The Works of Michael Drayton :: :: University of Virginia Library

What Ornaments might I devise, to fit
Th'aspiring height of thy admired Spirit?
Or what faire Garland worthy is to sit
On thy blest Browes, that compasse in all Merit?
Thou shalt not crowned be with common Bayes,
Because for thee it is a Crowne too low,
Apollo's Tree can yeeld thee simple praise,
It is too dull a Vesture for thy Brow;
But with a Wreathe of Starres, shalt thou be crown'd,
Which when thy working Temples doe sustaine,
Will like the Spheares be ever moving round,
After the royall Musike of thy Braine:
Thy Skill doth equall Phœbus, not thy Birth:
He to Heaven gives Musike, thou to Earth.

Thomas Greene.

To M. Michael Drayton.

Those painefull Wits, which Natures depth admire,
And view the causes of unconstant strife,
Doe tremble, lest the Universe expire,
Through lasting Jarres, the Enemies of life.
On earthly signes let not such Sages looke,
Nor on the cleere aspect of hopefull Starres,
But learne the Worlds continuance from thy Booke,
Which frames past Natures force eternall Warres;
Wherein the Muses shewing perfect glorie,
Adorne it so with gracefull Harmonie,
That all the acts of this lamented Storie,
Seeme not perform'd for Peoples liberty,
Nor through the awe of an imperious King:
But that thy Verses their deepe wounds might sing.

John Beaumont.

To his Friend the Authour.

Had I not lov'd Thee and thy Poesie,
(Deare Friend) my Theame should of thy prayses bee:
But in weake Braynes it doth suspition move,
When, who is seene to prayse, is knowne to love.
For, though that first and Virgin birth of thine,
Be so articulate, so Masculine,
So truely Lim'd, so sinewie, so compact,
So sweetly faire, so every way exact,
As may indure the most judicious touch,
And give thy Friends just reason to avouch
It, spight of Envies teeth, a living birth:
Though Second, Third, Fourth, Fift, of equall worth:
Though all be good: yet since affection
In judgement may, as shaddow and projection
In Lantskip, make that which is low seeme high,
That's shallow deepe, small great, and farre that's nigh,
So as it well may just suspicion move,
When who is seene to praise, is knowne to love.
Yet thus my censure, this my doome shall be:
I'le alwayes love Thee, and thy Poesie.

E. Heyward.

Upon the Barons Warres, the Epistles and Sonnets.

To his worthy Friend Michael Drayton.

I must admire thee (but to praise were vaine,
What ev'ry tasting palat so approves)
Thy Martiall Pyrrhique, and thy Epique straine
Digesting Warres with heart-uniting Loves;
The two first Authors of what is compos'd
In this round Systeme All; it's ancient lore
(All Arts in Discords and Concents are clos'd.
And when unwinged soules the

According to that in Plato's Phœdrus, where, under the names of Lovers of beauty, (which comprehends all kind of faire Objects, either in the mind or body) and of Souldiers, all such as are eminent for true worth, are comprehended; the rest of men being of a farre lower ranke.

Fates restore
To th'earth for reparation of their flights,
The first Musicians, Schollers, Lovers make;
The next ranke destinate to Mars his Knights;
The following rabble meaner titles take)
I see thy Temples crown'd with Phœbus rites:
Thy Bay's to th'eye, with Lilly mixt and Rose,
As to the eare a Diapason close.

J. Selden.

THE BARONS WARRES,

In the Reigne of Edward the Second.

The first Canto.

The Argument.

The grievous Plagues, and the prodigious Signes,
That this great Warre and Slaughter doe fore-show,
The cause which the proud Baronage combines,
The Queenes much wrong, whence many mischiefs grow,
And how the Time to this great Change inclines,
As with what Armes each Countreymen doe goe,
What cause to yeeld, the Mortimers pretend,
And their Commitment, doth this Canto end.

1

The bloudie Factions and Rebellious pride
Of a strong Nation, whose ill-manag'd might
The Prince and Peeres did many a day divide;
With whom, wrong was no wrong, nor right no right,
Whose strife, their Swords knew only to decide,
Spur'd to their high speed, by their equall spight;
Me from soft Layes and tender Loves doth bring,
Of a farre worse, then Civill Warre to sing.

2

What Hellish Furie poys'ned their hot Bloud?
Or can we thinke 'twas in the power of Charmes,
With those so poore hopes of the publike good,
To have intic'd them to tumultuous Armes;
And from that Safetie, wherein late they stood,
Reft them so farre from feeling of their Harmes,
That France and Belgia, with affrighted eyes,
Stood both amazed at their Miseries?

3

Having Relation to the first Barons Warres, in the raigne of Henry the third, for the Great Charter.

Th'inveterate Malice in their Bosomes bred,
Who for their Charter wag'd a former Warre,
Their angrie Syres; in them that Venom fed,
As their true Heires of many a wide-mouth'd Skarre:

Having Relation to their Victories over the Welsh and Scots, under Edward the first.

Or was't the Bloud they had in Conquest shed,
Having inlarg'd their Countries Bounds so farre,
That did themselves against themselves oppose,

A Citie of Spain, from whence wee anciently had our best Swords.

With Blades of Bilbo changing English Blowes?

4

O, Thou the Wise Director of my Muse,

Invocation.

Upon whose Bountie all my Powers depend,
Into my Brest thy sacred'st Fire infuse;
Ravish my Spirit, this Great Worke to attend;
Let the still Night my lab'red Lines peruse;
That when my Poems gaine their wished end,
Such, whose sad eyes shall read this Tragique Storie,
In my weake Hand may see thy Might and Glorie.

5

Narration.

What Care would plot, Dissention strove to crosse,
Which like an Earthquake rent the tottering State;
In Warre abroad they suffered publique Losse,
And were at home despoyl'd by private hate:
Whil'st them those strange Calamities did tosse,
(For there was none that nourisht not Debate)
Confusion did the common Peace confound;
No helpe at hand, yet mortall was their wound.

6

The Prelacie, most powerfull in those times, did rather put on that Warre, then perswade to Peace.

Thou Church, then swelling in thy Mightinesse,
Which in thy Hand so ample Power didst hold,
To stay those Factions, ere their full excesse,
Which at thy pleasure thou might'st have control'd;
Why didst not Thou those Outrages suppresse,
Which to all Times, thy prayse might have enrol'd?
Thou shouldst to them have layd the Holy Word,
And not thy hand to the unholyed Sword.

7

Bloud-thirstie Warre arising first from Hell,

The first Warres of the Barons beginning in the time of King John, and continuing long in the Raigne of Henry the third, his sonne.

And seizing on this chiefe part of the Ile,
Where it before neere fortie yeeres did dwell,
And with abhorr'd Pollution did defile,
In which so many a famous Souldier fell;
By Edward Long-shanks banished awhile,

Edward the first having peace at home, made Warres upon the Welsh and Scots.

Transfer'd to Wales, and to Albania, there
To ruine them, as it had ravin'd here.

8

Where hovering long with inauspicious wings,
About the Verge of these distempered Clymes,
By comming backe, new Mischiefe hither brings,
To worke them up to those disasterous Crymes;
Weakeneth their Power by her diminishings,
And taking fast hold on those wicked Tymes,
So farre inforc'd their Furie, that at length
It crackt the Nerves which knit their ancient strength.

9

Whose frightfull Vision, at the first approach,
With violent Madnesse strooke that desperate Age,
And did not onely those Rebellions broach
Amongst the Commons, but the divellish Rage
Did on the best Nobilitie incroach,
And in their damn'd Conspiracies, ingage
The Royall Bloud; them likewise downe to bring,
By unnaturall Treasons to their naturall King.

10

When in the North (whilst Horror yet was young)

The fearefull Signes in the North of this Land, that fore-ran this Bloudie Warre, expressed in this Stanza, and the next following.

Those dangerous Seasons swiftly comming on,
Whilst o'er their heads portentuous Meteors hung,
And in the Skies sterne Commets brightly shone,
Prodigious Births were intermix'd among,
Such as before to Times had beene unknowne;
In bloudie Issues, forth the Earth doth breake,
Weeping for them, whose Woes it could not speake.

11

And by the rankenesse of contagious Ayre,
A mortall Plague invadeth Man and Beast;
Which farre dispers'd, and raging every where,
In doubt the same too quickly should have ceast,
T'assure them of the Slaughter being neere,
Yet was by Famine cruelly increast;
As though the Heavens, in their remisfull doome,
Tooke those they lov'd, from worser dayes to come.

12

The entrance into the Relation of the Storie.

The levell course that we intend to goe,
Now (to the end) that yee may cleerely see,
And that we every circumstance may show,
The state of Things, and truly what they be,
And our Materialls how we doe bestow,
With each Occurrent right in his degree;
From these Portents we now divert our view,
To bring to passe the Horrors that insue.

13

The first, and the principall cause of Quarrell betweene the King and the Barons.

The calling backe of banish'd Gaveston,
Gainst which, the Barons had to Long-shanks sworne;
The Signiories, and high Promotion,
Him in his Law-lesse Courses to suborne;
Th'abetting of that wanton Minion,
Who held the old Nobilitie in scorne;
Stir'd up that hatefull and outragious Strife,
Which cost so many an English-man his life.

14

Henry Lacy, Earle of Lincolne.

O much-lov'd Lacy, hadst thou spar'd that breath,
Which shortly after Nature thee deny'd,

Thomas Plantaginet Earle of Lancaster, the sonne of Edmond, called Crouch-back, who was the second sonne of Henry the third.

To Lancaster delivered at thy death,
To whom thy only Daughter was affy'd,
Taking for Pledge, his Knightly Oath and Faith,
Stiffely to sticke upon the Barons side;
Thy Manors, Rents, and Titles of Renowne,
Had not so soone beene forfeit to the Crowne.

15

Those Lordships, Bruse to those two Spensers past,

The two Spensers, by the favour of the King, bought the Lands of the Lord Bruse in the Marches of Wales, out of some of the Barons hands; for which, the Barons burnt the Towns there, belonging to the Spensers; and shortly, caused the King to banish them: A second and speciall cause of the Warre.

Crossing the Barons vehement desire,
As from Joves Arme, that fearefull Lightning cast,
That fiftie Townes lay spent in hostile fire;
Alas, too vaine and prodigall a waste,
The strong effect of their conceived Ire:
Urging the weake King, by a violent Hand,
T'abjure those false Lords from the troubled Land.

16

When as the faire Queene progressing in Kent,
Was there deny'd her entrance into Leeds
By Badlesmer, a Baron eminent,

The Lord Badlesmer, Owner of Leeds Castle.

Against the King, that in this Course proceeds,
Which further addeth to their discontent,
A speciall Spring, which this great Mischiefe feeds;
Wrong upon wrong, by heaping more and more,
To thrust on that, which went too fast before.

17

Which more and more King Edwards hate increast,
Whose mind ran still on Gaveston degraded,
The thoughts of which, so settled in his Brest,
That it had all his Faculties invaded:
Which for the Spensers hap'ned out the best,

The pride of the Spensers made the breach betwixt the King and Queene.

By whom, thereto he chiefely was perswaded;
And by whose Counsels he e're long was led
To leave his bright Queene, and to flye her Bed.

18

That shee her selfe, who whilst shee stood in grace,
Imploy'd her Powers these Discords to appease,
When yet Confusion had not fully place,
In Times not growne so dangerous as these,
A Partie made in their afflicted case,
Her willing Hand to his Destruction layes;
That Time, whose soft Palme heals the wound of Warre,
May cure the Sore, but never close the Skarre.

19

The first appearing of Mortimer.

In all that Heat, then gloriously began,
The serious Subject of my solid Vaine,
Brave Mortimer, that some-what more then Man,
Of the old Heroes great and God-like Straine,
For whom, Invention doing all it can,
His weight of Honour hardly shall sustaine,
To beare his Name immortaliz'd, and hye,
When he in Earth un-numbred yeeres shall lye.

20

Roger Mortimer the Unckle, and Roger, the Nephew.

Whose Unckle then (whose Name his Nephew bare)
The only comfort of the wofull Queene,
Who from his Cradle held him as his care,
In whom so many early Hopes were seene,
For this yong Lord most wisely doth prepare,
Whilst yet her deepe heart-goring Wound was greene,
And on this faire advantage firmely wrought,
To place him highly in her Princely thought.

21

The Character of Mortimer, in this Stanza and the next following.

This was the Man, at whose unusuall Birth
The Starres were said, to Councell to retyre,
And in Aspects of Happinesse and Mirth,
Mark'd him a Spirit, to Greatnesse to aspire,
That had no mixture of the Drossie Earth,
But all compact of perfect Heavenly fire;
So well made up, that such a one as He,
Jove in a Man, like Mortimer would be.

22

The quick'ning Vertue of which Nobler part,
With so rare purenesse rectify'd his Bloud,
And to so high a Temper wrought his Heart,
That it could not be lock'd within a Floud,
That no Misfortune possibly could thwart;
Which from the Native Greatnesse where it stood,
Shew'd at the first, the Pitch it was to flie,
Could not with lesse be bounded, then the Skie.

23

Worthy the Grand-child of so great a Lord;

Roger Mortimer Grandfather to this Roger.

Who, whilst our Long-shanks fortunatly raign'd,
Re-edify'd King Arthurs ancient Boord,
Which he at goodly Kenelworth ordain'd,
And to that former Glorie it restor'd,
To which a hundred gallant Knights retain'd,
With all the Pompe that might become a Court,
Or might give Honour to that Martiall Sport.

24

The Heart-swolne Lords, with Furie throughly fir'd,
Whom Edwards Wrongs to Vengeance still provoke,
With Lancaster and Harford had conspir'd,

Thomas Earle of Lancaster, and Bohun Earle of Harford.

No more to beare the Spensers servile Yoke;
The time is come, that they a Change desir'd;
That they (the Bonds of their Allegiance broke)
Resolv'd with Bloud their Libertie to buy,
And in the Quarrell vow'd to live and die.

25

What Priviledge hath our Free-Birth, they say?

The Barons murmure to be over-topt by Minions.

Or in our Bloud, what Vertue doth remaine?
To each lascivious Minion made a prey,
That us and our Nobilitie disdaine,
Whilst they in Triumph boast of our decay;
Either those Spirits we never did retaine,
That were our Fathers, or by Fate we fall
Both from their Greatnesse, Libertie, and all.

26

Our Honor, lifted from that Soveraigne State,
From whence at first it challenged the Being,
And prostitute to Infamie and Hate,
As with it selfe in all things disagreeing,
Quite out of order, dis-proportionate,
From the right way preposterously flying;
Whilst Others are themselves, and only We
Are not held those, We would but seeme to be.

27

Then to what end hath our great Conquest serv'd,
Those Acts atchieved by the Norman Sword,
Our Charters, Patents, and our Deeds reserv'd,
Our Offices and Titles to record,
The Crests that on our Monuments are carv'd,
If they to us no greater good afford?
Thus doe they murmure every one apart,
With many a vex'd Soule, many a grieved Heart.

28

This while the Queene into deepe sorrow throwne,
Wherein she wastes her goodly Youth away,
Beyond beleefe, to all but Heaven unknowne:
This Sparke, till now, that closely covered lay,
By the sharpe breath of desp'rate Faction blowne,
Converts her long Night to a wished Day;
Her wofull Winter of Misfortune chearing,
As the darke World at the bright Sunnes appearing.

29

The Queene is greatly perplexed, whilst things sort not out to her desire.

Though much perplex'd amidst these hard Extremes,
Whilst Helps fall short, that should her Hopes preferre,
Nor clearely yet could she discerne those Beames,
To her desires that else might lighten her,
Her Thoughts oft changing, like deceitfull Dreames,
In her sad Brest such violent Passions stirre;
That (striving which each other should controule)
Worke strange confusion in her troubled Soule.

30

To be debarr'd of that Imperiall State,
Which to her Graces rightly did belong,
Basely rejected, and repudiate,
A vertuous Lady, goodly, faire, and yong;
These with such fervour still doe intimate
Her too-much settled and inveterate wrong;
That to the least, all pardon shee denies,
With Arguments of her Indignities.

31

Whilst, to dispatch, the angry Heavens pursue,
What there, un-judg'd, had many a day depended,
When all these Mischiefes to full ripenesse grew,
And in their Harvest hasting to be ended:
For all these Lines into one Centre drew,
Which way soe're they seem'd to be extended,
And all together, in proportion layd,
Although but small, adde somewhat to her ayd.

32

Now comes the time, when Mortimer doth enter,
Of great Imployment in this Tragique Act,
His Youth and Courage boldly bid him venter,
Prompting him still, how strongly he was backt,
Who at this time, even as from Heaven was sent her,
When the straight Course to her Desire was tract;
And she upon more certaintie doth stay,
In a direct, although a dangerous way.

33

This dreadfull Comet drew her wond'ring Eye,
Which soone began his golden Head to reare,
Whose glorious Fixure in so cleere a Skie,
Strooke the Beholder with a horrid feare;
And in a Region elevate so high,
And by the forme wherein it did appeare,
As the most skilfull wisely did divine,
Fore-shew'd the Kingdome shortly to decline.

34

Yet still recoyling at the Spensers power,
So often checkt with their intemp'rate pride,
Th'inconstant Barons wavering everie houre,
The fierce encounter of this boyst'rous Tide,
That eas'ly might her livelyhood devoure,
Had shee not those that skilfully could guide;
Shee from Suspition cunningly retyres,
Carelesse in shew, of what she most desires.

35

The great Policie of the most wise Queene.

Dissembling so, as one that knew not ill,
So can shee rule the greatnesse of her mind,
As a most perfect Rect'resse of her will,
Above the usuall weakenesse of her kind:
For all these stormes, immoveable and still,
Her secret Drift, the wisest misse to find;
Nor will she know yet, what these Factions meant,
But with a pleas'd Eye soothes sad Discontent.

36

The least Suspition craftily to heale,
Still in her lookes Humilitie she beares;
The safest way with Mightinesse to deale,
So Policie, Religions habit weares;
'Twas then no time her grievance to reveale,
“Hee's mad, which takes a Lyon by the eares.
This knew the Queene, and this well know the wise:
This must they learne, that rightly temporize.

37

Adam Torlton, Bishop of Hereford, a great Politician.

The Bishop Torleton, learned'st of the Land,
Upon a Text of Politiques to preach,
Which he long studying, well did understand,
And by a Method could as aptly teach:
He was a Prelate of a potent hand,
Wise was the Man that went beyond his reach:
This subtill Tutor, Isabel had taught
Points, into which King Edward never sought.

38

When Warre no longer can it selfe containe,
But breaketh forth into a generall flame,
And to be seene more visibly and plaine,
Boldly it selfe dares publiquely proclaime,
And as a poore thing proudly doth disdaine
To give it selfe out by another Name,
Or take upon it any strange Disguise,
But now with Legions furiously doth rise.

39

As Severne lately in her Ebbes that sanke,

A Simile of the first rising of the Barons.

Vast and forsaken leaves th'uncovered Sands,
Fetching full Tides, luxurious, high, and ranke,
Seemes in her pride t'invade the neighb'ring Lands,
Breaking her Limits, covering all her Banks,
Threat'neth the proud Hills with her wat'rie Hands;
As though she meant her Empyrie to have,
Where even but lately she beheld her Grave.

40

From every place, when Souldiers farre and neere,
Flocke to the Field, as Fortune lots their side,
With th'ancient Weapons they had us'd to beare;
Some, as they were directed by their Guide;
Others againe, as they affected were;
But the most part, as by their dutie tyde:
As each one finds the motion of his blood,
Let those that lead them, make the Quarrell good.

41

From Norfolke, and the Countries of the East,
That with the Pike most skilfully could fight;
Then those of Kent, unconquer'd of the rest,
That to this day maintaine their ancient Right;
For courage no whit second to the best,
The Cornish men most active, bold, and light;
Those neere the

Those of Hampshire, Wiltshire, and Borderers of the Plaine of Salisbury, clayme the Vaward of the English Battels.

Plaine, the Pole-axe best that wield,
And clayme for theirs the Vaward of the Field.

42

The Noble Welsh, of th'ancient British Race;
From Lancashire, Men famous for their Bowes;
The Men of Ches-shire, chiefest for their place,
Of Bone so bigge, as onely made for Blowes,
Which for their faith are had in speciall grace,
And have beene ever fearefull to their Foes:
The Northerne then, in Feuds so deadly fell,
That for their Speare and Horsemanship excell.

43

All that for use Experience could espie,
Such as in Fennes and Marsh-lands use to trade,
The doubtfull Foards and Passages to trie,
With Stilts and Lope-staves, that doe aptliest wade,
Most fit for Scouts and Currers to descrie;
Those from the Mynes, with Pick-axe and with Spade,
For Pioners best, that for intrenching are,
Men chiefely needfull in the use of Warre.

44

O Noble Nation, furnished with Armes,
So full of Spirit, as almost match'd by none!
Had Heaven but blest thee, to foresee thy Harmes,
And as thy valiant Nephewes did, have gone
Paris, Roan, Orleance, shaking with Alarmes;

The Conquest of France in the next raigne of Edward the third.

As the bright Sunne, thy glorie then had shone:
To other Realmes thou hadst transfer'd this Chance;
Nor had your Sonnes been first that conquer'd France.

45

And thus on all hands setting up their rest,
And all make forward for this mightie Day,
Where every one prepares to doe his best,
When at the stake their Lives and Fortunes lay,
No crosse Event their Purposes to wrest,
Being now on, in so direct a Way;
Yet whilst they play this strange and doubtfull Game,
The Queene stands off, and secretly gives ayme.

46

But Mortimer his foot had scarcely set
Into the Road, where Fortune had to deale,
But she dispos'd his forward course to let;
Her lewd Condition quickly doth reveale,
Glory to her vaine Deitie to get
By him, whose strange birth bare her ominous Seale;
Taking occasion from that very Houre,
In him to prove and manifest her Power.

47

As when we see the early rising Sunne,

A Similie of the first rising of Mortimer.

With his bright Beames to emulate our sight;
But when his Course yet newly is begun,
The hum'rous Fogges deprive us of his Light,
Till through the Clouds he his cleare Forehead runne,
Climbing the Noone-stead in his glorious height:
His cleare beginning, Fortune cloudeth thus,
To make his Mid-day great and glorious.

48

The King (discreetly) that considered

Good considerations of the King.

The space of Earth, whereon the Barons stand,
As what the Powers to them contributed,
Then being himselfe but Partner of his Land;
Of the small Strength and Armie that he led
'Gainst them which did so great a Power command,
Wisely about him doth begin to looke:
Great was the Taske which now he undertooke.

49

And warn'd by Danger to misdoubt the worst,
In equall Scales whilst eithers Fortunes hung,
He must performe the utmost that he durst,
Or undergoe intolerable Wrong:
As good to stirre, as after be enforc'd;
To stop the Sourse whence all these Mischiefes sprung,
He with the Marchers thinkes best to begin,
Which first must lose, ere he could hope to winne.

