this glorious round,
So wisely fitted euery thing to pleasure,
And seemes hee not his Order to confound
That to delight doth limit sparing measure?
And makes him-selfe vnworthy of such treasure?
Is't euer like, He would haue made things thus
But that they should bee fully vs'd by vs!

76

And that I may not runne about the field
But keepe my selfe in Compasse of the Ring.
I will omit the rich, and fruitfull yeeld
Of pleasure, pointing onely at the Spring,
The taste whereof, such perfect joy doth bring.
As I doe thinke, no other Heau'n there Is,
Heau'n pardon me; If I doe thinke amisse.

77

That is (sweet Ned) the Paradise of Loue,
The joy of Life, and life of our conceit,
The heau'nly Fire, infused from aboue,
On which the Muses, and the Graces wayt;
The Bodies health, Harts hope, and Natures bayt,
The quintissence, of pure essentiall sweet.
The point, where all the lines of Pleasures meet.

78

Sweet loue, that hast sweet beauty for thine obiect
Kind loue, that knits in One two seuerall hearts.
Great loue, to whom the greatest King is subiect;
Pure loue, that sublimates our Earthly parts,
And makes them ayerie by Ingenious Arts.
O let my Ned, my Prince, my Ioue possesse
The joyes, I would, but cannot well expresse.

79

And thou (deare Ned) experience but the pleasure
Try what it is to Loue, and bee requited,
And I will pawne my life, (my greatest treasure)
With one sweet night, thou wilt be so delighted,
That thou wilt wish, ye world were still benighted;
Then say (sweet Prince) when thou the same dost proue
No heau'n but joy: Nor any joy but loue.

80

O see the fruits of an Ill-gouern'd wit,
VVhen the sharpe Edge thereof, is turn'd awry.
VVhen the best graces make men apt, and fit
To blazon, and to tricke Impietie:
To lay faire Colours on foule Sinne, whereby
Th' Abused sence, (deluded with false shewes)
On a most loathsome witch Inamor'd growes.

81

Wee need no Tutors, to bee taught to sinne,
Wee sucke that lesson from our mothers brest.
Nature is easily drawne, to trade therein,
For that's the trafficke that doth please vs best,
Sinne is a bold, a most intruding guest;
And will not bee kept out, doe what wee can
There's such an vnion betwixt Sinne, and Man.

82

What need Inuitement? why should Art bee vs'd
To draw that on, which wee too much desire?
VVhy should our ablest Graces bee abus'd
To powre more oyle vpon a flaming Fire?
But mounting Spirits that faine would soare vp higher
Regard not what they doe, nor what they say,
So they to their owne ends may make their way,

83

And then indeed, they are most dangerous
When they are arm'd with Learning, wit, and skil.
Wholesome Ingredients proue most mischieuous
Being apply'd, onely to strengthen Ill;
For then they worke too much vpon the will.
And that full well such damned Doctors know,
Which makes them vse their Art & cunning so.

84

It is a certaine truth: The best of all
Beeing Corrupted, turnes vnto the worst.
And so, those hellish Spirits, before theyr fall
Most blessed (chang'd from what they were at first)
Are now most vile, and wretched, most accurst.
Looke, what degree of Goodnes, things retaine
Whilst they are good, being Ill, they so remaine.

85

But to proceed; By these, and like discourses
(Whereat thy mayden muse may blush for shame)
This Gaveston imbark'd mee in such Courses
As caus'd my Fathers griefe, mine owne defame.
Whilst I went on, not sensible of shame,
Nor of my Fathers griefe, nor heau'ns just doome
Nor any future danger, that might Come.

86

O see, how soone our sweetest buds are blasted,
How soone our fairest colours loose their flourish,
How easily are the Seeds of vertue wasted?
And noysome weeds of vice how much we nourish
Which do ye Soule of her chief wealth impouerish.
Youth (apt to stray) is easily led awry,
VVe fall by Nature, what need Flatterie?

87

And yet, it hath too much, to worke vpon,
The vnexperience of our younger yeares,
The heat of bloud, the furie of affection,
Vngrounded hopes, and vaine surmized feares.
The courses entertain'd by like compeeres.
Our selfe-conceit, our Parents watchfull Eye.
Nay, eu'n desert, make all for flatterie.

88

And soone it will the least aduantage find,
Whereby it may creepe into mens conceit.
Obseruing first, to what they are inclin'd.
Which once perceiu'd, It fits the humour streight,
Still keeping fashion, but still wanting weight.
In complements most seemingly precise,
And that's th' abused maske to blind weake eyes.

89

But like, as those diseases faster grow,
Whose mouing causes our Complexions feed.
So farre more dangerous is this priuate foe
That doth attire himselfe in friendships weed,
Then he that shewes his hate by open deed.
For Armes, or Lawes, or Friends may fence the one
The other God himselfe must shield, or none.

90

So Simon did the Troian State confound,
So guilded Tombes are full of rotten Earth,
So Crocodiles although they weepe, they wound,
So Panthers circumuent with their sweet breath,
So Syrens though they sing, their tunes are death.
And yet, as fish bite most at hony-baytes
Eu'n so are men most caught with sweet deceites.

91

Therefore be pleas'd to heare a plaine discourse.
Suspect the tongue, that's still tun'd to the eare.
Faire truth is not for nakednesse the worse
But falshood many Ornaments must weare
Least all her foule deformities appeare.
Which Art can flourish ouer, fit for Court,
Whilst simple truth to deserts doth resort.

92

And this is that vast Sea of miserie
In which, the greatest Monarks most are drown'd,
That they are seldome free from flatterie.
Pretences being colourably found,
To sooth that humour, that doth most abound.
And so the Prince runs on from ill, to worse.
But still perswaded best of his bad course.

93

VVhereby the danger on himselfe doth fall.
The gaine vnto the Fauorite accrewes.
For wronged Subjects, being grieu'd withall.
Forgetting duty, impiously pursues
Meanes or reuenge: whence danger oft insues.
Meane while the man, that fed the humour so
Falls off perhaps, and scapes the comming blow.

94

Therefore let Kings prefer them, that are plaine,
And make those great, that doe not greatnes feare.
Such serue their Lords for loue, and not for gaine.
The'are Iewels of the heart, not of the eare.
They will discouer dangers, that are neare.
VVhen oyled tongues will still make all secure,
“And carelesse greatnesse euer stands vnsure.

95

But why should I giue rules, when I kept none?
Why should I teach, and neuer could obey?
Onely for this: where I was ouerthrowne
Others may Looke, least they bee cast away.
And they that make this vse, thrice happie they.
Because, by others wracks themselues may reade.
How to preuent theyr owne mishaps with heed.

96

Sooth'd thus in sinne, all goodnesse was forgotten,
My Fathers words of no esteeme were growne.
And I that scarce seem'd ripe, was straight found rotten
Like fruit that is frō tree vntimely blown.
But that tooke root, which Gaveston had sowen.
And sprouted so, that It did seed at last:
So worthlesse weeds (we see) do grow too fast.

97

For at the first, I was asham'd of Sinne,
But sinne did say, my greatest sinne was shame.
Then by degrees I did delight therein;
And from Delight, I did desire the same.
And my Desires so prosperously did frame.
That now the chiefest Quere, was this One.
Whether were worse my Selfe, or Gaveston.

98

It is a certaine truth: Men doe not touch
The highest point of wickednesse at first.
“Habites or good, or bad, prone to bee such
“By often vse, Sinne thriues as It is nurst.
And therefore, kill this Cocatrice (accurst)
Whil'st 'tis an Egge; for if It hatch, and grow,
It will at last proue a commanding Foe.

99

This did my aged Father well perceiue,
And with sad teares (the Messengers of moane)
He did bewayle himselfe, that he should leaue
His Crowne to me, and me to Gaueston)
I in my sonne (saith he) am ouerthrowne.
My blisse my bane; my peace procures my strife.
First Edward dyes, in Second Edwards life.

100

To bee a Father was my onely Ioy
And now my griefe it is, to bee a Father:
Why should my solace turne to mine annoy?
Why planted I Harts-ease, and Rue must gather?
As I did sow, I should haue reaped rather.
My hopefull haruest proues but baleful weeds,
And for the bloud I gaue, my heart now bleeds.

101

For (Oh) how neere a touch doth Nature giue?
How searching are the sufferings of our blood?
How much the Fathers soule doth joy, or grieue,
When he doth see his Issues bad, or good,
Is hard of any to bee vnderstood
Except by such, whose feeling bowels find,
What deepe Impressions do proceed from kind.

102

Wise was the Prince, who playing with his Son,
And teaching him to ride vpon a Reed.
To whom a great Ambassador did come,
And seem'd to blush at his so childish deed.
Doe not (quoth he) to censure it proceed.
I onely craue a respite of thy doome.
Till thou thy selfe art Father of a Sonne.

103

Inferring, that there is a secret loue,
Which vntouch'd hearts can hardly comprehend.
Would God, the same reciprocall might proue,
Oh that kind Nature did sometimes ascend.
Parents too oft in Indulgence offend
But Sonnes more oft in duty proue defectiue,
These weyward times are grown so vnrespectiue.

104

Nature so wrought, that Cressus Sonne cry'd out,
Who from his birth before had not spoke word.
When he did see a Souldier goe about,
To kill the King his Father, with a sword.
Could Nature then such Presidents afford?
Was she so powerfull then, now weakned so.
That Sonnes themselues, do work their Fathers woe?

105

Or was he not my Sonne? did brutish lust
So sire the affections of my deerest Queene
That she vnto my bed should proue vniust?
And by some other, not my selfe should teeme?
O farre bee't from my soule, so to misdeeme.
Sweet flower of Castile, sacred was thy vow,
If euer wife were true, that wife wert thou.

106

O Elianor, thou wert too good a piece,
Once to admit the smallest shew touch,
Take all the chastest Dames of Rome, or Greece,
VVhereof fore-going Ages speake so much,
They can but say at best, That they were such
As I knew thee to bee: and perhaps too.
Time more then Truth permits them so to doe.

107

Ill-gouern'd Ned, although my soule doth hate
Thy vitious Errors, as the Stigian floud,
Which will proue dangerous to thy selfe, & State,
Yet Nature workes so much vpon my blood,
As that I cannot choose, but wish thy good.
If euer thou in Himens bands be ty'd.
Such as thy Mother was, such be thy Bride.

108

And in that onely wish Included is
The chiefest, choysest good, that thou can'st find.
Summa Totalis of all earthly blisse
Is such a wife, as is both wife, and kind.
Chast, sober, silent, faire in face, and mind.
And such was she: when therfore thou dost erre,
'Tis from thy selfe alone, and not from her.

109

But foolish man why doe I blame my Sonne?
Whose yet vnknowing yeeres by Ill aduice
Being led away: A dangerous course doth run.
For Youths hot bloud forgets old Ages yce,
And while his hand is in, doth throw the dice
At all that pleasure sets: and thinks to gaine,
If with the Bye he can discharge the maine.

110

Sweet Ned, I blame not thee, but Gaueston.
For he it is that sitteth at the helme
And steeres thy course, with his wind thou art blowne
Nor will he leaue, till he doth ouerwhelme
In deepest gulfe, thy selfe, and all this Realme,
For stirring spirits doe troubled streames desire.
And then thriue best, when all is set on fire.

111

Obserue with all those States that doe decline,
How apt they alwayes are for Innouation.
How much they doe 'gainst publike good repine,
And hopefully expect an Alteration.
That whil'st things are vnsetled out of fashion.
They may close vp the wounds they had before,
And by that meanes their priuate wants restore.

112

Therefore let those that haue a grounded State.
And may liue well, joyne close in any wise
Against all such, as seeke to Innouate,
If not in duty, yet in sound aduice
To keepe such downe, as hope perhaps to rise
Vpon their ruines, whose reuenewes may
Cut short their liues, sure proue the spoilers pray.

113

And with these linke such Spirits as faine would rise,
But are by former great. Ones still supprest,
And such doe dangerous Stratagems deuise,
Nor will their Eager hopes affor'd them rest.
But mount they must, who-euer be deprest.
And little doe they force the States confusion.
So thereby they to greatnes make Intrusion.

114

And to this End, they are obsequious still,
They sooth, they fawne, they seeme officious.
They fit themselues to their great mouers will.
Bee't good, or bad, just, or Iniurious.
They serue eu'n turnes base, and luxurious
But I'le prouide a wholesome Mithredate
So to preuent the poysons of the State.

115

And firmely settled in this resolution,
By strict command was Gaueston exil'd.
I begg'd of him to stop the Execution.
But then my Father shak'd his head, and smil'd,
O Ned (saith he) how much art thou beguil'd
To foster that which will thy downe-fall be,
And warme the Snake, that will inuenom thee.

116

I wish'd my selfe an Eccho at that word,
That I might boldly then haue answered: Thee
For neuer was there sharpest-edged sword
That wounded more, thē that same wounded me.
But goe he must, such was the King decree.
And when he went, then dy'd my bloud-lesse heart,
So doth the Body from the soule depart.

117

The former times haue held it policie
That some offendors should abjure the Land,
But 'tis indeed an idle vanitie.
And with no rules of regiment can stand,
For if the matter be with Iudgement scann'd
It will appeare to men considerate
That Abiuration hurts both Prince and State.

118

I doe not meane of men, that are not mist,
(For who respects the hummings of a Gnat)
Such atomy may wander where they list,
Their muddie pates can neither frame the plat,
Nor feeble hands worke danger to the State,
Let men of Note be mark'd; and wary heed
Be had of them, that may disturbance breed.

119

And 'tis not safe, to banish such an One
As may find meanes to worke his owne returne.
So

Hen. 4.

Bolenbroke stept into

Rich. 2.

Richards throne.
And hee had leisure, afterwards to mourne
His foolish fault: Such med'cines may adjourne
The present paine a while: But makes the sore
To ake more felly, then It did before.

120

Mild drugs may stirre the humours that abound,
But will not quite expell the growing Ill;
The Root and Body both remaining sound
Although the tree be lopt, It thriues It still.
And when thou hast the Axe, to vse at will
Strike at the Root; and fell it to the ground,
Rather then pare the boughes & branches round.

121

For 'tis lost labour, to begin with them.
They needs must wither, if the other dye.
And doe not feare, though vulgar breath condemne
Thy Cariage in such courses, whose weake Eye
“Lookes at the present only: And thereby
Values the rest: “Doe thou make good thy end,
“The common sort will euer be thy friend.

122

Wise Long-shankes, yet in this thou wert not wise.
If thou hadst tooke the head of Gaveston,
Those subsequent disasters that did rise
From him, had bin preuented euery-one:
Thy Sonne had not bin shouldred from his throne.
Thy people slaine, nor Realme to ruine brought;
But so God workes, till all his will be wrought.

123

“And the whole List of Nature serues his will,
“Our selues are Instruments vnto his ends.
“Our most reserued drifts hee vseth still.
“To worke those purposes, which hee Intends;
“Though our deuices ayme at other ends.
“He is the Master wheele, and makes vs strike
No otherwise, then hee himselfe doth like.

124

My Gaveston thus driu'n into exile,
My selfe Committed like a Captiue thrall;
(For so my Father kept mee short a while)
With bitter Curses I did banne them all,
I dranke my Teares, and fed vpon my Gall.
I chaf'd, and storm'd, yet could I not preuaile.
“Needs must: will be, faine would: doth often faile.

125

Then were my Colours turn'd to mournfull blacke
And I put on the Liuerie of Care.
Like to the hopelesse Sea-man in a wracke
That sees the greedy waues deuour his share;
No otherwise, did thoughtfull Edward fare.
When sad remembrance in my soule did plant
His lot, my losse; His woe, my pleasures want.

126

The chiefest Cordiall of my grieued Soule,
The one, and only Period of my paine.
Was this: That Death (admitting no Controule)
Would end my Fathers wrath, his Life, his Raigne
And then (thought I) Ned will haue Pierce again.
When Englands Crowne shall make a Ioue of me
Then Gaveston my Ganimed shall bee.

127

As I did hope, so had my hopes successe.
For shortly after dy'd my noble Sire.
Whil'st he prepar'd the Scots for to suppresse.
Low now (quoth I) I haue my hearts desire.
Long-shankes is dead: His water, Ayre, and fire
Are turn'd to Earth: and earthy might he bee,
That on the Earth did keepe a Crown from me.

128

Yet in that sad dismayfull houre of dying,
No griefe did him more feelingly possesse,
Then that his vicious Sonne all vertue flying
Should ruine that, by ryot, and excesse.
Which he had built with so great carefulnesse.
And therefore, for to weane me from such Sins.
These well tun'd Notes this dying Swan begins.

129

My Sonne (quoth he) (for in that name of zeale
My words may proue of more effectuall power)
Why should'st thou so with thy sicke Father deale?
As to torment him in his parting houre.
Whose life hath had his portion full of sower.
And yet to make my measure fuller still,
My Sonne doth daily adde vnto my ill,

130

I know what 'tis eu'n some-times by extreames
To keepe the Crowne vpright vpon the head.
I know the troubled sleeps and fearefull dreames.
That houer still about a Princely bed.
“The worme of greatnesse (Iealousie) is bred.
“Out of it selfe; yet this I know withall,
Our powerfull sway doth sweeten all our gall.

131

But for thy selfe, and for my heart-breake griefe
That out of thy sin-ship wrack'd youth doth grow
No Circumstance yeelds colour of reliefe.
The cause excuselesse, Limitlesse the woe
That doth from thy full Sea of follies flow.
For foulest faults proceed from powerfull Ill.
And Subiects sort themselues to Princes still.

132

Thou do'st not onely by thy vicious liuing
Bereaue thy Soule of blisse, which vertue wins.
But also, by the ill-example giuing
Thou do'st incite weake mindes vnto like sinnes.
“For certainely, the Subiect euer swims
Iust with the streame: so growing like to thee.
A generall Deluge of all sinne will bee.

133

Much better had It bin: Thou hadst not bin,
Then that thy being should so ruine all.
O wherefore was thy birth-day euer seene?
If by thy life, The State It selfe doth fall.
To those foule sins, which wrath from Heau'n doe call.
By whose just doome such states confounded are
By forreine fury, or domesticke warre.

134

For when the seed of sin to ripenesse growes
Then Iustice with a sythe doth mow It downe
This, this It is, that Kingdomes ouerthrowes.
Layes wast the fields, vnpeoples euery Towne.
Or if not so, disorders yet the Crowne.
VVhich, though It proue no generall desolation
Yet many mischiefes grow by Innouation.

135

When my heau'n-seeking soule shall leaue her Inn,
And this my flesh clos'd in a house of Clay.
Then will my shame suruiue me in thy sinne.
And babes vnborne, will ban my birth, and say;
His wretched life, gaue life to our decay.
And had no other ill by him bin done.
He sinn'd too much, in getting such a Sonne.

136

Did I for this endure the dust and Sunne?
Dislodge at mid-night, March in mid-dayes heate?
Were Turkish, French, VVelch, Scottish Trophees wō
Was all my care imploy'd, to make thee great,
That sinne might dispossesse thee of thy Seat?
O then, I see that greatnesse soone is gone,
VVhen God drawes not the plot, man builds vpon.

137

And my devining Solue doth sadly see
Thy Ruine in thy ryot: Ah my Ned
VVhen I am gone, a King then shalt thou be,
But if thou still be with thy passions led,
Thou wilt not keepe the Crowne vpon thy head.
My Soule now parting from her earthly Cage
Fore-tels thee so in her Propheticke rage.

138

And those predictions seldome vse to faile
VVhich she vnfolds in her last extasie.
Shee's ready now to quit her fleshly jayle
And now she tels thee with free libertie
Thy Raigne, thy life will end in miserie,
If still thou keep'st the wayes, thou now art in.
And dost not leaue thy mind, and meanes to sin.

139

VVell Son I feele my faultering tongue doth faile,
Therefore this short Abridgement I doe make.
Feare God, Loue goodnesse, let the right preuaile.
Shun sodaine courses, Parasites forsake.
Disfauour not thy Peeres, their Councels take
In thy designes: Reuoke not Gaueston,
For he will proue the Canker of thy Throne.

140

Pursue those Scottish warres I haue in hand.
And for because my Soule did make a vow
Vnto my God: to serue in Holy-Land.
From which, This sicknesse Interdicts me now,
Though death disable me, yet doe it thou.
Embowell me, and thither beare my heart,
That in that worthy worke I may haue part.

141

And you my Lords (speaking vnto his Peeres)
Whose wealth, and greatnes I haue much Increas'd
Bee Fathers to my Sonnes vntored yeeres.
Loue him for me, though Long-shanks be deceas'd.
Let Gauestons exile be not releas'd.
Lest his repeale occasion ciuill strife
And so first Edward ends both speech, and life.

142

Thus death, that Herald that eu'n Kings doth summon,
The Pursiuant, that doth attatch proud Peeres.
The Cittie-Sergeant, whose arrest is Common,
The errant-Bayliffe, that one Processe beares,
And no place bounds, but serues it in all shires.
The generall Surueyor of each-one
Did bring my Father to his longest home.

143

Whose obsequies, and Ceremonies done.
Thē I was crown'd: me thought the Sun did dance.
And that faire Thames with siluer streams did run.
Me thought, the Stars did all applaud the chance,
That did my State vnto a Crowne aduance.
Smile Starres, dance Sunne, and Riuer run with mirth,
Carnaruan Edward is a God on Earth.

144

But all the Starres to blazing Comets turn'd,
Whose sad vprise presag'd my drearie fate.
The Riuers seem'd, as if they wept, and Mourn'd.
The Sun did neuer shine vpon my state.
Starres, streames, and Sun, saw me vnfortunate.
Disastrous man, so borne to suffer wracke,
As is the Æthiop to be alwayes blacke.

145

Obserue the man, whom fates haue slau'd to griefe
See how the wretch, that's destin'd Fortunes foe
Will be a rub, to turne away reliefe
Eu'n from himselfe, and worke his owne-wrought woe.
Harme after him: he after harme shall goe.
(Fore-spoken man) he's neuer but succeslesse,
Himselfe his hurt, and yet his hurt redreslesse.

146

Nay eu'n those very meanes which he shall vse
In good discretion to preuent the clap
Shalbe returned vnto his abuse.
And serue for pullies of his owne mishap.
So though he see, he shall not shun the trap.
And if his ruine were not ripe before,
His owne designes shall hasten It the more.

147

The King of

Alexander Epiros

Epire, fearing death at home,
Fore-warn'd thereof by former Prophesie.
To Jtalie forthwith must needs be gone.
So to preuent his fate by policie.
But Still hee's followed by his destinie.
In Italie he findes an Acharon,
The fatall flood, from which he would be gone.

148

Fourth Henrie was by some blind Bard fore-told,
That he should neuer dye, till he had seene
Jerusalem: fourth Henry will be old.
Jerusalem for him shall be vnseene.
No, he shall see it, when he least doth weene.
He sownes at prayers, and by religious men
Is streight conuey'd vnto Jerusalem.

