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The Mirror for Magistrates

Edited from original texts in the Huntington Library by Lily B. Campbell

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TRAGEDIES OF THE 1559 EDITION

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN THE EDITION OF 1563

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN THE EDITION OF 1578

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN IN THE EDITION OF 1587

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The Cronecklis to knaw I the exhorte,
Quhilk may be myrrour to thy Maiestie:
Thare sall thov fynd boith gude & euyll reporte
Off euerilk Prince, efter his qualytie:
Thocht thay be dede, thare deidis sall nocht dee.
Traist weill, thov salbe stylit, in that storie,
As thov deseruis putt in memorie.
“Sir David Lindsay of the Mount”

TRAGEDIES OF THE 1559 EDITION

Fœlix quem faciunt aliena pericula cantum.

The fall of Robert Tresilian chiefe Iustice of Englande, and other his felowes, for misconstruyng the lawes, and expounding them to serue the Princes affections.

In the rufull Register of mischief and mishap,
Baldwin we beseche thee with our names to begin,
Whom vnfrendly Fortune did trayne vnto a trap,
When we thought our state most stable to haue bin,
So lightly leese they all which all do ween to wyn:
Learne by vs ye Lawyers and Iudges of the lande
Vncorrupt and vpryght in doome alway to stande.

And print it for a president to remayne for euer,
Enroll and recorde it in tables made of brasse,
Engraue it in marble that may be razed neuer,
Where Iudges and Iusticers may see, as in a glasse,
What fee is for falshode, and what our wages was
Who for our princes pleasure corrupt with meed and awe
wittyngly and wretchedly did wrest the sence of lawe.

A chaunge more newe or straunge seldome hath be seen
Then from the benche aboue to cum downe to the bar:
was neuer state so turned in no tyme as I ween,
As they to becum clyentes that counsaylours erst were,
But such is Fortunes playe, which featly can prefer
The iudge that sate aboue, full lowe beneth to stand,
At the bar a prisoner holdynge vp his hand.

Whiche in others cause coulde stoutly speake and plead,
Both in court and countrey, careles of the tryall,
Stande muet lyke mummers without aduyse or read,
Vnable to vtter a true plea of denyall:
Whiche haue seen the daye when that for halfe a ryall,
We coulde by very arte haue made the blacke seme white,
And matters of most wrong, to haue appered most right.

Beholde me vnfortunate forman of this flocke,
Tresilian sumtime chief Iustice of this lande,
By discent a gentleman, no staine was in my stocke,
Loketon, Holt, and Belknap, with other of my bande
Whiche the lawe and iustice had wholy in our hande
Vnder the seconde Richarde a prince of great estate,
To whom frowarde fortune gaue a foule checkmate.

In the common lawes our skill was so profounde,
Our credite and aucthoritie suche and so estemed,
That what so we concluded was taken for a grounde,
Allowed was for lawe, what so to vs best semed:
Lyfe, death, landes, goodes, and all by vs was demed,
Whereby with easye paine, so great gaine we did get,
That euery thing was fishe that came vnto our net.

At sessions and at syses we bare the stroke and swey,
In patentes and commissions of Quorum, alway chiefe:
So that to whether syde so euer we did wey,
Were it right or wrong it past without repriefe,

We let hang the true man sumwhiles to saue a thiefe
Of golde and of syluer our handes were neuer emptye,
Offices, fermes, and fees, fell to vs in great plentye.

But what thing maye suffyse vnto the gredye man?
The more he hath in holde, the more he doeth desyre,
Happy and twise happy is he that wisely can
Content him selfe with that whiche reason doth requyre,
And moyleth for no more then for his needfull hyre:
But gredynes of mynde doth neuer kepe the syse,
Whiche though it haue enough yet doth it not suffyse.

For lyke as dropsye pacientes drinke, and styll be dry,
Whose vnstaunched thyrst no lyquor can allaye.
And drinke they neuer so muche yet styll for more they cry:
So couetous catchers toyle both nyght and day,
Gredy and euer nedy prollyng for theyr praye.
O endles thyrst of golde corrupter of all lawes,
What mischiefe is on molde whereof thou art not cause?

Thou madest vs forget the fayth of our profession,
When sergeantes we were sworne to serue the common lawe.
Whiche was that in no poynte we should make digression
From approued principles in sentens nor in sawe:
But we vnhappy wretches without all drede and awe

Of the Iudge eternall, for worldes vayne promocion,
More to man than God dyd beare our hole deuocion.