50

The Mortimers being Men of greatest Might,
Whose Name was dreadfull, and commanded farre,
Sturdie to manage, of a haughtie Spright,
Strongly ally'd, much followed, popular,
On whom, if he but happily could light,
He hop'd more eas'ly to conclude the Warre;
Which he intendeth speedily to trie,
To quit that first, which most stood in his eye.

51

For which, he expeditiously provided,
That part of Land into his Power to get;
Which, if made good, might keepe his Foes divided,
Their Combination cunningly to let;
Which should they joyne, would be so strongly sided,

Two Armies on foot by the Barons, one in the West, the other in the North.

Two mightie Hoasts, together safely met,
The face of Warre would looke so sterne and great,
As it might threat to heave him from his Seat.

52

Wherefore the King from London setteth forth,
With a full Armie, furnish'd of the best,
Accompany'd with men of speciall worth,
Which to this Warre his Promises had prest:
Great Lancaster was Lord of all the North,
The Mortimers were Masters of the West;
He towards mid-England makes the way 'twixt either,
Which they must crosse, ere they could come together.

53

Strongly inveagled with delightfull Hope,
Stoutly t'affront and shoulder with Debate,
Knowing to meet with a resolved Troupe,
That came prepar'd with Courage, and with Hate;
Whose stubborne Crests if he inforc'd to stoupe,
It him behoves to tempt some powerfull Fate,
And through sterne Guards of Swords and hostile Fire,
Make way to Peace, or shamefully retire.

54

The Mortimers so called, for their great power in the Marches.

When now the Marchers, well upon their way,
(Expecting those, that them Supplyes should bring,
Which had too long abus'd them by Delay)

The Mortimers intercepted on the sudden.

Were suddenly incountred by the King;
They then perceive, that dilatorie stay
To be the causer of their ruining,
When at their bosomes blacke Destruction stood,
With open Jawes prepared for their Blood.

55

And by the shifting of th'unconstant Wind,
Seeing what Weather they were like to meet,
Which even at first so awkwardly they find,
Before they could give Sea-roomth to their Fleet,
Cleane from their Course, and cast so farre behind,
And yet in perill every houre to split;
Some unknowne Harbor suddenly must sound,
Or runne their Fortunes desp'rately on ground.

56

The elder Peere, grave, politique, and wise,
Which had all dangers absolutely scan'd,
Finding high time his Nephew to advise,
Since now their state stood on this desp'rate hand,
And from this Mischiefe, many more to rise,
Which his Experience made him understand;
Nephew (sayth he) 'tis but in vaine to strive,
Counsell must helpe, our safetie to contrive.

57

The downe-right Perill, present in our eye,

The Counsell of the elder Mortimer to his Nephew.

Not to be shun'd, we see what it assures;
Thinke then what weight upon our Fall doth lye,
And what our Being, this Designe procures;
As to our Friends, what good may grow thereby,
Proove, which the Test of Reason best endures;
“For who observes strict Policies true Lawes,
“Shifts his Proceeding, to the varying Cause.

58

To hazzard fight with the Imperiall Powers,
Will our small Troupes undoubtedly apall;
Then, this our Warre us wilfully devoures:
Yeelding our selves, yet thus we lose not all,
We leave our Friends this smaller Force of ours,
Reserv'd for them, though haplesly we fall;
“That Weakenesse ever hath a glorious Hand,
“That falls it selfe, to make the Cause to stand.

59

'Twixt unexpected, and so dangerous Ills,
That's saf'st, wherein we smallest Perill see,
Which, to make choise of, Reason justly wills,
And it doth best with Policie agree:
The idle vulgar Breath, it nothing skills,
'Tis sound Discretion must our Pilot be;
“He that doth still the fairest meanes preferre,
“Answers Opinion, howsoe're he erre.

60

And to the Worlds eye seeming yet so strong,
By our descending willingly from hence,
'Twill shew we were provoked by our wrong,
Not having other sinister Pretence:
This Force left off, that doth to us belong,
Will in Opinion lessen our Offence;
“Men are not ever incident to losse,
“When Fortune seemes them frowardly to crosse.

61

Nor give we Envie absolute excesse,
To search so farre, our Subtilties to find,
There's neerer meanes, this Mischiefe to redresse,
And make successefull what is yet behind:
Let's not our selves of all Hope dis-possesse,
Fortune is ever variously inclin'd;
“A small Advantage in th'Affaires of Kings,
“Guides a slight Meanes, to compasse mighty Things.

62

This speech so caught his Nephewes plyant youth,
(Who his grave Eam did ever much respect)
Proceeding from Integritie and Truth;
Well could he counsell, well could he direct,
With strong Perswasions, which he still pursu'th;
Which in a short time shew'd by the effect,
“A Wise mans Counsell, by a secret Fate,
“Seeming from Reason, yet proves fortunate.

63

To which, the King they gravely doe invite,
By the most strict and ceremonious way;
No Circumstance omitted, nor no Rite,
That might give colour to their new Essay,
Or that Applause might publiquely excite:
To which, the King doth willingly obay:

The King accepteth the Mortimers submission.

Who like themselves, in seeing Danger neere,
Rather accepts a Doubt, then certaine Feare.

64

Which he receives, in presage of his good,
To his Successe auspiciously apply'd;
Which somewhat cool'd his much distemp'red Blood,
Ere he their force in doubtfull Armes had try'd:
And whilst they thus in his Protection stood,
At his disposing wholly to abide,
He first, in safetie, doth dismisse their Power,
Then sends them both his Pris'ners to the Tower.

65

O all-preparing Providence Divine!
In thy large Booke, what Secrets are enrol'd?
What sundry Helpes doth thy great Power assigne,
To prop that Course which thou intend'st to hold?
What mortall Sense is able to define
Thy Mysteries, thy Counsels manifold?
It is thy Wisdome, strangely that extends
Obscure Proceedings to apparant Ends.

66

This was the meanes, by which the Fates dispose,
More dreadfull Plagues upon that Age to bring;
Utter Confusion on the heads of those,
That were before the Barons ruining;
With the subversion of the Publiques Foes,
The Murther of the miserable King;
And that which 'came Catastrophe to all,
Great Mortimers inevitable fall.

67

This, to these Troubles lends a little Breath,
As the first Pawse, to hearten this Affaire,
And for a while deferres oft-threatning Death,
Whilst each their Breach by leysure would repaire,
And as a Bound, their Furie limiteth;
But in this manner, whilst things strangely fare,
Horror beyond all wonted Bounds doth swell,
As the next Canto fearefully shall tell.

The end of the first Canto.

The second Canto.

The Argument.

At Burton Bridge the puissant Powers are met,
The Forme and Order of the doubtfull Fight,
Whereas the King the Victorie doth get,
And the prowd Barons are inforc'd to flight;
When they againe towards Borough forward set,
Where they by him were vanquished out-right;
Lastly, the Lawes doe execute their Power
On those, which there the Sword did not devoure.

1

This chance of Warre, that suddenly had swept
So large a share from their selected store,
Which for their helpe they carefully had kept,
That to their aid might stil have added more;
By this ill-lucke into their Armie crept,
Made them much weaker then they were before;
So that the Barons reinforc'd their Bands,
Finding their Hearts to stand in need of Hands.

2

For deadly Hate, so long and deepely rooted,
Could not abide to heare the name of Peace,
So that Discretion but a little booted
'Gainst that, thereby which only did increase;
For the least Griefe, by Malice was promoted,
Anger set on, beginning to surcease;
So that all Counsell much their eares offended,
But what to Spoyle and sad Invasion tended.

3

All up in Action for the publique Cause,
Scarcely the mean'st, but he a partie stood,
Tax'd by the Letter of the censuring Lawes,
In his estate, if fayling in his Blood;
And who was free'st, intangled by some Clause,
Which to their Furie gives continuall food;
“For where Confusion once hath gotten hold,
“Till all fall flat, it hardly is control'd.

4

And now by Night, when as pale Leaden Sleepe
Upon their eye-lids heavily did dwell,
And step by step, on every Sense did creepe,
Mischiefe, that blacke inhabitant of Hell,
Which never failes continuall Watch to keepe,
Fearefull to thinke, a horrid thing to tell,
Entred the Place, whereas those warlike Lords
Lay mayl'd in Armour, gyrt with irefull Swords.

5

A description of Mischiefe.

She with a sharpe sight, and a meager looke,
Was alwayes prying where she might doe ill,
In which, the Fiend continuall pleasure tooke,
(Her starved Bodie, Plentie could not fill)
Searching in every Corner, every Nooke,
With winged feet, too swift to worke her will;
Furnish'd with deadly Instruments she went,
Of every sort, to wound where so she meant.

6

Having a Viall fill'd with banefull Wrath,

A River fained to be in Hell.

(Brought from Cocytus by that cursed Spright)
Which in her pale Hand purposely she hath,
And drops the Poyson upon every Wight;
For to each one she knew the readie Path,
Though in the midst and dead time of the Night;
Whose strength too soone invadeth every Peere,
Not one escap'd her, that she commeth neere.

7

That, the next Morning, breaking in the East,
With a much-troubled and affrighted Mind,
Each, whom this Venome lately did infest,
The strong effect in their swolne stomacks find;
Now doth the Poyson boyle in every Brest,
To sad Destruction every one's inclin'd,
Rumors of Spoyle through every eare doe flye,
And threat'ning Furie sits in every eye.

8

This done, in haste shee to King Edward hyes,
Who late growne proud upon his good Successe,
His time to Feasts and Wantonnesse applyes,
And with crown'd Cups his Sorrowes doth suppresse,
Upon his Fortune wholly that relyes;
And in the Bosome of his Courtly Presse,
Vaunteth the hap of this victorious Day,
Whilst the sicke Land in Sorrow pines away.

9

Thither she comes, and in a Minions shape,
She getteth neere the Person of the King,
And as he tast's the Liquor of the Grape,
Into the Cup her Poyson she doth wring:
Not the least drop untainted doth escape,
For to that purpose she her store did bring;
Whose strong commixture (as the Sequell try'd)
Fill'd his hot Veines with Arrogance and Pride.

10

That having both such Courage, and such Might,
As to so great a Bus'nesse did belong,
Neither yet thinke, by their unnaturall Fight,
What the Republique suffred them among;
For mystie Error so deludes their Sight,
(Which still betwixt them and cleere Reason hung)
And their Opinions in such sort abus'd,
As that their Fault can never be excus'd.

11

Now our Minerva puts on dreadfull Armes,
Further to wade into this Bloudie Warre,
And from her slumber wak'ned with Alarmes,
Riseth, to sing of many a Massacre,
Of gloomie Magiques, and benumming Charmes,
Of many a deepe Wound, many a fearefull Skarre;

The Socke, or soft Shoo, used in Comicke and light Poesies, from which hee ascendeth to this Tragique Poeme.

For that low Socke, wherein she us'd to tread,
Marching in Greaves, a Helmet on her Head.

12

Whilst thus vaine Hope doth these false Lords delude,
Who having drawne their Forces to a Head,
They their full purpose seriously pursu'd,
By Lancaster and valiant Harford led,
Their long Proceeding lastly to conclude;
Whilst now to meet, both Armies hotly sped,

Burton upon Trent in Staffordshire.

The Barons taking Burton in their way,
Till they could heare where Edwards Armie lay.

13

To which, Report too suddenly bewray'd
Their manner of encamping, and the Place,
Their present Strength, and their expected Ayd,
As what might most avayle them in this Case:
The speedie March th'Imperiall Power had made,
Had brought them soone within a little space;
For still the King conducted had his Force,
Which way he heard the Barons bent their Course.

14

The Forrest of Needwood in Staffordshire.

Upon the East, from Bushie Needwoods side,
There riseth up an easie-climbing Hill,
At whose faire foot, the Silver Trent doth slide,
And the slow Ayre, with her soft murmuring, fill;
Which, with the store of liberall Brookes supplyde,
Th'insatiate Meads continually doth swill;

The situation of Burton upon Trent.

Over whose Streame, a Bridge of wond'rous strength
Leads on from Burton, to that Hill in length.

15

Upon the Mount, the King his Tentage fixt,

Tentage used in place, for the Tents generally carried along with the Armie.

And in the Towne, the Barons lay in sight,
When as the Trent was risen so betwixt,
That for a while prolong'd th'unnaturall fight,
With many Waters that it selfe had mixt,
To stay their Furie, doing all it might;
“Things which presage both good and ill, there be,
“Which Heaven fore-shewes, but will not let us see.

16

The Heaven (ev'n) mourning o'er our Heads doth sit,
Greeving to see the Times so out of course,
Looking on them, who never looke at it,
And in meere pittie, melteth with Remorse;
Longer from Teares that could not stay a whit,
Whose influence on every lower Sourse,
From the swolne fluxure of the Clouds, doth shake
A ranke Impostume upon every Lake.

17

O Warlike Nation, hold thy conqu'ring Hand,
Even senselesse Things do warne thee yet to pawse;
Thy Mother Soyle, on whom thou arm'd do'st stand,
Which should restraine thee by all naturall Lawes,
Canst thou (unkind) inviolate that Band?
Nay, Heaven and Earth are angry with the Cause;
Yet stay thy foot, in Mischiefs ugly Gate.
“Ill comes too soone, Repentance oft too late.

18

O, can the Clouds weepe over thy decay,
Yet not one drop fall from thy droughtie eyes!
See'st thou the Snare, and wilt not shun the way,
Nor yet be warn'd by passed Miseries?
'Tis yet but early in this dismall Day,
Let late Experience learne thee to be wise;
“An Ill foreseene, may eas'ly be prevented,
“But hap'd, un-help'd, though ne'er inough lamented.

19

Remembring the great overthrow they had received by the Scots at Banocksburne.

Cannot the Scot of your late Slaughter boast,
And are yee yet scarce healed of the Sore?
Is't not inough yee have alreadie lost,
But your owne Madnesse must needs make it more?
Will yee seeke Safetie in some foraine Coast?
Your Wives and Children pitied yee before:
But when your own Blouds your own Swords imbrue,
Who pitties them, who should have pittied you?

20

The sudden preparation of the Kings Armie, to passe the River to the Barons.

The neighb'ring Groves are spoyled of their Trees,
For Boats, and Timber, to assay the Flood,
Where Men are lab'ring as 'twere Summer Bees,
Some hollowing Trunkes, some binding heapes of Wood,
Some on their Brests, some working on their Knees,
To winne the Banke whereon the Barons stood;
Which, o'er the Current they by strength must tew,
To shed that Bloud, which many an Age shall rew.

21

Pieces of Armour well knowne to Souldiers.

Some sharp their Swords, some right their Murrians set,
Their Greaves and Pouldrons others rivet fast,
The Archers now their bearded Arrowes whet,
Whilst every where the clam'rous Drums are bras'd;
Some taking view, where they sure ground might get,
Not one, but some advantage doth fore-cast;
With Ranks and Files, each Plaine & Medow swarmes,
As all the Land were clad in angry Armes.

22

The Crests and Badges of each Nobler Name,
Against their Owners rudely seeme to stand,
As angry for th'Atchievements whence they came,
That to their Fathers gave that generous Brand.
O yee unworthie of your ancient Fame,
Against your selves to lift your conqu'ring Hand;
Since foraine Swords your Height could not abate,
By your owne Pride, your selves to ruinate!

23

Upon his Surcote, valiant Nevil bore

Some short Blazons of the Bearings of some of the English Nobilitie, in this, and the next Stanza following, expressed in the termes of Heraldrie.

A Silver Saltoyre, upon Martiall Red;
A Ladies Sleeve, high-spirited Hastings wore;
Ferrer his Taberd, with rich Verry spred,
Well knowne in many a Warlike Match before;
A Raven sat on Corbets armed Head;
And Culpepper, in Silver Armes enrayl'd,
Bare thereupon a bloudie Bend engrayl'd.

24

The Noble Percy, in this dreadfull Day,
With a bright Cressant in his Guidehome came,
In his white Cornet, Verdon doth display
A fret of Gueles, priz'd in this mortall Game,
That had been seene in many a doubtfull Fray,
His Lances Penons stayned with the same;
The angry Horse, chaf'd with the stubborne Bit,
With his hard Hoofe the Earth in furie smit.

25

I could the summe of Staffords arming show,
What Colours, Rosse and Courtney did unfold,
Great Warrens Blazon I could let you know,
And all the glorious Circumstance have told,
Nam'd every Ensigne as they stood arow;
But O, deare Muse, too soone thou art control'd!
For in remembrance of their evill speed,
My Pen, for Inke, warme drops of Bloud doth sheed.

26

On the Kings part, th'Imperiall Standard's pitch'd,
With all the Hatchments of the English Crowne,
Great Lancaster (with no lesse Power enrich'd)
Sets the same Leopards in his Colours downe:
O, if yee be not frantique, or bewitch'd,
Yet doe but see, that on your selves you frowne:
A little note of diff'rence is in all,
How can the same stand, when the same doth fall?

27

Behold the Eagles, Lyons, Talbots, Beares,
The Badges of your famous Ancestries;
Shall those brave Marks, by their inglorious Heires,
Stand thus oppos'd against their Families?
More ancient Armes no Christian Nation beares,
Reliques unworthy of their Progenies;
Those Beasts yee beare, doe in their kinds agree,
O, that then Beasts, more savage Men should be!

28

And whilst the King doth in sad Councell sit,
How he might best the other Banke recover,
See how Misfortune still her time can fit!
Such as were sent, the Countrey to discover,
(As up and downe, from place to place they flit)
Had found a Foard, to passe their Forces over;
“Ill Newes hath Wings, and with the Wind doth goe,
“Comfort's a Cripple, and comes ever slow.

29

These Earles, on the Kings part, were John Britan, Earle of Richmont, John Warren, Earle of Surrey, and Aymer de Valence, Earle of Pembroke, & Edmond of Woodstocke, Earle of Kent, the Kings younger Brother.

When Edward fearing Lancasters Supplyes,
Proud Richmont, Surrey, & great Pembroke sent,
On whose Successe, he mightily relyes,
Under whose Conduct, halfe his Armie went,
The neerest way conducted by the Spyes;
And he himselfe, and Edmond, Earle of Kent,
Upon the Hill, in sight of Burton lay,
Watching to take advantage of the Day.

30

Stay, Surrey, stay, thou may'st too soone be gone,
Pawse till this Heat be somewhat over-past,
Full little know'st thou whither thou do'st runne;
Richmont and Pembroke, never make such haste,
Yee doe but strive to bring more Horror on:
“Never seeke Sorrow, for it comes too fast;
Why strive yee thus, to passe this fatall Floud,
To fetch but Wounds, and shed your neerest Bloud?

31

Great Lancaster, yet sheath thy angrie Sword,

The sonne of Crouchback and cousin German to the King, as is shewed in the Notes upon the 14. Stanza of the first Canto.

On Edwards Armes, whose edge thou should'st not set,
Thy naturall Kinsman, and thy Sov'raigne Lord,
Both from the Loynes of our Plantaginet,
Call yet to mind thy once engaged Word;
Canst thou thy Oath to Long-shanks thus forget?
“Men should performe, before all other things,
“The serious Vowes they make, to God, and Kings.

32

The Winds were hush'd (no little Breath doth blow)

A description of the Conflict at Burton, in 13. Stanza's following.

Which seems sat still, as though they list'ning stood,
With trampling Crowds, the very Earth doth bow,
And through the Smoake, the Sunne appear'd like Blood;
What with the Showt, and with the dreadfull Show,
The Heards of Beasts ran bellowing to the Wood;
When Drums and Trumpets to the Charge did sound,
As they would shake the grosse Clouds to the ground.

33

The Earles then charging with their power of Horse,
Taking a Signall when they should begin,
Being in view of th'Imperiall force,
Which at that time assay'd the Bridge to win,
Which made the Barons change their former course,
T'avoid the present Danger they were in;
Which on the sudden had they not fore-cast,
Of their last Day, that Houre had beene the last.

34

When from the Hill the Kings maine Powers come downe,
Which had Aquarius to their valiant Guide,

An expert Souldier of those times.

Brave Lancaster & Harford, from the Towne,
Doe issue forth upon the other side,
Peere against Peere, the Crowne against the Crowne,
The King assayles, the Barons munify'd;
Englands Red Crosse upon both sides doth flye,

Saint George, Patron of the English.

S. George, the King, S. George, the Barons crye.

35

A Simile of the encountring of the Armies.

Like as an Exhalation hot and drie,
Amongst the Ayre-bred moystie Vapours throwne,
Spetteth his Lightning forth outragiously,
Rending the thicke Clouds with the Thunder stone,
Whose fierie Splinters through the thinne Ayre flye,
That with the Horror, Heaven and Earth doth grone;
With the like Clamour, and confused O,
To the dread Shock the desp'rate Armies goe.

36

There might Men see the famous English Bowes,
Wherewith our Foes we wonted to subdue,
Shoot their sharpe Arrowes in the face of those,
Which oft before victoriously them drew;
Yet shun their Ayme; and troubled in the Loose,
Those well-wing'd Weapons mourning as they flew,
Slip'd from the Bow-string, impotent, and slacke,
As to the Archers they would faine turne backe.

37

As they are supposed, to be descended from the Trojans, by the Britans, the first Inhabitants of this Island.

Behold the Remnant of Troyes ancient Stocke,
Laying on Blowes, as Smyths on Anvyls strike,
Grappling together in the fearefull Shocke,
Where still the strong encountreth with the like,
(And each as ruthlesse as the hard'ned Rocke)
Wer't with the Speare, or Browne Bill, or the Pike,
Still as the Wings, or Battels came together,
Ere fortune gave advantage yet to either.

38

From batt'red Helmes, with ev'ry envious Blow,
The scatt'red Plumes flye loosely here and there,
To the Beholder like to flakes of Snow,
That ev'ry light breath on its Wings doth beare,
As they had sense and feeling of our Woe:
And thus affrighted with the sudden feare,
Now back, now forward, such strange windings make,
As though uncertaine which way they should take.

39

Slaughter alike invadeth either Hoast,
Whilst still the Battell strongly doth abide,
Which ev'ry where runnes raking through the Coast,
As't pleas'd outragious Furie it to guide,
Yet not suffic'd, where tyrannizing most;
So that their Wounds, like Mouthes, by gaping wide,
Made as they meant to call for present Death,
Had they but Tongues, their deepnesse gives them breath.

40

Here lyes a heape halfe slaine, and partly drown'd,
Gasping for breath amongst the slymie Segges,
And there a sort layd in a deadly Swoun'd,
Trod with the Prease into the Mudde and Dregges;
Others lye bleeding on the firmer ground,
Hurt in the Bodies, maym'd of Armes and Legges;
One sticks his Foe, his Scalpe another cuts,
Ones feet intangled in anothers guts.

41

One his assayling Enemie beguiles,
As from the Bridge he fearefully doth fall,
Crush'd with his weight upon the Stakes and Pyles;
Some in their gore upon the Pavement sprall,
Our Native Bloud, our Native Earth defiles,
And dire Destruction overwhelmeth all;
Such hideous Shrikes the Bedlam Souldiers breath,
As the damn'd Sp'rits had howled from beneath.