149

(So was the Chamber cal'd, where he was lay'd)
And shortly after dy'd the noble King.
“In vaine man striues: the heau'ns will be obay'd.
“We may fore-know, but not preuent a thing.
“Our selues will neuer cease vntill we bring
“Our Fates to full effect: and what we doe
“Shall be but lines, to leade vs thereunto.

150

For first, I doe those Counsellors remoue
That in my Fathers time had borne most sway.
Whereby I did disarme me of their Loue,
To practices, and discontents made way.
Expose my selfe to Enuy: open lay
To disaduantage, wanting their aduice,
Whom long experience had made deeply wise.

151

Besides, I did the publike State some wrong.
So to cast off those grounded Polititians.
Who knew to gouerne, by commanding long.
Had seene, and well obseru'd mens dispositions.
And so could tell, when, where, how Impositions
Were to be rais'd: how to auoyd offence.
How to gaine men, & ends with faire pretence.

152

Who likewise knew, how other Kingdomes stood,
The concordances of each neighbouring state
How Realmes best correspond for eythers good.
How to make Leagues, how to negotiate.
When to breake off, when to Incorporate.
How farre Remotes, and neere-Confiners too.
Are to be weigh'd, as they haue meanes to doe.

153

'Tis not the practice of a day, or twaine.
'Tis not the Schoole, or Sophisters debate.
'Tis not the froth of euery working braine.
'Tis not the start into a neighbouring State.
That works men fit to beare a Kingdomes weight.
When men are fully made, imploy them then,
“For 'tis an Art of Arts to gouern men.

154

Therefore I lay It for a certaine ground,
Which new-made Princes must not violate
(Except they will the Common-wealth confound)
Not to discard those men, that know the State.
Whose long experience doth ingenerate
A true, and readie Method to command.
Both for the Princes good, and for the Land.

155

What got the youthfull Sonne of Soloman
By his neglect of that Sage-sound aduice
VVhich from his Fathers Councellors did come?
Did It not turne vnto his prejudice?
Did not ten Tribes fall from him in a trice?
VVhich neuer could be glew'd againe in one
After that rupture and disunion,

156

Besides this fault, scarce settled in my State:
I streight recall'd exiled Gaueston.
Who by my many fauours grew so great,
That I did seeme for him, to liue alone.
I Alexander: He Hephestion.
O no, I wrong them to vsurpe their names,
Our loues were like, but farre vnlike our fames.

157

Here I did violate my Fathers will,
And all respect of dutie did despise.
“To wrong the dead, is Sacraligious Ill,
A clog which on the Conscience euer lyes.
And at the latest gaspe for vengeance cryes.
VVhat fears, how many doubts lurk close wthin
That restlesse soule, that's guiltie of this Sinne?

158

VVhen all his joynts are rack'd with dying paine.
VVith cold dead sweat all couer'd ouer quite.
What thorny thoughts will thē distract his brain?
How shall he dare t'approach his fathers sight?
VVhose dying words he liuing set so light.
He'l feare his friends, suspect his wife, and Son,
And sighing thinke: They'l doe as I haue done.

159

It is too Common, to betray the trust
That is in friends by Testators repos'd.
But marke Gods Iudgements, how seuere, how just.
How to the Nature of the Sinne dispos'd,
Eu'n I my selfe was by my Sonne depos'd.
I that infring'd my dying Fathers hest,
Was in my life, by my owne Sonne distrest.

160

Me, that did wrong a Sire, a Sonne did wrong.
I that did shew my selfe degenerate
As I had sowen, so did I reape er'e long,
Such sinne It is, our Faith to violate.
O deepest doome, of all fore-seeing fate
How wisely are thy fearefull Iudgements fitted.
To punish sinne, as Sinne was first Committed.

161

The Gyants heap't vp hills, to climbe the Sky,
I honours heap'd, that Gaueston might climbe,
They did contend with Joue, and fell thereby.
He with my Peeres, and perish'd in his prime.
They thriu'd at first, but fell in after time.
His Prologue sweet, but sad was his last Act.
So fairest glasse (men say) is soonest crackt.

162

These were the honours, that he did attaine,
The Earle of Cornewall, and the Lord of Man,
Chiefe Secretarie, Lord great Chamberlaine.
And for his wife he Glosters sister wan.
Aspiring men, see how great Monarchs Can.
Aduance their states, whom they do daine to fauor.
“Who serues ye King, doth seldom lose his labor.

163

Though Poets fictions seeme to sauour much
Of Idle Errour, yet they haue their sence.
King Midas turn'd to Gold all hee did touch.
The Morall this: The fauour of a Prince
His gracious touch may gild without offence
The greatest wants: and make him for to soare
A loftie Pitch, that flagg'd the wing before.

164

Not all the painfull passages one spends
In serious Contemplation of deepe Arts,
Nor any-one Imployment so commends
The Agent (though a man of rarest parts)
As when the Prince but One sweet smile Imparts
One Looke of Loue, One Eye-glance of delight
Hath power to change darke Clouds, to Sunnes most bright.

165

The Eyes of Kings, are more then simply Eyes
They are the Starres that doe predominate
Th' affayres of men, and in theyr Influence lyes
The good, or bad of euery-ones estate.
They are the Primum Mobile of Fate.
They whirle about our Fortunes as they list.
And as they fauour, men are Curst, or Blist.

166

A Kings smooth brow, Is the true dwelling place
Of Honour, wealth, dependancie, respect.
And in his frowning fore-head Liues disgrace,
Death, Exile, want, a generall neglect,
A world of wrongs let that poore wretch expect.
Bee it: All Riuers to the Sea must runne.
And euery Light receiue light from the Sunne.

167

Let them bee great, whom Kings resolue to grace,
It is a Priuiledge, that is theyr owne.
To rayse such as they please to wealth, or place,
Is truely proper to the Kingly throne
And hath not bin deny'd to any-One.
Lewes th' eleuenth did say hee spent his Raigne,
In making, and in marring men againe.

168

Some by the Schoole, some by ye Lawes do mount,
Some by the Sword, and some by Nauigation.
All streames haue heads, though not the selfe-same fount;
Shall onely Kings admit a Limitation
How high, for what desert, or of what Nation
They shall advance? It were a wretched thing
On that Condition to become a King.

169

To make new Creatures, Is the Princes due,
And without murmur let him haue his owne.
The danger onely Is to him that's new,
For Enuie euer waytes on such an-One
Both from those men, that are not so well growne,
And from great houses too, who streight wil feare
Lest such new Stars should thrust them frō theyr Spheare.

170

And those which once haue got the highest staire
Will keep them downe, that mount with too much hast.
'Tis best (say some) to rise but soft and faire.
If thou wilt gaine thy journies end at last,
Tyre not thy meanes by posting ouer-fast.
Stirre like a Dyall, vnperceiu'd to moue:
So shalt thou gather strength, and purchase loue.

171

And therefore, they that found a Familie,
Must gather wealth, liue vnder theyr estates,
Make great pretences of Humilitie.
Ally them-selues with grac'd Confederates,
Serue Great mens turnes, so to avoyd theyr hates.
For Cerberus with Hony-sops was pleas'd,
And Malice must with Mildnes bee appeas'd.

172

Then let It bee his worke, that next succeeds
To rayse him-selfe vnto a farther height,
By home-Imployments, or by forreine deeds.
Or by vnlading some of that rich fraight
Of wealth, wch he had stor'd: And that wil streight
Bring Honour to his house: That golden key
To all designes opens a ready way.

173

Nor shall hee find such eager Opposition,
Time hauing worne out all his Fathers foes.
Or else perhaps altred theyr dispositions
By Guifts, by Matches, by Obsequious showes,
Or else perchance for feare of future blowes.
And so some few discents from heyre to heyre
The newnesse of the House will varnish faire.

174

Where sodaine Greatnes ruin'd Gaveston,
Whom I too much preferr'd before my Peeres,
Who did possesse mee more then any One,
From whence; grew many jealousies and feares
Close discontents, which at first appeares
Of little moment, worthlesse of respect,
But prou'd such skarres, as wee did least expect.

175

It is the praise and blessing of the Sunne
To make his heate, and light both generall;
Princes are Sunnes, and both must freely runne
An open Course, and not bee seuerall
Vnto some few, but common vnto all.
The poorest he that breathes, this Song may sing
Wee all haue Interest in the Ayre and King.

176

And this too much did speake my heady passion,
Who like pure water should haue had no tast,
This Error did my gouernment disfashion
That Gaveston vnworthily was grac'd.
And made too great a monster, huge, and vast;
Who in his growth being vnproportionall,
Became offensiue to himselfe, and all.

177

The Court, which in my Fathers life-time seem'd
A Senate-house of siluer-headed Sages.
Might now a pompous Theater bee deem'd
Pester'd with Panders, Players, and with Pages.
Of my ensuing fall, too true presages.
And yet in shew, It seemed fairer farre,
So Comets glister more then any Starre.

178

But (O) the quiet of that happie Land.
Where aged Nestors beare ye chiefest sway.
Where strength of mind, more rules then force of hand.
Where Old men bid, and Young men do obey,
Where Ages winter guideth youths sweet May.
But when the foot, or hand Commands the head,
The Body then is many wayes misled.

179

Let siluer hayre, and long-experienc'd Age
Bee sole directors of each enterprize.
Let youth bee as an Actor on the Stage,
To execute, what stayder-heads deuise;
For Youth is Actiue, Age discreet, and wise.
Youth is more daring, but precipitate.
Age more Iudicious, and considerate.

180

Yet should not Statists bee too-aged men,
Because, by too much time theyr spirits decay;
They Earthy grow, and Melancloly then
Heauie, and dull (theyr Edge being worne away)
Weyward, and teachy, wrangling all the day;
Full of molositie, and which is worse,
Extreamly giu'n to gripe, and fill the purse.

181

Besides, wee see, some men are ripe betimes,
Like Summer fruit, soone pleasing to the tast.
And if those Spirits in whom such vertue shines
May bee with Greatnes, and Imployments grac'd
They Come to full maturitie at last,
Men of exceeding worth, when they are growne.
Both for their Countries good, & for their owne.

182

But to my Selfe: Who did neglect my Peeres,
And only did divote my selfe to pleasure.
Lou'd I? Why Loue it selfe loues youthfull yeres.
Spent I? Why Kings should not be slaues to treasure.
Heard I not Subiects suits? I had no leisure.
Did I neglect my Peeres conuerse? What then?
Joue is not ty'd, to sort him-selfe with men.

183

When they did say that Scottish Bruce did burne
My Northerne borders, and did wast the same.
Then sighing I to Gaveston would turne,
And say (sweet Pierce) my selfe feels fancies flame.
I saw, I loue, I dye for such a Dame.
Cupid (I feare) to mee a Bruce will proue,
My Holds by him, my heart is fir'd by Loue.

184

With these, and many more fantasticke toyes
I shifted-off my Councell, when they came.
I had not time enough to spend in joyes,
Why should I spare one minute from the same.
Let them that list, by warres goe out for fame
I force It not, giue mee those pleasing warres;
Where blowes are giu'n, but such as cause no scarres.

185

But when the field, is to a field bed turn'd.
When Eyes like sharpest Lances pierce, yet please.
Whē amorous Harts with equall flames are burn'd.
When Foes lye downe, our furie to appease,
And lips on lips redouble blowes of ease.
When braue assaults are not by Death controll'd,
In such a band who would not bee inroll'd.

186

The Roman Monster Heliogabilus.
And Persian Xerxes neuer fortunate;
Might well bee thought to liue againe in vs,
Wee priz'd our Pleasures at so high a Rate.
Such was our sad, and still-succeslesse Fate.
In Peace, our Faults procured our decayes,
In Warre, our Fortunes made vs Run-awayes.

187

The lucke-lesse Battels fought, whil'st I did Raigne
With Robert Bruce, that noble English-Scot.
Sad Monuments vnto the world remaine,
“That vicious Life with Monarchs thriueth not;
“For Sin and shame are ty'd with Gordions knot:
“And those Designes, do proue succeslesse quite,
“That are Contriu'd by men drown'd in delight.

188

Marke but the Maps of all Antiquitie.
True Registers, vnfalsify'd Records,
The voyce of Time (which we call Historie)
And 'twill bee found, that euery Age affords
Plentie of proofe to fortifie my words.
Each place, each time do pregnant witnes beare,
Who Riot most, to Ruine are most neare.

189

When Sinne did ouer flow, the Deluge Came.
Th' Assirians then did loose theyr Monarchy
When theyr last

Sardanapalvs.

King did liue most out of frame
And was o're-whelm'd with Sensualitie.
The Persians then did wracke theyr Empirie.
When wealth, & Lust, and ease did most abound
Which also did the Roman State confound.

190

The Danes did first set footing in this Land,
Because Lord Buerus wife was rauish'd here.
The Saxon forces got the vpper-hand,
When Vortiger held Hengists

Rovven.

Daughter deare.
And still our Realme to ruine hath bin neare
When ripened Sin hath gathered strongest head.
So stalled Steeres are to the shambles led.

191

Thus Edward sayd: And this our Age hath seen
Like Instance, of a neere-confining State,
Neuer was France more deadly sicke of sinne.
Neuer was Goodnes growne more out of date.
Neuer did Princes more preposterate
Their priuate liues, and publicke regiment.
And as they Liu'd so dy'd Impenitent.

192

Neuer Religion seru'd for more pretences.
Neuer were Nobles more ambitious.
Neuer like Inundation of offences.
Neuer were Church-men lesse religious.
Neuer were Commons more seditious.
Such plotting, Counterplotting policies,
Such massacres, such barbarous Cruelties.

193

Such Impious Courses, such Impunitie
Neuer was seene, lesse blushing, and more shame.
Neuer had Sinne so great Immunitie.
Neuer was euer all so out of frame
As in those wretched times: Till the fierce flame
Of Ciuill furie, and the forreigne foe
Did make poore France the stage of tragick woe

194

And without doubt, had not that

Henry, 4. the Great.

Man of men:
The mightie Atlas of that falling State
Bin rays'd by God, to giue new life, eu'n then
That famous Kingdome of so ancient date
By home ambition, and by forreigne hate
Had breath'd her last, being Sin-sick vnto death
And much a doe there was, to giue her breath.

195

But that great Spirit was a blest instrument
To giue new strength vnto much weakned France,
That Heau'n-blest Country neuer shall repent
That shee did Henry Burbon so aduance.
For next to God, It was his happie chance
By matchlesse vertue to reuiue againe
That sinking State which Sin had almost slaine.

196

“For still the eye of wrath doth ouer-looke
“The wicked actions of obdurate men,
“The Court of heau'n doth keep a titeling book,
“VVherein are entred all our sinnes, and when
“The score is full, let's looke for payment then.
And O, what Prince what Cōmonwealth can stand
When God doth scourge it with a rigorous hand.

197

And let vs make this vse of their neere-wracke,
“Forbeare to sinne, for feare of punishment.
“God is not senselesse, though he seeme to slacke.
“He giues vs day, in hope we will repent;
“But vse growes more, the longer debts are lent,
And God forbeares, and winkes at our abuse
“That we might haue lesse colour of excuse.

198

I could not choose, when I had yoak't my teame,
But make this furrow to inrich my field.
I now returne to my Intended Theame.
And Edward wishes, that his Raigne might yield
Fit Presidents for Princes, how to weild.
That weightie Prouince, which they do sustain.
And thus continues his discourse againe.

199

VVhen my chiefe Peeres did see, how things mischance
And those mischances did Impute to Sinne.
My Sinne to him, whom I had so aduanced,
To banish him againe, they then begin,
And made my selfe to haue a hand therein.
Their force, my feare compell'd me thereunto,
“'Tis hard, when Princes are inforc'd to doe.

200

It is the chiefest good, of Kingly Raigne
That It is free, from base compelling feare.
And 'tis againe the Kingdomes chiefest bane
Not to admit wise Councell to the Fare.
Away with Awe: hold admonition deare.
“Feares figure ne're should meet with Kingly Eyes,
“But on the Backes of flying Enemies.

201

But the faire louely picture of Aduice
Should still be placed in the Princes sight.
Thrice happie Kings that are both stout, and wise,
You scorne Controule, but set not Councell light
Not feare, but vertue makes you to doe right.
Y'are, Kings indeed: and may securely rest
Whilst feares are lod'gd within a weaker brest

202

Te Solum vercor: Is a Princely word
Speaking to him, that Is Lord Paramount
And supreame Princes so should beare the sword
As but to him, they need giue no account.
Which they shall do, If (as they do Surmount
In greatnes (so in goodnes they excell,
'Tis certaine: Hee rules all, that governs well.

203

And none doth so, but the selfe-governor
That his owne priuate passions can Command.
Which make a slaue, eu'n of an Emperor,
If once they grow, to get the vpper hand.
And soone deepe-searching Spirits will vnderstand
And find a Prince that's weake: and ride him so,
That he must pace, as they will haue him goe.

204

Whereof my selfe may be a President
Who was so ouer-aw'd by my great Peeres
That Gaveston was doom'd to banishment,
And now my Soule (full fraught with griefes, and feares)
Was in her motions restlesse (like the Spheares
But not so fix'd) Now go he shold: now shold not.
So woman like I would: and streight I would not.

205

Yet e're he went, (as goe he must, and did)
Dear Prince (saith he) wherein haue I misdon?
That I am banish'd thus? Doth Edward bid,
His poore (yet but his owne poore Pierce) to shun
His gracious sight? must I from England run?
He bids: I must: Farewell: yet thinke of me.
Though bodie goes, yet stayes my Soule with thee.

206

What were these words, but each to me a wound?
Whereat my very life-bloud gushed out.
I would haue spoke: but words with tears drown'd
Whilst giddy passion hurl'd my braines about.
Confusedly I spake: O do not doubt:
Those cursed Peeres: It is not long of me
Though Body staies, yet goes my Soule wth thee.

207

Mourne not (sweet Prince) saith he: O doe not mourne.
Let neuer teares disgrace those gracefull eyes:
Is not enough, that I am thus forlorne?
Must woes from me, (as clouds from Sea) arise?
My deare, deare Liege, let it at least suffice,
That still you haue the better part of me
My Body they command, my Soule is free.

208

Cease, cease my Pierce, thy tongue doth wound my heart.
I grieue to see: because I see thy griefe.
Farewell: and yet me thinks we should not part.
And yet we must: VVell: this be thy reliefe:
Thou bear'st a field of gold: A King in chiefe.
Thou shalt be Irelands Gouernour for me.
VVould'st thou might stay, or I might goe with thee.

209

At Parting, thus with wanton griefe we play'd.
He went to Sea, and I to Sorrow went;
And yet, my heate of lust was not allay'd.
My treasure that to Ireland was sent.
And there by Gaveston in triumphes spent.
VVho now seem'd greater, then he was before,
So vines being cut, increase, and thriue the more.

210

And heere my Peeres did in true Iudgment faile.
So to remoue, not take him quite away.
VVho once returning, needs must seeke to quaile
The aduerse part: that labour'd his decay,
Dead Dogs can neither barke, nor bite (men say)
But angred Curres more fiercely still returne,
And wronged minds with greater fury burne.

211

Better It is, still to dissemble hate
Then first to enter into discontent,
And leaue him great, whom thou did'st wrong of late
VVho hauing meanes, and sharp'ned in Intent
May easily worke some dangerous euent.
Either strike not, or (else be sure) strike so.
That thou thy selfe need feare no after blow.

212

Besides, they did the more exasperate,
By opposition, my inraged Ire;
And as for Gaveston, (whom they did hate)
They did inflame me with a greater fire.
His absence setting edge on my desire.
“For Princes kept from what they doe affect,
“Doe hurry to their ends without respect.

213

VVhat euer stops the Current of a Streame
Is swept away with furious violence.
“Force is effectlesse 'gainst a strong extreame,
But if one will with labor, and expence
Diuert the course, and turne the Channell thence.
'Tis possible, that he in time peuailes,
For Art doth compasse, when resistance failes.

214

Philosophers doe hold, (and truely too)
That lightning oft, (the sheath vntouch'd) ye blade
Consumes: The reason why it doth so doe
Is, by the one ther's small resistance made,
Being full of Pores: Th' other hard to Inuade
Doth set it selfe against that heau'nly shot
VVhich quite consumes, because it pierceth not.

215

I cannot fit the awfull wrath of Kings
More properly, then to this wondrous fire
Which once inflam'd, consumes resisting things,
Breakes vp the bounds, that limit their desire,
And by depressing downe, still mounteth higher.
“Whereas strong passion borne with patience,
“Spends on It selfe, and dyes without offence.

216

My Peeres soone saw, which way the Hare did run,
And therefore gaue consent to his repeale.
Not Cæsar (when Pharsalia field he won)
Did triumph more then I, when they did Seale
And did subscribe the ruine of our weale.
Then all was well, whil'st all did well agree,
But All prou'd Ill for all, and worst for mee.

217

For Gaveston after he did returne
Of all my former fauors once possest,
His full-sayl'd Fortunes held my Peeres in scorne.
Nor could he any equall well digest,
Though I was King in shew, in him did rest
The Kingly power: all was at his Command,
And nothing done, that did not passe his hand.

218

Such over-swelling greatnesse was the Cause
That made my Peeres report: His cursed Dam
To bee a Witch: And (that by force of Lawes,
Shee suffring for't) was burned for the same
And that her Sonne like practises did frame
Vpon my selfe: and by such hellish Art
Had skrew'd him selfe so farre into my heart.

219

It is too true, my dotage was extreame.
And I did prize him at so high a Rate,
That he, my Crowne, my life weigh'd at a beame,
Aboue them both, I him did estimate.
Which was indeed my follie, and his sate.
But that the same was wrought by Magick Spell.
Is such a Tale, as old wiues vse to tell.

220

Witch-craft may worke vpon the Body much,
But there's no fascination of the mind.
The Soule is free from any Magicke touch.
Nor can inchanting charmes or loose, or bind
The powers and faculties thereto assign'd.
Spirits may suggest, they may perswade to ill,
But all their power cannot compell the will.

221

It is the sole Prerogatiue of Heau'n,
'Tis Gods peculiar, to command the heart.
That damn'd Imposter had his power giu'n
From the most high, e're he with all his Art
Could worke on him, in whom he had most part.
Seduced Ahab falls by his perswasion.
But It is God, that first graunts the Commission.

222

The Prince of Darkenesse may corrupt the braine,
And so worke strongly vpon th' Imagination,
Which being abused, oft becomes most vaine
In the conceiting a strange transmutation,
Of It's owne selfe, into some wolvish fashion.
Which is no other, (As our Doctors say)
Then the disease call'd Lycantropia.

223

Hee may, (and doth oft times) delude the sight,
By offring strange Phantasmaes to our Eyes.
And then the Iudgement is peruerted quite;
When 'tis seduc'd by such erronious Spies,
As brings vs no Intelligence, but lyes.
A thousand like deuises hee hath got
To make vs thinke hee doth, what he doth not.

224

Besides, when any Errour is committed,
Whereby wee may Incurre or losse, or shame.
That wee our selues thereof may be acquitted,
Wee are too ready to transferre the blame
Vpon some Witch: That made vs doe the same.
It is the vulgar Plea, that weake-ones vse,
I was bewitch'd: I could nor will: nor chuse.