The lawes we interpreted and statutes of the lande,
Not trulye by the texte, but nuly by a glose:
And wurds that wer most plaine whan thei by vs wer skande
We turned by construction lyke a welchmans hose,
Wherby many one both lyfe and lande dyd lose:
Yet this we made a mean to mount aloft on mules.
To serue kings in al pointes men must sumwhile breke rules.

Thus clymyng and contendyng alway to the top
From hye vnto hygher, and than to be moste hye,
The hunny dewe of Fortune so fast on vs dyd drop
That of kinge Richards counsayle we came to be full nye:
To crepe into whose fauour we were full fyne and slye
Alway to his profite where any wurde myght sounde
That way (all were it wrong) the sens we dyd expounnde.

So wurkyng lawe lyke waxe, the subiecte was not sure
Of lyfe, lande, nor goods, but at the princes wyll:
Which caused his kingdome the shorter tyme to dure,
For clayming power absolute both to saue and spyll,
The prince therby presumed his people for to pyll:
And set his lustes for lawe, and will had reasons place,
No more but hang and drawe, there was no better grace.

The king thus transcending the lymittes of his lawe,
Not raygning but raging by youthfull insolence,
Wyse and wurthy persons, dyd fro the courte withdrawe,
There was no grace ne place for auncient prudence,
Presumcion and pryde with excesse of expence
Possessed the palays, and pillage the countrye:
Thus all went to wracke, vnlyke of remedie.

The Baronye of Englande not bearyng this abuse,
Conspyring with the commons assembled by assent,
And seynge neyther reason, nor treaty, coulde induce
The king in any thing his Rygor to relent,
Mawgree all his might they called a parlyament
Francke and free for all men without checke to debate
As well for weale publyke, as for the princes state.

In whiche parlyament muche thinges was proponed
Concerning the regaly and ryghtes of the crowne,
By reason kynge Richarde, whiche was to be moned,
Full lytell regardynge his honour and renowne,

By synister aduyse, had tourned all vpsodowne.
For suerty of whose state, them thought it dyd behooue
His corrupt counsaylours, from him to remooue.

Among whom, Robert Vere, called duke of Irelande
with Myghell Delapole of Suffolke newe made erle,
Of Yorke also the Archebysshop, dyspatcht wer out of hande,
with Brembre of London Mayor, a full vncurteous churle,
Sum learned in the lawe in exyle they dyd hurle:
But I poore Tresilian because I was the chiefe
was dampned to the gallowes most vyly as a thiefe.

Loe the fyne of falshode, the stypende of corruption,
Fye on stynkyng lucre, of all vnryght the lure:
Ye Iudges and ye Iusticers let my most iust punycion,
Teache you to shake of bribes and kepe your handes pure.
Ryches and promocion be vaine thynges and vnsure,
The fauour of a prince is an vntrusty staye,
But Iustyce hath a fee that shall remayne alwaye.

what glory can be greater before god or man,
Then by the pathes of equitie in iudgement to procede,

So dulye and so trulye the lawes alwayes to skan,
That ryght may take his place without rewarde or mede,
Set aparte all flattery and vaine worldly drede:
Take god before your eyes the iust iudge supreme,
Remembre well your reckening at the daye extreme.

Abandon all affray, be soothfast in your sawes,
Be constant and careles of mortall mens dyspleasure,
With eyes shut & hands close you should pronounce the lawes
Esteme not worldly hyre, thynke ther is a treasure
More worth then golde or stone a thousande tymes in valure,
Reposed for all suche as righteousnes ensue,
Whereof you cannot fayle, the promys made is true.

If sum in latter dayes, had called vnto mynde
The fatall fall of vs for wrestyng of the ryght,
The statutes of this lande they should not haue defynde
So wylfully and wyttingly agaynst the sentence quyte:
But though they skaped paine, the falte was nothing lyght:
Let them that cum hereafter both that and this compare,
And waying well the ende, they wyll I trust beware.

Howe the two Rogers, surnamed Mortimers, for theyr sundry vices ended theyr lyues vnfortunatelye.

Among the ryders of the rollyng wheele,
That lost theyr holdes, Baldwin forget not me,
whose fatall threede false Fortune nedes would reele,
Ere it were twysted by the systers three.
All folke be frayle, theyr blysses brittle bee:
For proofe whereof although none other wer,
Suffyse may I, syr Roger Mortimer.

Not he that was in Edwardes dayes the thyrde,
Whom Fortune brought to boote and efte to bale,
With loue of whom the kyng so muche she sturde,
That none but he was heard in any tale:
And whyles she smooth, blewe on this merye gale,
He was created earle of Marche, alas,
Whence envy sprang whiche his destruction was.