42

The Faction still defying Edwards might,
Edmond of Wood-stock, with the Men of Kent,
Charging afresh, renues the doubtfull Fight
Upon the Barons, languishing and spent,
Bringing new matter for a Tragique sight;
Forth against whom, their skilfull Warriors went,
Bravely to end, what bravely did begin,
Their Noblest Sp'rits will quickly lose, or win.

43

A Catalogue of many of the Barons, that were with the Earles of Lancaster and Harford, in two Stanza's.

As before Troy, bright Thetis God-like Sonne,
Talbot himselfe in this fierce Conflict bare,
Mowbray in fight him matchlesse Honour wonne,
Clifford for Life seem'd little but to care,
Awdley and Elmsbridge Perill scorne to shunne,
Gifford seem'd Danger to her teeth to dare,
Nor Badlesmer gave back to Edwards Power,
As though they strove whom Death should first devoure.

44

Ile not commend thee Mountfort, nor thee Teis,
Else your high Valour much might justly merit;
Nor Denvyle, dare I whisper of thy prayse;
Nor Willington, will I applaud thy Spirit;
Your Facts forbid, that I your Fame should rayse;
Nor Damory, thy due may'st thou inherit;

Bayes, for Prayse or Commendations.

Your Bayes must be your well-deserved blame,
For your ill actions quench my sacred flame.

45

O, had you fashion'd your great Deeds by them,
Who summon'd

Their Ancestors, that went with Richard Cœur de Lyon to the Warres against the Pagans.

Acon with an English Drum;
Or theirs, before, that to

Those before them, that went with Duke Robert, the eldest son of the Conqueror, under the Conduct of Godfrey of Bulloyne, to the Holy Land.

Jerusalem
Went with the gen'rall Power of Christendome;
Then had yee raught Fames richest Diadem,
As they who fought to free the Saviours Tombe,
And like them, had immortaliz'd your Names,
Where now my Song can be but of your Shames.

46

O Age inglorious, Armes untimely borne,
When that approved and victorious Shield
Must in this civill Massacre be torne,
Brus'd with the Blowes of many a foraine Field;
And more, in this sad Overthrow be worne
By those, in flight inforc'd it up to yeeld;
For which, since then, the Stones for very dread,
Against rough stormes, cold drops for teares doe shead.

47

When soone King Edwards faint & wav'ring friends,
Which had this while stood doubtfully to pawse,
When they perceive, that Destinie intends,
That his Successe shall justifie his Cause,
Each in himselfe fresh Courage apprehends,
“(For Victorie both Feare and Friendship drawes)
And smile on him, on whom they late did frowne,
All lend their hands to hew the conqu'red downe.

48

That scarce a Man, which Edward late did lacke,
Whilst the proud Barons bare an upright Face,
But (when they saw, that they had turn'd their backe)
Joynes with the King, to prosecute their Chase,
The Baronage so headlong goes to wracke;
In the just tryall of so neere a Case,
Inforc'd to prove the fortune of the Coast,
The Day at Burton that had cleerely lost.

49

And to the aid of the victorious King,
(Which more and more gave vigour to his hope,
With good Successe him still encouraging,
And to his Actions lent an ampler Scope)
Sir Andrew Herckley happily doth bring,

This Knight after created Earle of Carlel.

On their light Horse a valiant Northerne Troupe,
Arm'd but too aptly, and with too much speed,
Most to doe harme, when least thereof was need.

50

When still the Barons making forth their way,
Through Places best for their Advantage knowne,
Retaine their Armie, bodyed as they may,
By their Defeat, farre weaker that was growne;
In their best skill devising day by day,
T'offend th'Assaylant, and defend their owne,
Of their Mis-haps the utmost to endure,
If nothing else their Safetie might assure.

51

In their sad flight, with Furie followed thus,
Tracing the North through many a tyresome Strait,
And forc'd through many a Passage perillous,
To Borough Bridge, led by their lucklesse Fate:
Bridges

Their first defeat at Burton Bridge, the last at Borough Bridge.

should seeme to Barons ominous,
For there they lastly were precipitate;
Which

A very remarkable thing of that place, where the Barons were overthrowne.

place, the marke of their Mischance doth beare,
For since that time, Grasse never prosp'red there.

52

Where, for new Bloudshed they new Battels rang'd,
And take new Breath, to make Destruction new:
Chang'd is their Ground, but yet their Fate unchang'd,
Which too directly still doth them pursue;
Nor are they, and their Miseries estrang'd,
To their Estates though they meere strangers grew;
The only hope whereon they doe depend,
With Courage is to consummate their end.

53

A Simile of the desperate Miserie of the Barons.

Like as a Heard of over-heated Deere,
By hot-spur'd Hunters lab'red to be caught,
With Hues and Hounds recov'red ev'ry where,
When as they find their speed availes them naught,
Upon the Toyles runne headlong, without feare,
With noyse of Hounds, and Hollow's, as distraught;
Even so the Barons, in this desp'rate case,
Turne upon those which lately did them chase.

54

Ensigne beards Ensigne, Sword 'gainst Sword doth shake,
Drum brawles with Drum, as Ranke doth Ranke oppose,
Ther's not a Man that care of Life doth take,
But Death in earnest to his Bus'nesse goes,
A gen'rall Havocke as of all to make,
And with Destruction doth them all inclose,
Dealing it selfe impartially to all,
Friend by his friend, as foe by foe doth fall.

55

Yet the brave Barons, whilst they doe respire,
(In spight of Fortune, as they stood prepar'd)
With Courage charge, with Comelinesse retyre,
Make good their Ground, and then relieve their Guard,
Withstand the Ent'rer, then pursue the Flyer,
New-forme their Battell, shifting ev'ry Ward;
As your high Skill, were but your Quarrell good,
O Noble Spirits, how deare had beene your Blood!

56

That well-arm'd Band, ambitious Herckley led,
Of which, the Barons never dreamt before,
Then greatly stood King Edwards Power in stead,
And in the Fight assayl'd the Enemie sore:
O Day most fatall, and most full of dread!
Never can Time thy ruinous Waste restore;
Which with his strength though he attempt to doo,
Well may he strive for, and yet fayle of too.

57

Pale Death beyond his wonted Bounds doth swell,
Carving proud flesh in Cantles out at large;
As Leaves in Autumne, so the Bodies fell,
Under sharpe Steele, at ev'ry boyst'rous Charge:
O, what sad Pen can their Destruction tell!
Where Scalpes lay beaten like the batt'red Targe;
And every one he claymeth as his right,
Whose lucke it was not to escape by flight.

58

Those Warlike Ensignes, waving in the Field,
Which lately seem'd to brave th'imbattell'd Foe,
Longer not able their owne weight to wield,
Their loftie Tops to the base Dust doe bow;
Here sits a Helmet, and there lyes a Shield:
O, ill did Fate those ancient Armes bestow!
Which as a Quarry on the soyl'd Earth lay,
Seiz'd on by Conquest, as a glorious Prey.

59

Where Noble Bohun, that most Princely Peere,
Harford, much honor'd, and of high desert,
And to this Nation none as he so deare,
Passing the Bridge with a resolved heart,
To stop his Souldiers, which retyring were,

The unfortunate end of the Earle of Harford.

Was 'twixt two Plankes slaine through his lower part;
But Lancaster, not destin'd there to die,
Taken, reserv'd to further Miserie.

60

Whose Tragique Scene, some Muse vouchsafe to sing:
His, of five Earledomes who then liv'd possest,
A Brother, Sonne, and Unckle to a King,
With Favour, Friends, and with Abundance blest:
What could Man thinke, or could devise the thing,
That but seem'd wanting to his worldly Rest?
“But on this Earth, what's free from Fortunes Power?
“What an Age got, is lost in halfe an houre.

61

Some few, themselves in Sanctuaries hide;
Which, though they have the mercie of the place,
Yet are their Bodies so unsanctify'd,
As that their Soules can hardly hope for grace;
Where, they in Feare and Penurie abide
A poore dead Life, which length'neth but a space;
Hate stands without, whilst Horror still within
Prolongs their shame, yet pard'neth not their sinne.

62

A vehement expression of the ensuing Massacre of the Barons.

Nor was Death then contented with the dead,
Of full Revenge as though it were deny'd,
And till it might have that accomplished,
It held it selfe in nothing satisfy'd;
And with delayes no longer to be fed,
An unknowne Torment further doth provide,
That dead Men should in Miserie remaine,
To make the Living die with greater paine.

63

Yee Sov'raine Cities of this wofull Ile,
In Cypresse Wreaths, and your most sad Attyre,
Prepare your selves to build the Funerall Pile,
Lay your pale Hands to this exequious Fire,
All Mirth and Comfort from your Streets exile,
Fill'd with the groanes of Men, when they expire;
The Noblest Bloud approching to be shed,
That ever dropt from any of your Dead.

64

When Thomas, Earle of Lancaster, that late
Th'rebellious Barons trayt'rously retain'd,
As the chiefe Agent in this great Debate,
Was for the same (ere many dayes) arraign'd,
'Gainst whom, at Pomfret they articulate,
(To whom those Treasons chiefely appertain'd;)

Thomas, Earle of Lancaster, beheaded at Pomfret.

Whose Proofes apparant, so well, nay, ill sped,
As from his shoulders rest his rev'rend Head.

65

Yet Lancaster, it is not thy lost breath,
That can assure the safetie of the Crowne,
Or that can make a Covenant with Death,
To warrant Edward, what he thinks his owne;
But he must pay the forfait of his Faith,

His word forfaited to the Barons, for recalling Gaveston, and the Spensers.

When they shall rise, which he hath trodden downe;
“All's not a Mans that is from others rackt,
“And other Agents other wayes doe act.

66

Nor was it long, but in that fatall place,
The way to Death where Lancaster had led,
But many other, in the selfe-same case,
Him in like manner sadly followed.
London, would thou hadst had thy former grace,

Few Cities, or great Townes of England, wherein some of the Barons, or their Accomplices, were not executed.

As thou art first, most Bloud that thou hadst shed,
By other Cities not exceeded farre,
Whose Streets devoure the Remnant of that Warre.

67

O Parents ruthfull and heart-renting sight!
To see that Sonne, that your soft Bosomes fed,
His Mothers Joy, his Fathers sole Delight,
That with much Cost, yet with more Care was bred;
O Spectacle (even) able to affright
A senselesse Thing, and terrifie the Dead!
His deare, deare Bloud, upon the cold Earth powr'd,
His quart'red Coarse, of Crowes and Kytes devour'd.

68

But 'tis not you that here complaine alone,
Or to your selves this fearefull Portion share;
Here's strange and choise varietie of Moane,
Poore Orphans teares with Widowes mixed are,
With many Friends sigh, many a Maidens Groane;
So innocent, so simply pure, and rare,
As Nature, which till then had silence kept,
Neere burst with Sorrow, bitterly had wept.

69

O Bloudie Age! had not these things beene done,
I had not now, in these more calmer Times,
Into the search of those past Troubles runne;
Nor had my Virgin unpolluted Rimes
Alt'red the course wherein they first begun,
To sing these horrid and unnaturall Crimes;

The Subject of my Sonets.

My Layes had still been of Ideas Bowre,

Two Rivers of Warwickeshire.

Of my deare Ancor, or her loved Stowre.

70

Nor other Subject then your Selfe, had chose,
Your Birth, your Vertues, and your high Respects,
Whose Bounties oft have nourish'd my Repose;

The Patron of his Poems.

You, whom my Muse ingenuously elects,
Denying Earth your brave Thoughts to inclose,
Maugre the Momists, and Satyricke Sects;
That whilst my Verse to after-Times is sung,
You may live with me, and be honor'd long.

71

But greater things my Subject hath in store,
Still to her Taske my armed Muse to keepe,
And offreth her Occasion as before,
Whereon she may in mournefull Verses weepe;
And as a Ship being gotten neere the Shore,
By awkward Winds re-driven to the Deepe,
So is the Muse, from whence she came of late,
Into the Businesse of a troubled State.

The end of the second Canto.

The third Canto.

The Argument.

By sleepie Potions that the Queene ordaynes,
Lord Mortimer escapes out of the Tower;
And by false Sleights, and many subtill Traynes,
She gets to France, to rayse a foraine Power:
The French King leaves his Sister; Need constraynes
The Queene to Henault, in a happie Houre;
Edward, her Sonne, to Philip is affide;
They for Invasion instantly provide.

1

Scarse had these passed Miseries an end,
But other Troubles instantly began;
As Mischiefe doth new Matter apprehend,
By things that still irregularly ran:
For further yet their Furie doth extend;
All was not yeelded, that King Edward wan;
And some there were, in Corners that did lye,
Which o'er his Actions had a watchfull eye.

2

When as the King (whilst things thus fairely went)
Who by this happie Victorie grew strong,
Summon'd at Yorke a solemne Parlament,
T'uphold his Right, and helpe the Spensers wrong,
(In all Affaires t'establish his Intent)
Whence more and more his Minions Greatnesse sprong;
Whose Counsels still, in ev'ry Bus'nesse crost
Th'inraged Queene, in all Misfortunes tost.

3

When as the eld'st, a Man extremely hated,

Hugh Spenser the elder.

(Whom, till that time, the King could not preferre,
Untill he had the Barons Pride abated)
That Parlament made Earle of Winchester;
As Herckley, Earle of Carlel he created;

For his Service against the Barons, at Borough Bridge.

And likewise, Baldock he made Chancelor;
One, whom the King had for his Purpose wraught,
A Man, as subtill, so corrupt and naught.

4

When as Mis-haps (that seldome come alone)
Thicke in the necks of one another fell;
The Scot began a new Invasion,
And France did thence the English Powers expell,
The Irish set the English Pale upon,
At home, the Commons ev'ry day rebell;
Mischiefe on Mischiefe, Curse doth follow Curse,
One Ill scarce past, but after comes a worse.

5

For Mortimer, that Wind most fitly blew,
Troubling their eyes, which otherwise might see,
Whilst the wise Queene, who all Advantage knew,
Was closely casting, how to set him free;
And did the Plot so seriously pursue,
Till she had found the Meanes how it should be,
Against Opinion, and Imperious Might,
To worke her owne Ends, through the Jawes of Spight.

6

And to that purpose she a Potion made,
In Operation of that poys'ning Power,
That it the Spirits could presently invade,
And quite dis-sense the Senses in an houre,
With such cold numnesse, as it might perswade
That very Death the Patient did devoure,
For certaine Houres, and sealed up the eyes,
'Gainst all that Art could possibly devise.

7

The Ingredients to the sleepie Potion.

In which, she Plantan and cold Lettuce had,
The Water-Lilly from the Marish ground,
With the wan Poppie, and the Nightshade sad,
And the short Mosse, that on the Trees is found,
The poys'ning Henbane, and the Mandrake drad,
With Cypresse flowers, that with the rest were pown'd;
The braine of Cranes amongst the rest shee takes,
Mix'd with the Bloud of Dormice, and of Snakes.

8

Thus, like Medea, sat shee in her Cell,
Which shee had circled with her potent Charmes,
From thence all hind'rance cleerely to expell;
Then her with Magique Instruments she Armes,
And to her Bus'nesse instantly she fell;

A Fire lighted in an Angular Vessell, by the contraction of the Sunbeames.

A Vestall Fire she lights, wherewith she warmes
The mixed Juices, from those Simples wrung,
To make the Med'cine wonderfully strong.

9

The sundry Feares that from her Fact might rise,
Men may suppose, her trembling Hand might stay,
Had shee consider'd of the Enterprise,
To thinke what Perill in th'Attempt there lay;
Knowing besides, that there were secret Spyes
Set by her Foes, to watch her ev'ry way:
“But when that Sex leave Vertue to esteeme,
“Those greatly erre, which think them what they seeme.

10

A Character of meere Woman.

Their plighted Faith they at their pleasure leave,
Their Love is cold, but hot as fire their Hate,
On whom they smile, they surely those deceive,
In their Desires they be insatiate:
Them of their Will there's nothing can bereave,
Their Anger hath no bound, Revenge no date;
They lay by Feare, when they at Ruine ayme,
They shun not Sinne, as little weigh they Shame.

11

The elder of the Mortimers, this while
That their sure Friends so many sundry wayes,
By Fight, by Execution, by Exile,
Had seene cut off; then finished his dayes;
Which (though with griefe) doth somewhat reconcile
The youngers Thoughts, and lends his Cares some ease;

The elder of the Mortimers, dieth in the Tower.

Which oft his Heart, oft troubled had his Head,
For the deare safetie of his Unckle, dead.

12

But there was more did on his Death depend,
Then Heaven was pleas'd the foolish World should know;
And why the Fates thus hasted on his end,
Thereby intending stranger Plagues to show.
Brave Lord, in vaine thy breath thou didst not spend,
From thy Corruption, greater Conflicts grow;
Which began soone, and fruitfully to spring,
New kinds of Vengeance on that Age to bring.

13

As Heart could wish, when ev'ry thing was fit,
The Queene attends her Potions Power to prove;
Their stedfast Friends their best assisting it,
Their trustie Servants seale up all in love:
And Mortimer, his Valor and his Wit
Then must expresse, whom most it doth behove;
Each place made sure, where Guides and Horses lay,
And where the Ship, that was for his Convay.

14

When as his Birth-day he had yeerely kept,

Mortimer, in the time of his Imprisonment, observed his Birth-day in the Tower.

And us'd that day, those of the Tower to feed;
And on the Warders, other Bounties heapt,
For his Advantage, he that day decreed;
Which did Suspition clearely intercept,
And much avayl'd him at that time of need;
When after Cates, their Thirst at last to quench,
He mix'd their Liquor with that sleepie Drench.

15

Which soone each Sense doth with dead coldnesse seize;
When he which knew the Keepers of each Ward,
Out of their Pockets quickly tooke the Keyes,
His coarded Ladders readily prepar'd;
And stealing forth, through darke and secret wayes,
(Not then to learne his Compas by the Card)
To winne the Walls couragiously doth goe,
Which look'd as scorning to be mast'red so.

16

They soundly sleepe, whilst his quicke Spirits awake,
Expos'd to Perill in the high'st Extremes,
Alcydes Labours as to undertake,
O'er Walls, o'er Gates, through Watches, and through Streames,
By which, his owne way he himselfe must make:
And let them tell King Edward of their Dreames;
For ere they came out of their Braine-sicke Trance,
He made no doubt to be arriv'd in France.

17

The description of a gloomie Night, after the going downe of the Moone, being in her Prime; in two Stanza's.

The sullen Night had her blacke Curtaine spred,
Lowring that Day had tarried up so long,
And that the Morrow might lye long a Bed,
She all the Heav'n with duskie Clouds had hung;
Cynthia pluck'd in her newly-horned Head,
Away to West, and under Earth she flung,
As she had long'd to certifie the Sunne,
What, in his absence, in our World was done.

18

The lesser Lights, like Sentinels in Warre,
Behind the Clouds stood privily to prie,
As though unseene, they subt'ly strove from farre,
Of his escape the manner to descrie;
Hid was each Wand'ring, as each fixed Starre,
As they had held a Councell in the Skie,
And had concluded with that present Night,
That not a Starre should once give any Light.

19

In a slow silence, all the Shoares are husht,
Only the Shreech-owle sounded to th'Assault,
And Isis with a troubled Murmure rusht,
As if consenting, and would hide the Fault;

Thames.

And as his Foot the Sand or Gravell crusht,
There was a little whisp'ring in the Vault,
Mov'd by his treading, softly as he went,
Which seem'd to say, it furth'red his intent.

20

Whilst that wise Queene, whom Care yet restlesse kept,

The violent Passion of the Queene, whilest Mortimer was making his Escape, in six Stanza's.

For happie Speed, to Heav'n held up her hands,
With worlds of Hopes, and Feares together heapt
In her full Bosome; list'ning as she stands,
She sigh'd and pray'd, and sigh'd againe, and wept;
She sees him how he Climbes, how Swims, how Lands,
Though absent, present in Desires they bee,
“Our Soule much farther then our Eyes can see.

21

The small Clouds issuing from his Lips, she sayth,
Lab'ring so fast as he the Ladder clame,
Should purge the Ayre of Pestilence and Death;
And as from Heav'n, that filch'd Promethian flame,
The sweetnesse so, and vertue of his Breath,
New Creatures in the Element should frame;
And to what Part it had the hap to stray,
There should it make another Milkie Way.

22

Attayn'd the Top, whilst spent, he paws'd to blow,
She saw, how Round he cast his longing Eyes,
The Earth to greet him gently from below,
How greatly he was favored of the Skyes;
She saw him marke the Way he was to goe,
And tow'rds her Palace how he turn'd his Eyes;
From the Walls height, as when he downe did slide,
She heard him crie, Now Fortune be my Guide.

23

As he descended, so did she descend,
As she would hold him, that he should not fall,
On whom alone her Safetie did depend:
But when some Doubt did her deepe Thoughts appall,
Distractedly she did her Hands extend
For speedie Helpe, and earnestly did call
Softly againe, if Death to him should hap,
She beg'd of Heaven, his Grave might be her Lap.

24

To shew him favour, she intreats the Ayre,
For him she beg'd the mercie of the Wind,
For him she kneel'd before the Night with Prayer,
For him, her selfe she to the Earth inclin'd,
For him, his Tydes beseeching Thames to spare,
And to command his Billowes to be kind;
And tells the Floud, if he her Love would quit,
No Floud of her should honor'd be, but it.

25

But when she thought she saw him swim along,
Doubting the Streame was taken with his Love,
She fear'd the Drops that on his Tresses hung,
And that each Wave, which most should woo him, strove,
To his cleare Bodie that so closely clung,
Which when before him with his Brest he drove,
Pallid with Griefe, she turn'd away her Face,
Jealous, that he the Waters should imbrace.

26

That angry Lyon having slip'd his Chaine,
As in a Fever, made King Edward quake;
Who knew, before he could be caught againe,
Deare was the Bloud, that his strong Thirst must slake;
He found, much labour had beene spent in vaine,
And must be forc'd a further Course to take,
Perceiving Tempests rising in the Wind,
Of which too late, too truly he divin'd.

27

By his Escape, that adverse Part growne prowd,
On each hand working for a second Warre,
And in their Councels nothing was allow'd,
But what might be a Motive to some Jarre;
And though their Plots were carried in a Clowd,
From the discerning of the Popular,
The Wiser yet, whose Judgements farther raught,
Eas'ly perceive how things about were brought.

28

Those secret Fires, by envious Faction blowne,
Brake out in France, which cover'd long had layne;
King Charles from Edward challenging his owne,
First Guyne, next Pontieu, and then Aquitayne,
To each of which, he made his Title knowne,
Nor from their Seisure longer would abstaine;
The cause thereof, lay out of most Mens view,
Which though fooles found not, wise Men quickly knew.