225

But my affection was not caus'd by Art
The witch that wrought on mee, was in my brest.
My Gaveston wholly possest my heart
And that did make him swell aboue the rest,
But 'tis not safe so high to build ones nest:
For bubbles fullest blowne doe soonest breake,
And Trees are euer at the top most weake.

226

Content doth seat It selfe in lowly dales
Out of the dint of winds, and stormy showers.
There sit, & sing melodious Nightingales,
There run fresh cooling streams, there grow sweet flowers
There heat and cold are fenc'd by shady bowers.
And there is wealth at will: But this we know,
The grasse is short, that on the hill doth grow.

227

O Gaveston! why do'st thou then aspire
To bee so Great, when greatnesse stands on yee.
If thou should'st slip, as now thy place is higher
So will thy fall bee greater: In a trice
Hee's downe that stands on Pinacles: Bee wise,
Stand low, stand sure: But (oh) I speak in vaine
“For men will mount, though sure to stoope againe.

228

How Gaveston (the third time banished)
Did liue in Dutch-land, where hee found no rest.
How hee return'd, How I as famished
Did feed on him, as on some dainty feast.
How ill my Peeres his presence did disgest,
I doe but touch at: Now my Muse vnfold
How till his fall hee bare him proud, and bold.

229

Suppose him spleenfull, melancholie, sad.
And mee in my affections passionate.
Thinke him reuengefull, thinke mee doting-mad;
Thinke, how I lou'd, and thinke, how he did hate;
And thinke him then, thus to expostulate.
Grieu'd with precedent, fear'd wth future wrong
Thus did this Syren tune his balefull song.

230

O King (no King) but shadow of a King;
Nay, doe not frowne, but heare mee what I say,
I speake in Zeale, (though harshly I doe sing)
Thou op'st a gap vnto thine owne decay
By suffring thy proud Peeres to beare such sway.
For look how much ye shadowes length doth grow
So much the Sunne declines, and goes more low.

231

Thy waxing is their waine: Thy Ebbe, their tide,
When they are strongest, thou art weake and faint.
Turne euery stone, to quell their growing pride.
It fits not Kings to brooke the least restraint.
Disgrace, Exile, close Durance, or Attaint
For seeming Crimes, to bring them into hate
These are the meanes to reassure thy State.

232

Now thou art King in shew, but not Indeed,
Those pettie Pawnes do check, and mate thee too.
All is reverst, that is by Thee decreed,
They doe injoyne Thee what thou hast to doe,
And what they will, thou art Compell'd vnto.
But though thy pleasure bend another way
Yet things must passe, as they are pleas'd to sway.

233

They haue Allyes, to strengthen theyr dissignes.
They backe themselues with strong Conferates.
Theyr seeming Zeale the vulgar vndermines,
The wiser sort for feare insinuates;
And so they gaine assurance of all States.
Some by the glosse of faire deportment, and
Some by a hard and ouer-awing hand.

234

Besides, they raise men, that are popular,
And by their meanes the Peoples hearts they steale
Them-selues seeme just, theyr courses regular,
They make pretences (for the Common-weale)
Of Reformation, of religious Zeale.
And by these Colours which they doe pretend
They bring theyr complots to successefull end.

235

But more then this: The wealth of all thy Land
Is in theyr hand, or else at theyr dispose,
Whereby they haue an absolute Command
Of many Liues, which are maintayn'd by those
Great bounties, which frō their abundance flowes.
For they must needs remaine at their deuotion,
That haue from them their being, & their motion.

236

These are the close Consumptions of thy State,
VVhich by these Antidotes thou must restore.
Bee seru'd by such, as thou hast rays'd of late,
Aduance new Creatures, of no note before;
And such will still depend on thee therefore.
For wanting means, except thou grace them still
They must remaine obliged to thy will.

237

Let them bee stirring Spirits of ayre and fire,
Apt both to make, and to maintaine a Faction.
Ambitious, Actiue, hungry to aspire.
Not fool'd with feare, but bold for any action,
True to theyr ends, but false in faith and paction;
And such being grac'd and fauour'd by the time,
VVill in despite of spightfull enuie Climbe.

234

VVhose grouth, thy Peeres will malice, and detest,
And seeke to stop: Which they not brooking well
Will nourish mutuall hatred in theyr brest;
And rankerous Enuie in theyr soules will swell.
From whence reuenge, and greedy thirst to quell
The aduerse partie: Cannot but proceed.
And so Confusion to them all Indeed.

239

Meane while, thou vnderhand must feed the flame
And secretly, giue heart to eyther side.
And which is weakest, leane thou to the same,
Whereby thou shalt Confound the aduerse pride.
And if thy doubling, chance to bee espy'd,
Make it an open quarrell, and bee sure
To rid them first, that may most harme procure.

240

This lesson was by Tarquine well exprest,
When with his wand he did behead those flowers,
That any way did ouer-grow the rest.
As who should say: Bee jealous of great Powers,
And Cut them downe, whose growth neare equals ours.
For that same Throne is but a slipp'ry Seat,
That suffers any to bee ouer-Great.

241

Make penall Lawes, to Cut off their retainers.
Wrest from their hands all publick great cōmand.
Grace them in shew, but not to make them gainers
Keepe them aloofe, let them not vnderstand
The Passages of State, at any hand.
Doe not Commit thy forces to theyr trust,
Least hauing minds, th' aue meanes to be vnjust.

242

Where e're they liue, (though they be far remou'd)
Yet, let them bee survay'd with carefull Eye.
Such as are neare to them, and dearely lou'd,
To whom their Inward thoughts most open lye;
VVinne them by guifts, and by close pollicie,
To serue thy turne, with true Intelligence
Of any thing, that may procure offence.

243

Gaine to thy selfe by all meanes (if thou can)
His bosome friend, the Consort of his life.
So did Sejanus (that deepe knowing man)
Obtaine the Loue of Livia, Drusus wife,
(VVith whom he liu'd in jealousie and strife)
And by that course found meanes to make a way
His Opposite, who labour'd his decay.

244

If they doe sue, doe not thou fauour then,
Let all advancements bee deriu'd from thee.
So shalt thou weane from them, the hearts of men,
And they will onely thy dependants bee.
For there men serue, where they preferment see.
Lastly, what Stratagem thou dost Intend,
Let shewes of vertue colour still thy end.

245

These are the baites, to fish for wisest Peeres,
The yonglings may be caught with easier meanes.
Let Syren pleasure Ioue theyr youthfull yeeres,
Let Lust, expence, and riotous extreames,
(To which their youth by course of Nature leanes)
Let followers, change of beauties, pompous pride
Infect their minds, and wrack their states beside.

246

Yet, If thou see a likely growing Plant
VVhose spreading branches may in time grow great
Lodge him at home, let him Imployment want,
And vselesse wither in his Natiue seate;
For Ease and rest will Chill his actiue heate.
And lull'd in pleasures of a safe delight,
Relinquish mounting thoughts of honour quite.

247

But if his Temper soare so high a Pitch,
As that his working vertue must haue vent.
Ingage him in some Action, by the which
His haruest may bee Death, or Discontent.
Yet make a shew to grace his hardiment,
With highest honours, and so thrust him on
To such Attempts, as death still waytes vpon.

248

Which (if hee misse, as Heau'n may blesse him so)
Yet will the managing of such designes
Afford fit matter for his ouerthrow:
If prosperous fortune any wayes declines.
For Commonly the vulgar sort repines
Against all Actions, that doe want successe,
And in theyr humours weigh the Agents lesse.

249

And so they lye more open to their wracke
When they haue once Incurr'd a Common hate.
And then some faire occasion cannot lacke
Eyther by Death to cancell their liues date,
Or at the least, to weaken so their state;
As that the Prince need feare no future harme,
That may proceed from theyr vnjoynted arme.

250

And hauing cleer'd thy selfe of such: Yet then
(That thou must keepe thy Maiestie and State)
Thou needs must entertaine some Noble men.
But froathy bubbles full of Idle prate,
Who study fashions, know their place (scarce that)
All whose sweet worth is fetch'd from dead mens Tombes,
And they them-selues lesse worthy then theyr Groomes.

251

Let them discourse of Kindred, and Allies,
My Vncle Earle, my Cosin Duke, or so.
Who liuing did this, or that enterprize.
And tell how his great Grandsires horse did goe,
When hee in France encountred with his Foe.
Grace these (sweet Pr :) These thy Court-Cōmets bee
And pray for thē: They'l neuer prey on thee.

252

Thus must thy twigges be lim'd, thy nets display'd
To catch these birds, that soare vp to the Sunne.
And when these wise foundations once are layd,
'Tis almost ended, what is well begun.
Then art thou King Indeed: Then hast thou won
Vnto thy selfe, an absolute estate.
Till when, The Lyon liues but in the Grate.

253

Thus did this hellish Ate cast the ball
Of Discontent, betwixt mee, and my Peeres.
Whose wicked Councels (flowing from the gall)
Fill'd them with furie, mee with needlesse feares,
And set vs altogether by the Eares;
Whilst eyther side (neglecting Common good)
Sought onely how to spill each others blood.

254

Ill Councels seeme most faire at the first shew
And promise much, but in theyr managing,
Many vnthought of difficulties grow.
And in theyr end (which crowneth euery thing)
They proue vnprosperous, and doe ruine bring.
They haue an easie birth, Dangers attend
Their progresse: And in wretchednes they end.

255

It is a wise mans part; soundly to weigh
The Councels giu'n: And to obserue with-all
The giuers priuate ends: because they may
In their aduice vpon some passage fall,
That may perhaps proue prejudiciall
Vnto th' Aduice: They (their owne true friends)
Ayming at nothing, but their priuate ends.

256

VVhich in this Councell giu'n by Gaveston
VVas obvious for euery Eye to see.
VVho in his spleenfull heart still thought vpon
His owne reuenge, and so aduised mee
To that, which with his ends did best agree.
VVhich drew my Peeres to Arms, who vow'd e're long
His head should answere for his cursed tongue.

256

I wish'd the trees were turn'd to armed troopes,
And all the bowes were Pikes, their hearts to wound.
All other birds the Princely Eagle stoops,
The Lyon Roares: The Beasts shake at the sound,
VVhy should not I their daring pride Confound?
That sawcily vsurpe vpon my right,
But Lyons are no Lyons wanting might.

258

My Peeres did strike, whilst that the steele was hot
And Still came on to seize vpon their prey.
VVhat should we doe, Complaine? It booted not.
Goe leauie men? Our men did disobey.
Sue for a Truce? They would not grant a day.
Submit our selues, and so some pitty craue,
Mee hurt they would not, him they would not saue.

259

That Prince Indeed is to be held most wise
That by his vertues doth his State secure.
But hee's not so, that meanes to tyrannize
And doth not seeke by forces to assure
His owne designes: for let him be most sure;
A Prince that's weake, and yet doth gouerne ill,
Is subiect to a thousand dangers still.

260

O Sacred Vertue, what a powerfull guard
Art thou? What a strong Tower of defence?
All hearts are won to reuerence and regard
Thy awfull worth: Thou neyther giu'st offence,
Nor takest It: Men are not without sence,
But they both see, and tast, and loue, and nourish,
That Reall good, by which themselues do flourish.

261

What vnderstanding Soule, that doth not know,
And knowing loue, and louing will not spend
The dearest bloud, that in his veines doth flow,
To guard, and giue vnto that Prince, whose end
To publike more then priuate good doth bend?
Hee shalbe euer able to command
At will, his Subiects purse, his heart, his hand.

262

Flight was our best defence, and flye we did.
So silly Doues before proud Falcons flye.
Till Gaveston in Scarborow-Castle hid
My Peeres surpriz'd: Whom Warwicks Earle Sir Guy
Beuchamp beheaded: So my Pierce did dye.
A gloomie night concluded his faire morne

The death of Gaveston.

And Fortunes darling ended Fortunes scorne.

263

O what is honour but an exhalation?
A fierie meteor soone extinct and gone,
A breath of People, and the Tongues relation,
That streight is ended when the voyce is done,
A morning dew, dry'd vp with miidday Sun.
A ceasing sweet, like Danaes golden showre.
That both began, and ended in an houre.

264

There breeds a little Beast, by Nilus Streames,
VVhich being borne, when Phebus first doth rise,
Growes Old, when he reflects his hottest beames.
And when at night to VVesterne Seas he hies,
Then life begins to faile, and streight It dyes.
Borne, old, and dead, and all but in a day
Such honour Is, so soone it weares away.

264

How much more happie is that sweet estate
That neither creepes too low: nor soares too high?
VVhich yields no matter to contempt, or hate.
VVhich others not disdaine, nor yet enuie,
VVhich neyther does, nor takes an injurie.
But liuing to it selfe in sweet Content,
Is neither abiect, nor yet insolent.

266

He liues indeed, and spends his course of time
In truest pleasure, that this life can yield.
He hath set houres, to pray at Eu'n, and Prime
Hee walkes abroad into his quiet field
And studies, how his home affaires to wield.
His Soule, and Body make one Common-wealth.
His Councels Care, to keepe them both in health.

267

Hee feares no poysons in his meates and drinkes,
Hee needs no guard, to watch about his bed.
No teacher vndermines him, what he thinkes,
No dangerous projects hammer in his head,
Hee sits and sees how things are managed.
And by obseruing, what hath earst beene done.
He levels oft, how future things will run.

268

If he would liue with Kings, and mightie men,
Hee doth converse with them in Historie.
If he would know the Heau'nly motions, Then
Hee takes his Globe, he reades Astronomie,
His Mapps, and Chartes doe teach Cosmography.
And whil'st in his safe Cell he studying stands,
In one short houre, he sayles both Sea & Lands.

269

And tyr'd (perhaps) with the discouerie
Of forreigne things, He comes more nearer home,
Hee lookes into himselfe with carefull Eye,
That little world, (that is indeed his owne)
Hee trauailes-In, which being truely knowne,
Affords enough, for wonder and delight,
When he hath learn'd, to know himselfe aright.

270

How farre remou'd from this true Happinesse
Are those high Climbers, that grow over-great?
They alwayes eate the Bread of Carefulnesse,
And sad suspition vshers in their meat.
They sleepe on Thornes: (If any sleepe they get)
Being troubled, both to deale, and to discard.
Vngarded they doe feare, and feare their Guard.

271

O greatnes! though thou seem'st faire gilded ouer
Yet Inwardly, thou art but wretchednes.
So haue I knowne, a Costlie habit couer
A Body full of Soares, and filthinesse.
Thy very marrow is but rottennesse.
An Alpe to Clime, An yce to stand vpon,
A very Hell of Hell's, if had, and gone.

272

The Earle of Cornewall (causer of the Warre)
Thus being dead, they laid their weapons downe.
Protesting all, They would not goe so farre
As to be thought disloyall to the Crowne,
But they did seeke the Realmes, and my Renowne.
Which was eclips'd in him, whom they had slain,
But Englands Spheare would now grow faire againe.

273

But still dark Clouds did shadow Englands Sphere,
And bitter stormes, on gloomie Clouds dependant.
Vnfortunate, and fatall euery yeere,
Whil'st haples Edward was chief Lord ascendant.
Malignant Starres on me were still attendant,
Though at my birth Joue smil'd with sweet aspect
Yet froward Saturne did my life direct.

274

For though distasted Gaveston was dead,
Yet Edward liu'd, and liu'd to farther Ill,
For still I was by my affections led,
I will'd no Law: yet vs'd no Law but will,
My Peeres disgrac'd, my people grieued still.
The Spencers, hey succeeded Gaveston.
Ill chang'd to worse: and worst: two Ills for one

275

These Spencers (now the Subject of my Song)
Discended of a Race of great esteeme.
The elder Hugh (the Father) liued long
A man of worth, and happie dayes had seene.
Till his ambitious Sonne did over-weene.
Whose greatnesse caus'd the Father to aspire,
And at the last did wracke both Sonne, and Sire.

276

O what hast thou (Old man) to doe with Court?
Thy Bookes, and Beads had better beene for thee.
Liue still retyr'd, and doe not now resort
To stormie tempest, Age doth Ill agree
With great Concourses, and vulgar mutinee.
It rather craues Immunitie, and rest,
And peacefull ease, with tumults not distrest.

277

Whose joynts being rack't, and tortur'd with the Gout
Can scarce endure the stirring of a straw
Who being vnweildie, must be borne about.
Whose golden Ewre is crack't with many a flaw,
Who hath no grinders left in either jaw.
Whose strong men bow, whose keepers shake & tremble,
Whose meager lookes, pale death doth most resemble.

278

But this Ambition is a boyling Ill.
Honour doth make dead Cinders glow againe.
What aged One so great, but by his will
Would faine grow greater? Age doth still retaine
Two Humours: Hope of Life: Desire of Gaine.
And this was that, wch made Old Spencer clime.
When he was past the Autumne of his time.

279

The younger Hugh (the Sonne of this old man)
Was of an actiue Spirit, and able braine,
Who with the Barrons at the first began
To side himselfe: They fauouring him againe
For Gaveston made him Lord Chamberlaine.
That he in place so neare about the King.
Might giue them notice still of euery thing.

280

Thinking, (because he was by them preferr'd)
He still would cleaue to them in their designes.
But (vnjudiciall men) herein their err'd.
A swelling Spirit hates him, by whom he climes;
As Iuie kils the tree whereon It twines.
So rising men, when they are mounted high.
Spurne at the means, that first they mounted by.

281

Because, they thinke such fauours challenge still,
An equall correspondencie of Loue.
Which tyes them, to be plyant to their will.
And as the lower Spheares by those aboue
Are whirl'd about, so they by them must moue.
And doe what they insultingly obtrude.
Or else be censur'd for Ingratitude.

282

And such well-mettled men cannot disgest
To be obsequious to anothers mind,
Their haughtie Spirits will not let them rest,
Till those precedent bands which did them bind.
By open opposition are vntwin'd.
And such a publike rupture doth restore
Their libertie, which was Ingag'd before.

283

And greatnesse holds it needfull policie,
To rid his hands of them, that did it raise.
By entring into open Enmitie,
And so to cut them off without delayes.
These were, and are the Courses of our dayes;
Who list obserue both old, and moderne times
Shall find I write no fables, though some Rimes.

284

I will not touch particulars at all,
I play the ball, let others marke the chase.
The Spencers doe my wandring muse recall.
Who being neare the King in chiefest place,
Did heape vp much, and that in little space.
For all things had from them their passage then,
Who turn'd to gold all matters, and all men.

285

The chiefest Peeres were vnderhand kept downe,
The Minions of the King got euery place.
Though Edward had, yet Spencers rul'd the Crown.
And being both made Earles in highest grace,
Did heape vp much, and that in little space.
They wrong'd, they car'd not whō: such was their lust
“And sodaine greatnes growes too soone vniust

286

Especially, If (like a mole) it workes
Only in Earth, how greedy's such a Man?
How slyly he in close advantage lurkes
To compasse a whole Country, if he can.
Still griping all, that Comes within his span.
What wealth, wit, friends, force can doe, good, or Ill,
Shall, must be practis'd for to please his will.

287

The Princes fauours doe for Pulleys serue
To draw on men to be at his command.
Eu'n Seats of Iudgement shall from Iustice swerue,
If they may bring a Title to his hand.
And if some Reverend Fathers shall with-stand.
Then weed them out: They will not serue a turn.
Such men are fit for Martyres: Let them burne.

288

His Agents must bee of another mould,
Sharpe-sighted into other mens estate.
Plyant to doe what their great Master would,
Close, cunning to dissemble loue, or hate,
VVell-spoken, powerfull to Insinuate.
Seemingly honest, outwardly precise.
By which they may their close complots disguise.

289

These are the Pipes of lead, that doe Conuey
Those practices, that from their head doe spring.
And so, these seconds come to beare great sway,
Are legg'd and crouch'd vnto, for feare they sting
These buy, and build, and beg: and raise & wring
Farmer, Esquire, Knight, and Baron too,
And Prince, and all with whom they haue to do.

290

And this Indeed was the most dangerous Rocke
VVhereon I split, and so at last did drowne.
This was my Error: This the stumbling blocke
At which I fell, and cast my Fortunes downe,
This lost my peoples hearts, (and that the Crown)
My Minions rapine, and vniust oppression,
And my too much Indulgent Indiscretion.

291

My Peeres were male-content, being vnrespected.
My Souldiers mutinous for want of Pay.
My Court with all Licentiousnesse infected.
My People poore, with Taxes par'd away,
And apt for Innouation euery day:
All out of joynt, deiected, and dismay'd.
Onely the Spencers, and their Consort sway'd.

292

I sold, they bought, I wasted, they did thriue.
They had abundance, I was Indigent.
Their's was the honey, mine the ransack'd hiue,
Which made them grow bold, tart, and insolent,
And thereby caus'd a Common discontent.
Of all whose Crimes, I did Incurre the blame,
Because my heate gaue life vnto the same.

293

Princes attend (for I doe speake in Zeale)
'Tis not enough, that you your selues bee just,
But you must Looke into the Common-weale;
And see that those whom you doe put in trust,
Doe gouerne by the Law, not by their Lust.
“For hee indeed the wrong doth perpetrate,
“That may redresse, yet doth It tollerate.

294

And so you make their wickednesse your owne
By suffring them to sinne without Controule.
But let not Widowes teares bedew your Throne.
Nor poore mens sighes sent from a grieued Soule.
Nor Orphans prayers (wch heau'n doth still enroll)
Nor common curses caus'd by publick grieuance,
Draw Iudgements down on you, for their mischieuance.

295

Kings must vse some: And may chuse of the best,
But let them still remember, what men are,
Let not all Lawes bee lock'd vp in one brest.
Let not ones onely Censure make or marre;
For men haue passions, which oft strain them farre.
“The most sees least: few best: But none sees all,
“Who hath not, doth: who doth not, yet may fall.

296

I doe not barke against Authoritie,
My heart did neuer lodge vnreuerend thought.
Heau'n knowes, how I adore just Soueraigntie,
How oft my soule wth vpheau'd hands haue sought
Vnto that God, whose precious bloud vs bought.
For our right vertuous

Iacob. I.

King, This peacefull State
And all those powers, he doth subordinate.

297

Long before this, how often haue I pray'd
Vnto th' Almighties supreame Maiestie.
And in a faithfull Zeale deuoutly said;
When lou'd Eliza (of blest memorie)
Shall pay the debt of all mortalitie.
And leaue her Crowne vpon this Earth, To bee
Translated to a Crowne in Heau'n with thee.

298

Doe not againe a Conquering William bring,
Nor an intruding Stephen, to steere our helme.
Let neither power, nor practise make a King
That hath not lawfull Title to the Realme,
Least Ciuill broyles (so caus'd) should ouerwhelm
The fortify'd foundations of our Land
Which thou hast layd by thine Elizaes hand.

299

And if one beame of thy resplendent light
Most faire, all gladding Sunne chance to discend
Vpon this short Abridgement, which I write.
Let no conceit thy Sacred selfe offend;
For It was chiefly molded to this end,
To shew, how much our selues obliged stand,
For that firme Peere, that now doth blesse our Land.