29

Their Projects hitting (many a day in hand)
That to their Purpose prosp'rously had thriv'd,
The Base whereon a mightie Frame must stand,
By all their Cunnings that had beene contriv'd;
Finding their Actions were so throughly man'd,
Their fainting Hopes were wond'rously reviv'd,
They made no doubt, to see in little time,
The full of that, which then was in the prime.

30

The King much troubled with the French Affayre,
Which as a shapelesse and unweldie Masse,
Wholly imploy'd the utmost of his care,
To Charles of France his Embassie to passe,
For which, it much behov'd him to prepare,
Before the Warre too deepely settled was;
Which when they found, they likewise cast about,

The great Policie of the Queenes Faction.

As they would goe, to make him send them out.

31

Which, when they came in Councell to debate,
And to the depth had seriously discust,
Finding how neerely it concern'd the State,
To stay a Warre, both dang'rous and unjust;
That weightie Bus'nesse to negotiate,
They must find One of speciall worth and trust;
Where ev'ry Lord his Censure freely past,
Of whom he lik'd, the Bishop was the last.

32

Adam Torlton, Bishop of Hereford, a Man of high eloquence.

Torlton, whose Tongue Mens Eares in chaines could tye,
And like Joves fearfull Thunderbolt could pierce,
In which there more Authoritie did lye,
Then in those words the Sibyls did rehearse,
Whose Sentence was so absolute and hye,
As had the power a Judgement to reverse,
For the wise Queene, with all his might did stand,
To lay that charge on her well-guiding hand.

33

Urging what credit she the Cause might bring,
Impartiall, 'twixt a Husband, and a Brother,
A Queene in Person, betwixt King and King;
And more then that, to shew her selfe a Mother,
There for her Sonne, his Right establishing,
Which did as much concerne them as the other;
Which Colour serv'd to worke in this Extreame,
That, of which then, the King did never dreame.

34

Torlton, was this thy Spirituall Pretence?
Would God thy Thoughts had beene Spirituall,
Or lesse perswasive thy great Eloquence:
But O, thy Actions were too Temporall,
Thy Knowledge had too much Preheminence,
Thy Reason subtill, and Sophisticall;
“But all's not true, that Supposition sayth,
“Nor have the Mightiest Arguments most Fayth.

35

Nor did the Bishop those his Learned lacke,
As well of Power, as Policie and Wit,
That were prepar'd his great Designe to backe,
And could amend where ought he did omit:
For with such Cunning they had made their Packe,

A Metaphor taken from Card-play.

That it went hard, if that they should not hit;
That the faire Queene to France with speed must go,
Hard had he ply'd, that had perswaded so.

36

When she, well fitted both of Wind and Tyde,
And saw the Coast was ev'ry way so cleere,
As a wise Woman she her Bus'nesse plyde,
Whilst things went currant, and well carried were,
Her selfe, and hers, to get aboord she hyde,
As one, whose Fortune made her still to feare;
Knowing those Times so variously inclin'd,
And ev'ry Toy soone alt'ring Edwards Mind.

37

Her Followers such, as meerely Friendlesse stood,
Sunke, and dejected by the Spensers Pride,
Who bore the Taynts of Treason in their Blood,

Such, whose Bloud and Lands were attainted, in those late Rebellions.

And for Revenge, would leave no wayes untryde,
Whose Meanes were bad, but yet their Minds were good,
When now at hand they had their Helpe descryde;
Nor were they wanting, Mischiefe to invent,
To worke their Wills, and further her Intent.

38

Whilst Mortimer (that all this while hath layne,

Returning from matters of State, to the fortunes of Mortimer, in his exile.

From our faire Course) by Fortune strangely crost,
In France was struggling how he might regayne,
That which before in England he had lost,
And all good Meanes doth gladly entertaine,
No jot dismay'd, in all those Tempests tost,
Nor his great Mind could so be overthrowne,
All Men his Friends, all Countries were his owne.

39

Then Muse (transported by thy former zeale,
Led in thy Progresse, where his Fortune lyes)
To thy sure aid, I seriously appeale:
To shew him fully, without fain'd Disguise,
The ancient Heroes then I shall reveale,
And in their Patterns I shall be precise,
When in my Verse, transparent, neat, and cleare,
They, shall in his pure Character appeare.

40

In the person of Mortimer, the patterne of an excellent Man; in two Stanza's.

He was a Man (then boldly dare to say)
In whose rich Soule the Vertues well did sute,
In whom, so mix'd, the Elements all lay,
That none to one could Sov'raigntie impute,
As all did governe, yet all did obay;
He of a temper was so absolute,
As that it seem'd, when Nature him began,
She meant to shew all, that might be in Man.

41

A Metaphor from Timber

So throughly season'd, and so rightly set,
That in the Levell of the clearest Eye,
Time never toucht him with deforming Fret,
Nor had the power to warpe him but awry;
Whom, in his Course, no Crosse could ever let,
His Elevation fixed was so hye;
That those rough Stormes, whose rage the World doth prove,
Never raught him, who sat them farre above.

42

Which the Queene saw, who had a seeing Spirit,
For she had mark'd the largenesse of his Mind,
And with much Judgement look'd into his Merit,
Above the usuall compasse of her kind,

Looke to the 23. Stanza of the first Canto.

His Grandsires Greatnesse rightly to inherit;
When as the Ages in their Course inclin'd,
And the World weake, with Time began to bow
To that poore Basenesse that it rests at now.

43

He weighs not Wealth, nor yet his Wigmore left,

Wigmore, in Herefordshire, the ancient Seat of the Mortimers.

Let needlesse Heapes, as things of nothing stand;
That was not his, that Man could take by Theft,
He was a Lord, if he had Sea, or Land,

The Noble Resolution of a brave Mind.

And thought him rich, of those who was not reft;
“Man, of all Creatures, hath an upright hand,
“And by the Starres is only taught to know,
“That as they progresse Heav'n, he Earth should doe.

44

Wherefore wise Nature, from this face of Ground,
Into the Deepe taught Man to find the way,
That in the Floods her Treasure might be found,
To make him search, for what she there did lay;
And that her Secrets he might throughly sound,
She gave him Courage, as her only Kay,
That of all Creatures, as the worthiest, hee
Her glorie there and wond'rous works should see.

45

Let wretched Worldlings sweat for Mud and Earth,
Whose groveling Bosomes licke the recreant Stones,
Such Pesants carke for Plentie, and for Dearth,
Fame never lookes upon those prostrate Drones;
The brave Mind is allotted in the Birth,
To manage Empires from the state of Thrones,
Frighting coy Fortune, when she stern'st appeares,
Which scorneth Sighes, and jeereth at our Teares.

46

But when Report (as with a trembling Wing)
Tickled the entrance of his listning Eare,
With newes of Ships, sent out the Queene to bring,
For her at Sandwich which then wayting were;
He surely thought he heard the Angels sing,

The amorous Passion of Mortimer, hearing of the comming of the Queene.

And the whole Frame of Heav'n make up the Quire,
That his full Soule was smoth'red with excesse,
Her ample Joyes unable to expresse.

47

Quoth he, slide Billowes smoothly for her sake,

Fained by the Poets to be a God of the Sea.

Whose sight can make your aged Nereus yong,
For her faire Passage even Allyes make,
And as the soft Winds waft her Sayles along,
Sleeke ev'ry little Dimple of the Lake:
Sweet Syrens, and be readie with your Song;
Though 'tis not Venus that doth passe that way,
Yet is as faire as she borne on the Sea.

48

Yee Scalie Creatures, gaze upon her Eye,
And never after, with your kind make Warre;
O steale the Accents, from her Lippes that flye,
Which like the Tunes of the Celestials are,
And them to your sicke amorous Thoughts apply,

Fayned to make Fishes attend him, with the Musike of his Harpe.

Compar'd with which, Arions did but jarre;
Wrap them in ayre, and when blacke Tempests rage,
Use them as Charmes, the rough Seas to asswage.

49

France, send t'attend her with full Sholes of Oares,
With which her Fleet may ev'ry way be plyde;
And when she landeth on thy blessed Shoares,
And the vast Navie doth at Anchor ryde,
For her departure, when the wild Sea roares,
Ship mount to Heaven, and there be stellifyde;

An Asterisme given to the Ship, that carried Jason to Colchos.

Next Jasons Argo, on the burnish'd Throne,
Assume thy selfe a Constellation.

50

Queene Isabel then landing with delight,
Had what rich France could lend her for her ease;
And as she pass'd, no Towne but did invite
Her with some Shew, her Appetite to please:
But Mortimer once comming in her sight,
His shape and features did her Fancie seize;
When she, that knew how her fit time to take,
Thus she her most-lov'd Mortimer bespake:

51

O Mortimer, sweet Mortimer, quoth she,

The Queenes speech to Mortimer, at their first Interview.

What angry Power did first the meanes devise,
To separate Queene Isabel, and thee,
Whom (to despight) Love yet together tyes?
But if thou thinkst the Fault was made by me,
For a just Penance to my longing Eyes,
Though guiltlesse they, this be to them assign'd,
To gaze upon thee, till they leave me blind.

52

My deare, deare heart, thought I to see thee thus,
When first in Court thou didst my Favor weare,
When we have watch'd, lest any noted us,
Whilst our Lookes us'd Loves Messages to beare,
And we by signes sent many a secret Busse;
An Exile then, thought I to see thee here?
But what couldst thou be then, but now thou art?
Though banish'd England, yet not from my heart.

53

That Fate which did thy Franchisement inforce,
And from the depth of Danger set thee free,
Still Regular, and constant in that Course,
Made me this straight and even Path to thee,
Of our Affections as it tooke remorse,
Our Birth-fix'd Starres so luckily agree,
Whose Revolution seriously directs
Our like Proceedings, to the like effects.

54

Onely wise Counsell hath contriv'd this thing,
For which we wish'd so many a wofull day,
Of which, the cleare and perfect managing,
Is that strong Prop, whereon our Hopes may stay;
Which in it selfe th'Authoritie doth bring,
That weake Opinion hath not Power to sway,
Confuting those, whose sightlesse Judgements sit
In the thicke Ranke, with ev'ry common Wit.

55

Then since th'assay our good successe assures,
And we her Fav'rites leane on Fortunes Brest,
That ev'ry houre new Comforts us procures,
Of these her Blessings let us chuse the best,
And whilst the day of our good Hap endures,
Let's take the bounteous Benefits of Rest;
Let's feare no Storme, before we feele a Showre,

Of the Lands belonging to the Crowne of England, both in England and France.

My Sonne a King, two Kingdomes helpe my Dowre.

56

Of wanton Edward when I first was woo'd,
Why cam'st thou not into the Court of France?
Before thy King, thou in my grace hadst stood:
O Mortimer, how good had beene thy Chance!
My Love attempted in that youthfull Mood,
I might have beene thine owne Inheritance;
Where entring now by Force, thou holdst by Might,

A word borrowed from the Law.

And art Disseisor of anothers Right.

57

Thou Idoll, Honour, which we Fooles adore,
(How many Plagues doe rest in thee, to grieve us?)
Which when we have, we find there is much more,
Then that which onely is a Name, can give us;
Of reall Comforts thou do'st leave us poore,
And of those Joyes thou often do'st deprive us,
That with our selves doth set us at debate,
And makes us Beggers in our greatest state.

58

With such brave Raptures from her words that rise,
She made a breach in his impressive Brest,
And all his Pow'rs so fully did surprize,
As seem'd to rocke his Senses to their rest,
So that his Wit could not that thing devise,
Of which he thought his Soule was not possest;
Whose great abundance, like a swelling Flood
After a Showre, ran through his ravish'd Blood.

59

Like as a Lute, that's touch'd with curious skill,

A Simile of the mutuall Affections of Mortimer and the Queene.

Each string stretch'd up, his right Tone to retayne,
Musikes true Language that doth speake at will,
The Base and Treble married by the Meane,
Whose Sounds each Note with Harmonie doe fill,
Whether it be in Descant, or on Playne;
So their Affections, set in Keyes alike,
In true Concent meet, as their Humors strike.

60

As the plaine Path to their Designe appeares,
Of whose wish'd sight, they had been long debar'd,
By the dissolving of those threat'ning Feares,
That many a Purpose, many a Plot had mar'd;
Their Hope at full, so heartily them cheares,
And their Protection by a stronger Guard,
Lends them that leysure, the events to cast
Of things to come, by those alreadie past.

61

For this great Bus'nesse eas'ly setting out,

The cleanly Carriage of the French Businesse, by the Queene and her Faction.

By due proportion, measuring ev'ry pace,
T'avoid the cumbrance of each hind'ring Doubt;
And not to fayle of Comelinesse and Grace,
They came with every Circumstance about,
Observe the Person, as the Time, and Place;
Nor leave they ought, that in Discretions Lawes,
They could but thinke might beautifie the Cause.

62

Their Embassie deliv'ring in that height,
As of the same, the Dignitie might fit,
Apparelling a matter of that Weight,
In Ceremonie, well beseeming it;
And that it should goe steadily, and right,
They at their Audience no one Point omit,
As to the full each Tittle to effect,
That in such Cases Wisdome should respect.

63

Nor to negotiate, never doe they cease,
Till they againe that ancient League combine;
Yet so, that Edward should his Right release,
And to his Sonne the Provinces resigne:
With whom, King Charles concludes the happy Peace,
Having the homage due to him for Guyne;
And that both Realmes should ratifie their Deed,
They for both Kings an Enterview decreed.

64

Yet in this thing, which all Men thought so plaine,
And to have been accomplish'd with such care,
Their inward Falsehood hidden did remaine,

Colours of State many times deceivable, and (in truth) meere juggling.

Quite from the Colour that the Out-side bare:
For onely they this Enterview did gaine,
T'intrap the King, so trayned to their Snare;
For which, they knew that he must passe the Seas,
Or else the Prince, which better would them please.

65

Which by the Spensers was approved; who
(As in his Councels they did chiefely guide)
With him their Sov'raigne, nor to France durst goe,
Nor in his absence, durst at home abide;
Whilst the weake King stood doubtfull what to doe,
His list'ning Eares they with Perswasions plyde,
That he to stay, was absolutely wonne,
And for that Bus'nesse, to dispatch his Sonne.

66

The Bishop of Hereford, so oft before mentioned.

Thus is the King incompass'd by their skill,
And made to act what Torlton did devise,
Who thrust him on, to draw them up the Hill,
That by his strength they might get Power to rise,
For they in all things were before him still;
That perfect Steers-man in all Policies,
Had cast to walke, where Edward bare the Light,
And by his Ayme, he levelled their Sight.

67

Thus having made, what Edward most did will
For his Advantage, further their Intent,
With seeming Good so varnishing their Ill,
That it went currant by the faire Event,
And of their Hopes the utmost to fulfill;
Things in their course came in so true Concent,
To bring their Bus'nesse to that happie end,
That they the same might publiquely defend.

68

The precious Time no longer they protract,
Nor in suspence their Friends at home doe hold,
Being abroad so absolutely backt,
They quickly waxed confident and bold,
In their proceeding publishing their Act;
Nor did they feare to whom Report it told,
But with an armed and erected hand,
To abet their owne, did absolutely stand.

69

And that base Bishop then of Excester,

Walter Stapleton, then Bishop of Excester.

A Man experienc'd in their Counsels long,
(Thinking perhaps his Falsehood might preferre
Him, or else moved with King Edwards Wrong;
Or whether that his Frayletie made him erre,
Or other fatall Accident among:)
But he from France, and them, to England flew,
And knowing all, discover'd all he knew.

70

Their Treasons long in hatching, thus disclos'd,
And Torltons Drift by Circumstances found,
With what Conveyance things had beene dispos'd,
The Cunning us'd in casting of their ground,
The Frame as fit in every Point compos'd,
When better Counsell coldly came to sound,
Awak'd the King, to see his weake estate,
When the prevention came a day too late.

71

Yet her departing whilst she doth adjorne,
Charles, as a Brother, by perswasion deales,
Edward with Threats would force her to returne;
Pope John, her with his dreadfull Curse assayles:
But all in vaine against her Will they spurne,
Perswasion, Threat, nor Curse with her prevayles;
Charles, Edward, John, strive all to doe your worst,
The Queene fares best, when she the most is curst.

72

Which to the Spensers speedily made seene,
With what cleane sleight things had been brought about,
And that those here, which well might rul'd have beene,
Quickly had found, that they were gotten out,
And knowing well their Wit, their Power, and Spleene,
Of their owne Safeties much began to doubt,
And therefore must some present Meanes invent,
T'avoid a Danger, else most eminent.

73

When they, who had the Frenchmens Humors felt,
And knew the Bayt wherewith they might be caught,
By promise of large Pensions, with them dealt,
If that King Charles might from her Aid be wrought:
“What Mind so hard, that Money cannot melt?
Which they to passe in little time had brought;
That Isabel, too eas'ly over-way'd
By their great Summes, was frustrate of her Aid.

74

The invincible Courage of Queene Isabel.

Yet could not this amaze that mightie Queene,
(Whom sad Affliction never had control'd,
Never such Courage in that Sex was seene,
She was not cast in other Womens Mold)
Nor could rebate the edge of her high Spleene,
Who could endure Warre, Travell, Want, and Cold,
Struggling with Fortune, ne're by her opprest,
Most chearefull still, when she was most distrest.

75

But then resolv'd to leave ingratefull France,
And in the World her better Fate to trye,
Changing the Ayre, hopes Time may alter Chance,
Under her Burthen scorning so to lye,
Her weak'ned state still striving to advance,
Her mightie Mind flew in a Pitch so hye;
Yet ere she went, her vex'd Heart that did ake,
Somewhat to ease, thus to the King she spake:

76

Is this a Kings, a Brothers part (quoth shee?)

The Speech of the Queene, to the King her Brother, at her departing out of France.

And to this end, did I my Griefe unfold?
Came I to heale my wounded Heart to thee,
Where slaine out-right, I now the same behold?
Be these thy Vowes, thy Promises to me?
In all this Heat, art thou become so Cold?
To leave me thus forsaken at the worst,
My state at last, more wretched then at first.

77

Thy Wisdome weighing what my Wants require,
To thy deare Mercie might my Teares have ty'd,
Our Blouds receiving Heat both from one Fire;
And we by Fortune as by Birth ally'd,

Both vexed by the King of England.

My Sute supported by my just Desire,
Were Arguments not to have been deny'd;
The grievous Wrongs that in my Bosome bee,
Should be as neere thy Care, as I to thee.

78

Nature too eas'ly working on my Sex,
Thus at thy pleasure my poore Fortune leaves,
Which being intic'd with hopes of due respects
From thee, my Trust dishonestly deceives,
Who me and mine unnaturally neglects,
And of all Comfort lastly us bereaves;
What 'twixt thy Basenesse, and thy beastly Will,
T'expose thy Sister to the worst of Ill.

79

Her Prophecie was fulfilled by Edward the third, her Sonne, in his Conquest thereof; whose Sonne, Edward, the Blacke Prince, tooke King John of France at the Battell at Poycters, who died a Prisoner in England.

But for my Farwell, thus I prophecie,
That from my Wombe hee's sprung, or he shall spring,
Who shall subdue thy next Posteritie,
And lead a Captive thy succeeding King,
The just Revenge of thy vile Injurie;
To fatall France, I as a Sibyl sing
Her Cities Sacke, the slaughter of her Men,
Of whom, one Englishman shall conquer ten.

80

The Earle of Henault a Man of great Power.

The Earle of Henault, in that Season great,
The wealthie Lord of many a Warlike Tower,
Who, for his Friendship, Princes did intreat,
As fearing both his Policie, and Power,
Having a Brother wond'rously compleat,
Cal'd John of Beamount (in a happie Houre,

John of Henault, Lord Beamount.

As it for the distressed Queene did chance)
That time abiding in the Court of France.

81

He, there the while, this shuffling that had seene,
Who to her partie Isabel had wonne,
To passe for Henault, humbly prayes the Queene,
Prompting her still, what good might there be done,
To ease the anguish of her tumorous Spleene,
Offring his faire Neece to the Prince her Sonne,
The only way to winne his Brothers Might,
Against the King to backe her in her Right.

82

Who had an Eare, not fil'd with his Report,
To whom the Souldiers of that Time did throng,

John of Henault, the most eminent Spirit of those Times.

The Patterne to all other of his sort,
Well learn'd in what to Honour did belong,
With that brave Queene long trayned up in Court,
And constantly confirmed in her Wrong;
Besides all this, cross'd by the adverse Part,
In things that sat too neere to his great Heart.

83

Sufficient Motives to invite Distresse,
To apprehend so excellent a Meane,
(Against those Ills that did so strongly presse)
Whereon the Queene her weake estate might leane,
And at that Season, though it were the lesse,
Yet for a while it might her Want sustaine;
Untill th'approching of more prosp'rous dayes,
Her drouping Hopes to their first height might rayse.

84

When they at large had leysure to debate,
Where Welcome look'd with a well-pleased face,
From those Dis-honors she received late,
For there she wanted no obsequious grace,
Under the guidance of a gentler Fate,
All bounteous Offers freely they imbrace;

Prince Edward, after Edward the third, married Philip, the Earle of Henaults Daughter.

And to conclude, all Ceremonies past,
The Prince affyes faire Philip at the last.

85

All Covenants betwixt them surely seal'd,
Each to the other lastingly to bind,
Nothing but done with Equitie and Zeale,
And suting well with Henaults mightie Mind,
Which, to them all did much Content reveale;
The Ease the Queene was like thereby to find,
The Comfort comming to the lovely Bride,
Prince Edward pleas'd, and Joy on every side.

The end of the third Canto.

The fourth Canto.

The Argument.

The Queene in Henault mightie Friends doth win,
In Harwitch Haven safely is arriv'd,
Garboyles in England more and more begin,
King Edward of his Safetie is depriv'd,
Flyeth to Wales, at Neath received in,
Whilst many Plots against him are contriv'd;
Lastly betray'd, the Spensers and his friends
Are put to Death: with which, this Canto ends.

1

A Periphrasis of seven yeeres.

Now seven times Phœbus had his welked Waine,
Upon the top of Cancers Tropicke set,
And seven times, in his descent againe,
His fierie Wheeles had with the Fishes wet,
In the Occurrents of King Edwards raigne,
Since Mischiefe did these Miseries beget;
Which through more strange Varieties had runne,
Then he that while Celestiall Signes had done.

2

Whilst our ill-thriving in those Scottish Broyles,
Their strength and courage greatly did advance,
In a small time made wealthie by our Spoyles;
And we, much weak'ned by our Warres in France,
Were well-neere quite dis-heart'ned by our Foyles:
But at these things the Muse must only glance,
And Herckleys Treasons haste to bring to view,
Her serious subject sooner to pursue.

3

When Robert Bruse, with his brave Scottish Band,

Robert, King of Scots.

By other In-rodes on the Borders made,
Had well-neere wasted all Northumberland,
Whose Townes he levell with the Earth had layd;
And finding none his Power there to withstand,
On the North part of spacious Yorkeshire prey'd,
Bearing away with Pride his Pillage got,
As Fate to him did our last Fall allot.