300

Which by Collation of those gloomie dayes
Appeare more full of Comfort, and Content.
But I goe on: Muse, keepe the beaten wayes,
Whilst Spencers rul'd with Common discontent.
Eu'n God him-selfe inflicted Punishment;
Vpon the Prince, the People, and the Land.
Which felt the weight of his afflicting hand.

302

The King him-selfe was full of diffidence,
And sought to strengthen his Partialitie.
The Lords (not brooking Spencers Insolence)
Did league themselues with strong formalitie.
The best were guiltie of Neutralitie.
The vulgar sort were tyded vp, and downe.
As fortune pleas'd to fauour, or to frowne.

302

The Earth her selfe (as sorrowing for her Sonnes,
Or weary of their foule misgouernment)
Grew out of heart, and barren so becomes.
Not yeelding men, sufficient to bee spent,
But seem'd to droope away with languishment.
So may wee see, how God vnfructifies,
A fruitfull Land, for mens Impieties.

303

The louring heau'ns do seem to drop down teares
As if they wept, to wash the sinfull Earth,
Infectious fogges, and gloomie cloudes appeares;
Wch choke the growth of all things in their birth,
Heau'n, Earth, and All conspir'd to make a dearth.
O see, when God takes Armes against his Land,
Hee can enroll all Creatures in a band.

304

Great was the want, of that vnhappie time,
The Earth not yeelding her accustom'd-store,
And that which was, whilst greedy men purloyne
And hoord It vp: They make the Famine more,
Grinding thereby the faces of the poore.
As if Gods heauie hand were too too light,
Vnlesse eu'n Man should study mans despight.

305

Such men are Traytors eu'n to Natures law,
And doe conspire against the Common good.
They wring the bread out of the poore mans jaw,
By keeping vp the Corne, whilst they want food
But without doubt, God will require theyr blood
Their guiltlesse blood, which from the earth shall cry
And begge revenge for such Impietie.

306

If but one sparke of Grace in them did dwell.
Did they respect humaine Societie,
Had they a hope of Heau'n, or feare of Hell;
Or any little sence of Pietie,
Did they in heart conceiue a Dietie,
And that most Iust, most wise, most powerfull too,
They would forbeare, what God forbids to doe.

307

But neither feare of God, nor Loue of men,
Nor just Compassion of a Publicke ill
Can worke vpon their steely hearts: And then
“Cœrciue meanes best fits a stubborne will,
Else they'l bee hard'ned in their malice still.
For often-times (we see) where Nature fayles
Law Interposes, and indeed preuailes.

308

The auncient Roman state in It's chiefe Pride,
When It was gouern'd with most sound advice:
Had Leges Frumentarias, to prouide
That Corne should not grow to too high a Price,
And sure It was a course both Iust and wise,
When men grow monstrous, eu'n against their kind,
Wee must like Monsters them inclose and bind.

309

But now I must not bee misunderstood,
I doe not passe a heauie Censure heere,
Vpon such men, as for the generall good
Store vp the plentie of a fruitfull Yeere.
And keepe it safe, till more cause doth appeare,
To vent the same: And when such cause shall be,
As they were frugall, so they must bee free.

310

Religious Joseph in the Ægyptian Land
Stor'd vp much graine, and at an easie Rate,
He had his warrant sign'd with Gods owne hand.
Both for the publicke good of the whole State
(To which hee did that graine Communicate)
And to relieue his Fathers familie,
In those ensuing yeeres of Scarcitie.

311

And so wee may (and must) after like fashion
When there is great abundance to come-In.
Prouide both for the wants of our owne Nation,
And to helpe those that our Confiners bin
“Frugall prouision neuer was a Sinne.
It is a just, and honest Policie
So to prouide against necessitie.

312

But in a time of Dearth, when there is want,
Then for a man to hoord, and hide his graine,
With an Intent, to make the same more scant;
And so to rayse the price for his owne gaine,
Is such a Sinne, as were I to ordaine
A Law against It, for the Common good,
I should (with Draco) write that Law in blood.

313

But (O) what times are these wherein wee liue?
In which, wee neither can Indure the Sore
Nor yet the Salue; The Causes why we grieue,
Nor yet the means, which should our states restore.
Once Pharoes Kine (which were but leane & pore)
Deuour'd the fat: Those times are altred cleane
For now we see, The fat deuoures the leane.

314

But whilst, Impatient hunger did constraine
The vulgar sort, to eate vnhealthy food,
A great Mortalitie began to raigne,
Spilling too much (but most Plœbeian) blood.
And after Dearth came Death with angry mood.
Loe wretched man, how woes still come in grosse
And after One succeeds a second Crosse.

315

When God seuerely scourgeth any Land
Hee seconds Plagues with plagues, and woes with woes.
Hee taketh his three-stringed whip in hand
Of Dearth, of death, of home, or forreine Foes,
And from these three all desolation growes.
What true Content, what rest to man remaines,
When ills by Ounces: Good scarce comes by Graines.

316

And to increase the current of my Care,
A slauish Groome (Iohn Poydras was his name)
Borne in the West; At Exceter, did dare
To bruit abroad, that he from Long-shankes came,
And I a Changling was suppos'd the same
That hee in truth was, Edwards lawfull Sonne,
And by a Nurse this treacherie was done.

317

But afterward, (of his vntruth conuicted)
Hee did confesse that hee was mou'd to that
By those blacke Artes, that God hath Interdicted,
And by a Spirit, in likenesse of a Cat,
Who did assure him, by this damned plat.
Hee should vnto the Soueraigntie attaine,
But a poore Rope seru'd to preuent his Raigne.

318

Heere, giue me leaue a little while to dwell
Vpon the Nature of this accident,
First I obserue: The Diuels cannot fore-tell
Before things Come, what will bee theyr euent;
If that the same bee properly Contingent.
That is, That may bee, and not bee as-well.
And such no Deuill, no Spirit can fore-tell.

319

All future things, that haue, or may be told,
Are in themselues, or by their causes knowne.
Things in themselues God onely can vnfold,
And yet sometimes hee doth Impart his owne
And proper knowledge, of such things to Come
Vnto such Agents, as hee please t'inspire
With some small sparkles of his heau'nly fire.

320

Such were the holy Prophets in their dayes
Who Onely by th' Infusion of his Grace,
Fore-told strange things, such likewise did he raise
At seuerall times, eu'n from the Gentill Race,
And in that Ranck some doe the Sybils place.
Who by the glimmering of his glorious Light,
Of things to come, did oft diuine aright.

321

Those things that by theyr causes are conceiu'd
Doe eyther follow of necessitie,
(Therefore in them eu'n men are not deceiu'd)
Or grounded else on probabilitie,
Or they doe hit by meere contingencie.
The first, the Diu'ls most certainly conceiue,
Guesse at the second, In the last deceiue.

322

1 And yet because of long Experience,
2 And by their wondrous knowledge in all the Arts
3 And for no Earthly substance dims their sence
4 And by their speedy motion, which Imparts
A present knowledge, from remotest parts.
I grant they fully comprehend those things,
Which vnto vs great admiration brings.

323

But when in truth, The things are so Conceal'd,
As neither causes nor effects appeare,
Then those occurrents are by them reueal'd
In such a sort, as double sence may beare,
Alwayes ambiguous, cloudie, never cleare.
And such were those same Oracles of Old,
That were by Phœbus, or by Hamon told.

324

I will be no retayler of such wares,
For they are cheape, and common vnto all.
But I obserue, what comes to such mens shares,
I note the fearefull Iudgements, that doe fall
Vpon such Artists, as doe vse to call.
Which both the ancient Annals doe record,
And moderne stories of our times afford.

325

Some burnt with fire, as Zoroastes was,
And some the Earth did swallow vp aliue.
As Amphiraus, when that he did passe
To Thebes: Some their owne Spirits did depriue
Of breath, and so Pope Benedict did thriue,
The ninth of that same name, whose vitall line
The Diu'll himselfe by strangling did vntwine.

326

Nicephorus, and so Abdias tells,
How Simon Magus flying in the Ayre,
By Magicke Art, and by inchanting spels,
Fell downe, and brake his boanes at Peters prayer,
And so he dy'd in horror and dispaire.
O God! how farre thy hand is stretched out,
To poure down vengeance on this damned Rout.

327

But to returne, from whence I did digresse,
Besides this Common confluence of ill,
Those warres I vndertooke, God did not blesse,
But euermore they were successelesse still;
Because I fail'd both in advice and skill.
Which being manag'd without due respect,
How could their ends, but sort to such effect.

328

Most true It is: A Power of fearefull Harts,
That by a Princely Lyon is but led,
Shall in the field exploit more glorious parts,
Then Armed Lyons with a Hart, their head;
Besides, Warres thriue as they are managed.
And in the streame of Action, sound advice,
Preuailes as much, as doth bold enterprize.

329

A Ship well mann'd, well victual'd, tackled well
Without a skilfull Pilote steere the same,
Doth in that watry world in danger dwell,
Looke what the Pilote is to that huge frame,
To armed Troopes the chiefetaine is the same.
Who wanting either Courage, or fore-sight,
Ruines himselfe, and all his armie quite.

330

In managing of Ciuill home designes,
If any Councell, be not wisely fitted,
There yet remaines some sparke in after times
To execute, what was before omitted,
Or to correct, what was before committed.
But in the field, when Armies joyne in shocke
One onely Error brings all to the blocke.

331

And hence (as I conceiue) It doth proceed,
That excellent Commanders are so rare.
Because they must be very wise Indeed,
To take the least advantages that are,
And very valiant to attempt, and dare.
And (O) how seldome meet in one these twaine,
A Lyons heart, joyn'd with a Foxes braine.

332

Troy onely stories forth one Hectors fame.
One Alexander Name of (Great) did merit.
One Hanibal from Carthage onely Came.
And but one Pyrrus Epire did Inherit,
So sparing are the Heau'ns of such a spirit.
That no one Climate hath produced many
And many one hath scarce beene blest with any.

333

The Theban State no greatnesse did attaine
But onely in Epaminundas time.
Who being dead: That did grow weake againe,
He was the Sunne, that lightned all that Clime,
His setting was their fall: His rise their Prime.
Before Inglorious, after of no name,
Such powerfull vertue from that Chieftaine came.

334

Therefore in truth, I doe not Iumpe with those
Who thinke the Prince for Conduct in the field,
Should both himselfe, and common wealth repose
Vpon some. Chieftain, whil'st himselfe doth wield
The home-affaires: which more assurance yield.
In shew I grant: but weighing euery thing,
Such seeming safeties certaine dangers bring.

335

For if Ambition seize vpon the Soule
(As 'tis a passion apt to entertaine.
And once possest, no just respects Controule)
I would aduise the Prince that then doth raigne
To doubt th' euent: 'Tis worser to complaine,
Then be complayn'd of: & who doth not know
How many Kings haue beene vncrowned so.

336

This was ye Rock, that wrackt great Merouees Line;
And brought the Crowne of France to Martells Race;
For Childericke was forced to resigne
To Pepin (Martells Sonne) his Princely place.
And so likewise Hugh Capit did displace
The Line of Pepin, and advanc't his owne,
Because in warre his worth was greater growne.

337

A Subject may in shape a Prince excell,
A Subject may more then his Soveraigne know
Eyther in Artes, or in discoursing well.
Hee may be stronger to vnhorse his foe,
And yet no danger to the Scepter so,
But if in Armes the Subject growes too great,
The Prince may chance be set besides his Seat.

338

Therefore let Princes labour to attaine
The Art of warre, by all the meanes they can;
Because, It doth inable him to raigne,
And makes him greater, then a priuate man.
That often hath the Supreame Title wanne
Of sole Commander: which who doth possesse
Is scarce a Prince: and yet but somewhat lesse.

339

To haue such troopes of Souldiers at command,
To haue such store of wealth, which men affect,
To haue such potent meanes by Sea or Land,
To execute what e're they would effect,
To be obseru'd with duty and respect;
By forreigne States, and home dependencie,
Are shadowes at the least of Soveraigntie.

340

And he that oft hath tasted that delight,
Wherwith such powerfull greatnes doth bewitch,
Is hardly brought, to humble so his Spirit,
As not to thinke himselfe aboue the pitch
Of Common men: More eager is the Itch
To mount the top, of One, that's vp halfe way,
Then his, that still at lowest step doth stay.

341

Therefore the Prince, whose forces, and whose Armes
By other, then himselfe Commanded bin.
Must (for prevention of ambitious harmes)
Haue many Chiefetaines to Imploy therein,
So shall no One be able for to win
So strong a partie, but another may
Serue for a Helpe: to be crost in his way.

342

But is there then, No Cement for to joyne
The Prince, and pow'rfull Peere so close, so fast,
That th' one shall not suspect, nor th' other clime?
Or is the state of things so strangely plac'd
That men cannot be good with greatnesse grac'd?
Must Princes feare the noblest vertues still?
Or must a Subject vse such vertues Ill?

343

O no, such mindes a glosse of vertue beare,
But no essentiall part of her partake,
“A Kingly Nature cannot nourish feare,
“And vertuous soules Loue good for goodnesse sake,
“And onely that their Actions ayme doe make.
Where such as borrow vertues for a time,
Are dangerous men, and very apt to clime.

344

Especially, If their designements bend
To Compasse that, which we dependance call.
If all their actions leuell at this end,
T'endeare themselues vnto the Generall,
They will bee easily drawne to throw at all,
When they haue got the dice into their hand,
By hauing often Conduct, and Command.

345

The Antidote for Princes to preserue
Their States vndanger'd from such poysonous plattes
Is onely Iustice: which who doth obserue
In all designes, to men of all estates,
And is not swaid with Feares, Hopes, Loues, or Hates.
Or any passion, but goes eu'nly on
That Prince is wise, and doth secure his Throne.

346

Let all the Politickes that breath this day
Racke their conceits, vntill they break their braine,
They never shall inuent a better way
Whereby a Prince may with assurance raigne,
Then to be truely just: and to retaine
An eu'n proportion Arithmaticall,
Which giueth equall Iustice vnto all.

347

This is the Mother both of Loue, and Feare,
This doth ingender dutie, and desire.
This doth the Prince from all suspition cleare,
Because it doth Cut-off the meanes to aspire,
This distributes to all deserued Hire,
Whereby the Subject hauing his just due,
Doth rest Contented, and Contented, true.

348

And you great Starres, whose powerfull Influence
May worke so much, be not Irregular:
Moue fairely in your Orbes without offence,
Bee Nobles truely, and not Titular;
But stay my Muse, how apt art thou to erre.
From thy first path, returne, and make it plaine;
That Armes are safest for a Soveraigne.

349

Not onely to preuent aspyring harmes
Would I haue Kings Commanders of their owne.
But chiefly I would haue them practise Armes,
That their great spirits might be the better shown,
And haue more vent to make their vertues known.
For greatnes doth much in opinions rest,
And that's maintain'd by being in action best.

350

Besides, 'tis certaine, all men wish to serue
Rather in the Kings eye, then by his Eare
Nothing inflames the Soule, more to deserue,
More quickens honour, more expelleth feare,
Then when the Prince in presence doth appeare.
To checke the Coward, & with praise, and merit
To grace the Actions of a gallant Spirit.

351

This of all Causes, that I can Conceiue
Made Alexander Monarch of the East.
It is a mightie motiue, not to leaue
Theyr Soueraigne Prince in danger, or distrest,
Ill thriue they heere on Earth (in heau'n vnblest)
That thinke not so: And grant (O dearest Lord)
That men, and Angels to my prayers accord.

352

Wise was that State, and very well advis'd
Whose forces being often put to flight,
Still finding bad successe, at length devis'd
To bring theyr Infant Prince into the fight,
Eu'n in his Cradle, that his very sight
Might giue them better heart; which prou'd most true,
For they did fight, and fighting did subdue.

353

Besides, those vnder-Officers that are
Imploy'd, according to each seuerall place,
Will with more Faith, and more respectiue Care
Intend their Charge before the Princes face,
So to auoyd both danger, and disgrace.
And then the Common Souldier serueth best,
When hee's respected most, and fleeced least.

354

And (though I know Examples doe not proue)
Yet is the state of things not so Confounded.
But that those selfe-same motiues still may moue,
On which their resolutions then were grounded.
Therfore since Nor-man William first was Crowned,
Who list suruey our Kings, cānot but yield
Their states thriu'd best, who most did keep ye field

355

Yet, if the Prince by Age disabled bee,
Or otherwise, by any like defect;
Or if the Sex with Armes doth not agree,
Then let them make fit choyse, with much respect
Of men of greatest vertues, to direct
Their martiall forces, and the more they traine
In such Designes, The safer is their Raigne.

356

Because that Prince with more assurance liues
That doth rely on many, then on One.
For nothing sooner apt occasion giues
To swelling Spirits, for to worke vpon,
Then if they often haue Command alone.
Especially, If men doe hold them such,
As without them, The State cannot doe much.

357

Besides, it causeth Enuie on all parts,
Many malignant humours will bee bred;
If that the Prince all powerfulnesse Imparts
Solely to One, which eu'nly quartered
Sets many Spirits on worke: Who all are fed
At least with hopes, which else perhaps might fall
To practice, If one hand ingrossed all.

358

Nor would I haue the Prince to nourish feares
Or jealousies, of such as well deserue.
But let them make, and keepe great spirits theirs,
And let their fauours, and their bounties serue
As chaines to bind them, that they may not swerue
From loyall Dutie: Stronger is that Tye,
Then Cunning practice, or sterne Crueltie.

359

And since, they must haue Agents of their will
For Execution of their enterprizes,
Or bee themselues Ingag'd in action still.
Let nor vngrounded feares, and false surmises
Vnapt theyr meanes, and crosse their own deuises.
“For who suspects, when no cause doth appeare,
“Doth giue a cause to that, which he doth feare.

360

So Commodus, and Bassianus so
(Two Princes of a most mistrustfull braine)
Did spinne the thrid of their owne ouerthrow
By diffidence, which they did entertaine
Of theyr own Creatures, by whō they were slaine
Onely to saue themselues: Whilst causlesse feare
Did make them guiltie, which before were cleare.

361

Where liues the man, that may in peace possesse
The happie blessings of a priuate state?
Yet prostitutes him-selfe to wretchednesse,
To Care of mind, to bodies Toyle, to hate
Of Enuie, to the violence of Fate,
To teachy times; To dangers imminent,
If vertue findes no grace, but discontent.

362

Therefore let Princes weigh their Seruants merits,
And grace them most, that haue deserued best,
So shall respected vertue raise new spirits.
And euery noble heart, and gentle brest
Will boile with Zeale, which will not let them rest
Till they haue rob'd of blood each seuerall veyne,
To doe due seruice to theyr Soueraigne.

363

But if the Prince too much distrustfull bee,
Sad, sowre, and of a melancholy mind,
Hard of accesse, close-handed, nothing free;
To best deseruers euer most vnkind.
Let such an One assure himselfe to find
False hearts, and feeble hands, but certaine hate
If any danger threatens his estate.

364

Besides, the foule defacing of his glory,
And the remembance of his liuing shame,
Which will recorded bee in euery storie,
And euery Annall will report the same,
And taxe with hatefull tyrannie his Name.
And why should Kings bee so Ill-gouerned
That their blacke deeds should liue, when they dead?

365

A Thousand yeares, and more are gone, and past,
Since that Justinian did the Empire sway
And yet his foule dishonour still doth last;
And will doe still, whilst there is night, and day.
Because hee did vnworthily repay
Thy Seruices (good Bellisarivs)
To whom hee was vnjustly Tyrannous.

366

What though hee did plucke forth those Eyes of thine?
(The chearfull Lamps ye lightned those dark dayes)
Yet thy great Acts (maugre his malice) shine
As bright, and glorious as the Sunnie rayes,
And Time both sees, and speakes thy lasting praise.
What though hee made thee

Da obulum Bellisario viator, quem Inuidia, non culpa cæcacauit, forma suæ petitionis.

beg from doore to doore?
Thou shalt be rich in honor, he but poore.

367

Besides, God doth Ingratitude detest.
But loues kind offices from man to man;
For sweetnes, goodnes, priuate States are blest.
And much more Kings: Because, indeed they can
Do much more good: They measure not by th' span
But by the Ell: And as their meanes are more,
With abler winges so must they higher sore.

368

And (O deare God, the fountaine of all good)
How much obliged are these times to thee?
For our most blessed

Iacob. I.

Prince, of greatest blood;
And yet of greater vertue; Happie wee,
Yea ten times happie, that haue liu'd to see
So many rare perfections joyn'd in One.
And that same-One to sit vpon our Throne.

369

I doe not purpose to persume my Rimes
With the false wash of seruile Flatterie,
I rather am too bold with these our Times.
But I appeale to Gods All-seeing Eye
(To which our closest drifts doe open lye)
How my true Pen writes from my feeling heart,
When I (Great King) but shadow what thou art.

370

And (O) how blest, how deare the heau'ns do loue
That happie State, where vertuous Princes sway?
O sweet Experience, now by thee wee proue,
Wee taste, wee touch that blessing euery day,
And graunt (All-guiding God) that long we may
Long in him-selfe, and so long in his Race,
Till Time vnto Eternitie giue place.

371

But whither hath my Zeale, my Soules desire
With feruent passion led my Pen astray?
To my first subiect now I will retire,
And bring my Muse into the beaten way,
And sing of thy disaster, and decay;
O fatall Edward, whose Ill-gouern'd Crowne
Both ruin'd others, and thy selfe cast downe.

372

But yet of all the multiplicitie
Of seuerall Ills, that doe vnhappie life;
There was no greater Infelicitie
Then was the false-hood of his faultie Wife,
“That bosome wound, that deadly-poyson'd knife
“That stabs the Soule, and neuer finds reliefe;
“But kils with outward shame, & inward griefe.

373

O what a Chaos of Confused ill
Is in the Compasse of this Sinne Contain'd?
1 First, violation of GODS Sacred will.
2 Next Parents, Brothers, Sisters are defam'd.
3 The Common-wealth by Bastardy is stayn'd.
4 Inheritances wrongfully possest.
5 The Husband scorn'd, 6 Wife loath'd, 7 And babes vnblest.

374

The festrous Sore growes to a dangerous head,
Now Mortimer begins to play his prise.
A brauer spirit Nature neuer bred,
Of goodly presence, to attract the Eyes,
Of sweet Discourse, wherein great Influence lyes
Of high resolue, and of a noble heart,
No want of Nature, and all Ayde of Art.

375

This was the Paris, which my Hellen wonne,
And this Promethius stole my heau'nly fire.
This was the Eagle, ayring in the Sunne,
“Hee's more then man, that can restraine desire,
Especially, being wag'd by such a hire.
A Queene, and young, and faire, he's halfe a Joue
“Whom honour, youth, & beautie cannot moue.

376

And (though there bee no just excuse for sinne).
Yet Isabell, This will I say for thee.
“'Tis hardly kept, what many striue to winne,
“The finest Cloath doth soonest staine (we see)
Perhaps thou took'st thy President from mee.
'Twas like for like: though in thee wrong It were
Yet was It right and just for mee to beare.