4

For which, that Herckley, by his Sov'raigne sent,
T'intreat a needfull, though dis-honor'd Peace;
Under the colour of a true intent,
Kindled the Warre, in a faire way to cease,
And with King Robert did a Course invent,
His Homage due to Edward, to release:

The Homage which the former Edward had, by his Conquest, imposed upon the Crowne of Scotland.

Besides, their Faith they each to other plight,
In Peace and Warre to joyne with all their Might.

5

Yet more, King Robert (things being carried so)
His Sister to that trech'rous Earle affyde;
Which made too playne and evident a show,
Of what before his Trust did closely hyde:
But the Cause found, from whence this League should grow,
By such as (neere) into their Actions pryde,
Discover'd Treasons, which not quickly crost,
Had shed more Bloud, then all the Warres had cost.

6

Whether the Kings weake Councels causes are,
That ev'ry thing so badly falleth out,
Or that the Earle did of our state despayre,
When nothing prosper'd, that was gone about,
And therefore carelesse how the English fare;
Ile not dispute, but leave it as a doubt:
Or some vaine Title his Ambition lackt;
But some thing hatch'd this Treasonable Act.

7

Which once revealed to the jealous King;
Th'apprehension of that Trayt'rous Peere
He left to the Lord Lucyes managing,

The Lord Lucy a Man of high Valour.

(One whose prov'd Faith he had held ever deare)
By whose brave carriage in so hard a thing,
He did well worthie of his Trust appeare;

Herckley apprehended.

Who, in his Castle, carelessly defended,
That craftie Carlel closely apprehended.

8

For which, ere long, to his just Tryall led,
In all the Robes befitting his Degree,
Where Scroope, chiefe Justice in that dang'rous stead,
Commission had, his lawfull Judge to be;
And on the proofes of his Indictment read,
His Treasons, all so easily might see;
Which soone themselves so plainely did expresse,
As might assure them of his ill successe.

9

The degrading of an Earle.

His Style and Titles to the King restor'd,
Noted with Names of Infamie, and Scorne,
And next, disarmed of his Knightly Sword,
On which (before) his Fealtie was sworne,
Then, by a Varlet of his Spurres dis-spur'd,
His Coat of Armes (before him) ras'd and torne;
And to the Hurdle lastly he was sent,
To a trayt'rous death, that trayt'rously had meant.

10

Whereon the King a Parlament procur'd,
To fixe some things, whose Fall he else might feare;
Whereby he hop'd, the Queene to have abjur'd,
His Sonne, and such as their Adjutors were:
But those, of whom himselfe he most assur'd,
What they had seem'd, the same did not appeare;
When he soone found, he had his Purpose mist,
For there were those, that durst his Power resist.

11

For Hereford, in Parlament accus'd

Adam Torlton, Bishop of Hereford, so oft before mentioned.

Of sundry Treasons, wherein he was caught,
By such his Courses strictly as perus'd,
Whereby subversion of the Realme was sought,
His holy Habit and his Trust abus'd,
Who, to his Answer when he should be brought,
Was by the Clergie (in the Kings despight)

The powerfulnesse of the Clergie of those Times.

Seiz'd, under colour of the Churches Right.

12

When some, the favorers of this fatall Warre,
Whom this Example did more sharpely whet,
Those for the Cause that then impris'ned were,
Boldly attempt, at libertie to set;
Whose Purpose frustrate, by their Enemies care,
New Garboyles doth continually beget,
Bidding the King, with care to looke about,
Those secret Fires so howrely breaking out.

13

And th'Earle of Kent, who was by Edward plac'd
As the great Gen'rall of his Force in Guyne,
Was in his absence, here at home disgrac'd,
And frustrated both of Supplyes and Coyne,
By such lewd persons, to maintaine their Waste,
As from his Treasures ceas'd not to purloyne;
Nor could the King be mov'd, so carelesse still
Both of his owne losse, and his Brothers ill.

14

Whose Discontent too quickly being found,
By such as all Advantages did wait,
Who still apply'd strong Cor'sives to the wound,
And by their Tricks, and intricate Deceit,
Hind'red those Meanes that hap'ly might redound,
That fast arising Mischiefe to defeat;
Til Edmunds wrongs were to that ripenesse growne,

Edmund, Earle of Kent, the Kings Brother.

That they had made him absolute their owne;

15

With all his faithfull Followers in those Warres,
Men well experienc'd, and of worthiest parts,
Who for their pay received only Scarres,
Whilst the Inglorious had their due deserts;
And Minions hate of other hope debarres,
Which vex'd them deepely, to the very hearts,
That to their Gen'rall for Revenge they cry,

Edmund, Earle of Kent, joyneth with the Queene, and Henault.

Joyning with Beamount, giving him supply.

16

These great Commanders, and with them combyne

A Catalogue of the Captaines and Commaunders that came in with the Queene.

The Lord Pocelles, Sares, and Boyseers,
Dambretticourt, the young and valiant Hein,
Estotivyle, Comines, and Villeers,
The valiant Knights, Sir Michael de la Lyne,
Sir Robert Baliol, Boswit, and Semeers;
Men of great skill, whom Spoyle and Glory warmes,
Such as (indeed) were dedicate to Armes.

17

Leading three thousand must'red Men, in pay,
Of French, Scots, Alman, Swisser, and the Dutch;
Of Native English, fled beyond the Sea,
Whose number neere amounted to as much,
Which long had look'd, nay, wayted for that day,
Whom their Revenge did but too neerely touch;
Besides, Friends readie to receive them in:
And new Commotions ev'ry day begin.

18

Whilst the wise Queene, from England day by day,
Of all those Doings that had certaine word,
Whose Friends much blam'd her over-long delay,
When as the time such fitnesse did afford;
Doth for her Passage presently purvay,
Bearing Provision ev'ry howre aboord,
Ships of all Burthens rig'd and manned are,
Fit for Invasion, to transport a Warre.

19

When she for England fairely setting forth,
Spreading her proud Sayles on the Wat'rie Playne,
Steereth her Course directly to the North,
With her young Edward, Duke of Aquitaine,

One of Prince Edwards Titles.

With other three, of speciall name and worth,
(The destin'd Scourges of King Edwards raigne)
Her Souldier Beamount, and the Earle of Kent,
With Mortimer, that mightie Malecontent.

20

For Harwitch Road, a fore-wind finely blowes,
But blew too fast, to kindle such a fire,
Whilst with full Sayle, and the stiffe Tyde, she goes;
It should have turn'd, and forc'd her to retire,
The Fleet it drove, was fraughted with our Woes:
But Seas and Winds doe Edwards wracke conspire;
“For when just Heaven, to chastise us is bent,
“All things convert to our due punishment.

21

The Coasts were kept with a continuall Ward,
The Beacons watch'd, her comming to descrie;
Had but the love of Subjects been His Guard,
'T had been t'effect, that he did fortifie:
But whilst he stood against his Foes prepar'd,
He was betray'd by his home Enemie;
Small helpe by this he was but like to win,
Shutting Warre out, he lockt Destruction in.

22

When Henry, Brother to that lucklesse Prince,

Henry findeth time to be revenged of his Brothers death.

The first great Mover of that civill strife,
Thomas, whom Law but lately did convince,
That had at Pomfret left his wretched life;
That Henry, in whose Bosome ever since
Revenge lay covered, watching for reliefe,
Like fire in some fat Myn'rall of the Earth,
Finding a fit Vent, gives her Furie birth.

23

Henry, Earle of Lancaster, Lord high Marshall of England.

And being Earle Marshall, great upon that Coast,
With Bells and Bone-fires welcomes Her ashore;
And by his Office gath'ring up an Hoast,
Shew'd the great Spleene that he to Edward bore,
Nor of the same, abash'd at all to boast;
The Clergies Power in readinesse before,
And on their Friends a Tax as freely layd,
To rayse Munition, for their present Ayd.

24

And to Confusion all their Powers expose,
On the rent Bosome of the Land, which long
Warre, like the Sea, on each side did inclose,
A Warre, from our owne home Dissentions sprong,
In little time which to that greatnesse rose,
As made us loath'd our neighb'ring States among:
But this Invasion, that they hither brought,
More Mischiefe farre then all the former wrought.

25

Besides, this Innovation in the State
Lent their great Action such a violent Hand,
When it so boldly durst insinuate
On the cold faintnesse of th'infeebled Land;
That being arm'd with all the power of Fate,
Finding a way so openly to stand,
To their intend'ment, might, if followed well,
Regayne that Height, from whence they lately fell.

26

Their Strengths together in this meane time met,
All Helpes, and Hurts, by Warres best Councels way'd,
As what might further, what their Course might let,
As their Reliefes conveniently they layd,
As where they hop'd Securitie to get,
Whereon, at worst, their Fortunes might be stay'd;
So fully furnish'd, as themselves desir'd,
Of what the Action needfully requir'd.

27

When at Saint Edmunds they a while repose,

The Rendezvous of the Queenes Forces.

To rest themselves, and their Sea-beaten Force,
Better to learne the manner of their Foes,
To th'end not idly to direct their Course,
And seeing dayly how their Armie growes,
To take a full view of their Foot and Horse;
With much discretion managing the Warre,
To let the World know what to doe, they dare.

28

When as the King of their Proceedings heard,
And of the Routs that dayly to them runne;
But little Strength at London then prepar'd,
Where he had hop'd most favour to have wonne;
He left the Citie to the watchfull guard
Of his approv'd, most trusted

Walter Stapleton, Bishop of Excester, mentioned in the 69. Stanza of the third Booke.

Stapleton;
To

A younger Sonne of the Kings, so called, of his being borne there.

John of Eltham, his deare Sonne, the Tower,
And goes himselfe tow'rds Wales, to rayse him Power.

29

Yet whilst his Name doth any hope admit,
He made proclaym'd, in paine of Goods and Life,
Or who would have a Subjects benefit,
Should bend themselves against his Sonne and Wife,
And doth all Slaughters gen'rally acquit,
Committed on the movers of this Strife;
As who could bring in Mortimers proud Head,
Should freely take th'Revenues of the dead.

30

Which was encountred by the Queenes Edict,

Proclamation against Proclamation.

By publishing the Justnesse of her Cause;
That she proceeded in a Course so strict,
T'uphold their ancient Liberties and Lawes:
And that on Edward she did nought inflict,
For private Hate, or Popular Applause;
Only the Spensers to Account to bring,
Whose wicked counsels had abus'd the King.

31

Which ballasted the Multitude, that stood
As a Barke, beaten betwixt Wind and Tide,
By Winds expos'd, opposed by the Flood,
Nought therein left, to Land the same to guide;
Thus floated they in their unconstant Mood,
Till that the weakenesse of King Edwards side
Suffred a Seisure of it selfe at last,
Which to the Queene a free Advantage cast.

32

The King flyeth.

Thus Edward left his England to his Foes,
Whom Danger did to recreant Flight debase,
As farre from Hope, as he was neere his Woes,
Depriv'd of Princely Sov'raignetie and Grace,
Yet still grew lesse, the farther that he goes,
His Safetie soone suspecting ev'ry Place;
No Helpe at Home, nor Succour seene Abroad,
His Mind wants Rest, his Bodie safe Aboad.

33

One scarce to him his sad Discourse hath done,
Of Henaults Power, and what the Queene intends;
But whilst he speakes, another hath begun;
A third then takes it, where the second ends,
And tells what Rumors through the Countries run,
Of those new Foes, of those revolted Friends;
Straight came a fourth, in poste that thither sped,
With newes of Foes come in, of Friends out-fled.

34

What Plagues did Edward for himselfe prepare?
Forsaken King, O whither didst thou flye!
Changing the Clyme, thou couldst not change thy Care,
Thou fledst thy Foes, but followedst Miserie:
Those evill Lucks, in numbers many are,
That to thy Foot-steps doe themselves apply;
And still thy Conscience, corrosiv'd with greefe,
Thou but pursu'st thy selfe, both rob'd, and Theefe.

35

Who seeking Succour, offred next at hand,
At last, for Wales he takes him to the Seas,
And seeing Lundy, that so faire did stand,
Thither would steere, to give his Sorrowes ease;

A noted Island in the Severne Sea.

That little Modell of his greater Land,
As in a Dreame, his Fancie seem'd to please;
For faine he would be King (yet) of an Ile,
Although his Empire bounded in a Mile.

36

But when he thought to strike his prosp'rous Sayle,
As under Lee, past danger of the Flood,
A sudden Storme of mixed Sleet and Hayle,
Not suffreth him to rule that piece of Wood:
“What doth his Labor, what his Toyle avayle,
“That is by the Celestiall Powers withstood?
And all his Hopes him vainely doe delude,
By God, and Men, incessantly pursu'd.

37

In that blacke Tempest, long turmoyl'd and tost,
Quite from his Course, and well he knew not where,

The King in his flight in great danger at Sea.

'Mongst Rocks and Sands, in danger to be lost,
Not in more Perill, then he was in Feare;
At length perceiving he was neere some Coast,
And that the Weather somewhat 'gan to cleare,
He found 'twas Wales; and by the Mountaines tall,
That part thereof, which we Glamorgan call.

38

In Neath, a Castle next at hand, and strong,
Where he commandeth Entrance, with his Crue,
The Earle of Gloster, worker of much Wrong,

Men of most note, that fled into Wales with the King.

His Chancelor Baldock, which much Evill knew,
Reding his Marshall, other Friends among;
Where closely hid (though not from Envies view)
The Muse a little leaveth them to dwell,
And of great Slaughter shapes her selfe to tell.

39

Now, lighter Humor, leave me, and be gone,
Your Passion poore, yeelds Matter much too slight:
To write those Plagues that then were comming on,
Doth aske a Pen of Ebon, and the Night;
If there be Ghosts, their Murthers that bemoane,
Let them approch me, and in pittious plight
Howle, and about me with blacke Tapers stand,
To lend a sad Light to my sadder Hand.

40

Each Line shall lead to some one weeping Woe,
And ev'ry Cadence as a tort'red Cry,
Till they force Teares in such excesse to flow,
That they surround the Circle of each Eye:
Then whilst these sad Calamities I show,
All loose Affections, stand yee idly by,
Destin'd againe to dip my Pen in gore,
For the sad'st Tale that Time did e'er deplore.

41

New sorts of Plagues were threat'ned to the Earth,
The raging Ocean past his Bounds did rise,

Ominous Signes forerunning this second Bloudshed.

Strange Apparitions, and prodigious Birth,
Unheard of Sicknesse, and Calamities,
More unaccustom'd and unlook'd for Dearth,
New sorts of Meteors gazing from the Skies;
As what before, had small or nothing bin,
And only then their Plagues did but begin.

42

The miserable estate of the Kingdome, at the Queenes entrance.

And whilst the Queene did in this Course proceed,
The Land lay open to all offred Ill;
The Lawlesse Exile did returne with speed,
Not to defend his Countrey, but to kill;
Then were the Prisons dissolutely freed,

The insolencie of the Londoners, an ill example to other Cities.

Both Field and Towne with Wretchednesse to fill:
London, as thou wast Author of such shame,
Even so wast thou most plagued with the same.

43

Whose giddie Commons, mercilesse and rude,
Let loose to Mischiefe on that dismall Day,
Their hands in bloud of Edwards Friends imbru'd;
Which in their Madnesse having made away,
Th'implacable, the monstrous Multitude,

The Bishop of Excester, as hee was the first that fled from the Queene in France, so he was the first (of note) that tasted of her Vengeance, at her comming in.

On his Lieutenant Stapleton did prey;
Who drag'd by them o'er many a lothsome Heape,
Beheaded was before the Crosse in Cheape.

44

Here first shee red, upon her ruin'd Wall,
Her sad Destruction, which was but too nye,
Upon her Gates was charact'red her Fall,
In mangled Bodies, her Anatomie,
Which for her Errors did that Reck'ning call,
As might have wraught Teares from her ruthlesse Eye;
And if the thicke Ayre dim'd her hatefull sight,
Her Buildings were on fire, to give her light.

45

Her Chanels serv'd for Inke, her Paper, Stones,
Whereon to write her Murther, Incest, Rape;
And for her Penn's, a heape of dead Mens Bones,
To make each Letter in some monstrous shape;
And for her Accents, sad departing Grones:
And that to Time no desp'rate Act should scape,
If she with Pride againe should be o'ergone,
To take that Booke, and sadly looke thereon.

46

The tender Gyrle, spoyl'd of her Virgin shame,
Yet for that Sinne, no Ravisher was shent:
Blacke is my Inke, more blacke was her Defame,
None to revenge, scarce any to lament;
Nought could be done, to remedie the same;
It was too late those Mischiefes to prevent;
Against those Horrors she did idly strive,
But saw her selfe to be devour'd alive.

47

She wants redresse, and Ravishment remorse,
None would be found, to whom she could complayne,
And crying out against th'Adult'rers force,
Her Plaints untimely did returne in vayne;
The more she griev'd, her Miserie the worse,
Onely to her this Helpe there did remayne,
She spoyl'd of Fame, was prodigall of Breath,
And made her Life cleere, by her resolute Death.

48

Then, of that World Men did the want complayne,
When they might have been buried when they dyde,
Young Children safely in their Cradles layne,
The Man new marryed have enjoy'd his Bryde,
When in some Bounds Ill could it selfe contayne;
The Sonne kneel'd by his Fathers Death-bed side,
The Living wrong'd, the Dead no right could have,
The Father saw his Sonne to want a Grave.

49

But 'twas too late those Courses to recall,
None have externall nor internall Feare,
Those deadly Sounds, by their continuall Fall,
Settle Confusion in each deaf'ned Eare;
Of our ill Times, this was the worst of all,
Onely of Garboyles that did love to heare,
Armes our Attyre, and Wounds were all our Good,
Branded the most with Rapine and with Blood.

50

Inglorious Age, of whom it should be sayd,
That all these Mischiefes should abound in thee,
That all these Sinnes should to thy charge be layd,
From no calumnious nor vile Action free!
O let not Time, us with those Ills upbrayd,
Lest feare what hath been, argue what may be,
And fashioning so a Habit in the Mind,
Make us alone the Haters of our Kind!

51

O pow'rfull Heaven, in whose most Sov'raigne Raigne,
All thy pure Bodies move in Harmonie,
By thee, in an inviolable Chayne,
Together link'd; so ty'd in unitie,
That they therein continually remayne,
Sway'd in one certaine Course eternally;
Why, his true Motion keepeth ev'ry Starre,
Yet what they governe, so irregular.

52

But in the Course of this unnaturall Warre,
Muse, say from whence this height of Mischiefe grew,
That in so short time spred it selfe so farre,
From whence so sundry Bloudsheds did ensue,
The Cause, I pray thee, faithfully declare:
What, Men Religious, was the Fault in you?

The immeasurable pride of the Clergie, the cause of much trouble in those Times.

Which restie growne, with your much Power, withdraw
Your stiff'ned Necks from th'yoke of Civill Awe.

53

No wonder though the People grew prophane,
When Church-mens lives gave Lay-men leave to fall,
And did their former Humblenesse disdaine;
The Shirt of Hayre turn'd Coat of costly Pall,
The holy Ephod made a Cloake for Gayne;
What done with Cunning, was Canonicall,
And blind Promotion shun'd that dang'rous Rode,
Which the old Prophets diligently trode.

54

Hence 'twas, that God so slightly was ador'd,
That Rocke remov'd, whereon our Faith was grounded,
Conscience esteem'd but as an idle word,
And being weake, by vaine Opinions wounded:
Professors lives did little Fruit afford,
And in her Sects, Religion lay confounded;
Most sacred things were Merchandise become,
None talk'd of Texts, but Prophecying dumbe.

55

The Church then rich, and with such Pride possest,
Was like the poyson of infectious Ayre,
That having found a way into the Brest,
Is not prescrib'd, nor long time stayes it there,
But through the Organs seizeth on the rest,
The ranke Contagion spreading ev'ry where;
So, from that Evill by the Church begun,
The Common-wealth was lastly over-run.

56

When Craft crept in, to cancell wholesome Lawes,
Which fast'ning once on the defective Weale,
Where Doubts should cease, they rose in ev'ry Clause,
And made them hurt, which first were made to heale;
“One Evill still another forward drawes:
“For when Disorder doth so farre prevayle,
“That Conscience is cast off, as out of use,
“Right is the Cloake of Wrong, and all Abuse.

57

Meane while, the King thus keeping in his Hold,
(In that his poore imprisoned Libertie,
Living a Death, in Hunger, Want, and Cold,
Almost beyond imagin'd Miserie)
By hatefull Treason secretly was sold,
Through Keyes deliver'd to the Enemie;
“For when th'oppress'd is once up to the Chin,
“Quite over head, all helpe to thrust him in.

58

The dyre Disaster of that captiv'd King,
So surely seiz'd on by the adverse part,
(To his few Friends sad matter menacing)
Strucke with pale Terror ev'ry willing heart,
Their expectation cleane discouraging,
Him no evasion left, whereby to start;
And the blacke Cloud which greatliest did them feare,
Rose, where their Hopes once brightest did appeare.

59

For first, their Envie with unusuall Force,
Fell on the Spensers, from whose onely Hate
The Warre first sprung; who found, their lawlesse Course
Drew to an end, confined by their Fate;

The miserable Fall of the Kings Friends.

Of whom, there was not any tooke remorse:
But as pernitious Cankers of the State,
The Father first to Bristow being led,
Was drawne to Death, then hang'd and quartered.

60

When as the Heire to Winchester then dead,
The Lot, ere long, to his Sonne Gloster fell;
Reding the Marshall, the like way was led,
And after him, the Earle of Arundel,
To pay the forfait of a reverend Head:
Then Muchelden, and with him Daniel;
These following him in his lascivious wayes,
Then went before him, to his fatall dayes.

61

Like some large Pillar, of a Lordly height,
On whose proud Top some huge Frame doth depend,
By Time disabled to uphold the weight,
And that with Age his backe begins to bend,
Shrinkes to his first Seat, and in pittious plight,
The lesser Props with his sad Load doth spend;
So far'd it with King Edward, crushing all
That had stood neere him, in his violent Fall.

62

The State whereon these Princes proudly leane,
Whose high ascent, Men trembling still behold,
From whence oft times, with insolent disdaine,
The kneeling Subject heares himselfe control'd,
Their earthly Weakenesse truly doth explane,
Promoting whom they please, not whom they should;
When as their Fall shewes how they foulely er'd,
Procur'd by those, whom fondly they prefer'd.

63

For when that Men of Merit goe ungrac'd,
And by her Fautors, Ignorance held in,
And Parasites in good Mens Roomes are plac'd,
Onely to sooth the Highest in their sinne,
From those whose skill and knowledge is debas'd,
There many strange Enormities begin;
“For great Wits forged into factious Tooles,
“Prove great Men (oft) to be the greatest Fooles.