377

Besides, Hee did imploy all potent meanes
To vndermine the bulwarke of her brest,
And (O) that Sexe too much by Nature leanes
To Change of loues: What need it bee opprest,
With winning Art? But men will doe their best
To scale the Fort: And till the same be wonne,
“It is vndone, desir'd: Repented done.

378

And after many sweet intising baytes,
When hee had something diu'd into her heart,
Hee then fit opportunitie awaytes,
To act the last, and best of all his part,
Wherein hee was to shew his Master Art.
Which hauing got: Thus hee begins the field,
To conquer her, that of her selfe did yeeld.

379

Faire Queene (qd. He) may I behold thy beautie?
Why not, (quoth she) The Sunne is seene of all.
And shall I speake, respecting still my duty?
Why not (qd. she?) Joue heares the Captiue thrall?
Shall not disdaine on my endeauours fall?
Feare not (qd. she) great minds take all in worth,
Not Pearle, but Flint sends sparkes of fire forth.

380

Then beautious Queene, my words shall vent my woe,
I loue: how sweet were that same sound frō thee?
For once (qd. she) I am pleas'd to play the Eccho,
I loue: It is no perfect point (quoth he)
The sentence wants, except your Grace addes: Me
You said not so, I made but repitition,
To greatest summes (faire Queene) needs no addition.

381

Why then (qd. shee) what is't that I should adde?
Adde fancie to affection gracious Queene,
Let not desire in tawny weeds bee clad,
No suite becomes sweet Loue, so well as greene,
Adde Loue to loue, Loue will more louely seeme.
Beleeue me (sweet) stolne fruit contenteth most,
Then spare not that, which being spar'd is lost.

382

Ah Mortimer, Thou know'st (qd. she) I may not.
Madame (qd. he) I know you may, but will not.
What if I will? Why then sweet Queen delay not.
Edward will know: why say he doth, It skils not:
Fame wil defame: fame wel may hurt, but kils not.
Danger may grow: That will indeere delight,
So darkest grounds make white to shew more white.

383

Thou wilt be false: then Sun leese thou thy light,
Why being Eclips'd, thou know'st it oft doth so.
Let water burne: I know thou hitt'st It right,
From Englands Bathes such boyling waters flow,
Bee Constant Moone, when I vnconstant grow,
That fitteth well: Shee changing: You vntrue:
Nay you the Moone, and I the man in you.

384

I'le cry: Doe Madam, Shed some teares for joy.
You wrong me much, yet wrong'd you will not tell:
I pray thee leaue: 'Tis but an Idle Toy:
'Tis true: and Toyes please Ladies passing well?
I cannot yield: No, women must but spell
Men put together: That's my part to play:
I'le cry: I'le kisse, and so begin the fray.

385

You will: Nay then I must, because you will,
Women are weak (poore soules) and dare not fight
Who-euer rises, we goe downward still,
And yet fond men will say, that we are light.
Well, 'tis our Fortunes, and the destines spight.
I am Content, because I cannot chuse,
'Tis best to take, what bootes not to refuse.

386

Thus Mortimer did steale this fleece of gold,
That storie (so apply'd) doth Ill agree:
Shee rather was Medea, fierce, and bold,
And gaue away that golden fleece: 'Twas shee
That let another griffe vpon my Tree
The fruit of sin, and shame; whence did proceed,
Matter, that made me both to blush, and bleed.

387

O woman! Thou art euer in extreames,
Eyther an Ætna or a Caucasus:
Or burning, like the Dog-starres fierie gleames,
Or like North windes too bleake, and boysterous.
Eyther too mirthfull, or too mischieuous.
Yet of the twaine (since needs thou wilt be such)
Thy fire is better, then thy frost by much.

388

Thy ouer-louing may proue Iealousie
And that's an amorous sicknesse, a kind paine,
But hatred Is the Dame of Crueltie,
And at the very Life-bloud still doth Ayme.
But leauing this: Goe to thy Loomes againe
Vnwearied Muse: till thou hast wou'n at will
The wofull storie of poore Edwards Ill.

389

'Tis not the Ayre, whereby we liue, and breath,
'Tis not the Earth, the Mother of vs all,
Nor Starres aboue, nor is it Hell beneath,
Nor yet those Spirits which we our Demons call,
Nor chance, which seemes to sway things casuall.
That are the sole-efficients of our Euils
We, to our selues, are eyther Gods, or Deuils.

390

But I was still the latter of the twaine,
My selfe-wrought woe beares witnes of the same.
And you great Lords, ye liu'd, whil'st I did raigne
And were consumed with the furious flame
Of my enraged wrath, I will not blame
Your wayward Pride, nor yet my wiues vntruth.
My seed was Sin, my Crop was shame, and ruth.

391

And when did euer that accursed field
Beare other haruest, then such thriflesse weed?
Can poyson'd fountaines wholsome waters yield?
Or doe not wormes out of corruption breed?
Mischiefe the Dam pregnant with sinfull seed.
Brings forth her daughter Miserie at last,
And they are alwayes glew'd together fast.

392

There can be no divorce betweene these twaine,
They mix, or rather they incorporate.
Like to the Poles of Heau'n it doth remaine
Constant and fix'd: Sinne is vnfortunate,
Still drawing Iudgements downe, on each estate.
Wch somtimes are defer'd, not following streight,
But what time looseth, is repay'd with weight.

393

How many houses haue bin rais'd by Sinne,
And flourish'd faire, for one, or two discents.
But still the third vnprosperous hath bin,
And God hath crost them, with some strange euents
Whereof these times yield many presidents.
But stay my Muse, If thou wilt shun offence
Thou must not meddle with the present Tence.

394

Speake of the Spencers mightie in their dayes,
Let Edward be the Subject of thy Pen.
Who did his Minions to such greatnesse rayse
That the whole State was by them manag'd then,
As men with Counters, So doe Kings with men.
Sometimes they stand for halfe-pence, and anon
What was but so, becomes a Million.

395

But when my Peeres did see, how I was bent
To make base waxen wings to mount the skye,
Whil'st their faire Plumes were pluck't wth vile cōtempt.
And they deprest with scorne and Injury.
To late-left Armes they got them by and by.
They moved warre, the Spencers to remoue.
Hate armed them, and I was arm'd by Loue.

396

They leuied men, I likewise men did leuie.
Both raised all the Forces wee could make:
A Tyrants hand (they say) was too too heauie.
A traytors head (I said) became a stake.
They vow'd redresse, I vow'd revenge to take.
We met, and meeting fought, & fighting found,
No hurt more grieues, then doth a selfe-wrought wound.

397

O English Peeres! relinquish Impious Armes.
Build not your weightiest actions vpon sand.
'Tis not the Colour of pretended harmes,
Nor seeming zeale vnto your Natiue Land,
Nor reformation (though you beare in hand
The people so) of some abuse of Lawes
That can make lawfull your vnlawfull Cause.

398

These are, (and euer haue bin) those smooth Oyles
With which foule treason seekes to paint her face:
That she might seeme faire, pleasing, full of smiles,
So to win loue, and gaine the peoples grace,
Who silly Gudgions euer bite apace.
Vntill the fatall hooke be swallowed downe,
Where-with Ambition Angles for a Crowne.

100

399

Who euer practis'd against Prince, or State
But alwayes did pretend the Common good?
Thereby to draw into contempt, or hate
The course of governement, as then it stood.
This hath beene still the marrow, life, and blood
Of such Attempts: But here the rule stands fast,
“What's thought-on first, Is executed last.

400

For when that once their priuate turne is seru'd,
The care of Common wealth Is layd aside,
That did but what the knife, with wch they caru'd
For their owne good: That vizor did but hide
Some Secret ends, not fit to be discry'd
Vntill accomplish'd: which once brought to passe
The Common State stands as before it was.

401

And for to angle men, Crimes must be made
Against the Prince: I if he be without touch,
So that no just exceptions can be had.
Then must the Imputation rest on such
Who being neare the Prince. are vsed much.
For this is certaine: “They that stand on high,
“Are fairest markes for foulest oblequie.

402

But though the Arrow seemeth at them aym'd,
Yet through their sides it wounds the Princes brest
Whose reputation cannot be but stain'd
By their reproach, whom they doe fauour best.
And they that kill the birds, would spoile the nest.
But what's intended, must be closely wrought,
And that pretended, which was neuer thought.

101

403

Why should vaine man still daube his actions thus
With outward whit-lime, that are pitch'd within,
“Eu'n wicked Kings must be Indur'd by vs.
“What e're the cause be, Treason is a sinne,
“Rebellious Armes cannot true honour win.
“The sword is not the Subjects: His defence
“In all extreames: Is Prayer, and Patience.

404

Therefore deare spirits, dye not your silver Armes
Into a Sanguine, with your Mothers bloud.
Let not vnciuill hands cause ciuill harmes;
For priuate griefe, confound not publike good,
“Not all the water in the Ocean flood
“Can wash the Sin from you, and your Allyes,
“For Treason liues, although the Traitor dyes.

405

Sweet Trent! How were thy Christall-waters stain'd
With English-bloud, that was at Burton shed.
Let Burrow-bridge a Golgotha bee nam'd,
A field of death, wherein lay buried
So many people, and all Natiues bred.
'Gainst forreigne foes, had those liues bin Imploy'd;
We had not grieu'd, though they had nobly dy'd.

406

At last, the doubtfull victorie prou'd mine,
The Barons lost the day, and lost their liues.
Their heads went off, whose hearts did so repine
Against their Prince, “For treason seldom thriues,
“That great all-seeing God, whose knowledge diues
“Into the deepest secrets of the Soule,
“Vnjust attempts in Iustice doth Controule.

102

407

Great

Tho. Plantaginet Earle of Lancaster.

Lancaster, then whom, No greater Earle
This greatest Isle of Europe had before.
Good Lancaster: in goodnes such a Pearle,
That him the vulgar sort did long adore,
Had then his head strucke off, and many more
Eu'n of the greatest, felt the selfe-same stroake,
“So lightning spares the shrub, & rends ye Oake.

408

And here be pleas'd, to make this obseruation,
The Popular, and ouer-powerfull Peere.
That doth Command too much in any Nation
Breeds in his Prince, both Iealousie and feare,
Is enuy'd eu'n of those of his owne Spheare.
Vntunes the vulgar: tumults the whole State,
And to himselfe proues most vnfortunate.

409

That make-king

Richard Neuil Earle of Warwicke.

Warwicke hauing th' English Crown
Pinn'd on his sleue, to place where he thoght best,
Who set vp

Hen. 6. Edw. 4.

Princes, and did pull them downe.
How did he toyle the Land with his vnrest?
How did his sword rip vp his Mothers brest?
Whose greatnesse, and his popularitie
Wrought both his owne, and others Tragedie.

410

O that we could not Instance in our dayes,
Then some of match-lesse vertues had not so
By popular dependancie, and praise
Bin drawne to fatall courses, full of woe,
Which caus'd their owne, and others ouerthrow.
But wishes come too late, when things are done,
And men are borne to that, they cannot shun.

103

411

“Yet prudent men a present vse may make
“Of errors past: And they are truely wise,
“That doe from others their Instructions take
“Not from themselues: It is too deare a price
“So to buy wit: Bee rul'd by my aduice.
“Learne to be wise, yet not at thine owne cost,
“But shun those waies where thou seest others lost.

412

The sword was sharp, and wounded euery where,
Many great men of noble qualitie,
In seuerall places were beheaded here,
For being Actors in that treacherie,
Which alwayes proues a mournefull Tragedie.
And though I know, The sword is due to such,
Yet should a Prince forbeare to strike too much.

413

For often Executions in a State
Especially of men of fashion
First stirre vp pittie, then dislike, then hate,
Then close complaint, then combination
Then followes practise for some Alteration.
And that Indaungers all, if not withstood:
And though vnprosperous yet It spils much bloud.

414

And that same Throne, that's often wet wth bood
Is very slipp'rie, apt to catch a fall.
Yielding no howers rest, no pleasures good,
Sleeping on Thornes, and feeding vpon gall.
Still thinking, and still thinking Ill of all.
Haunted with restlesse feares, whilst day doth last
And then at night, with fearefull dreames agast,

104

415

Our Stories doe report third Richard so,
And without doubt, Hee did too much let bloud,
Alwayes mistrustfull, both of friend, and foe.
Ready to strike them, that but neere him stood,
Fearefull to all, such was his furious moode.
And fearing all, as one that knew too well
How many soules did wish his soule in hell.

416

O that a Prince might see a Tyrants mind,
What Monsters, what Chimeraes therein are.
What horrours in his Soule, hee still doth find,
How much him-selfe is with himselfe at warre,
Euer diuided, full of thoughtfull Care.
What Pistols, Ponyards, Poysons he conceites,
And thinks each one for his destruction waites.

417

Besides, It is indeed no Policie
(Except it bee in a meere Turkish state)
To make the Crowne a Common Butcherie,
To gouerne all by feare, which breedeth hate
In noble mindes, and doth exasperate
A free-borne People: Where the Turkish race
Feare best Cōmands, being seruile, poore, & base.

418

Princes rewards should fall like gentle Raine,
Which comming softly, doth the longer last,
That theyr sweet relish might still fresh remaine.
Their Executions should bee done in hast,
Like sodaine furious stormes, that soone are past.
Because, when once the violence Is done,
Th' offence thereof might bee forgot and gone.

105

420

One limbe of that great body, that did band
It selfe against mee, in their factious frayes
Was Mortimer: Who yet vpon Command
Came-In before the fight, and I streight-wayes
Sent to the Tower, to spend his wearie dayes
In wretched bands: restrayn'd from libertie,
But walles of stone keepe not out Destinie.

421

Which eyther finds, or makes it selfe away.
For Mortimer, thus sent vnto the Tower
To free himselfe doth labour night, and day,
And by a sleepie Potion, which had power
To make men slumber, till a certaine hower.
Hee found the meanes (his Keepers so made fast,
To make escape: and got to France at last.

422

This was not done without my Queenes consent,
Whose head, and hand were working in the same.
Little thought I, That, that way the Hare went,
But Sir Stephen Segraue

Constable of the Tower.

onely I did blame.
Wretched mankind, how bold wee are, to frame
Hopes to our selues: How blind to see our ill,
That least we feare, what most doth hurt vs still.

423

Doe but Conceiue, how much we straine at Gnats
And swallow Camels downe without respect.
How hood-winck'd are we to discerne those plats
That hurt vs most, how ready to suspect
Our friends for foes, how apt wee are t'effect
Our owne disaster: Mortimer goes free,
And others dye, that lesse had wronged mee.

106

423

Obserue the weaknesse of Mortalitie,
It sees but little, and It can doe lesse.
Yet, I allow not of fatalitie,
Except that word bee vsed to expresse
That all-Commanding Power, that doth suppresse,
Support, set vp, pull downe, doth all in all,
Eu'n in those Actions, that seeme casuall.

424

Now did I thinke my selfe, my State as sure
As if great Atlas did vphold the same.
The drosse being purg'd, my gold must needs bee pure,
The smoake once gone, my fire must brightly flame
Their Eyes were out, ye mark'd, & marr'd my game.
They had no hearts to dare, nor tongus to preach,
Nor hands to fight, nor busie heads to reach.

425

But heartlesse, haplesse, yea and headlesse too
Are those disturbers of our awfull Raigne.
Who would prescribe their Prince, what he should doe,
And when, and where, and why, & whom refraine
Like Pupils, whom their Tutors doe restraine.
“To play with Edg tooles Is a dangerous thing,
“And 'tis no May-game to Controule a King.

426

Thus in a Calme, I fear'd no storme at all,
But yet too soone a sodaine Cloud did rise.
From whence such store of wintry stormes did fall
As for my shrowd, no shelter might suffice,
Vntill pale Death had clos'd my tearefull Eyes.
O bring with you, who-euer reads my fall,
Sad thoughts, wet Eyes, and wailing words withall.

107

427

And thus It was: I sent my Queene to France,
And after her, The Prince my Sonne I sent,
To treate a Peace; but see the fatall chance.
They brought home War, although for Peace they went.
Th' Ambitious woman, she was fully bent
To haue sole rule, and meant to put me downe.
So Ninus once did loose both life and Crowne.

428

There is more mercy in the Tygers claw,
Lesse venome in the Scorpions sting doth lye,
More pitie in the hungry Lyons paw,
Lesse danger in the Basiliske his Eye.
Hiæna, that doth call the goers by,
The Panthers breath, and Crocodiles false teares
Haue truer hearts, then faithlesse women beares.

429

Let loosers speake, for they will not bee let,
I lost my Crowne, my Life I also lost,
My glorious rising had a gloomie set.
My Wife the Sea, wherein my barke was tost,
The rocke, wherein I suffred shipwracke most.
Shee Clitemnestra: Agamemnon I,
Whom false Ægistus foully caus'd to dye.

430

His part my Riuall Mortimer did play
Whom Isabell my Queene so well did loue,
That still in France shee meant with him to stay
As One that would the selfe same fortunes proue,
And moue, no otherwise then hee did moue.
Mean while, The Cuckoe hatch'd in Edwards nest
And in my Boate his Oare was liked best.

108

431

They that inioy, and joy in their owne Loues,
Whose vertuous soules no secret sinnes doe staine.
Who neuer did vnlawfull pleasures proue,
But truly louing are so lou'd againe.
Thrice happie they, more true Contentment gaine
Then those that haue the change & choise of many
And vsing all, are neuer lou'd of any.

432

For streames diuided runne a shallower Course
Then they, that only in one Channell runne.
A mind vnchast, doth euer like them worse
That are obtayn'd, then those that are vnwonne.
Because, It thinkes some pleasure is to Come
Which yet, it hath not found; and neuer ill
Did seeme so sweet, but something wanted still.

433

For how can Sinne afford a full delight
When 'tis indeed a meere priuation?
As well may darknes bee the Cause of light,
And Heau'n to Hell bee turn'd by tranformation,
As wickednes yeeld perfect Contentation.
“The vertuous Pleasures are Compleat & sound,
“And lawfull is at last delightfull found.

434

But Lust is deafe, and hath no Eare to heare
The cunning Charmer, charme he nere so well.
VVhich did too much in Isabell appeare.
VVho did resolue with Mortimer to dwell
And both of them did labour to expell,
Mee from my Kingdome: and to please the time
They made my Sonne the colour of their Crime.

109

435

And heere obserue, the foule effects of Lust,
What Treasons, Murders, outrage from It springs,
How both to God, and man it is vnjust.
How it defiles all States, Confounds all things
And at the last, to vtter ruine brings.
How much more pure is that most holy fire,
Which God doth blesse, & men themselues desire.

436

I neuer heard of any hee or shee
Although themselues were lewd, and vicious
That euer wish'd theyr Off-spring for to bee
Like to themselues: but good and vertuous.
There's some thing in the Soule, that worketh vs:
T'affect the good wee had at our Creation,
VVhereof (being lost) wee wish a restauration.

437

As Mortimer, and Isabell my Queene
Practis'd in France, so heere they had their factions
Of Earles and Barons: Men of great esteeme,
Both wise, and stout to manage any actions.
And the poore Cōmons (grinded with Exactions)
To Innouation were not easily led,
And nothing wanted, but an able head.

438

But hee that was chiefe workman of the frame,
VVhich drew the plot at home for all the rest,
VVho afterwards did build vpon the same
A Bishop was: Yet Church-men should be best,
But oftentimes Sinne lurkes within the brest.
VVhen sacred Titles, and religious names,
Are but the Couers of vncomely shames.

110

439

'Twas

Adam De Orleton or Tarlton, Bishop of Hereford.

Tarlton, whose great spleen, and working braine,
Was the Producter of this Monster first.
Who for some priuate wrong hee did sustaine.
An inward hate, and bosome treason nurst
Against his Prince: Which afterwards did burst
Into those open flames, from whence did grow
As hatefull Ills, as euer Age did show.

440

May then Religion bee a Cloake for Sinne?
Can holiest Functions serue but for pretences?
Are Church-men Saints without, & Diu'ls within?
Dare men make God a colour for offences?
Knowing with what fierce wrath he recompences
Eu'n simple Sinners, that scarce know his will,
Then much more those, whose knowledge serues for ill.

441

Most reuerend Priesthood, how art thou prophan'd
How comes thy glorious Lustre so obscure,
That eu'n thy very Title is defam'd?
The Cause is plaine: Professors are impure,
Their liues doe hurt, more then their tongues doe cure.
For Lay-men thinke all lawfull that they doe,
And with that thought, are easily drawn thereto.

442

And so there growes a Confluence of all Sinne.
For Sheepe will wander, If the Shepheard stray.
Smal Boats must drown, If great ships cānot swim
If Doctors faile, what shall poore Pupils say?
God helpe the blind, If cleare Eyes misse the way.
Though Sinne doth euer draw with it, a Curse;
Yet doth the Author, make the sinne the worse.

111

443

But to my selfe: I doubted what to doe.
(For weightie Causes challenge heedfull care)
I fear'd the French, I fear'd my Subiects too,
I wanted Crownes, the Sinnewes of the warre.
Those that I had, I thought nor good to spare.
But freely sent them to the King of France,
For feare hee should his Sisters part aduance.

444

Whereby from thence shee had no Ayde at all.
O what a pleasing Orator is Gold?
How well hee speakes, that tels a golden tale?
And yet, It loues not to bee heard but told;
Although It sweetly sounds to young, and old.
Orpheus did make ye stones strange wonders doe,
But this can moue both stones, and Orpheus too.

445

Philip Macedon did besiege a Hold,
Which some did tell him, was not to bee wonne.
Hee answers: If an Asse laden with Gold
Can come vnto't; The worke is to bee done.
Such is the heate, and lustre of this Sunne
That It doth melt the hearts, and blind the Eyes
Both of the brainlesse vulgar, and the wise.

446

Which when my Queene, and Mortimer perceiu'd
They leauing France, to Henault went for Ayd.
And there with honour, they were well receiu'd,
Forces prepar'd, and Ensignes were display'd,
And Ships were rigg'd, and nothing was delay'd
That might aduance their Enterprize begun,
So deepest Seas with smoothest silence runne.

112

447

They tooke the Sea, and landed at the last
At

By Harwich in Essex.

Orwell Hau'n, a deadly Gulph to me
And thither their Confederates did hast,
Both Lords, and Commons seemed to agree;
As winds, & waues Consent, whē wrackes shalbe.
All turn'd their faces to the rising Sun,
Because my date was done, and I vndone.

448

But when the voyce of Eagle-winged fame
Did spread abroad the cause of their repaire.
And seemed still to justifie the same
By due succession of my Sonne and heire,
My hope to feare: My feare turn'd to dispaire.
And my dispaire on these two grounds was laid,
My Peeres were false, my Partizans dismaid.

449

Then did I flye from London, where I lay,
Because they seemed partially affected,
And in my flight did often weepe, and say,
To what hard haps art thou (poore Prince) subjected?
What gloomie Stars haue thus thy State infected?
That they should hate, who ought to loue thee rather,
A haplesse King, a Husband, & a father.