64

But why, so vainely Time doe I bestow,
The base abuse of this vile World to chide?
Whose blinded Judgement ev'ry houre doth show,
What Folly weake Mortalitie doth guide.

A Philosopher, who alwayes laughed at Mens Vanitie.

Wise was that Man which laugh'd at humane Woe;
My Subject still more Sorrow doth provide,
And these Designes more matter still doe breed,
To hasten that which quickly must succeed.

The end of the fourth Canto.

The fifth Canto.

The Argument.

Th'imprisoned King his Scepter doth forsake,
To quit himselfe of what he was accus'd;
His Foes, him from the Earle of Lester take,
Who their Commission faine would have refus'd;
His Torturers a Mock'rie of him make;
And basely and reprochfully abus'd,
By secret wayes to Berckley he is led,
And there in Prison lastly murthered.

1

The wretched King unnaturally betray'd,
By too much trusting to his

Edward, borne at Carnarvon in Wales.

Native Land,
From Neath in Wales to

Kenelworth, a famous Castle in Warwickeshire.

Kenelworth convay'd,
By th'Earle of

Henry, Earle of Leicester, of the bloud Royall, a Man of much Power and Trust.

Lester, with a mightie Band;
Some few his Favorers, quickly over-wayd:
When straight there went a Parlament in hand,
To ratifie the generall intent,
For resignation of his Government.

2

Falne, through his Frayletie, and intemp'rate Will,
That with his Fortune it so weakely far'd,
To undergoe that unexpected Ill,
For his deserved Punishment prepar'd;
Past measure, as those Miseries to fill
To him allotted, as his just reward;
All arm'd with Malice, either lesse, or more,
To strike at Him, who strucke at all before.

3

It being a thing the Commons still did crave,
The Barons thereto resolutely bent,
Such happie Helpes on ev'ry side to have,

By the Barons, meant the whole Nobilitie.

To forward that their forcible intent,
So perfect speed to their great Action gave,
Establish'd by the generall consent;
On Edward that such Miseries did bring,
As never were inflicted upon King.

4

Earles, Bishops, Barons, and the Abbots all,
Each in due order, as became their state,
By Heralds placed in the Castle Hall;
The Burgesses for Places Corporate,
(Whom the great Businesse at that time did call)
For the Cinque Ports, the Barons convocate
With the Shire Knights, for the whole Body sent,

The two Divisions of England.

Both for the South, and for the North of Trent.

5

When Edward, cloathed mournefully in blacke,
Was forth before the great Assembly brought,
A dolefull Hearse upon a dead Mans backe,
Whose heavie Lookes express'd his heavie Thought,
In which there did no part of Sorrow lacke,
“True Griefe needs not fayn'd Action to be taught;
His Funerall solemniz'd in his Cheere,
His Eyes the Mourners, and his Legs the Beere.

6

Torlton destined to be the utter overthrow of the King.

Torlton, as one select to that intent,
The best experienc'd in that great Affayre,
A Man grave, subtill, stout, and eloquent,
First, with faire speech th'Assembly doth prepare;
Then, with a grace, austere and eminent,
Doth his Abuse effectually declare,
Winning each sad Eye to a reverend Feare,
To due Attention drawing every Eare.

7

Urging th'Exactions raysed by the King,

The most especiall matters urged against the King.

With whose full Plentie he his Mynions fed,
Him and his Subjects still impoverishing;
And the much Bloud he lavishly had shed,
A desolation on the Land to bring:
As under him, how ill all Bus'nesse sped;
The losse in Warre, sustayned through his Blame,
A lasting Scandall to the English Name.

8

Withall, proceeding with the future good,

The chiefest Colour they had for their Proceedings.

That they thereby did happily intend,
And with what upright Policie it stood,
No other Hopes their Fortunes to amend;
The Resignation to his proper Blood,
That might the Action lawfully defend;
The present Want, that will'd it to be so,
Whose Imposition they might not foreslow.

9

Much more he spake; but faine would I be short,
To this intent a Speech delivering;
Nor may I be too curious to report,
What toucheth the deposing of a King:
Wherefore I warne thee Muse, not to exhort
The after-Times to this forbidden thing,
By Reasons for it, by the Bishop layd,
Or from my feeling what he might have sayd.

10

The grave deliverie of whose vehement Speech,
Grac'd with a dauntlesse, uncontracted Brow,
Th'Assembly with Severitie did teach,
Each word of his Authentike to allow,
That in the Bus'nesse there could be no breach,
Each thereto bound by a peculiar Vow;
Which they in publique gen'rally protest,
Calling the King to consummate the rest.

11

The extreme Passion of the King, at the giving up his Crowne.

Whose faire cheekes, cover'd with pale sheets of shame,
Neere in a Swound, he his first Scene began,
Wherein his Passions did such Postures frame,
As ev'ry Sense playd the Tragedian,
Truly to shew from whence his Sorrowes came,
Farre from the compasse of a common Man;
As Nature to herselfe had added Art,
To teach Despayre to act a Kingly Part.

12

O Pitie! didst thou live, or wert thou not?
(Mortals by such sights have to Stone beene turn'd)
Or what Men have been, had their Seed forgot?
Or that for One, another never mourn'd?
In what, so strangely were yee over-shot,
Against your selves, that your owne Frayletie spurn'd?
Or had Teares then abandon'd Humane Eyes,
That there was none to pitie Miseries?

13

His Passion calm'd, his Crowne he taketh to him,
With a slight view, as though he thought not on it,
As he were senselesse that it should forgoe him;
And then he casts a scornefull Eye upon it,
As he would leave it, yet would have it woo him:
Then snatching at it, loth to have forgone it,
He puts it from him; yet he would not so,
He faine would keepe, what faine he would forgoe.

14

In this confused Conflict in his Mind,
Teares drowning sighes, and sighes repelling Teares:
But when in neyther, that he ease could find,
And to his Wrong no Remedie appeares,
Perceiving none to Pittie there inclin'd,
Besides, the time to him prefixed, weares;
As then his Sorrow somewhat 'gan to slake,
From his full Bosome, thus he them bespake:

15

If first my Title stedfastly were planted

King Edwards Speech at the Resignation of his Crowne, and Government: in the nine Stanza's following.

Upon a true indubitate Succession,
Confirm'd by Nations, as by Nature granted,
Which lawfully deliver'd me Possession;
You must thinke Heaven sufficiencie hath wanted,
And so denie it Power; by your oppression,
That into question dare thus boldly bring
The awfull Right of an anoynted King.

16

That hallowed Unction, by a sacred Hand,
Which once was powr'd upon this crowned Head,
And of this Kingdome gave me the Command,
When it, about me, the rich Verdure spred,
Either my Right in greater stead should stand,
Or wherefore then was it so vainely shed?
Whose prophanation, and unrev'rend touch,
Just Heaven hath often punish'd, alwayes much.

17

As from the Sunne, when from our Sov'raigne due,
Whose vertuall influence, as the Sourse of Right,
Lends safetie of your livelyhood to you,
As from our Fulnesse taking borrow'd Light;
Which to the Subject being ever true,
Why thus oppugne you, by prepost'rous Might?
But what Heaven lent me, wisely to have used,
It gives to him, that vainely I abused.

18

Then here I doe resigne it to your King;
Pawsing thereat, as though his Tongue offended,
With griping Throwes seem'd forth that word to bring,
Sighing a full Point, as he there had ended.
O, how that sound his grieved Heart did wring!
Which he recalling, gladly would have mended.
“Things of small Moment we can scarcely hold,
“But Griefes that touch the Heart, are hardly told.

19

Which sayd, his Eyes seem'd to dissolve to Teares,
After some great Storme, like a show'r of Rayne,
As his Tongue strove to keepe it from his Eares,
Or he had spoke it with exceeding payne;
O, in his Lips how vile that word appeares,
Wishing it were within his Brest againe!
Yet sayth he, Say so to the Man you beare it,
And thus say to him, that you meane shall weare it.

20

“Let him account his Bondage from that day,
“That he is with a Diadem invested;
“(A glitt'ring Crowne hath made this Hayre so gray)
“Within whose Circle he is but arrested,
“To true Content, this is no certaine way,
“With sweeter Cates the meane estate is feasted;
“For when his proud Feet scorne to touch the Mold,
“His Head's a Prisoner in a Gaole of Gold.

21

“In numbring Subjects, he but numbers Care;
“And when with Shouts the People doe begin,
“Let him suppose, th'Applause but Prayers are,
“That he may scape the Danger he is in,
“Wherein t'adventure, he so boldly dare;
“The Multitude hath multitudes of Sinne,
“And he that first doth cry, God save the King,
“Is the first Man him evill Newes doth bring.

22

“Lost in his owne, mis-led in others Wayes,
“Sooth'd with Deceits, and fed with Flatteries,
“Himselfe displeasing, wicked Men to please,
“Obey'd no more then he shall tyrannize,
“The least in safetie, being most at ease,
“With one Friend winning many Enemies;
“And when he sitteth in his greatest State,
“They that behold him most, beare him most hate.

23

A King was he but now, that now is none,
Disarm'd of Power, and here dejected is;
By whose deposing, he enjoyes a Throne,
Who were he naturall, should not have done this:
I must confesse, th'Inheritance his owne;
But whilst I live, it should be none of his:
But the Sonne climbes, and thrusts the Father downe,
And thus the Crowned, goes without a Crowne.

24

Thus having play'd his hard constrayned Part,
His Speech, his Reigne, the Day, together ended,
His Brest shot through with Sorrowes deadlyest Dart,
Car'd for of none, not look'd on, unattended,
Sadly returning, with a heavie Heart,
To his strait Lodging strictly recommended,
Left to bemoane his miserable plight,
To the deafe Walls, and to the darkesome Night.

25

Whilst Things were thus disast'rously decreed,
Seditious Libels ev'ry day were spred,
(By such as lik'd not of the violent Deed)
That he by force should be delivered:
Whether his Wrong, Remorse in some did breed,
That him (alas) untimely pittied;
Who knew: or, whether but devis'd by some,
To cloake his Murther, afterward to come.

26

And Hate at hand, which heark'ning still did lurke,
And still suspitious, Edward was not sure,
Fearing, that Bloud with Leicester might worke,

The Earle of Leicester neere to the King in Bloud.

Or, that him Friends his Name might yet procure,
Which the Queenes Faction mightily did irke;
At Kenelworth, that no way could endure
His longer stay; but cast to have him layd,
Where his Friends least might hope to lend him Ayd.

27

A Castle in Glocestershire, upon the Banke of Severne, the ancient House of the Baron of that Name.

Of which, when as they had debated long,
Of Berckley Castle they themselves bethought,
A place by nature that was wond'rous strong,
And yet farre stronger eas'ly might be wrought;
Besides, it stood their chiefest Friends among,
And where he was unlikelyest to be sought;
And for their Men, to worke what they desyr'd,
They knew where Villaines were, that might be hyr'd.

28

For though the Great, to cover their Intent,
Seeme not to know of any that are ill,

Great Divels have the lesse at command.

Yet want they not a Divellish Instrument,
Which they have readie ever at their will;
Such Men these had, to Mischiefe wholly bent,
In Villanie, notorious for their skill,
Dishonest, desp'rate, mercilesse, and rude,
That dar'd into Damnation to intrude.

29

Vile Gurney and Matrevers were the Men,
Of this blacke Scene, the Actors chose to be,
Whose hatefull Deed pollutes my Maiden Pen:
But, I beseech you, be not griev'd with me,
Which have these Names now (that were famous then)

No Name so Noble, but there is a Villaine of the same.

Some Boughes grow crooked from the straightest Tree;
Yee are no way partakers of their Shame,
The Fault is in their Fact, not in their Name.

30

To Kenelworth they speedily dispatch'd,
Fitted with each thing that they could desire,
At such a time, as few their comming watch'd,
When of their Bus'nesse none was to enquire:
Well were the Men and their Commission match'd;
For they had their Authoritie entire,
To take the King, his Guardian to acquit,
And to bestow him where they thought it fit.

31

This Crue of Ribalds, villanous and nought,
With their Co-agents in this damned thing,
To Noble Lester their Commission brought,
Commanding the deliv'rie of the King,

The Earle of Leicester much grieved, to leave his King and Kinsman to the mercie of his Enemies.

Which (with much griefe) they lastly from him wrought;
About the Castle closely hovering,
Watching a time, till Silence, and the Night,
Could with convenience priviledge their Flight.

32

With shamefull Scoffes, and barbarous Disgrace,

The unmercifull and most base usage of the King, by those Villains, in his way from Kenelworth to Berckley.

Him on a leane ill-favor'd Jade they set,
In a vile Garment, beggerly, and base,
Which, it should seeme, they purposely did get;
So carrying him in a most wretched case,
Benum'd, and beaten with the Cold and Wet,
Depriv'd of all Repose, and naturall Rest,
With Thirst and Hunger grievously opprest.

33

Yet still suspitious that he should be knowne,
From Beard and Head they shav'd away the Hayre,
Which was the last that he could call his owne:
Never left Fortune any Wight so bare,
Such Tyrannie on King was never showne,
And till that time, with Mortals had beene rare;
His Comfort then did utterly deceive him,
But to his Death, his Sorrowes did not leave him.

34

For when they had him farre from all resort,
They tooke him downe from his poore wearie Beast,
And on a Mole-hill (for a State in Court)
With Puddle Water him they lewdly drest,
Then with his wofull Miseries made Sport;
And for his Bason, fitting with the rest,
A rustie Iron Skull: O wretched sight!
Was ever Man so miserably dight?

35

His Teares increas'd the Water, with their fall,
Like a Poole, rising with a sudden Rayne,
Which wrestled with the Puddle, and withall,
A troubled Circle made it to retayne;
His endlesse Griefe which to his Mind did call,
His Sighes made Billowes like a little Maine;
Water and Teares contending, whether should
The Mast'rie have, the hot ones, or the cold.

36

Vile Traytors, hold off your unhallowed Hands,
His Brow, upon it, Majestie still beares;
Dare yee thus keepe your Sov'raigne Lord in Bands?
And can your Eyes behold th'Anoynted's Teares?
Or if your Sight all Pittie thus withstands,
Are not your Hearts yet pierced through your Eares?
“The Mind is free, what ere afflict the Man,
“A King's a King, doe Fortune what she can.

37

“Dare Man take that which God himselfe hath given?
“Or Mortall spill the Spirit by him infus'd,
“Whose pow'r is subject to the Pow'r of Heaven?
“Wrongs passe not unreveng'd, although excus'd.

The English Proverbe.

Except that thou set all at six and seven,
Rise Majestie, when thou art thus abus'd;
Or for thy Refuge, which way wilt thou take,
When in this sort thou do'st thy selfe forsake?

38

When in Despight, and Mock'rie of a Crowne,
A Wreath of Grasse they for his Temples make:
Which when he felt, then comming from a swowne,
And that his Spirits a little gan to wake;
Fortune (quoth he) thou do'st not alwayes frowne,
I see thou giv'st, as well as thou do'st take,
That wanting naturall covert for my Braine,
For that defect, thou lend'st me this againe.

39

To whom, just Heaven, should I my Griefe complayne,
Since it is onely Thou, that workest all?
How can this Bodie naturall strength retayne,
To suffer things so much unnaturall?
My Cogitations labour but in vaine,
'Tis from thy Justice that I have my Fall,
That when so many Miseries doe meet,
The change of Sorrow makes my Torment sweet.

40

Thus they to Berckley brought the wretched King,
Which, for their purpose, was the Place fore-thought.
Yee Heavenly Pow'rs, doe yee behold this thing,
And let this Deed of Horror to be wrought,
That might the Nation into question bring!
But O, your Wayes with Justice still are fraught!
But he is hap'd into his Earthly Hell,
From whence he bad the wicked World farwell.

41

They lodg'd him in a melancholy Roome,

A description of the Kings Lodging, in Berckley Castle.

Where, through strait Windows, the dull Light came farre,
(In which, the Sunne did at no Season come)
Which strength'ned were with many an Iron Barre,
Like to a Vault under some mightie Tombe,
Where Night and Day wag'd a continuall Warre;
Under whose Floore, the common Sewer past
Up to the same, a loathsome stench that cast.

42

The ominous Raven often he doth heare,

Signes of evill Luck, and observed to foretell Death.

Whose croking, him of following Horror tells,
Begetting strange imaginarie Feare,
With heavie Ecchoes, like to passing Bells;
The howling Dogge a dolefull Part doth beare,
As though they chym'd his last sad burying Knells;
Under his Eave, the buzzing Shreech-Owle sings,
Beating the Windowes with her fatall Wings.

43

His fearefull and most ominous Dreames, with the terrors of the Night: in this and the following Stanza.

By Night affrighted, in his fearefull Dreames,
Of raging Fiends and Goblins that he meets,
Of falling downe from steepe Rocks into Streames,
Of Deaths, of Buryals, and of Wynding Sheets,
Of Wand'ring Helpelesse, in farre forraine Realmes,
Of strong Temptations by seducing Sprights;
Wherewith awak'd, and calling out for aid,
His hollow Voyce doth make himself afraid.

44

Then came the Vision of his bloudie Raigne,
Marching along with Lancasters sterne Ghost,
Twentie eight Barons, either hang'd, or slaine,
Attended with the rufull mangled Hoast,
That unreveng'd did all that while remayne,
At Burton Bridge, and fatall Borough lost;
Threat'ning with Frownes, and quaking ev'ry Lim,
As though that piece-meale they would torture him.

45

And if it chanc'd, that from the troubled Skyes,
The least small Starre through any Chinke gave light,
Straightwayes on heapes the thronging Clouds did rise,
As though that Heaven were angry with the Night,
That it should lend that comfort to his Eyes;
Deformed Shaddowes glimpsing in his sight,
As Darkenesse, that it might more ugly bee,
Through the least Cranny would not let him see.

46

When all th'affliction that they could impose
Upon him, to the utmost of their Hate,
Above his Torments, yet his strength so rose,
As though that Nature had conspir'd with Fate;
When as his watchfull and too warie Foes,
That ceas'd not still his Woes to aggravate,
His further Helpes suspected, to prevent,
To take away his Life, to Berckley sent.

47

And to that end a Letter fashioning,

Edwardum occidere nolite: timere bonum est. Edwardum occidere, nolite timere: bonum est.

Which in the words a double sense did beare;
Which seem'd to bid them, not to kill the King,
Shewing with all, how vile a thing it were;
But by the Pointing, was another thing,
And to dispatch him, bids them not to feare;
Which taught to find, the Murth'rers need no more,
Being thereto, too readie long before.

48

When Edward hap'd a Chronicle to find,
Of those nine Kings, which did him here precede,
Which some, there lodg'd, forgotten had behind,
On which, to passe the How'rs, he fell to read,
Thinking thereby to recreate his Mind;
But in his Brest, That did sore Conflicts breed:
“For when true Sorrow once the Fansie seizeth,
“What ere we see, our Miserie increaseth.

49

And to that Norman, entring on this Ile,
Cal'd William Conqueror, first his time he plyes,

As Harold, the sonne of Earle Godwyn, had usurped the Crowne from young Edgar, called the Sonne of the Out-law; so Duke William tooke it from him by Conquest, having as little Right to it as he.

The Fields of Hastings how he did defile
With Saxon Bloud, and Harold did surprize,
And those, which he so could not reconcile,
How over them he long did tyrannize;
Where he read, how the Strong o'ercame the Strong,
As God oft-times makes Wrong to punish Wrong.

50

How Robert then, his eldest Sonne, abroad,

Duke Robert, the eldest sonne of the Conqueror, was at his fathers death with Godfrey of Bulloyne, in the Holy Warres. New Forrest in Hampshire; in which he was slaine, with an Arrow out of a Crossebow, by Sir Walter Tirrell.

Rufus, his second, seiz'd on his Estate,
His Fathers steps apparantly that trode,
Depressing those who had beene conquer'd late:
But as on them he layd a heavie Load,
So was he guerdon'd by impartiall Fate;
For whilst Mens Roomes for Beasts he did intend,
He in that Forrest had a beastly end.

51

Henry, for his learning named Beauclearke, the fourth and youngest sonne of the Conqueror.

Henry, his young'st, his Brother William dead,
Taketh the Crowne from his usurping Hand,
Due to the eldest, good Duke Robert's Head,
Not then returned from the Holy Land;
Whose Power was there so much diminished,
That he his Foe not able to withstand,
Was ta'en in Battell, and his Eyes out-done;
For which, the

King Henries sonnes drowned, as they were comming by Sea out of France into England, to keepe the Feast of Christmas with their Father.

Seas left Henry not a Sonne.

52

Maud, Daughter to Henry the first, was first married to Henry the Emperour.

Maud the Empresse he the Scepter leaves,
His onely Daughter, whom (through false Pretext)
Stephen

Stephen, the sonne of Stephen, Earle of Blois, by Constance, William Conquerors Sister.

, Earle of Bulloyn, from the Kingdome heaves:
The Conquerors Nephew, in Succession next,
By which, the Land a stranger Warre receives,
Wherewith it long was miserably vext;
Till Stephen fayling, and his Issue gone,
The Heire of Maud steps up into the Throne.

53

Henry, the sonne of Maud the Empresse, by her second Husband Geffrey Plantaginet, Earle of Anjou.

Henry the second, Maud the Empresse Sonne,
Of th'English Kings, Plantaginet the first,
By Stephens end, a glorious Reigne begun;
But yet his Greatnesse strangely was accurst,

The Sonne being crowned by his Father in his life, sought after to depose his kind Parent.

By his Sonne Henries Coronation:
Which to his Age much Woe and Sorrow nurst;
When His, whom he had labor'd to make Great,
Abroad his Townes, at home usurp'd his Seat.

54

Richard, surnamed Cœur de Lyon.

Richard, his Sonne, him worthily succeeds;
Who not content with what was safely Ours,
(A Man, whose Mind sought after glorious Deeds)
Into the East transports the English Powers;

In the Warres against the Saracens.

Where, with his Sword whilst many a Pagan bleeds,
Relentlesse Fate doth haste on his last Houres,

Slaine by Peter Bazeel.

By one, whose Syre he justly there had slaine,
With a sharpe Arrow shot into the Braine.

55

Next followed him his faithlesse Brother John,

Oft rebelling against his Brother Richard, who much loved him. Arthur, the sonne of Geffrey, the second sonne of Henry the second, who in the right of Constance, Daughter and Heire of Conan, Earle of Little Britaine in France, was Earle of the same.

By Arthurs Murther (compass'd by his Might)
His Brother Geffrey, th'Earle of Britaines Sonne;
But he by Poyson was repay'd his Spight:
For whilst he strove to have made all his owne,
(For what he got by Wrong, he held his Right)
And on the Clergie tyrannously fed,
Was by a Monke of Swinsted poysoned.

56

Henry his Sonne, then crowned very young,

Crowned at 9. yeres old. The Barons sent in for Lewes, the sonne of Philip, King of France, thinking to have made him King.