450

Most mightie Monarkes haue bin oft distrest,
Whō yet their wiues haue lou'd with tender Care.
And many in their matches curst, are blest
Yet in their Issue: But my case is rare,
In all of them my fortunes fatall are.
They hurt me most, that should protect me rather
A haplesse King, A husband, and a father.

113

451

Some say, that Kings are Gods vpon the Earth,
And Mariage quasi Merri-age some surmise.
God giue vs joy (they say) at Childrens birth.
What God am I whom traytrous men despise?
And Marr-age from my Mariage doth arise.
There reape I Care, where most Content doth gather,
A haplesse King, a Husband, and a Father.

452

As thus I fled, My Queene pursues amayne,
So runnes the Hare for life, the Hound for Prey.
Few followed me: But thousands were her trayne,
So Flyes swarme thickest in a Sun-shine day.
At last at Oxford, did shee make some stay
With all her Troupes: and did deliberate
What Course to take with me, and with ye State.

453

There did her Tutor Tarlton thinke it fit
Of their chiefe drift remonstrance for to make.
Who being of good Discourse and pregnant wit:
To broach the matter, first did vndertake.
He Preach'd: His Text was this, My head doth Ake,
Whereon dilating, hee did seeme to proue
That Subiects might an Aking head remoue.

454

And in that Compasse hee included mee.
And so Concluded, I should bee Depos'd.
A dangerous, and detested Heresie,
By some infernall fury first Compos'd
In Hell: Where long the monster lay inclos'd.
Till Impious Spirits, swolne with insolence
To curbe all Christian Princes brought it thence.

114

455

Why should such Diuellish Principles be broach'd,
By them, that seeme to bring Gods Embassie?
Why should the Pulpit bee so much reproach'd
As to bee made a place to tell a lye?
To serue a Turne, to sooth Impietie.
But they that onely theyr owne Ends affect,
Nor God, nor man, nor Heau'n, nor Hell respect.

456

No worthy mind will charge mee to disclose
With Cursed Chæm my Fathers secret shame.
If my free Muse doe somewhat touch at those
Of holy Church, whose Actions full of blame
Haue soyl'd themselues (not function) wth defame.
Nor is't a wonder, though those blinded times,
Did hatch both monstrous men, and monstrous Crimes.

457

William whose Sword did seate him in this throne
Brought with him Odo Bishop of Bayon.
Whose Pride, whose lust, whose Irreligion,
Whose Symonie to buy the Sea of Rome
Incenst his Brother to just wrath: By whom
Th' aspiring Priest in Prison was restrain'd,
And not releas'd, as long as William raign'd.

458

And had that head-strong man bin still held in,
(Rufus) thy raigne had bin more easie farre.
For hauing head, hee labour'd still to win
All discontented Spirits, (who euer are
Apt to take fire) vnto a Ciuill warre.
And the Corrupted humours drawne to a head,
In Prince and State great Inflamations bred.

115

459

When second Henry wore the Diademe
How did Ambitious Becket toyle the State?
Who made the Pope to Interdict the Realme?
Who with the French King did Confederate?
Who vnder-hand nurst man and wiues debate?
VVho drew the Son to Armes against the Sire?
'Twas Becket, that most kindled all this fire.

460

What bitter stormes had almost wrack'd the state
By Clergie practise whilst King John did Raigne?
Sixe yeeres the Realme stood Excommunicate,
And vnder Interdiction did remaine.
People and Peeres drawne from their Soueraigne.
Lewes of France brought in to weare ye Crowne,
If by his forces John were shouldred downe.

461

Who almost sinking with so rough a blast,
Finding him-selfe vnable to withstand.
To saue his Crowne, was forced at the last,
For to resigne vnto the Pope this Land,
And by a Rent to farme it at his hand.
Then all was well: The Clergie turne was seru'd,
Lewes was Curst, and Iohn had well deseru'd.

462

Doe Kingdomes then serue but for Tennis-balles
For holy Church to racket vp and downe?
Must Scepters bee dispos'd by Bishops Palles?
Or shall a Prince make forfeit of his Crowne
If a proud Prelate chance to fret and frowne?
If they can Carie it so, I like their wit;
But sure I am: 'Tis not by holy writ.

116

463

When Straw his base rebellious troupes did gather
And drew the Commons to a dangerous head.
One Ball a Priest, or one of Baals Priests rather,
By those seditious Libels, which hee spred.
By foolish doating Rimes hee much misled
The vulgar sort, and made their madnesse more,
Which of Itselfe did rage too fast before.

464

When

Henry, 4.

Lancaster King

Rich. 2.

Richard did depose
His chiefe Assistant Thomas Arundell,
Primate of England did absolue all those
That joyn'd in that foule Action, to expell,
Their lawfull King, and did in substance tell
The very Tale, that Tarlton first had told.
So oft this Realme by them was bought, and sold

465

Whilst Humphrey Duke of Glouster rul'd the State
(Henry the Sixt then being vnder Age)
What bloodie Tumults, what Intestine hate
Were heere vntimely rais'd by

Bishop of Winchester.

Beuforts rage
Which was so fell, that nothing could asswage
His rank'rous spleene, nor would he stint ye strife
Till by close practise Glouster lost his life.

466

Richard the 3. that did vsurpe the Crowne,
And swom through blood to get the Kingly place
Had hee not Shaw a Clearke of great Renowne?
(Before that time high in the peoples grace)
Who at Pauls-Crosse did Bastard Edwards race.
Defam'd the dead, forg'd, wrested, sooth'd vp sin
Ventur'd his Soule, a Tyrants Loue to win.

117

467

But stay, I handle with too hard a touch
The Churches wounds, that now are fairly heal'd.
Then were the hood-winkt times: then were they such
In those dark dayes, now is ye truth reueal'd,
And now those former Errours are repeal'd.
And now the Sunne illumines all our Clime
Most Learned Fathers answer you the time.

468

Bee (as you should bee) Lampes to giue vs light,
And shining Starres to grace our firmament,
Though you doe teach, and wee beleeue aright,
Yet mindes vnsetled sooner will bee bent,
When they shall see your words, and workes consent.
And therefore let your liues your faith expresse,
And proue by practise, what you doe professe.

469

Nor speake I this, to taxe this present Age
Eyther of Ignorance, or Indeuotion,
Let enuy swell and burst with It's owne rage,
Yet my free Soule shall truely vent her notion
Those Reuered men, that now attaine promotion
Are for the most part such, as doe excell
As well in Learning, as in liuing well.

470

Whil'st Mortimer, my Queene, and Tarlton play'd
Their pageant thus: The Current went so swift,
That I thought fit, vntill the fury stay'd,
In some close-priuate place a while to shift,
And (for the land seem'd Crosse vnto my drift)
I did resolue, by Sea to seeke some Clime)
Where I might harbour, till some happier time.

118

471

And so I left the Land, and tooke the Seas.
But Sea and Land conspir'd vnto my taking,
For neither plaints, nor prayers could appease
the winds, & waues, wch far'd, as they were making
Sharp war betwixt themselues: whilst I stood quaking
For feare least I the subiect of their strife,
Should end their warre, by ending of my life.

472

And yet, thrice happie had poore Edward bin,
If Death had ended then his weary dayes.
For cast on Shoare in Wales: I liu'd vnseene
In path-lesse woods, and vnfrequented wayes
With those few friends, whom whilome I did raise
Balduck, Reading, young Spencer, and no more.
Who in my fall, their ruine did deplore.

473

Of all the swarmes, that followed Kingly Raigne,
Of all the friends that faw'nd on awfull pride,
Loe, onely this poore Remnant did remaine,
Whose fortunes glew'd to mine, made thē t'abide,
A true-loue knot, with sad affliction ty'd.
For wretched men Compassionate each other,
And kind Compassion is affections mother.

474

O see, what quick-sands Honour treads vpon?
How Icie is the way, that Greatnes goes?
A mighty Monarch late Attended-on
With supple hammes, smooth browes, submissiue showes,
For many followers, now hath many foes.
For fawning friends, from falling fortunes runne
As Persians vs'd to Curse the setting Sunne.

119

475

When Joue had made the chiefe of all his Creatures
VVhich wee call Man: (A little world indeed)
The Gods did praise his well proportion'd features
Each in their functions seruing others need.
But prying Momus taking better heed
Obseru'd at last one Errour in his Art;
Because hee made no windowes in mans heart.

476

O that the glorious Architect of man
Had made transparent Glasses in his brest,
VVhat place should bee for Politicians then?
How should dissembling grow in such request?
And machiauillian Athiesme prosper best.
But temporising is the way to Clime,
There is no musicke without keeping time.

477

I shall not doe amisse, If now I sing
Those heauie Anthemes our sad Consort made,
VVhilst they did warble to their wretched King,
(As wee did Sorrowing sit in silent shade)
The Sodaine downfall, Reeling Greatnesse had.
Balduck (quoth I) out of Philosophie,
Distill some medicine for our Miserie.

478

Deare Prince (quoth he) whom late our Eyes beheld
In greatest Glory, that the world could see.
VVhilst thou with awfull Maiestie did'st weild
The publike State, let It no wonder bee,
If some few Starres proue opposite to thee.
Since in their fauour none so firmely stood,
But they haue giu'n them griefe, as well as good.

120

479

Doe but obserue the Fauorite of Chance.
Her chiefest Minion, highest in her Grace,
Philips great

Alexander.

Sonne, whom she did so aduance.
Who did subdue the East in little space.
Vnto whose Armes th' Amazed world gaue place.
Whose Actions are the subiect of all Stories,
Hee poys'ned dyes amidst a world of glories.

480

I list not wade in telling tragicke Tales
Sufficeth this: All greatnesse is vnsure.
“Stormes rage more fiercely on the hils, thē dales.
“Shrubs better then high Cedars windes indure.
“Those Colours soonest staine, that are most pure.
“O let him graspe the Clouds and span the sky.
“That can assure himselfe felicitie.

481

In all, that this same massie world doth hold
There is a certaine mixture to bee found
Eyther of dry, or moyst, or hot, or cold.
Of which, If any One too much abound
The body so affected proues vnsound.
But being kept in just proportion
They doe maintaine a healthfull vnion.

482

So fares It in our fortunes, and our State,
Nothing is simply sweet, or simply sower.
Our weale is mixt with woe, our loue with hate,
Our hope with feare, & weaknes wth our power,
“Bright Moones breed mists, ye Sunshine morne a shower.
And as there is an Autumne, & a Spring.
So change by course is seene in euery thing.

121

483

The wind that's now at South, will change to Nore,
The greenest grasse will turne to withered Hay,
The Seas both ebbe and flow at euery shore.
The Moone doth wax and waine, yet not decay,
Day drawes on night, & night drawes on the day.
Our selues once babes, now men, now old, streight none,
Doe plainely proue a change in euery-one.

484

Wise Politicians, and deepe-sighted Sages
That haue discourst of Common-wealths with Care,
Both of our time, and of precedent Ages,
Obserue in them a birth, when first they are,
A growth, which oft extendeth very farre.
A state, wherein they stand, and change withall,
And then at last, A finall fatall fall.

485

Rome had her being first from Romulus,
Her growth, from Consuls, that were annuall.
Her State most flourish'd in Octauius.
Many Conuersions, Three most principall,
From Kings to Consuls, Last Emperiall.
And (O) who sees not she is ruined,
And in her ruines now lyes buried?

486

The greatest, and best grounded Monarchie
Hath had a Period, and an overthrow.
“There is no Constant perpetuitie
“The streame of things is carried to and fro,
“And doth in euer-running Channels goe.
If then great Empires are to changes bending
What weaker States are warranted frō ending?

122

487

Ruines of Kingdomes, and their fatall harmes
From one of these same causes doe arise.
From Ciuill furie, or from forreigne Armes
Or from some plague doom'd frō the angry skyes,
Or worne by wasting time dissolued dyes.
For as the fruit once ripe falls from the Tree.
So Common-wealths by Age subuerted bee.

488

If these be Rockes that shipwracke Monarchies,
Are priuate States exempted from the same?
Where liues the man hath such Immunities?
'Tis hard to scape vnscorch'd in Common flame,
Or parts to stand, when ruin'd is the frame.
Those publike harmes that Empires doe decay
In priuate states doe beare a greater sway.

489

Fiue hundred yeeres some that are curious wise,
Would haue the Period of a publike State.
And they appoint for priuate families
Some Six, or Seu'n discents the vtmost date,
I dare not so precisely Calculate.
But without doubt there is a fixed Time,
In wch all States haue both their Eu'n & Prime.

490

Let these be motiues (O dejected great-One)
To calme the Tempest of thy stormie Care,
And though I must confesse it well may fret-one,
Thy past and present fortunes to compare;
Yet, since in all things changes common are.
Thinke Ebb'd estates may flow, & think withal,
What happ's to One, to every-one may fall.

123

491

Thus Balducke ceas'd, and Reading thus begun
(But first his eyes dew'd downe a weeping raine)
O thou (once glorious now Eclipsed) Sun
Now thou art clouded, yet maist cleare againe,
With Courage therfore hopefull thoughts retaine.
For oft those winds ye draw the Clouds together,
By their disperse occasions fairer weather.

492

But I intend no Comment on this Text,
Nor will I harrow that which he did sow;
What I apply to thy sad Soule perplext
With those dismayes that from thy Fortunes flow,
Out of th' assured grounds of truth doth grow.
Then make good vse thereof, and learne thereby
This Soueraigne Salue for thy sad melodie

493

All things, that boundlesse thought can once conceiue,
Sacred, prophane, of Elements compos'd,
Vnbodied Spirits, or what else doth receiue
A being: when, or where, or how dispos'd,
Within one Triple Circle are inclos'd.
Being Eternall, or perpetuall,
Or else indeed but meerely Temporall.

494

That is Eternall, which did not begin
Nor euer ends: and onely God is so,
“Who hath for euer, and from euer bin,
“VVhō no place circumscribes, nor times forego
“Nor limits bound, nor thoughts can fully know.
“VVhom we so much the more ought to admire
“How much the lesse to knowledge we aspire.

124

495

That is perpetuall, which in time began,
But neuer any time shall end againe.
Such are the Angels, such the Soule of man,
Such are those Spirits, that liue in restlesse paine
Rebellious Spirits, against their Soveraigne.
All these were form'd, as pleas'd the makers wil,
Once to begin, but to continue still.

496

Lastly, those things are counted Temporall,
Which hath beginnings, and shall haue their ends,
And in that ranke, the world it selfe shall fall.
So honour, riches, strength, Allyes and friends,
All which by Nature to corruption bends.
And in this sence, 'Tis true Philosophie,
“What doth begin, shall end most certainely.

497

And therefore make not things so weake & vaine
To be thy God, as if they were Eternall,
Nay, doe not prize them, as an equall gaine
Vnto thy Soule, which Is perpetuall,
But hold them, as they are but Temporall
And since their Nature is, to cease to bee,
Thinke, they obserue but their due course with thee.

498

The spacious world Is Fortunes Tennis-Court,
Men are the Balles, which with her Racket (Time)
Shee tosses too and fro, for his disport,
Some times aboue, some times beneath the line,
Now bounding, streight strucke dead, but yet in fine,
All goe into the hazard, that's the graue,
And they once gone, she other balles must haue.

125

499

Now we are those, with whom she playes her set,
And she doth ply vs with hard stroakes amaine,
Yet thereby may we this advantage get,
Not to depend on her, that is so vaine
Whose fauour, soone is wonne, soone lost againe.
Then let vs not fix our affections here,
But let our hopes moue in a higher Spheare.

500

So silenc'st he: and then spake Spencer so,
To my discourse (deare Prince) vouchsafe thine Eares,
And since we all doe share alike in woe,
Let me haue leaue, to tune my voice like theirs.
“Vnited forces greater vertue beares,
And all of vs leuell our Aymes at this,
To make thee thinke the world, but as It is.

501

Which (O) that our experience prou'd not true,
Would we did sit vpon the quiet strand,
And thence behold the wracke like to ensue,
And pittie others, we secure on Land;
But now our states in doubtfull hazard stand
Succeeding Ages in our fall may read,
“How all things hang but by a slender thread.

502

Such in the sad condition of each state
Annexed to It, by Eternall doome,
Which is enrolled in the booke of Fate,
From whence, our least occurrents here doe come
That happen from the Cradle, to the Tombe.
For though our fortunes seeme but Casuall,
The finger of the highest is in all.

102

503

And 'tis a worke of his All-guiding will,
Whose boundles knowledge sees what is the best,
In our whole life to mingle good with Ill,
Contents with crosses, quiet with vnrest,
Least we should hold the world in such request.
That for the same, we should abandon Heau'n
And sowre our selues, with too much earthly Leau'n.

504

For who sees not, how much the world bewitches?
Who feeles not, how the flesh is apt to yield?
Especially, made insolent with riches,
How hard It is Prosperitie to weild?
How proudly fighteth Sinne with such a shield?
When lustfull ease, hot wines, and stirring fare
Are Satans baites, to draw vs to his snare.

505

We may eu'n of our selues an instance make,
When did we entertaine such thoughts as these?
Oh, when did we this Theame for Subiect take?
When sinne begot with greatnes, nurst with ease,
Confirm'd with vse, did seeke all meanes to please.
The present humour, that did most delight,
And fram'd our minds according to our might.

506

But now afflicting sorrow doth assaile vs,
We tune our Consort to another key;
We change our minds, because our means doe faile vs.
And those lewd motiues being remou'd away
Which did induce vs so to run astray.
We now recall our wandring thoughts againe,
And from our troubles take our truest Ayme.

127

507

O sad afliction, though thou seem'st severe,
Yet often-times thou draw'st vs vnto God,
“Who strikes, for to instruct, & Clouds, to cleare.
“So doth the tender father vse the rod
“So bitterest hearbes in medicines oft are sod.
Of easie Reynes who doth no reck'ning make,
Must needs be ridden with a rougher brake.

508

We were too full of rust, and sinfull soyle,
VVhich like a Canker eates into the Soule,
Our gracious God is pleas'd to vse this file
To take that rust off, that did make vs foule,
And since his Actions are without Controule.
Let's meet his blessed will without submission,
For he knowes best, what's best for our conditiō.

509

If thus thou do'st account, thou reck'nest eu'n.
And thou shalt sum thy Sorrowes with delight.
“God strikes on earth, that he may stroake in heau'n,
“He giues a Talent, whē he takes a mite.
And least thy Soule should liue in endlesse night,
He sends his Herauld onely to this end,
That thou maist be his follower: He thy friend.

510

He ceas'd: I said: Spencer I find It true,
Eu'n from my selfe I can the proofe deriue,
“Calamitie doth fashion vs anew,
“Remorcefull griefe, into the Soule doth diue
“And sorrow makes repētant thoughts to thriue.
“But full-fed men, and fortunes soaring high,
“Care neither how to liue, nor how to dye.

128

511

I must confesse the truth: The time hath bin
Whil'st my sweet-canded Fortune lasted still,
I neuer thought on things, that were vnseene,
I onely was obsequious to my will,
My sense my God: whose lusts I did fulfill.
And my deluded Soule did place it's good,
Onely in that, that pleas'd my wanton blood.

512

How often did I plot Impietie?
And fashion It, vpon my sinfull bed,
Still hunting after fresh varietie.
Longing to act, what was in fancie bred,
How much were all occasions welcommed?
By which, I might adde heate vnto my fire,
And still new formes, were fram'd by new desire.

413

And that, I might doe Ill without Controule,
Without all checke, or touch of Conscience,
How often did I say vnto my Soule?
Injoy a present good: Be rul'd by sence;
Not by opinion, or conceit, from whence
Some curious braines haue forg'd strange Nouelties,
But be thou wise, and follow realties.

514

But Spencer, now I find, I was a foole,
And like Jxion did a cloud Imbrace.
Calamitie hath set mee to a Schoole
Where (though I feele more griefe) I find more grace.
And now I see, how wretched was my case.
Whil'st being bewitch'd with false felicitie,
I thought Religion but meere policie.

129

515

But now my Soule groanes with the weight of sin,
And I lye prostrate at my Makers feet.
I doe confesse, how sottish I haue bin,
How my distast hath taken sower for sweet,
I find a God, whose Iudgements now I meet.
Damn'd Atheist, thou that say'st, There is no God
Thou wilt confesse one, whē thou feel'st his rod.

516

Let Pharoh liue at rest, and he will wage
VVar against heau'n: and aske who Is the Lord.
Nay more, and more, the Tyrant still will rage,
Till God draw forth his sharpe auenging sword,
Till his just plagues no breathing time afford.
Then, I haue sinn'd, Pray for me, Let them goe.
And then, who God Is, Pharoh learnes to know.

517

So doth the Sharpest bryer beare sweetest Rose,
And bittrest Potions purge the body best,
How woundrously doth God his workes dispose
That eu'n by Crosses he can make vs blest?
And hatch our chiefest joy in sorrowes nest,
Then let vs not repine against his doome,
But weaue our web, as he hath warp'd our loome.

518

And Reading, of the world thou read'st aright.
It is indeed, but meerely temporall,
And those deare pleasures, wherein men delight,
Friends, honours, riches, all are Casuall,
And as they haue their honny, so their gall.
There's nothing certaine in the world but this,
“That euery worldly thing vncertaine Is.

130

519

Whom Rosie Phœbus rising in the East
Hath seene aloft in glory and renowne,
Before he tooke his lodging in the West,
Hath often seene as low dejected downe,
That man, that in the morning wore the Crown.
Had not er'e night, nor Crown nor head to weare,
So full of frailties are our fortunes here.

520

These were our parlies as we sate alone,
These tearefull Tributes duely were defraid,
Now did we walke, and weepe, now sit, & groane
Till faithlesse Welch me (friendles wretch) betrays
Vnto their hands, who streight, waies me conueys
To Kennelworth, where I imprison'd lay,
And neuer after saw one happy day.

521

The proofe whereof we doe not onely see,
But by a selfe experience we doe feele,
Others to vs haue taught, others shall bee
Inform'd by vs? how that part of the wheele
That's now aloft, doth streight wayes downward reele.
And never rests at any certaine stay,
But vp and downe weares out a wearie way.

522

The Spencers both the Father, and the Sonne
Discended of an ancient worthy race,
By whose directions all designes were done,
And nothing past with-out their speciall grace,
They were so great in power, so high in place.
Both dy'd such wretched deaths, as men may say,
A gloomie night shut vp a glorious day.

131

523

To vse the French-mans phrase, vnder an Oake
They both of them at seuerall times did dye,
Their Bodies quartered by the Hangmans stroake,
Their Heads cut off, were placed very high;
As Spectacles, for euery enuious Eye.
Which done, sayes form of Law by lawlesse will,
Though they deseru'd It, was vnjust and Ill.

524

The Sonne (Glosters proud Earle) so great before,
Had a white Paper fix'd vpon his head.
Wherein (both to disgrace and grieue him more)
In

Quid glorioris potens in malitia tua.

Capitall letters were Caractred
Those words, that in one of the Psalmes are read;
For so the two and fiftieth doth begin,
Thou Mightie Man, why do'st thou boast in Sinne?