For hate the English to the Father bare,
The Sonne's here raigning was in question long,
Who thought, on France t'have cast the Kingdomes care:
With whom the Barons, insolent and strong,
For the old

About the Statutes made at Oxford.

Which his

He reigned 56. yeres, and a moneth.

long Raigne did with much Care molest,
Yet with much Peace went lastly to his Rest.

57

Of him descends a Prince, stout, just, and sage,

Edward the first, named Long-shankes, a most fortunate and victorious Prince. The Happinesse of his Reigne, recovered the losse of the Warres that the Barons held against his father. He conquered Wales, and made Scotland do him Homage.

(In all things happie, but in him, his Sonne)
In whom, wise Nature did her selfe ingage,
More then in Man, in Edward to have done;
Whose happie Raigne recur'd the former Rage,
By the large Bounds he to his Empire wonne:
O God (quoth he) had he my Patterne bin,
Heav'n had not powr'd these Plagues upon my sinne.

58

Turning the Leafe, he found as unawares,
What day young Edward, Prince of Wales, was borne;

Edward the second was the first Prince of Wales, called of Carnarvon, the place of his Birth.

Which Letters look'd like conjuring Characters,
Or to despight him, they were set in scorne,
Blotting the Paper like disfiguring skarres:
O, let that Name (quoth he) from Bookes be torne,
Lest in that place the sad displeased Earth
Doe loath it selfe, as slandered with my Birth.

100

59

Be thence hereafter Humane Birth exil'd,
Sunke to a Lake, or swallow'd by the Sea;
And future Ages asking for that Child,
Say 'twas abortive, or 'twas stolne away:
And lest, O Time, thou be therewith defil'd,
In thy un-numbred Houres devoure that Day;
Let all be done, that Pow'r can bring to passe,
To make forgot, that such a one there was.

60

The troubled Teares then standing in his Eyes,
Through which, he did upon the Letters looke,
Made them to seeme like Roundlets, that arise
By a Stone cast into a standing Brooke,
Appearing to him in such various wise,
And at one time such sundry fashions tooke,
As like deluding Goblins did affright,
And with their foule shapes terrifie his sight.

61

And on his Death-bed sits him downe at last,
His fainting Spirits fore-shewing Danger nie,
When the Doores forth a fearefull howling cast,
To let those in, by whom he was to die:
At whose approach, whilst there he lay agast,
Those ruthlesse Villaines did upon him flie;
Who seeing none, to whom to call for ayd,
Thus to these cruell Regicydes he sayd:

62

The speech of the King to his Torturers, at the instant of his Death.

O be not Authors of so vile an Act,
My Bloud on your Posteritie to bring,
Which after-Time with Horror shall distract,
When Fame shall tell it, how you kil'd a King;
And yet more, by the manner of the Fact,
Mortalitie so much astonishing,
That they shall count their Wickednesse scarce sinne,
Compar'd to that, which done by you hath bin.

101

63

And since you deadly hate me, let me live;
Yee this advantage angry Heaven hath left,
Which, except Life, hath ta'en what it did give,
But that Revenge should not from you be reft,
Me yet with greater Miserie to grieve,
Hath still reserv'd this from its former Theft;
That this, which might of all these Plagues prevent me,
Were I depriv'd it, lasteth to torment me.

64

Thus spake this wofull and distressed Lord,

The miserable and most fearfull end of Edward the second, in this and the next Stanza following.

As yet his Breath found Passage to and fro,
With many a short Pant, many a broken word,
Many a sore Groane, many a grievous Throw,
Whilst him his Spirit could any strength afford
To his last gaspe, to move them with his Woe;
Till over-mast'red by their too much strength,
His sickly Heart submitted at the length.

65

When 'twixt two Beds they clos'd his wearied Coarse,
Basely uncovering his most secret Part,
And without Humane Pittie, or Remorse,
With a hot Spit they thrust him to the Heart.
O that my Pen had in it but that force,
T'expresse the Paine! but that surpasseth Art;
And that, the Soule must even with trembling doe,
For words want weight, nor can they reach thereto.

66

When those (i'th'depth and dead time of the Night)
Poore simple People, that then dwelled neare,
Whom that strange Noyse did wond'rously affright,
That his last Shreeke did in his parting heare,
As pittying that most miserable Wight,
(Betwixt Compassion and obedient Feare)
Turn'd up their Eyes, with Heavinesse opprest,
Praying to Heaven, to give the Soule good Rest.

102

67

A Commination of the Place of the Kings Murther, to the end of the Canto.

Berckley, whose Seat hath bin famous long,
Let thy sad Ecchoes shreeke a deadly sound,
To the vast Ayre complayne his grievous Wrong,
And keepe the Bloud that issued from his Wound,
The Teares that drop'd from his dead Eyes among,
In their blacke foot-steps printed on the ground,
Thereby that all the Ages that succeed,
May call to mind the foulenesse of their Deed.

68

Let thy large Buildings still retayne his Grones,
His sad Complaints by learning to repeat,
And let the dull Walls, and the senselesse Stones,
By the impression of his Torment sweat,
And for not able to expresse his Mones,
Therefore with Paine and Agonie repleat,
That all may thither come, that shall be told it,
As in a Mirror clearely to behold it.

69

And let the Genius of that wofull Place
Become the Guide to his more frightfull Ghost,
With Hayre dishevel'd, and a gastly Face,
And haunt the Prison where his Life was lost,
And as the Den of Horror, and Disgrace,
Let it be fearefull over all the Coast;
That those hereafter, that doe travell neare,
Never may view it, but with heavie cheare.

The end of the fifth Canto.

103

The sixt Canto.

The Argument.

Lord Mortimer, made Earle of March; how he
And the bright Queene rule all things by their Might;
The State wherein at Nottingham they be,
The Cost wherewith their pompous Courtis dight,
Envy'd by those, their hatefull Pride that see:
The King attempts the dreadfull Cave by Night;
Entring the Castle, taketh him from thence,
And March at London dyes for his Offence.

1

Now, whilst of sundry Accidents we sing,
Some, of much Sadnesse, others, of Delight,
In our Conceit, strange Objects fashioning;
We our free Numbers tenderly invite,
Somewhat to slacke this Melancholy String;
For we too soone of Death come to endite,
When things of Moment, in the course we hold,
Fall in their order fitly to be told.

2

Whilst they, the Houres doe carefully redeeme,
Their fraudfull Courses finely to contrive,
How foule soe'r, to make them fayre to seeme,
For which, they all did diligently strive,
To tempt Men still, so of them to esteeme,
That all might wish their Purposes to thrive;
For it was Cunning, mixed with their Might,
That had, and still must, make their Wrong seeme Right.

104

3

The Pompous Synod of those Earthly Gods,
Was then assign'd to Salisburie, to bring
Things to be even, that had been at ods,

A Parlament of Salisburie.

To the faire entrance of the new-crown'd King,
And thereby so to settle their Abodes,
That Peace from their first Parlament might spring;
Wisely to end what well they had begun,
For many thought, that strange things had been done.

4

Mortimer, created Earle of March, first of the Family, which had that Title.

Whilst Mortimer (so Lord of his desire,
That none prevayl'd, his Purpose to defeat)
His stile of Baron, heav'd an Earledome higher,
T'extend the Honour of his auncient Seat,
That his Command might be the more entire;
Who only then, but th'Earle of March, was great?
Who knew, the Land into her Lap was throwne,
Which having all, would never starve her owne.

5

The whole Frame of Heaven, moving betwixt the two Pole-Starres, North and South.

And firme they stood, as those two stedfast Poles,
'Twixt which, this All doth on the Axtree move,
Whose Strength the Frame of Government upholds,
Which to those Times, their Wisdomes did approve:
Strong must that Fate be, which their Will controules,
Or had the Power, them from their Seats to shove;
For well they found, that that which they could feele,
Must of force make the Realme it selfe to reele.

6

When Edwards Nonage, that of Peace had need,
The Scot incourag'd to renew the Warre,
Of which, it much behoov'd them to take heed,
Matters so strangely manag'd as they were,
Which should they suffer (by neglect) to breed,
Nothing they yet had made, but it might marre,
Which for their good (reserving their Estate)
They prove to purchase at the dearest rate.

105

7

Nor lesse then Ragman the rough Scot suffic'd,

Of some called, the Ragman Role.

Of all our Writings, of the most renowne,
By which, the Kings of Scotland had dimis'd,

The Instrument, by which the Fealtie was acknowledged.

Their yeerely Homage to the English Crowne,
With other Reliques (that were highly priz'd)
But that which made the patient'st Men to frowne,
Was the Blacke Crosse of Scotland, ominous deem'd,

A Jewell of great price, anciently belonging to the Crowne of Scotland.

Before all other, anciently esteem'd.

8

To colour which, and to confirme the Peace,

Joan, the third Child of Edward the second, by Queene Isabel, married to Prince David, Heire Apparent to Robert Bruce, King of Scots.

They made a Marriage betweene them and us,
And for a strong Pretext to that Release,
Which to the wisest seem'd most dangerous;
Whilst Robert reign'd, and after his decease,
That it might last, it was concluded thus,
David their Prince, our Princesse Joan should take,
Betwixt the Realmes a lasting League to make.

9

When th'Earle of Kent, that had been long of those,

Edmund, Earle of Kent, Brother to the deposed King, mentioned in the former Canto's.

Which in their Actions had a pow'rfull Hand,
Perceiving them of Matters to dispose,
Tending to the subversion of the Land,
And further Danger dayly did disclose,
If that the Kingdome they should still command;
Whilst he their Fall did cunningly fore-cast,
Did but his owne too violently haste.

10

For giving out, his Brother to survive,
(Of all Men called the deceased King)
Into the Peoples Heads such Doubts did drive,
As into question Edwards Right did bring.
Ill this Report was rays'd, and worse did thrive,
Being so foule and dangerous a thing;
That as a Mover of intestine Strife,

The Earle of Kent put to death.

He for the Treason forfeited his Life.

106

11

Whilst Edward takes but what they onely give,
Whose Nonage crav'd their carefullest Protection,
Who knew to rule, and he but learn'd to live,
From their Experience taking his Direction:
Hard was the thing, that they could not contrive,
When he that reign'd, was crown'd by their Election;
And that the Right which did to him belong,
And must uphold him, chiefely made them strong.

12

False dealing had need of faire Colours.

Providing for the Councell of the King
Those of most Power, the Noblest of the Peeres,
Experienc'd well, complete in ev'ry thing,
Whose Judgements had been rip'ned with their Yeeres;
With Comelinesse their Actions managing:
Yet whilst they rowe, 'tis Mortimer that steeres;
“Well might we thinke, the Man were more then blind,
“That wanted Sea-roomth, and could rule the Wind.

13

Keeping their Course, that it still clearely shone,
By the most curious Cunning to be scan'd,
And made that which was Edwards then, their owne,
Being received from his Sov'raigne Hand,
Into their Bosomes absolutely throwne,
Both for his good, and safetie of his Land,
All their Proceedings coloured with that care,
To the Worlds Eye so faire an Out-side bare.

14

And they which could the Complements of State,
To Greatnesse gave each Ceremonious Rite,
To their Designes to give the longer date,
The like againe in others to excite;
In entertaining Love, they welcom'd Hate,
And to one Banquet freely both invite;
“A Princes Wealth, by spending still doth spred,
“Like to a Brooke, by many Fountaines fed.

107

15

Being upon the North side of Trent; and for the ample Prospect it hath to the South, not unproperly called, The Eye of the North.

Nottingham, the North's Imperious Eye,
Which as a

The Pharus is a Tower, placed upon some Promontorie, or loftie Ground, with light in the top, to direct Men at Sea; to which, hee likeneth Nottingham, for the stately situation.

Pharus doth survey the Soyle,
Armed by Nature, Danger to defie;
March to repose him, after all his Toyle,
(Where Treason least Advantage might espie)
Closely convey'd his past-price valued Spoyle;
That there residing from the publique sight,
He might with pleasure rellish his Delight.

16

Ninescore in Check belonging to their Court,
By honor'd Knight-hood knit in mutuall Bands,
Men most select, of speciall worth and sort;

The great Retinue of the Queene and Mortimer.

Much might they doe, that had so many Hands:
March and the Queene maintaine one equall Port
In that proud Castle, which so farre commands;
From whence they seem'd, as they like those would rise,
Who once threw Rocks at the Imperiall Skies.

17

As Fortune meant, her Power on March to show,
And in her Armes to beare him through the Skye,
By him to daunt whos'ever sat below,
Having above them mounted him so hye:
Who, at his beck was he that did not bow,
If at his feet he did not humbly lye?
“All things concurre with more then happy Chance,
“To rayse the Man, whom Fortune will advance.

18

Here all along, the Flower-befilled Vales,

A Poeticall description of Trent, as it runneth thorow the Medowes, under Nottingham.

On her cleere Sands the Silver Trent doth slide,
And to the Medowes telling wanton Tales,
Her Crystall Limbes lasciviously, in pride,
(As ravished with the inamor'd Gales)
With often Turnings casts from side to side;
As she were loth the faire sight to forsake,

Running into Humber, and so into the German Ocean.

And runne her selfe into the German Lake.

108

19

Nottingham seated upon a high Rocke, betweene the goodly Forrest of Sherwood and the Trent.

And North from thence, rude Sherwood as she roves,
Casts many a long Looke at those loftie Tow'rs,
And with the thicknesse of her well-growne Groves,
Shelters the Towne from stormie Winters Show'rs,
In pleasant Summer, and to shew her loves,
Bids it againe to see her shadie Bow'rs;
Courting the Castle, which as turning to her,
Smiles to behold th'inamor'd Wood-Nymph woo her.

20

March and the Queene so planted in that place,
Thither, in Person, Princely Edward drawes,
Who seem'd, their Friendships friendly to imbrace,
And upon ev'ry little offred cause,
Readie to doe them ceremonious Grace;
Whom they observe (of Court that knew the Lawes:)
Whilst in the Towne King Edward tooke his Seat,
The Queenes great confluence made the Castle sweat.

21

The excessive pride of the Queene, and her Favourite Mortimer.

Where, when they pleas'd in Councell to debate,
Or they the King at any Pleasure met,
They came with such Magnificence of State,
As did all Eyes upon their Greatnesse set,
Prizing their Presence at that costly rate,
As to the same due Rev'rence might beget;
Which, in most People Admiration wrought,
And much amazed many a wand'ring Thought.

22

O, could Ambition apprehend a Stay,
The giddie Course it wand'reth in, to guide!
And give it Safetie in that slipp'rie Way,
Where the most worldly provident doe slide;
It not so soone should see it owne Decay:
But it so much besotted is with Pride,
That it ne'r thinketh of that Pit at all,
Wherein, through Boldnesse, it doth blindly fall.

109

23

But never doth it surfet with Excesse,

The true nature of Ambition.

Each Dish so savorie, season'd with Delight,
Nor nothing can the Gluttonie suppresse,
But still it longs, so liquorish is the sight,
Nor having all, is in desire the lesse,
Till it so much be tempted, past the Might,
That the full stomacke more then well suffic'd,
Vomits, what late it vilely gourmandiz'd.

24

Like to some low Brooke, from a loftier ground,

A Simile of the end of Ambition.

By waste of Waters that is over-flow'd,
Is sated, till it shouldreth downe the Mound,
And the old course quite of it selfe unload,
That where it was, it after is not found,
But from the strait Bankes layes it selfe abroad,
Leading the Fountaine that doth feed it, by,
So leaves the Channell desolate and drie.

25

When as those few, that many Teares had spent,
By gazing long on murth'red Edwards Grave,
Mutt'red in corners, griev'd, and discontent;
And finding those, them willing Eare that gave,
Still, as they durst, discovered what they meant,
Tending their Pride and Greatnesse to deprave;
Urging withall, what some might justly doe,
If things so borne, were rightly look'd into.

26

And some gave out, that Mortimer, to rise,
Had cut off Kent, that next was to succeed,
Whose Treasons they avow'd, March to surmise,
As a meere Colour to that lawlesse deed;
Which his Ambition onely did devise,
Quite out the Royall Family to weed,
And made account, if Edward once were gone,
He, o'r the rest, might step into the Throne.

110

27

As those his Favorers, in those former Times,
Then credulous, that Honour was his end,
And for the hate they bare to others Crimes,

His greatest Favourers wearie of his ambitious Courses.

Did not his Faults so carefully attend;
Perceiving he so dissolutely clymes,
Having then brought his purpose to an end,
With a severe Eye did more strictly looke
Into the course which his Ambition tooke.

28

A Simile of Mortimers over-greatnesse.

All fence the Tree, that serveth for a shade,
Whose big-growne Bodie doth beare off the Wind,
Till that his wastfull Branches doe invade
The new-sprung Plants, and them in Prison bind;
When as a Tyrant to his weaker made,
And as a vile devourer of his kind,
All lend their Hands, at his large Root to hew,
Whose Greatnesse hind'reth others that would grow.

29

So, at his ease securely whilst he sate,
And as he would, so all things settled were,
Under the guidance of a gracious Fate,
Never more free from Jealousie and Feare;
So great his Mind, so mightie his Estate,
As they admit not Danger to be neere;
But still we see, before a sudden Showre,
The Sunne upon us hath the greatest power.

30

A description of Mortimers Chamber, and the state thereof: in foureteene Stanza's.

Within the Castle had the Queene devis'd,
(Long about which, she busied had her Thought)
A Chamber, wherein she imparadiz'd
What shapes for her could any where be sought;
Which in the same were curiously compriz'd,
By skilfull Painters excellently wrought:
And in the place of greatest Safetie there,

Mortimers Tower.

Which she had nam'd the Tower of Mortimer.

111

31

A Roome prepar'd with Pilasters, she chose,

Little Pillars, as we see in many Buildings of State, which be about greater.

That to the Roofe their slender Poynts did reare,
Arching the Top, whereas they all did close,
Which from below shew'd like an Hemisphere;
In whose Concavitie, she did compose
The Constellations, that to us appeare,
In their corporeall shapes, with Starres inchased,
As by th'old Poets they on Heaven were placed.

32

About which Lodging, tow'rds the upper Face,

By Architects called the Cornish.

Ran a fine Border, circularly led,
As equall 'twixt the Zenith and the Base,

A word borrowed from Astronomie, to expresse the highest Point.

Which as a Zone the Waste ingirdled,
That lent the Sight a breathing, by the space
'Twixt things neere hand, and those farre over head;
Upon the plaine Wall of which lower Part,
Painting express'd the utmost of her Art.

33

There Phœbus clipping Hiacynthus, stood,

Phœbus loving a daintie Boy, called Hiacynthus, by chance slew him with a Sledge which he threw; who, after his death, he metamorphosed into a flower of that name; the manner of which, is expressed in the supposed Painting.

Whose Lifes last drops did the Gods Brest imbrew,
His Teares so mixed with the young Boyes Blood,
That whether was the more, no Eye could view;
And though together lost as in a Flood,
Yet here and there th'one from th'other drew;
The prettie Wood-Nymphes chafing him with Balme,
Proving to wake him from his deadly qualme.

34

Apollo's Quiver, and farre-killing Bow,

Phœbus and Apollo both one.

His Gold-frindg'd Mantle on the Grasse-full Ground,
T'expresse whose Act, Art (ev'n) her best did show,
The Sledge so shadow'd still, as to rebound,
As it had scarce done giving of the Blow,
Lending a lasting freshnesse to the Wound;
The purple flower from the Boyes Bloud begun,
That since ne'r spreads, but to the rising Sunne.

112

35

Iö the Daughter of Inachus, kept by Jupiter, who, to hide her from Juno, transformd her into a Cow.

Neere that, was Iö, in a Heyfers shape,
Viewing her new-ta'n Figure in a Brooke,
In which, her shadow seem'd on her to gape,
As on the same she greedily did looke,
To see how Jove could cloud his wanton scape:
So done, that the Beholders oft mistooke
Themselves; to some, that one way did allow
A Womans likenesse, th'other way, a Cow.

36

Mercurie fayned oft to court Hebe, a Nymph, who served the Cup to Jupiter.

There Mercurie was like a Shepheards Boy,
Sporting with Hebe, by a Fountaine brim,
With many a sweet Glance, many an am'rous Toy;
He sprinkling Drops at her, and she at him:
Wherein the Painter so explain'd their Joy,
As he had meant the very Life to limne;
For on their Browes he made the Drops so cleare,
That through each Drop, their faire Skins did appeare.

37

A high Mountayne in the Ile of Delos, where Apollo and Diana were borne, described in this and the following Stanza.

By them, in Landskip, Rockie Cynthus rear'd,
With the Clouds leaning on his loftie Crowne,
On his sides shewing many a straggling Heard,
And from his Top, the cleare Springs creeping downe
By the old Rocks, each with a hoarie Beard,
With Mosse and climbing Ivie over-growne;

Skill meant here for excellency.

So done, that the Beholders, with the Skill,
Never ynough their longing Eyes could fill.

38

The halfe-nak'd Nymphs, some climbing, some descending,
The sundry Flowers at one another flung,
In Postures strange, their limber Bodies bending;
Some cropping Branches, that seem'd lately sprung,
Upon the Brakes, their coloured Mantles rending,
Which on the Mount grew here and there among;
Combing their Hayre some, some made Garlands by;
So strove the Painter to content the Eye.

113

39

In one part, Phaeton cast amongst the Clouds

Phaeton fayned to obtayne of Phœbus, his father, for one day to guide the Chariot of the Sunne, by which, he fired the World.

By Phœbus Palfreyes, that their Reynes had broke,
His Chariot tumbling from the welked Shrowds,
And the fierce Steeds flew madding from their yoke,
The Elements confusedly in Crowds,
And Heaven and Earth were nought but flame & smoke:
A Piece so done, that many did desire
To warme themselves, some frighted with the Fire.

40

And into Padus falling, as he burn'd,

Jove fearing to have his Throne burnt by Phaeton, threw him into the River Padus.

Thereinto throwne by Jove, out of the Skyes;
His weeping Sisters, there to Trees were turn'd,
Yet so of Women did retayne the guise,

Phaethusa, Lampetia and Lampethusa, the sisters of Phaeton, called Heliades, which dying with the sorrow for their Brother, were turned into Trees.

That none could censure, whether (as they mourn'd)
Drops from their Boughes, or Teares fell from their Eyes:
Done for the last, with such exceeding Life,
As Art therein with Nature seem'd at strife.

41

And for the Light to this brave Lodging lent,
The Workeman, who as wisely could direct,
Did for the same the Windowes so invent,

A steady and pure Light giveth much grace to Painting.

That they should artificially reflect
The Day alike on ev'ry Liniament,
To their Proportion, and had such respect,
As that the Beames, condensated and grave,
To ev'ry Figure a sure Colour gave.

42

In part of which, under a golden Vine,

A description of the Bed.

Which held a curious Canopie through all,
Stood a rich Bed, quite cover'd with the Twyne,
Shadowing the same, in the redoubling fall,
Whose Clusters drew the Branches to decline,
'Mongst which, did many a naked Cupid sprawle:
Some, at the sundry-colour'd Birds did shoot,
And some, about to plucke the Purple Fruit.

114

43

On which, a Tissue counterpoyne was cast,
Arachnes Web did not the same surpasse,
Wherein the storie of his Fortunes past,

A Woman that first invented Spinning.

In lively Pictures, neatly handled was;
How he escap'd the Tower, in France how grac'd,
With Stones imbroyd'red, of a wond'rous Masse;
About the Border, in a fine-wrought Fret,
Emblem's, Empressa's, Hieroglyphicks, set.

44

This flatt'ring Sunne-shine had begot the Showre,
And the blacke Clouds with such abundance fed,
That for a Wind they wayted but the Howre,

Revenge long kept off, when it getteth oportunitie, falls like a Tempest.

With force to let their Furie on his Head:
Which when it came, it came with such a Pow'r,
As he could hardly have imagined;
“But when Men thinke they most in Safetie stand,
“Their greatest Perill often is at hand.

45

For to that Largenesse they increased were,
That Edward felt March heavie on his Throne,
Whose Props no longer both of them could beare,
Two, for one Seat, that over-great were growne,
Prepost'rously that moved in one Sphere,
And to the like predominancie prone,
That the young King, downe Mortimer must cast,
If he himselfe would e'r hope to sit fast.

46

Good Considerations of the King, in the apprehension of Mortimer.

Who finding the necessitie was such,
That urg'd him still th'Assault to undertake,
And yet his Person it might neerely touch,
Should he too soone his sleeping Power awake:
Th'Attempt wherein the Danger was so much,
Drove him at length a secret Meanes to make,
Whereby he might the Enterprise effect,
And hurt him most, where he did least suspect.

115

47

Without the Castle, in the Earth, is found

The description of the Cave at Nottingham.

A Cave, resembling sleepie

Fayned to be the God of Dreames.

Morpheus Cell,
In strange

Often Turnings.

Meanders wynding under Ground,
Where Darkenesse seekes continually to dwell,
Which with such Feare and Horror doth abound,
As though it were an entrance into Hell;
By Architects to serve the Castle, made
When as the Danes this Iland did invade.

48

Now, on along the crankling Path doth keepe,
Then, by a Rocke turnes up another way,
Rising tow'rds Day, then falling tow'rds the Deepe,
On a smooth Levell then it selfe doth lay,
Directly then, then obliquely doth creepe,
Nor in the Course keepes any certaine stay;
Till in the Castle, in an odde by-place,
It casts the foule Maske from its duskie Face.

49

By which, the King with a selected Crue,
Of such as he with his Intent acquainted,
Which he affected to the Action knew,
And in revenge of Edward had not fainted,
That to their utmost would the Cause pursue,
And with those Treasons that had not been tainted;
Adventured, the Labyrinth t'assay,

Properly so called, because of the sinuositie and wynding of the same.

To rowse the Beast, which kept them all at bay.

50

Long after Phœbus tooke his lab'ring Teame,

A Periphrasis of a darke Night, at the Prime of the Moone.

To his pale Sister and resign'd his Place,
To wash his Cauples in the Ocean Streame,
And coole the fervor of his glowing Face;
And Phœbe, scanted of her Brothers Beame,

The Moone.

Into the West went after him apace,
Leaving blacke Darkenesse to possesse the Skie,
To fit the time of that blacke Tragedie.

116

51

A description of their passing through the Cave: in foure Stanza's.

What time, by Torch-light, they attempt the Cave,
Which at their entrance seemed in a fright,
With the reflection that their Armour gave,
As it till then had ne'r seene any Light;
Which, striving there pre-eminence to have,
Darknesse therewith so daringly doth fight,
That each confounding other, both appeare,
As Darknesse Light, and Light but Darkenesse were.

52

The craggie Cleeves, which crosse them as they goe,
Made, as their Passage they would have denyde,
And threat'ned them their Journey to forslow,
As angry with the Path that was their Guide,
And sadly seem'd their Discontent to show,
To the vile Hand that did them first divide;
Whose comb'rous Falls and Risings seem'd to say,
So ill an Action could not brooke the Day.

53

And by the Lights as they along were led,
Their shadowes then them following at their backe,
Were like to Mourners, carrying forth their dead,
And as the Deed, so were they ugly blacke,
Or like to Fiends that them had followed,
Pricking them on to Bloudshed, and to Wracke;
Whilst the Light look'd as it had been amazed,
At their deformed shapes whereon it gazed.

54

The clatt'ring Armes their Masters seem'd to chide,
As they would reason, wherefore they should wound,
And strooke the Cave, in passing on each side,
As they were angry with the hollow Ground,
That it an Act so pittilesse should hide;
Whose stonie Roofe lock'd in their angrie Sound,
And hanging in the Creekes, drew backe againe,
As willing them from Murther to refraine.

117

55

The Night wax'd old (not dreaming of these things)
And to her Chamber is the Queene withdrawne,
To whom a choise Musician playes and sings,
Whilst she sat under an Estate of Lawne,

A description of the Queene, in her chamber: in eight Stanza's

In Night-Attyre, more God-like glittering,
Then any Eye had seene the chearefull Dawne,
Leaning upon her most-lov'd Mortimer,
Whose Voice, more then the Musike, pleas'd her Eare.

56

Where her faire Brests at libertie were let,
Whose Violet Veines in branched Riverets flow,
And Venus Swans, and milkie Doves were set
Upon those swelling Mounts of driven Snow;
Whereon whilst Love, to sport himselfe doth get,
He lost his Way, nor backe againe could goe,
But with those Bankes of Beautie set about,
He wand'red still, yet never could get out.

57

Her loose Hayre look'd like Gold (O word too base!
Nay, more then sinne, but so to name her Hayre)
Declining, as to kisse her fayrer Face,
No word is fayre ynough for thing so fayre,
Nor never was there Epithite could grace
That, by much praysing, which we much impayre;
And where the Pen fayles, Pensils cannot show it,
Only the Soule may be suppos'd to know it.

58

She layd her fingers on his Manly Cheeke,
The Gods pure Scepters, and the Darts of Love,
That with their Touch might make a Tygre meeke,
Or might great Atlas from his Seat remove;

A Mountaine, for his height, fayned to upbold the Firmament.

So white, so soft, so delicate, so sleeke,
As she had worne a Lilly for a Glove,
As might beget Life, where was never none,
And put a Spirit into the hardest Stone.

118

59

The Fire, of precious Wood; the Light, Perfume,
Which left a sweetnesse on each thing it shone,
As ev'ry thing did to it selfe assume
The Sent from them, and made the same their owne:
So that, the painted Flowres within the Roome
Were sweet, as if they naturally had growne;
The Light gave Colours, which upon them fell,
And to the Colours the Perfume gave smell.

60

The amorous Passages betweene the Queene and Mortimer, the Evening before his apprehension: in three Stanza's.

When on those sundry Pictures they devise,
And from one Peece they to another runne,
Commend that Face, that Arme, that Hand, those Eyes,
Shew how that Bird, how well that Flowre was done,
How this part shadow'd, and how that did rise,
This Top was clouded, how that Trayle was spunne,
The Land-skip, Mixture, and Delineatings,
And in that Art, a thousand curious Things.

61

Looking upon proud Phaeton, wrap'd in Fire,
The gentle Queene did much bewayle his Fall;
But Mortimer commended his Desire,
To lose one poore Life, or to governe all:
What though (quoth he) he madly did aspire,
And his great Mind made him proud Fortunes Thrall?
Yet in despight, when she her worst had done,
He perish'd in the Chariot of the Sunne.

62

Phœbus she said was over-forc'd by Art,
Nor could she find, how that Imbrace could be:
But Mortimer then tooke the Painters part;
Why thus, bright Empresse, thus, and thus, quoth he;
That Hand doth hold his Backe, and this his Heart,
Thus their Armes twyne, and thus their Lippes, you see;
Now are you Phœbus, Hiacynthus I,
It were a Life thus ev'ry Houre to die.

119

63

When, by that time, into the Castle Hall
Was rudely entred that well-armed Rout,
And they within suspecting nought at all,
Had then no Guard, to watch for them without:
“(See how Mischances suddenly doe fall,
“And steale upon us, being farth'st from doubt;)
“Our Life's uncertaine, and our Death is sure,
“And tow'rds most Perill, Man is most secure.

64

Whilst youthfull Nevil, and brave Turrington,
To the bright Queene that ever wayted neere,
Two, with great March much credit that had woon,
That in the Lobby with the Ladies were,
Staying Delight, whilst Time away did runne,
With such discourse as Women love to heare;
Charg'd on the sudden by the armed Trayne,
Were, at their entrance, miserably slayne.

65

When, as from Snow-crown'd Skidow's loftie Cleeves,

A loftie Mountaine in Cumberland, under which, lye many Lakes and Meres, abounding with Fowle of sundry kinds.

Some fleet-wing'd Haggard, tow'rds her preying howre,
Amongst the Teyle and Moore-bred Mallard drives,
And th'Ayre of all her feather'd flocks doth scowre,
Whilst to regayne her former height, she strives,
The fearefull Fowle all prostrate to her power;
Such a sharpe shreeke did ring throughout the Vault,
Made by the Women at the fierce Assault.

66

Unarm'd was March (she onely in his Armes,

March apprehended.

Too soft a Shield to beare their boyst'rous Blowes)
Who least of all suspected such Alarmes,
And to be so encountred by his Foes,
When he was most improvident of Harmes.
O, had he had but Weapons to his Woes!
Either his Valour had his life redeem'd,
Or in her sight dy'd happily esteem'd.

120

67

But there, about him looking for the King,
Whom he suppos'd his Judgement could not misse;
Which when he found, by his imagining,
Of those most perfect Liniaments of his:

The Earles Speech to the King, at his Apprehension.

Quoth he, The Man that to thy Crowne did bring
Thee, at thy hands might least have look'd for this;
And in this Place, the least of all the rest,
Where onely sacred Solitude is blest.

68

Her presence frees th'Offendor of his Ill,
Whose God-like Greatnesse makes the place Divine;
And canst thou, King, thus countermand her Will,
Who gave to thee the Power that now is thine,
And in her Armes in safetie kept thee still,
As in a most inviolated Shrine?
Yet dar'st thou irreligiously despise,
And thus prophane these sacred Liberties.

69

But, even as when old Ilion was surpris'd,
The Grecians issuing from the Woodden Horse,
The Pride and Furie roughly exercis'd,
Op'ning the wide Gates, letting in their Force,
Putting in act what was before devis'd,
Without all Humane Pitie, or Remorse;
Even so did they, with whose confused sound,
Words were not heard, & poore complaints were drown'd.

70

Dissolv'd to Teares, she follow'd him: O Teares!
Elixar-like, turne all to Pearle you touch;
To weepe with her, the hard Wall scarce forbeares,
The wofull words she uttered, were such,
Able to wound th'impenitrablest Eares,
Her Plaints so piercing, and her Griefe so much;
And to the King, when she at last could come,
Thus to him spake, though he to her were dumbe:

121

71

Deare Sonne (quoth she) let not his Bloud be spilt,

The Queenes Speech to the King her Sonne, in the tumultuous Prease, at the taking of Mortimer: in two Stanza's.

So often vent'red to redeeme thy Crowne.
In all his life can there be found that Guilt?
Thinke of his love, on which thou once shouldst frowne:
'Twas he, thy Seat that so substantiall built,
Long with his shoulder sav'd from shaking downe;
'Twas he, the meanes that first for thee did find,
To passe for France, to exercise thy Mind.

72

Even for the love thou bear'st to that deare Blood,
From which (my Sonne) thou didst receive thy life,
Play not the Niggard in so small a good,
With her, to whom thy Bounties should be rife,
Beg'd on those knees, at which thou oft hast stood:
O, let my up-held Hands appease this strife!
Let not the Breath, from this sad Bosome sent,
Without thy Pittie, be but vainely spent.

73

When in the Tumult, with the sudden Fright,
Whilst ev'ry one for Safetie sought about,
And none regarded to maintaine the Light,
Which being over-wasted, was gone out,
It being then the mid time of the Night,
Ere they could quit the Castle of the Rout;
The Queene alone (at least, if any neare)

The Queene left in miserable distresse.

They were her Women, almost dead with feare.

74

When Horror, Darkenesse, and her inward Woe,
Began to worke on her afflicted Mind,
Upon her Weakenesse tyrannizing so,
As they would doe their utmost, in their kind,
And as then those, she need no other Foe,
Such power her Fortune had to them assign'd,
To racke her Conscience (by their Torture due)
It selfe t'accuse of whatsoe'r it knew.

122

75

O God! (thought she) Is yet an Houre scarce past,
Since that my Greatnesse, my Command more hye,
And Eminencie, wherein I was plac'd,
Wan me respect in ev'ry humble Eye?
How am I now abused, how disgrac'd?
Did ever Queene in my dejection lye?
These things she pond'red, as Despaire still brought
Their sundry Formes into her troubled Thought.

76

Servile Followers flye from their Lords Fall.

To London thus they March a Prisoner led,
Which there had oft been courted by the Queene,
From whom, his Friends and his late Followers fled,
Of many a Gallant follow'd that had been,
Of which, there was not one durst shew his head,
Much lesse t'abet his side, that durst be seene;
Which at his Fall made them to wonder more,
Who saw the Pompe wherein he liv'd before.

77

What poore Things the most part of Men be.

O Miserie! where once thou art possest,
See but how quickly thou canst alter kind,
And like a Circe, metamorphosest
The Man, that hath not a most God-like Mind:
The fainting Spirit, O how thou canst infest!
Whose yeelding Frayltie eas'ly thou canst find,
And by thy vicious presence, with a breath
Gives him up fett'red, basely fear'd to death.

78

This Parliament was held at London.

When soone the King a Parlament decreed,
(Ne'r till that time sole Master of his Crowne)
And against March doth legally proceed,
Fitted with Tooles to digge that Mountaine downe,
To which, both high and low tooke speciall heed;
He ne'r had Fawne, but then he had a Frowne,
King

The Articles whereupon Mortimer was condemned: in these two last Lines, and the following Stanza.

Edwards Bloud, with both the Spensers, call
For Vengeance on him, by the Voice of all.

123

79

With deare Kents death, his Credit next they blot,

Kent dearely beloved of the Commons: the cause of his Death shewed in the tenth Stanza of this Canto.

Then on him lay the Wards and Liveries,
Which he by Craft into his Hands had got,
The Summes then seized to his Treasuries:
Then

In the eight Stanza, before going.

Joan the Princesse, married to the Scot,
The Signe at Stanhope, to the Enemies;
With all things ripp'd from the Records of Time,
That any way might aggravate his Crime.

80

O dire Revenge! when thou by Time art rak'd
Out of the Ashes which have hid thee long,
(Wherein thou lay'st, as thou hadst quite been slak'd)
And becom'st kindled with the breath of Wrong,
How soone thy hideous Furie is awak'd?
From thy poore Sparks, what Flames are quickly sprung?
To waste their Tops, how soone do'st thou aspire,
Whose Weight and Greatnesse once represt thy fire?

81

And what avayl'd his Answer in that Case?
Which the time then did utterly distaste,
And look'd upon him with so sterne a Face,
As it his Actions utterly disgrac'd:
No friendly Bosome gave him any Place,
Who was cleane out of all Opinion cast;
Taking his Pen, his Sorrowes to deceive,
Thus of the Queene he lastly took his leave.

82

Bright Empresse, yet be pleased to peruse

A Letter sent from Mortimer, to the Queene, a little before his Death: in the seven Stanza's following.

The Swan-like Dirges of a dying Man,
Although not like the Raptures of the Muse,
In our fresh Youth, when our Love first began,
Into my Brest that did the fire infuse,
That glorious Day, that I thy rich Glove wan,
And in my Course, a flame of Lightning bet

Recounting the first beginning of their Love.

Out of proud Harfords high-plum'd Burgonet.

124

83

As for your Sonne, that hast'neth on my Death,
Madame, you know, I lov'd him as mine owne,
And when I could have grasped out his Breath,
I set him eas'ly on his Fathers Throne;
Which now his Power too quickly witnesseth,
Who to this height in Tyrannie is growne;
But yet, be his Ingratitude forgiven,
As after Death, I wish to be in Heaven.

84

And for the sole Rule, whereon so he stands,
Came Bastard William but himselfe to shore?
Or had he not our Fathers valiant Hands,
Who in that Field our ancient Ensigne bore,
(Guarded about with our well-order'd Bands)
Which then his

The Conquerour bare two Leopards Passant, or, in a Field, Geules.

Leopards for their safetie wore,
Looking at

Hastings is a Towne in Sussex, where the Battell was fought betweene the Normans and English.

Hastings like that ominous Lake,
From whose black Depths our glorious Name we take?

85

Why fell I not from that my all-arm'd Horse,
On which I rode before the Gates of Gaunt,
Before the Belgick and Burgonian Force,
There challenging their Countries Combatant;
Cast from my Seat, in some robustious course,
That they of me the Victorie might vaunt?
Why sunke I not under my batt'red Shield,
To grace a brave Foe, and renowne a Field?

86

Yet never serv'd I Fortune like a Slave,
Nor have, through Basenesse, made her Bounties lesse,
In me her Judgement poorely to deprave;
Nought hath she lent me, that Ile not confesse,
Nay, Int'rest for her Principall I gave,
My Mind hath suted with her Mightinesse;
Her Frownes with scorne, & Mortimer doth beare,
For nothing can she doe, that he can feare.

125

87

That ne'r quayles me, at which your Greatest quake,
Nor ought that's dreadfull, Danger me can show,
Through Sword and Fire so us'd my way to take:
In Death what can be (that I doe not know)
That I should feare a Covenant to make
With it, which welcom'd, finisheth my Woe?
“And nothing can th'afflicted Conscience grieve,
“But He may pardon, who can all forgive.

88

And thus, thou most adored in my Heart,
The Thoughts of whom, my humbled Spirit doth rayse,
Lady most faire, most deare, of most desert,
Worthie of more then any mortall Prayse.
Condemned March thus lastly doth depart,
From the great'st Empresse living in her Dayes;
Nor with my Dust mine Honour I interre:
Cæsar thus dy'd, and thus dies Mortimer.

89

When secretly he sent this Letter to her,

The Passion of the Queene, at the receiving of the Earles Letter; continued to the end of the Canto.

Whose Superscription, was her Princely Stile;
She knew the Hand, and thought it came to woo her,
With which Conceit she pleas'd her selfe a while,
Then which, no one thing serv'd so t'undoe her,
By feeding her with Flatt'rie and with Guile,
To make her still more sensible of Paine,
Which her sad Heart was shortly to sustaine.

90

Using her Fingers to up-rip the Seale,
Which holpe to hide these ill Newes from her Eyes,
Loth as it were, such Tidings to reveale,
As might her Senses suddenly surprize;
But when her white Hand did so hardly deale
With the poore Paper, that the Wax must rise,
It stucke upon her Fingers bloudie red,
As to portend some deare Bloud should be shed.

126

91

When by degrees she eas'ly doth begin,
And as a Fish playes with a bayted Hooke,
So softly yet she swallow'd Sorrow in,
Till she her bane into her Bowels tooke;
And then she sees th'expences of her sinne
Sadly set downe in that blacke Doomes-day Booke,
And the deare Summes that were to be defray'd,
Before the Debt were absolutely pay'd.

92

Whole Hoasts of Sorrowes her sicke Heart assayle,
When ev'ry Letter lanc'd her like a Dart,
Striving against her, which should most prevayle,
And yet not one, but prick'd her to the Heart;
Where one word might anothers Woe bewayle,
And with its Neighbour seem'd to beare a part,
Each Line serv'd for so true a Text to her,
As in her Woes would no way let her erre.

93

Griefe bad her looke, yet soone it bad her leave,
Wherewith o'rcharg'd, she neither sees nor heares,
Her useful'st Senses soonest her deceive,
The Sight shuts up her Eyes, the Sound her Eares,
And of her Reading doe her quite bereave,
When for a Fescue she doth use her Teares,
Which, when some Line she loosely over-past,
The Drops could tell her, where she left the last.

94

Somewhat at length recov'ring of her Sight,
Deepely she curs'd her Sorrow-seeing Eye,
And sayd, she was deluded by the Light,
Or was abus'd by the Orthographie,
Or some one had devised it in spight,
Poynting it false, her Schollership to trie;
“Thus when we fondly flatter our Desires,
“Our best Conceits doe prove the greatest Lyers.

127

95

Her trembling Hand, as in a Fever, quakes,
Wherewith the Paper doth a little stirre,
Which she imagines at her Sorrow shakes,
And pitties it, which she thinkes pitties her;
Each small thing somewhat to the greater makes,
And to her Humor something doth inferre;
Her woe-ty'd Tongue but when she once could free:
Sweet Mortimer, my most-lov'd Lord (quoth she)

96

For thy deare Ashes be my Brest the Urne,
Which as a Relique, I of thee will save,
Mix'd with the Teares that I for thee shall mourne,
Which in this Bosome shall their Buriall have;
Out of which place, they never shall returne,
Nor give the Honour to another Grave,
But here, as in a Temple, be preserv'd,
Wherein thy Image is most lively carv'd.

97

Then breakes she out, in cursing of her Sonne,
But Mortimer so runneth in her Mind,
As that shee ended, ere she had begun,
Speaking before, what should have come behind:
From that, she to another Course doth runne,
To be reveng'd in some notorious kind,
By Stab, or Poyson; and shee'le sweare to both,
But for her life she could not find an Oath.

98

She Pen and Paper takes, and makes no doubt,
But the Kings cruell dealing to discover;
But soone forgetting what she went about,
Poore Queene, she fell to scribbling to her Lover:
Here she put in, and there she blotted out,
Her Passion did so violently move her,
That turning backe to read what she had writ,
She tore the Paper, and condemn'd her Wit.

128

99

But from her Passion being somewhat rays'd,
Like one that lately had been in a Swound,
Or felt some strange Extremitie appeas'd,
That had been taken from some Blow, or Wound,
Yet on that Part it had so strongly seiz'd,
That for the same no Remedie was found;
But at the very Point their Life to lose,
As they their Goods, she doth her Griefe dispose.

100

Quoth she, King Edward, as thou art my Sonne,
Leaving the World, this Legacie I leave thee:
My Hearts true love, my Mortimer hath wonne,
And yet of All he shall not so bereave thee;
But for this Mischiefe to thy Mother done,
Take thou my Curse, so that it may out-live thee,
That as thy Deed doth dayly me torment,
So may my Curse thee, by my Testament.

101

And henceforth, in this solitarie Place,
Ever residing from the publique sight,
A private Life I willingly imbrace,
No more rejoycing in the obvious Light,
To consummate this too-long ling'ring space,
Till Death inclose me in continuall Night;
Let never Sleepe more close my wearied Eye,
So Isabella, lay thee downe, and dye.

The end of the sixt Canto.

An especiall Article against Mortimer, That the Scots escaped at Stanhope Parke, by a Signall given to them by him.