525

Vnhappie Lord, It was enough to dye,
It was too much, to dye with scorne and shame.
“Men should not trample vpon miserie,
“Since euery Mothers Sonne may share the same,
I know he was in many things too blame.
Proud, griping, cruell, Well: Say what you can,
Yet giue me leaue to say: Hee was a man.

526

I write not Idly, doe not read mee so;
I pray obserue, vpon what slipperie way,
“Greatnes, (that is too great) doth euer goe
“How apt It is to catch a fall, and they
“That so doe slip, how readily they may
“Breake their own necks: without especiall grace,
“They fall not soft, that fall from an high place.

132

527

Besides, who will obserue Course of things
From Conquering Williams Raigne, til this our age,
Shall find, how those great Fauorites of Kings
1 Haue by themselues bin brought to tragicke stage
2 Or prou'd vnprosperous by the vulgar rage
3 Or weeded vp by him that next succeeds,
Such dangerous humours swelling greatnesse breeds.

528

Thou shalt not need, to trauaile very farre
To fetch in matter, to informe thy mind.
Of which, our Stories true relaters are,
Studie but them, Thou shalt not faile to find
Particuler Examples, in each kind.
I am, but as an Index to a Booke
To point thee too't: Turne thou the leaues and looke.

529

Aske Wolsey, Aske Lord Cromwell, Both will say
That Princes Minions doe but hold at will.
That, fauours neuer were Free holds, but they
Are soone transferr'd from one t'another still;
That, as the wind doth change, So must the Mill.
Bee turn'd about, and euery-one doth know,
“Winds doe not alwayes in one quarter blow.

530

Empson, and Dudley flourish'd very faire,
And mightie were, during seuenth Henries raigne;
But he being dead, his next succeeding Heire
Did cut them downe, and they did fall againe.
They had their waxing, and they had their wane.
And for the vulgar rage, who doth not know,
How many mightie men haue perish'd so.

133

531

I was my selfe depos'd by Parliament
From Princely rule, as one not fit to raigne
Both Peeres, and people, all did giue consent,
That I vnking'd in durance should remaine,
And sent their Agents to me, to explaine
That if I would not to my Sonne resigne,
They'd chuse a Prince out of some other Line.

532

O Englands Peeres, weigh what you take in hand,
Looke but with Iudgement, into your designe,
That wch you now attempt, will wracke the Land
The wounds whereof, will bleed in after-time,
And Babes vnborne, will Curse your hatefull crime.
For what so doth peruert the course of things
Wrath, Enuie, death, and desolation brings.

533

There is a lawfull, and a certaine right,
Which alwayes must be kept Inuiolate.
And being infring'd by practise, or by might,
Drawes fearfull Iudgements downe vpon a State.
Then you, or yours will wish (although too late)
That I had kept my rightfull Int'rest still,
And you had not bin Agents in this Ill.

534

When your owne children shall each other wound
And with accursed hands gore eythers brest;
When Ciuill furie shall your state confound,
Then will you say; His Ghost is not at rest
His, whom vnjustly we haue dispossest.
The second Edwards: for whose Sacrifice
Your Nephews then shall pay a bloudie price.

134

535

Neuer (O neuer) was the rightfull Course
Of this our Crowne peruerted, or supprest.
But still the same hath bin the fatall source
Of many mischiefes, and of much vnrest.
And as the Land hath bin therewith opprest
So the vsurpers neuer kept it long
In any quiet, what they got with wrong.

536

William who with his sword did get the Crowne,
Winning by Conquest, what he kept with Care
(The true & lawfull heire being shouldred down)
Like a wood-Lyon (His owne word) did fare
Against the English, whom he did not spare
Or young, or old, that were of worth, and place.
And for the rest, He yoak'd with bondage base.

537

And as he toyl'd the Land, with his vnrest,
So tasted hee his share of miserie.
Robert rebels: a Byrd of his owne nest,
The Normans breake forth into mutinie,
Th' opressed English hatch conspiracie.
Alwayes in Forreigne broyles, or Ciuill strife,
And so wastes forth a wretched wearie life.

538

Nay Death, the Period-maker of all moane
Eu'n against Nature, followes him with spight,
The mightie Prince of thousands waited-on
Being dead, Is left alone forsaken quite,
No Sonne, no friend, to doe him his last right.
None, that vouchsaf'd to giue him buriall,
But vnregarded lay, despis'd of all.

135

539

Nay more, The ground where he should be Inter'd
Anselme Fitz-Arthur (his dead bones to spight)
Claim'd as his owne, (A thing not euer heard)
And for the Prince (there dead) by lawlesse might
Had worm'd him out of that, which was his right.
On Gods behalfe, He did forbid them all
Within his Earth, to giue him buriall.

540

Nor would he cease the challenge he had made,
Nor yet, durst they interre his Corpes therein,
Vntill a summe of mony was defray'd
With which, they pay'd a ransome for his sinne
So much a doe had this great Prince to winne
That which none doth the poorest wretch deny.
A bed of peace, where his dead bones might lye.

541

Nor was the streame of miserie thus stay'd,
The date of our Affliction lasted still.
There is not yet, sufficient ransome pay'd,
The Ill-got Scepter, must be sway'd as Ill,
Rufus succeeds, and still more bloud doth spill.
Still hauocks more, and still doth Tyrannize,
Vntill by sodaine violence, he dyes.

542

Nor did the Crowne stand well on any head,
Till

Henry, I.

Ben. Clarke got the Scepter in his hand,
Who to the Saxon Maude being married.
Some beames of cōfort cheer'd the drooping Land,
And then our State in peacefull tearmes did stand.
Till Henry dy'd: and Steephen vnjustly got,
The Crowne, and set new troubles here on foot.

136

543

Then burst there forth, an all-consuming flame,
The Empresse Maude sought to require her right.
Steephen had the Crowne, and he would keepe the same;
Vntill She could recouer It by fight.
Then followed all the hostile Acts of spight.
Sword, fire, Rapes, murders, leaguers, wast and wrack.
And nothing of extreamest Ills did lacke.

544

So hath vnjust Succession scourg'd this Realme
At length Steephen dyes, after a wretched Raigne
Then Second Henry weares the Diadem,
In whom, the rightfull Title did remaine,
And then our state did happy fortunes gaine.
Then did our strength encrease, our bounds extend;
And many nations to our yoake did bend.

545

And Richard his braue Sonne did next succeed
In a just Course, and all things prosper'd well.
In Siria hee did many a worthy deed,
The Easterne world of his exploits can tell,
And many thousand miscreants sent to Hell,
By his vnconquered Armes: haue prou'd long since
That Cure-De Lyon was a peerlesse Prince.

546

He dead, young Arthur should haue had ye Crown,
The Sonne of Jeffrey, who was Henries Sonne
Had not King John his Vnckle put him downe,
Who being hauld on by Ambition
Diuerts the Course of true succession.
Makes himselfe King vsurpes the Princes name,
And murthers Arthur, to secure the same.

137

547

And now (O now) begins our Tragedie,
VVhere Death and horrour onely Actors are.
Iohn gouernes (as hee got) preposterously
And doth both with his Peeres, and Clergie jarre.
Then Ianus sets wide-ope the gates of warre.
And then the Land with blood was ouerflowne,
And none could safely call his owne, his owne.

548

Then were the Cities sack'd, the fields lay'd wast,
The Virgins forc'd, the Marriage bed defil'd.
Then were the auncient Monuments defac'd.
The Portes vntraffick'd landed vp, and spoyl'd.
Eu'n God himselfe seem'd hence to bee exil'd.
The land was Curs'd, all Sacred rights were bard
And Six yeeres space, no publike prayers were heard.

549

Then did the King lease forth the Realme to Rome.
Then did the Peeres to France betray the Crowne.
O heau'ns great King, how fearefull is thy doome?
How many mighty Plagues canst thou powre downe
Vpon a Nation, If thou please to frowne.
Arthur, It was the wrong done thee of late,
That made just Heau'n so to afflict our State.

550

But yet, might not his death that did the deed,
Bee a Peace-offring to redeeme the Sinne?
Why should the Land of ye one wound still bleed?
Or wherefore dy'd not his offence with him?
Was not the measure heap'd-vp to the brim
Both of the Ills hee suffred, and had done,
But that the guilt must prosecute the Sonne?

138

551

O no: Although third Henry was the man
In whom, The lawfull Title was Inuested
(For Arthur dead, the right was then in John
And Iohn decea'sd, the same in Henry rested)
Yet, that the world should see, how God detested
Such wrongfull meanes, Acts so vniustly done,
The Fathers whip is made to lash the Sonne.

552

For still did Ciuill furie wound the state
During the time of Henries pupillage,
And still the Peeres swolne with Intestine hate
Against theyr harmelesse Prince, being vnder age
Cōbine themselues wth France: & whē that rage
Was spent, the Barons-warre brake forth againe,
So full of troubles was third Henries raigne.

553

Hee dead, my Father Long-shankes then did raigne,
And in due Course succeeded next his Sire;
Then all afflictions did begin to waine,
And England did to peace and wealth aspire.
Nor did the streame of blisse flow euer higher:
Then when first Edward managed the State,
Prudent in Peace, and in warres fortunate.

554

That Noble Prince to mee my birth did giue,
Whom I succeeded in a rightfull line.
You all haue sworne Allegiance whilst I liue,
And will you now inforce mee to resigne?
Will you againe with wicked hands vntwine
That Sacred chayne, whereon depends our good,
And drowne this Iland once againe in blood?

139

555

O, If you doe disorder thus the Crowne,
And turne the lawfull course another way.
If you vnjustly wring from mee mine owne,
You spinne a Thred, to worke our owne decay
And my propheticke Soule doth truely say
The time will come, when this vniust designe;
Will plague your selues, your sonnes, and mine owne line.

556

For from my Stocke two branches shall arise
From whom shall grow such great dis-union,
As many thousand liues shall not suffice
To re-unite them both againe in One,
England shall wast more deare blood of her owne,
Against her selfe, then would suffice t'obtaine
All France, and conquer Germany, and Spaine.

557

Thou wert too true a Prophet fatall King,
And thy Presages were too ominous.
From thee, and from thy worthy Sonne did spring
Those Families, that so afflicted vs;
For Yorke and Lancaster litigious
For the Crowne-right, did make the Sword their plea,
And so white Albion grew to be a red-Sea.

558

But when that men are bent to doe amisse,
Then all perswasions are but spent in vaine.
The Parliament was resolute in this
That I their King no longer should remaine.
Whereto If I oppos'd my selfe: 'Twas vaine.
They were resolu'd: And my peruersnes might
Make them perhaps to doe my Son lesse right.

140

559

Which when I heard, thinke how my soule did war
Within It selfe, which way I should incline.
Deare was my Sonne, my selfe was dearer farre,
By my Eclipse must I procure his shine?
Cannot hee raigne, vnlesse I now resigne?
My Father dy'd e're I could get the Crowne.
I liue: And yet my Sonne must put me downe.

560

My Sonne? (Alas poore Prince) It is not hee,
For many Wolues maske in that Lambes attire.
Proud Mortimer, 'Tis thou vncrownest mee.
Luxurious Queene. This is thy foule desire,
And moodie Tarleton (bellowes of this fire)
'Tis you that are the marrow of this sinne
My Sonne doth serue, but for the outward skin.

561

You are the wheeles that make this Clock to strike
My fatall hower; The last of all my good,
For this is not the height of your dislike.
“Death is the fruit, when Treason is the bud,
“Such practices doe alwayes end in blood.
“Whē others stumble, Kings fall headlong down
“There is no meane betwixt a Graue & Crown.

562

“For this is certaine: Sinne doth alwayes find
“Within It selfe sufficient cause of feare.
“'Tis dangerous, to trust a guiltie mind.
“The Creditor remou'd, the debt's thought cleare
“Men hate whō they haue wrong'd, & hating feare
“And fearing will not cease, till they haue prou'd
“All meanes, by which the cause may be remou'd.

141

563

Therefore, would I might leade a priuate life
In some sequestred place, which none might see.
Where I may seeke, to reconcile the strife
That Sinne hath made, betwixt my God, and mee.
For if the ransome of my Crowne might free
My life from slaughter, little would I grieue,
“There's none so wretched but desires to liue.

564

And yet why should I loose or life or Crowne?
Are liues, or Crownes so light and easie losses?
'Tis vaine to aske, why fortune list to frowne,
Or to dispute the causes of our Crosses.
When Ships at Sea, stormes winds and billowes tosses
It boots not ask, why winds and stormes should rise,
“All-ruling heau'n respects not humaine whyes?

565

Cato would know a reason of the Gods
Why Pompey should by Cæsar vanquish'd bee?
Whose cause was better (as he thought) by oddes.
Cato, thou seest Euents, thou canst not see
Their causes: They are kept reseru'd from thee,
In Gods close Cabinet, being safely layd;
And hee must not bee question'd, but obey'd.

566

The stately Steed that champs the steely bit,
And proudly seemes to menace friend and foe,
Doth fling, and foame, and boundeth oft, and yet
Poore beast perforce hee is inforc'd to goe.
Eu'n so far'd I: and since It must bee so,
As good the same should seeme to come from me,
'Twas best to will, what gainst my will would be.

142

567

And so I made a solemne resignation
Of all my right and Title to my Sonne,
And therewithall an earnest Protestation
(Which was with sighes, & weeping teares begun)
How much I grieu'd, that I had so misdone,
As to procure thereby my Peoples hate,
And so bee thought vnworthy of the State.

568

Which since I was, I willingly would giue
Vnto my Sonne my throne of Maiestie;
Desiring them, to giue mee leaue to Liue,
And not too much tread on my miserie:
For I had once their Faith, and fealtie.
Which, though I now discharg'd & set them free,
Though not obey, yet should they pitie mee.

569

The Crowne had often made my head to Ake,
And I pray'd God, my Sonne felt not the same.
Whom they should not lesse value for my sake,
Since by his vertue hee might salue my shame.
And well I hop'd, my President would tame
All youthfull humours, which are easily led
Vnto those courses which Confusion bred.

570

And here, (though griefe my sences did o'rewhelm
And I did swoune, e're formes could finished bee)
Yet

Speaker of the Parliament.

Thomas Trussell Knight for all the Realme
Did then renounce Allegiance vnto mee
And of all Faith and Seruice set men free.
My Steward brake his staffe: my State before
Was now discharg'd, and I was King no more.

143

571

Marke what pretences wrong can make of right,
How loath men seeme 'gainst Iustice to offend.
O Sacred vertue! Thou art full of might,
When eu'n thy foes thy Title will pretend,
As if thy onely shadow could amend
All Impious Acts: But now 'tis growne an vse
Thou must bee made a Bawd vnto abuse.

572

Well, well wise Politickes! With formall shewes
Your lawlesse Actions you haue gilded ouer.
And now the streame in a smooth channell goes.
My resignation now doth fairely Couer
Your foule Abuse: But Time will truth discouer.
That's current now, that will not alwayes goe,
“Formes serue for men: God Is not serued so.

573

Your hands can not wipe off the holy-Oyle
Which hee hath layd on Kingly Maiestie.
Nor your deuices wash away the soyle
From your owne Soules of wilfull Periurie
To God: To mee of Infidelitie.
Vse all your Art, you neuer can get free
From that just Oath, you gaue to God, and mee.

574

When I had thus departed from my Crowne,
I did bewayle the wayning of my State.
Poore Prince (sayd I) how low art thou cast down
From that high Heau'n, wch thou inioy'dst of late?
Thou hast no prospect, but an Iron-grate.
Thy costly Hangings, ragged walles of stone,
And all thy solace, solitarie moane.

144

575

Now of a Cushion thou must make a Crowne,
And play the mock-king with it on thy head.
And on the Earth (thy chaire of State) sit downe,
And why not so? Since thou art Earthly bred.
But for a Scepter how wilt thou bee sped?
Why, take a brand, and shake it in thy hand,
And now, thou art a King of high Command.

576

All guiding Heau'n what change doe I indure?
Once wealth at will: But wealthy now in want.
Then men my pleasure, now my paine procure.
Then sumptuous houses, now one Chamber scant.
Then thoughts of rest, now restlesse thought doth plant
The sad remembrance of my wretched fate,
What now I am, and what I was of late.

577

Mee thinkes, the Birds vpbraid me in their songs
And earely sing my shame in euery place.
Me thinks, the waters murmure forth my wrongs,
And in their course discourse of my disgrace.
Me thinkes, the Sunne doth blush to see my face.
The whistling winds (me thinks) do witnes this,
“No griefe so great, as to haue liu'd in blisse.

578

When I complaine to Eccho of head-aking,
Shee sounds a King: And yet no King am I.
In silent night, when I my rest am taking,
I dreame of Kings, yet I vnking'd doth lye.
And till sweet sleepe seales-vp my weary Eye.
I cannot fixe my thought on any thing,
But tels mee straight; that once I was a King.

145

579

That once I was, (aye me) that now I am not,
And now I am not, would I had bin neuer.
Lesse feeles he want, that yet to plenty came not.
“To haue bin happie: Is vnhappy euer,
But to forget my selfe I will endeauour.
One of the Soules perfections, Memorie
Is vnto me a Cause of miserie.

580

Restlesse remembrance, how dost thou torment
The feeling Soule, with a sad apprehension
Of former pleasure, present discontent?
Of many wrongs in Act, more in Intention
And they without all compasse of preuention.
“It is some Comfort (though a wretched one)
“To know, Our sorrows are at their high-noone.

581

“But to feele miserie in a high degree,
(And sure, I am not sencelesse of my smart)
“Yet still to feare, that It will worser be,
“Is a most eating Corr'siue to the heart.
But (O) my thoughts why doe you beare a part
In these sad dumpes: This plain-song only sing,
I was not borne, nor shall I dye a King.

582

So when the tempest of my stormie passion
(Wch at the first, wrought strongly on my sence)
Was somewhat calm'd, then I in better fashion
Began to sift the mouing Causes, whence
My great disasters did at first Commence.
And after such a serious scrutinie,
I found, That Sinne had caus'd my miserie.

146

583

I did forget my duty to my God,
My Subjects they neglected theirs to mee.
It was high time for him to vse the rod,
And lash me mee foundly: When that he did see
How milder med'cines could not worke on me.
“When the still-growing Gangreane hazards life,
“The skilfull Surgeon needs must vse the knife.

584

I writ awry, and God hath rul'd me thus
With his blacke-lead, to make my lines more streight,
“It is a Iustice sweet and gracious,
“To make a daring Sinner feele the weight
“Of his owne sinnes; and so vnload the freight
Wherewith the burd'ned Soule, did sinke before
“The more we feele, humbled we are the more.

585

And God is gracious, when by punishments
Hee makes the Sinner see his woefull case
Who vpon sight and sence thereof, repents;
Humbling himselfe before th' Almighties face,
And that makes way vnto ensuing grace:
For then doth Chsist that good Samaritan
Powre Wine and Oyle into the wounded Man.

586

When the sear'd Soule (that feeles no smart at all,
But is by pleasure nusled in its Ill)
Doth still remaine a poore Captiued Thrall
To Sinne, and Satan: Who commands him still
Both in his vnderstanding, and his will.
Till at the last comes death, and rings his knell;
Who liuing feares not, dying findeth Hell.

147

587

This I know true, by selfe-experience;
For being thus mur'd vp in miserie.
I then began to haue a feeling sence
Of mine owne Sinnes: which blinded libertie
Kept from my sight: Or did so qualifie,
That I did hold my selfe in best estate,
When my condition was most desperate.

588

But seeing now my danger: I began
To cast about, how to preuent the Ill.
I found, there was nor helpe nor hope, in man;
For they that wrong'd me now, would wrong me still,
And they had able means to work their will.
At last I found a Supreame Dietie,
Who could or mend, or end my miserie.

589

O then my Soule, aduance thy thoughts to heau'n.
If there be hope of helpe, there It doth rest,
And onely by that hand it must be giu'n
That festred sore, that matters in thy brest?
That worme with-in thee, will not let thee rest.
Till thy Repentance, makes thy peace with God
And thou canst blesse his hand, and kisse his Rod.

590

Heau'n-seeking Soule, (whoeuer that thou bee)
Let me acquaint thee with one meditation.
Which was like Ajax's buckler vnto me
A seu'n-fold shield, temp'red in such a fashion
As did abate the Edge of all temptation.
And this It was: As I sate musing long,
My hart grew hot, and I spake with my tongue.

148

591

Number the Moates, that in the Sun-beames fly.
Number the Sand, vpon the beachy shore.
Number the sparkling Diamonds of the sky.
But number not my sins: for they are more,
Yet joyne in one, Moates, Sands, Starres, Sins, All foure.
Nay, be they many more, then all these are.
The mercies of my God are more by farre.

592

And mine he is: and all those mercies mine,
Not by deseruing worth, that is in me;
But by that Int'rest, which is truely thine
(O blessed Iesvs) and transferr'd from thee
To mee most sinfull wretch: So mine they bee.
So God is mine: And this I fully know,
Because my blessed Iesvs makes him so.

593

But how comes Iesvs to be thine? By faith,
Which Apprehends him, and applyes him too.
That may be false: O no: The Spirit saith
(The Sacred Spirit) That all which he did doe
Whil'st he did liue, And all he suffer'd too
By his free Grace doth vnto me pertaine,
Nay, Is made truely mine: And ther's my claime.

594

Thy Claime is grounded on a weake foundation,
What if that Spirit doth informe a Lye.
Then wher's thy strange presumptiō of Saluation?
O no: It is Gods Spirit certainly.
And hee's a God of truth, and veritie.
How know'st thou this? Because his motions tend
To make me good and happie at my end.

149

595

Because he makes me see my owne demerit,
And what is Iustly due to me by right,
And then hee Comes, and like a blessed Spirit
Presents my gracious Sauiour to my sight,
Makes me lay hold on Christ, with all my might.
And tender him vnto the God of heau'n
To cleare my score, & make our reck'nings eu'n.

596

In these good thoughts, I spent my best of Time,
My Cosin

Henry Earle of Lecester kept him at Kenelworth.

Leicester well respecting me,
Which to my foes did seeme a heinous Crime.
Who after Consultation did agree,
Some lesse Indulgent should my keepers bee.
And Gurney, and

Tho. Gurney, Iob. Maltrevers, Knights.

Maltrevers chosen were,
To rid me of my life, them of their feare.

597

They that haue Eares to heare of my extreames,
And feeling hearts, to comprehend my woes.
And yet haue Eyes as dry as Sunny beames,
Whence no moyst Teares (poore Pitties tribute) flowes.
Within such minds whole mines of marble growes
Flint-hearted men that pittie not my moane,
Some Gorgons head, hath turn'd your hearts to stone.

598

And what haue I to doe with stonie hearts?
With men of marble, what haue I to doe?
I take no pleasure in Pigmalions Arts,
I would not worke on stone, or marble wooe
Hee lou'd his stony-maide, and had her too.
She was transform'd at his incessant moane,
So were my foes, but chang'd from men to stone.

150

599

And would to God, I had beene chang'd like thē,
Then without sence, I should haue borne my pain.
“And sencelesse haplesse are halfe-happie men,
“who feele no grief, what need they much cōplain,
But I was touch'd, being strucke in euery veine.
That my extreames, to their desires might bring
The fatall Period, whence their feares did spring.

600

And first, They hurried me from place to place,
That none might haue Intelligence of me.
They clothed me with garments vile and base,
Vnlike my selfe, that I vnknowne might bee,
And least, I should the chearefull day-light see.
I still remou'd, when Sol his course had run,
My day was night, & Moone-shine was my Sun.

601

I did lament, that woes to words might yield,
And said: Faire Cynthia with whose bright some shine
This sable-night doth beate a siluer shield.
Yet thou art gracious to these griefes of mine.
That wth thy light do'st cheare my weeping Eyne.
Thou borrowest light, to lend the same to me,
I lighten those, that my Eclipsers bee.

602

The glorious Sunne (thy Brother) lends thee light,
My Sonne makes me obscure, vnlike to thee.
Endimions loue, thou did'st with loue requite.
My loue distresseth, and disdaineth me;
Yet both too like in often changing bee.
O no, for thou being wan'd, dost wax againe,
But still her loue continues in the wayne.

151

603

Some doe ascribe the Oceans ebbs and flowes
Vnto thy Influence, working in the same.
I wot not that, but this poore Edward knowes,
Men ebbe and flow, as Fortune list to frame;
Whose smiles, or frownes doe make or marre our game.
Then since we all must stoope vnto her lure,
When shee is false, how may our states be sure.

604

But cease (faire Phœbe) cease thy beautious shine,
Spend not thy rayes on such a wretch, as I;
'Gainst whō the very Heau'ns themselues repine,
Whose presence, All good-boading stars doe flye,
Then giue me leaue, that I obscure may dye.
And suffer me, vnsought, vnseene to goe;
“Some ease It is, not to be knowne in woe.

605

And that, the humid vapours of the night
Might be of force, to make weake nature faile
They made me ride cold, and bare-headed quite
To whom both hats & heads were wont to vaile,
Whil'st I with prosperous wind at will did sayle.
But now, I was reproach'd with hatefull Crimes,
O Times, O Men; O Change of men, and Times.

606

Thinke not, that I was Marble, not to haue
A sence of Ill, after a feeling fashion,
Which made me sometimes for to fret, and raue,
Sometimes to weepe, and humbly beg compassion,
As I was sway'd by variable passion.
Remembring what I was, some storms did passe,
And streight a calme, remembring what I was.

152

607

Traytors (quoth I) Why doe you vse me thus?
Know you not me? Forget you whom I am?
Was not great Long-shanks Father vnto vs?
I Kingly Edward, Second of that name?
Why kneele you not? Oft haue you done the same.
Why shold you not? since you are sworn to do It,
And by our birth-right wee are borne vnto It.

608

From forth the Loines of many Kings came I,
This head hath beene Impaled with a Crowne,
And will you now a simple Hat deny?
I'le be reueng'd: They doe not feare my frowne,
Too well, too well they know, my Sun is down.
My day is done, Now doth my night begin;
And Owles, not Eagles vse to flye therein.

609

I haue bin Grac'd, let me be gracious now,
I haue Commanded: Let me now request.
Your sometime. King hath humble knees to bow,
And weeping Eyes to craue some little rest;
Mans heart is flesh: He hath no flintie brest.
One

Plinius.

Aristomines had a hayrie heart
But you are stones: else would you rue my smart.

610

And that I might be wretched euery way,
That euery sence might haue his proper paine.
The Byrd, to whom Promethius was a prey.
The waking Serpent, that doth rest restraine,
Hunger I meane, did gnaw on me amaine
Hunger, which often forc'd me eate such food,
As weak'ned Nature, and corrupted blood.

153

611

I that Lucullus-like, was seru'd at will,
With whatsoeuer Sea, or Land affords,
Would now be glad of Crumes, to feed my fill,
Such want doth often follow wastfull boards,
Better the frugall fare of Rootes, and gourdes,
Which keepes the Soule and body both in health,
And God doth blesse wth great encrease of wealth.

612

Camelions feede vpon the peircing Ayre,
O that kind Nature, had but made mee such,
The Salamander doth It's strength repaire
Amid'st the fire, when It the flame doth touch,
Against whose happie state I did not grudge,
But onely wish'd my selfe, to haue like meanes
For hunger is th' Extreamest of Extreames,

613

I thought sometimes, to Eate my very flesh,
My brawn-lesse armes would do some little good,
But still my stomacke loathed such a messe,
And would not serue mee to digest my blood.
My teeth should rather teare the stones for food,
I'de soften them with teares, & ceaslesse moanes,
But stones were hard, and men more hard then stones,

614

And for to make me fret my selfe to death,
They crost, and thwarted me in euery thing,
Sweete-sugred words like to the Panthers breath,
You pleasing Tongues, whose Chimes so sweetly ring.
Where are you now? why sooth you not your King
Yea, so you will: But that is not my Case
And flatterers tune not to the meane, or base,

154

615

How deadly Is the venome of faire toungs?
Whose Nectar-tearms do seeme more smooth then oyle
And all the breath, that commeth from their lungs
Is sweet in shew, but full of gall, and guile.
Beleeue me, There's more danger in their smile
Then in their frowne: for seene is soone detected,
“But they hurt most, that are the least suspected.

616

O why are Princes like to brazen Pots
Which being great, are lifted by the Eares?
Little see they, their reaches, and their plots,
Whose tongus are tun'd to sooth them many yeres
Till turnes are seru'd: & then It streight appeares.
That Hony gone, the Combes are soone rejected,
And wanting meanes, the man is lesse respected.

617

May it please your Highnes: was my wonted stile:
Whose pleasure now is lesse esteem'd then mine:
Did I looke Cloudy? Who durst seeme to smile?
Or was I pleasant? Who durst then repine?
Spake I? Apolloes words were lesse diuine.
What e're I did, Applause grac'd every thing,
And this the cause: Because, I was a King.

618

But now the Spring-time of my Blisse is done,
Those Nightingales that did so sweetly sing
In this my winter, all are fled, and gone
Nay turn'd to Serpents, that both hisse and sting.
So Bels to Marriage-Feasts, and Burials ring.
A King: No King: Hap and mishap doth bring,
And none so haplesse, as a King, no King.

155

619

And that my words might vnrespected be,
And neither they, nor I regarded ought.
They gaue it out, my senses failed me,
And I was mad, and helpelesly distraught,
'Tis true, I haue beene mad, and dearely bought
My madnes: I was mad, when I did blot
My Soule with Sinne: When I my God forgot.

620

But now my sences are restor'd againe,
And I begin to see, how mad I was;
To put my trust, in things that are so vaine,
To change my heau'nly gold, for earthly glasse,
To dote on shadowes, letting substance passe,
And now my God hath purg'd that Lunacie.
With bitter Potions of Calamitie.

621

And (O) this sicknesse is too generall,
The world doth groane vnder this mad disease,
This franticke humour doth distract vs all,
We onely seeke the present sence to please,
And whil'st we liue, so we may float at ease.
We quite forget the place, where we must Land,
The Throne of Iudgment, where we al must stand.

622

Why should mankind, be so extreamely mad,
As for the short fruition of base pleasure,
(Which often Is repented, when 'tis had)
To loose a soule, more worth then worlds of treasure?
This is Indeed a madnes aboue measure.
Thus once I rau'd, and therefore now I rue,
Thus raue you now, and therefore so shall you.

156

623

And least my Torments should but seeme to cease
Or breath a while, They would not let mee rest,
Of quiet sleepe (The harbinger of peace
The Common Inne both vnto man and beast)
My weary Eyes could neuer bee possest,
My head waxt light, yet heauie was my heart;
Two Contraries, One Cause, but no desert.

624

I that had once so many Princly bowers,
And in the same, so many beds of state,
With sweete Perfumes, and beautious Paramours
And melodie, such as at Plutoes gate
Once Orpheus play'd, and all most delicate
To charme the sences, and bewitch the Soule,
Must now not sleepe one hower with-out Controule.

625

O Iustice! what a Tallie do'st thou keepe
Of all our sinnes, and how thou pay'st them right?
“Though God doth winke, yet doth he neuer sleep
“The Eye of heau'n sees in the darkest night.
My wast of Time in sleep (then thought but light)
Was chalked vp, and now hee payes the score
With want of that, which I abus'd before.

626

Fond men (quoth I) you haue in all bin cruell,
But yet in this, you are too much vnwise,
If to my Torments you would adde more fewell,
You should permit some slumber to mine Eyes,
That being wak'd, fresh sorrow might arise,
Nor can I last, my strength with watching spent,
“For bowes grow weak, that neuer stand vnbēt

157

627

Besides, Continuall thinking of my woe
So duls my sences, that I feele It lesse,
“As Paths grow plaine, whereon we alwayes goe
“So Hearts grow hard, that neuer find redresse,
And you will make mee sencelesse by excesse.
I know, you hate mee, shew your hate therfore,
And let mee slumber, for to vex mee more.

628

And that my greife might worke on mee the more
By apprehension of my present fall,
And sad remembrance of my state before.
They wreath'd a Crowne of Hay: & therewithall
They Crowned me: and King eft-soones did call.
Phurp, Phurp, (say they) God saue this jolly King
O saue me God! whom Div'ls to death would bring.

629

And thou meek Lamb, that by thy precious blood
Hast made Atonement twixt my God, and mee,
(Which was more Soueraigne for a sinners good
Then sweetest mirrhe, or purest balme could bee)
In my weake steppes I somewhat follow thee.
The Spunge, the Speare, the Crosse, ye Crowne of Thorne
Thy ensignes are, and may not else bee borne.

630

Thy head was Crown'd with Thorn, mine but wth Hay.
Thou knew'st no sin, my sinnes the sands exceed.
Well may I follow, when thou lead'st the way,
And (O) that I might follow thee Indeed
Then of the Tree of Life, my soule should feed.
My soule that hath no other hope but this,
Who will be thine, Thou alwayes wilt bee his.

157

631

Sweet Sauiour Christ, these are the hopes I haue,
1 Though they afflict me, yet my Soule is thine.
2 A Tyrant cannot reach beyond the graue
3 These fierie tryals make me brighter shine
4 Thou wilt relieue me, when thou see'st thy time
5 Or I shall end: 6 Or they at last will cease,
7 Thou wilt giue patience till thou giu'st release.

632

And that I might eu'n of my selfe be hated,
They shau'd off all my beard in my disgrace.
The Instrument a Razor blunt, rebated.
And from a muddy ditch, neere to that place
They fetch'd cold filthy water for my face.
To whom I said, that eu'n in their despight,
I would haue warme: My teares should doe that right.

633

These drops of brine, yt poure down frō mine eyes,
Mine eyes, cast vp to heau'ns high glorious frame,
That from, whence God all earthly deeds descryes.
That God, that guerdons sin with death & shame.
Shall witnesse, yea, and will reuenge the same.
That you haue bin most cruell to your King,
Whose death, his Doome: His doome your deaths will bring.

634

Vnmanly men, Temember what I was,
And thinke withall, what you your selues may be,
I was a King: A powerfull King I was:
You see my fall, and can your selues be free?
But you haue friends, why, you were friends to me
And yet, you see how much your loue is chang'd;
So others loues from you may bee estrang'd.

159

635

But you are young, and full of able strength,
And am not I? What bootes my strength or youth,
Both now seem firme, but both shall faile at length,
“Old Age cold Ache: and both sad griefe pursu'th,
But you are wise, the more should be your ruth
Of mine estate, whose wracke may teach you this
That balefull chance may clowd your greatest blisse.

636

You are not, No, you are not Beasts by birth,
Nor yet am I made of a seneclesse stone.
We all are fram'd, and all shall turne to Earth,
You should haue feeling Soules, for I haue one.
Then seeme at least, relenting to my moane.
I Pittie craue, and crauing let me haue It,
Because one day your selues may need to craue It.

637

But these sad motiues could not worke at all
In their hard steelie hearts the least remorse.
They rather added wormewood to my gall,
And exercise of Ills did make them worse.
So violent streames hold an their wonted course.
And being flesh'd in Crueltie before,
Vse made the habite perfect more and more.

638

And least one torment should be left vntry'd,
They shut me in a vault, and layd by mee
Dead Carkasses of men, who lately dy'd,
That their foule stincke my fatall bane might bee,
These were the Objects that mine eyes did see.
These smels I felt, with these I did conuerse,
And vnto these, These plaints I did rehearse.

160

639

O happie Soules, whose bodies here I see
(For you haue play'd your parts, and are at rest)
Yet somewayes haplesse, you may seeme to bee
That with your bodies I am thus distrest.
Perhaps you grieue (If that you know at least)
That by your means, your King is thus tormented.
Grieue not (deare soules) for I am well-cōtented.

640

'Tis not your bodies (sencelesse as they are)
That doe inflict these Torments on your King,
But the fierce Agents of proud Mortimer,
Frō them my plagues proceed, as from their spring,
And (O) just Heau'n! Let them their tribute bring
Backe to the Ocean, whence they first did flow,
And in their passage, still more greater grow.

641

But what poore soules haue you deseru'd so ill?
That being dead, you must want buriall.
Nothing but this: I must my fates fulfill,
And still be plagu'd with woes vnnaturall,
My wretchednesse must still transcend in all.
The liuing, and the dead must doe me spight,
And you (alas) for me must want your right.

642

But you are happy, free from sence of wrong;
Here are your bodies, but your soules are well.
Death, doe not thou forbeare thy stroake too long,
That with these happie soules my soule may dwel.
And soule be glad to goe: Here is thy Hell.
And eu'n in this, th' art happie, that 'tis here,
O better so, Then it should be else-where.

161

643

What seest thou now, but Objects of disgrace?
What do'st thou heare, but scornes, and words of spight,
What do'st thou touch, that Is not vile and base?
What do'st thou smell, but stench both day and night?
What do'st thou tast, that may procure delight?
Thy sight, thy hearing, touching, tast and smell
All cry for Heau'n, for here is now thy Hell.

644

This darke-some Vault, the house of Acharon,
These wicked men like Fiends doe torture me.
This miseries sinke resembles Phlegeton,
My acted Sinnes like fearefull furies bee,
And he that would a whole Infernall see.
Let him obserue the plagues, that I endure,
And hee shall find them Hells true portraiture.

645

The Earth it selfe, is wearie of my paine,
And like a tender Mother moanes for mee,
From me thou cam'st, returne to me againe,
Within my wombe I'le keepe the safe (quoth she)
And from these vile abuses set thee free.
Never shall these fell Tyrants wrong thee more,
Hee that payes death, dischargeth euery score.

646

These bodyes that thou seest thy Brothers were,
Subject to many wants, and thousand woes,
They now are clear'd from Care, and free'd from feare,
And from the pressures of Insulting foes,
And now, they liue in joy, and sweet repose,
Thy selfe can'st witnesse, that they feele no woe,
And as they rest, eu'n thou shalt rest thee so.

162

647

Their eyes, that whil'st they liu'd oft Tyded teares
Thou seest, how sweetly they Injoy their rest,
Those harsh vnpleasing sounds that wrong'd their Eares,
Are turn'd to Angels tunes among the blest.
Their Soules that were wth pensiue thoghts possest,
Now in their Makers bosome without end,
Injoy that peace, whereto thy Soule doth bend.

648

And thou hast need of peace (poore wretched Soule)
If euer any Soule had need of Peace.
God being in Armes against thee doth enroule
All Nature in his list, which doth not cease
To fight against thee, and doth still Increase
Thy wretchednesse, forbeare rebellious dust,
To warre with him, who is most great and just,

649

O would to God, that I had dy'd ere this,
Then had my sinnes bin fewer then they are.
Then had my Soule long since repos'd in blisse,
That now Is wandring still in wayes of Care,
“Lifes griefe exceeds lifes good with-out Cōpare.
Each day doth bring a fresh supply to Sorrow,
Most wretched now, yet shalbe more to morrow.

650

My carefull mother might haue helped mee
When I lay sprawling in her tender wombe.
If she had made her burd'ned Bellie bee
My fruit-lesse birth-bed, and my fatall Tombe,
Sure had she knowne her Sonnes accursed doome.
She never would haue wrong'd her selfe so much,
To beare a wretch, saue whom was never such.

163

651

My tender Nurse is guilty of these paines,
Shee might haue put some poyson in my pap,
Or let me fall, and so dash'd out my braines,
When she full oft did dance me on her lap,
A thousand wayes had freed me from mishap.
But he whom Heau'n ordaines to liue distrest,
Death will delay to set that wretch at rest.

652

For Death's the wearie Pilgrims rest and joy,
This world of woes a hard and flintie way,
Our birth the path, that leades to our annoy
Our friends are fellow passengers to day
And gone to morrow, Honour Is a stay
That eyther stops, or leades vs else amisse,
Pleasures are Theeues, that Intercept our blisse.

653

And in the passage, as the way doth lye
Wee meet with seuerall Innes, wherein we rest
Some at the Crowne are lodg'd, and so was I:
Some at the Castle: So am I distrest;
Some at the Horne, That married folkes doe feast.
Though men haue divers Innes, yet all men haue
One home, to which they go, & that's the graue.

564

Yet whil'st we trauaile Fortune like the weather,
Doth alter faire or foule, so doth our way
If faire, then Friends like foules do flocke together,
If foule, Each man doth shift a severall way
Onely our vertues, or our vices stay
“And goe with vs, whose endlesse memorie,
Doth make vs liue, or dye Eternally.

164

655

This Is the freight, that men cannot vnload
No, not by death: Therefore Mortalitie
Worke for thy selfe, whil'st here thou hast abode
For on the present hath dependancie
Eyther thy endlesse blisse or miserie.
And death's the Convoy to conduct vs home
Come death to me, that I to rest may Come.

656

Perhaps thou fearst me, being great and hye,
“O death! Man were a thing Intollerable
“Were he not mortall: But eu'n Kings must dye.
“No priuiledge doth against death Inable,
Both fat and leane are dishes for his Table.
The diff'rence this: The poore-one hath his graue,
The great-one, hee his Monument must haue.

657

“Our fates may be conceiu'd, but not Controul'd,
“Before our dated time we cannot dye,
“Our dayes are numbred, and our minutes told
“Both life and death are destin'd from on high.
And when that God, that rules the Imperiall skye
Shall find It fit, then thou shalt goe in peace,
Meane while with patience looke for thy release.

658

Thus vnto Care I pay'd his due: Complaint,
And joynd withall my tributarie teares,
Such my laments (for griefe finds no restraint)
As they at last, did come vnto their Eares,
That by the Castle past, which caus'd such feares
In their selfe-guilty soules, that vs'd me so,
As they resolu'd by death to end my woe.

165

659

To which effect came Letters from the Court,
Written by Tarleton, at the Queenes command,
In such a cloudie, and ambiguous sort,
That diuers wayes, one might them vnderstand
By pointing them; That if they should be scann'd,
Hee and his Letters might be free from blame,
And they Delinquents, that abus'd the same.

660

The words were these:

Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est.

(Kill Edward doe not feare
'Tis good) which being Comma'd diuersly
As pleas'd the Reader, double sence may beare.
O Art! Thou art the Earths chiefe treasurie
But being Imploy'd to practise villanie,
What monstrous births from thy faire wombe do spring,
So Grammar here is made to kill a King.

661

Which to effect, They first remoued mee
From forth the place, where I before did lye,
And made a shew, as if they seem'd to bee
Compassionated, for my miserie.
And would hereafter graunt Immunitie
From such vnworthy vsage: So we see,
The Sunne shines hot, before the shower wil bee.

662

But being ouer-watch'd, and wearied too,
Nature was much desirous of some rest,
Which gaue them opportunitie to doe
What they desir'd, for being with sleepe opprest
They clap great massie Beds vpon my brest.
And with their weight, so kept me down withall,
That breath I could not, much lesse Cry, or Call.

166

663

And then into my Fundament they thrust
A little horne, as I did groueling lye,
And (that my violent death might shun mistrust)
Through that same horne, a red-hot Spit, whereby
They made my guts and bowels for to fry.
And so Continu'd, till at last they found,
That I was dead, yet seem'd to haue no wound.

664

And here I pitch the Pillars of my paine,
Now, Ne plus vltra, shall my Poesie bee,
And thou which hast describ'd my tragicke raigne,
Let this at least giue some content to thee,
That from disastrous fortunes none are free.
Now take thy web out of the Loomes againe;
And tell the world, that all the world Is vaine.

THE AVTHORS Noli peccare.

1

Deus videt.

Forbeare to Sinne: God hath thee still in sight,
Nothing is hid from his all seeing Eye.
Though thou putt'st on the Sables of the night,
Thou canst not cloud thy selfe from him thereby;
All time, all place, all Ends, and all thy meanes
He better sees, then thou the Suns bright beames.

167

2

Forbeare to Sinne: The Angels grieue for thee

Angels tristātur.

When by thy Sinne thou grieu'st thy louing Lord.
Those noble natures our Attendants bee,
To whom both day and night they doe afford
Theyr dearest seruice: O vnkind too much
To cause their griefe, whose loue to thee is such.

3

Forbeare to Sinne: For eu'n that damned Fiend

Diabolus accusat.

That mou'd thee first, and sooth'd thee in thy Sin.
When hee hath once attayn'd his cursed End,
And made thee Act his ill, will straight begin
To aggrauate thy guilt: Hee'l vrge thy shame
Against thy selfe, that vrg'd thee to the same.

4

Forbeare to Sinne: For out of Sinne doth breed

Conscientiaterret.

A biting worme, that gnawes the Sinner still.
Deuouring wolfe, that on thy selfe doest feed,
Blacke Register, that do'st record our Ill.
And makes the Soule the booke, where thou dost write
Sad thoughts by day, and fearefull dreames by night.

5

Forbeare to Sinne: Death standeth at the Doore,

Mors minatur.

Ready to Enter on thy house of Earth.
One day being spent, The lesser is thy store
Of time to come: Man dyes from his first birth.
Who euer writes, or speakes of any-One,
Still ends his tale with Mortuus est, Hee's gone.

168

6

Iudicium instat.

Forbeare to Sinne: There is a day of Doome,
There are Records, where thy sinnes are Inrol'd,
There is a just and fearefull Iudge, from whom
Lyes no appeale: Who cannot bee control'd
Whom teares-almes, prayers may here to mercy moue
But thē there is no place for peace or loue.

7

Inferni cruciant.

Forbeare to Sinne: Because there is a Hell,
Where cease-lesse, ease-lesse, Endlesse torments be,
Where Diu'ls, & all the damned Soules doe dwell,
Whom Millions of yeares shall neuer free.
Where to remaine, Is grieuous past Conceit,
And whence, not any hope to make retreat.

Therefore (to End as I did first begin)
Let these respects make thee forbeare to Sin.

[_]

------ Quorum si singula, duram
Flect ere non possunt, possunt tamen Omnia, Mentem.

Fran. Hvbert Miles.

Timens Deum, non habet quod time at vlterius.

FINIS.