For welth bredeth wrath, in suche as welth do want,
And pryde with folly in suche as it possesse,
Among a thousande shall you fynde hym skant,
That can in welth his loftye harte represse,
Whiche in this Erle due proofe did playne expresse,
For where he sumwhat hauty was before,
His hygh degree hath made hym nowe muche more.

For nowe alone he ruleth as him lust,
Ne recketh for rede, save of kyng Edwardes mother:
Whiche forced envy foulder out the rust,
That in mens hartes before dyd lye and smother.
The Piers, the people, as well the one as the other,
Agaynst hym made so haynous a complaynt,
That for a traytour he was taken and attaynt.

Then all suche faultes as were forgot before,
The skower afresh, and sumwhat to them ad:
For cruell envy hath eloquence in store,
whan Fortune byds, to warsse thinges meanely bad.

Fyue haynous crymes agaynst hym soone were had,
Fyrst, that he causde the kyng to yelde the Skot,
To make a peace, townes that were from him got:

And therewithall the charter called Ragman.
That of the Skots he bribed pryuy gayne,
That through his meanes syr Edward of Carnaruan
In Barkley castell trayterously was slayne:
That with his princes mother he had layne.
And fynally with pollyng at his pleasure,
Had robde the kyng and commons of theyr treasure.

For these thynges loe whiche erst were out of minde
He was condemned, and hanged at the last,
In whom dame Fortune fully shewed her kynde,
For whom she heaves, she hurleth downe as fast:
If men to cum would learne by other past,
This cosen of myne myght cause them set asyde,
High clymyng, brybyng, murdring, lust, and pryde.

The fynall cause why I this processe tell,
Is that I may be knowen from this other,
My lyke in name, vnlyke me though he fell,
Whiche was I thinke my graund sier or his brother:

To counte my kyn, dame Philip was my mother,
Deare doughter and heyre of douty Lyonell,
The seconde sonne of a kyng that dyd excell.

My father hyght syr Edmunde Mortimer,
True erle of Marche, whence I was after erle
By iust discent, these two my parentes wer,
Of whiche the one of knighthoode bare the ferle,
Of womanhoode the other was the perle:
Throughe theyr deserte so called of euery wight,
Tyll death them tooke, and left in me theyr ryght.

For why the attaynder of my elder Roger,
(whose shamefull death I tolde you but of late)
was founde to be vniust, and passed ouer
Agaynst the lawe, by those that bare hym hate.
For where by lawe the lowest of free estate
Should personally be heard ere iudgement passe,
They barred hym this, where through distroyed he was.

wherfore by doome of courte in parlyament,
whan we had proued our cosen ordred thus,
The Kyng, the Lordes, the Commens of assent,
His lawles death vnlawfull dyd discus:
And both to blood and good restored vs.
A Presydent most worthy, shewed, and left
Lordes lyues to saue that lawles might be reft.

whyle Fortune thus dyd furder me amayne
Kyng Rychardes grace the seconde of the name
(whose dissolute lyfe dyd soone abridge his rayne)
Made me his mate in earnest and in game:
The Lordes them selues so well allowed the same,
That throwe my tytles duely cummyng downe,
I was made heyre apparaunt to the crowne.

who then but I was euery where estemed?
well was the man that myght with me acquaynte,
whom I allowed, as Lordes the people demed.
To what so euer folly had me bente,
To lyke it well the people dyd assente:
To me as prince, attended great and small,
In hope a daye would cum to paye for all.

But seldome ioye continueth trouble voyde,
In greatest charge cares greatest do ensue,
The most possest are ever most anoyed,
In largest seas sore tempestes lyghtly brue,
The fresshest colours soonest fade the hue,
In thyckest place is made the depest wounde,
True proofe wherof my selfe to soone haue founde.

For whyles that Fortune lulde me in her lap,
And gaue me gyftes mo than I dyd requyre,
The subtyll quean behynde me set a trap,
whereby to dashe and laye all in the myre:
The Iryshe men against me dyd conspyre,
My landes of Vlster fro me to haue reft,
whiche herytage my mother had me left.

And whyles I there, to set all thinges in stay,
(Omyt my toyles and troubles thitherwarde)
Among myne owne with my retinue lay,
The wylder men whom lytell I dyd regarde,
And had therefore the recheles mans rewarde:
When least I thought set on me in suche number,
That fro my corps my lyfe they rent a sunder.

Nought myght auayle my courage nor my force,
Nor strength of men whiche were alas to fewe:
The cruell folke assaulted so my horse,
That all my helpes in pieces they to hewe,
Our blood distayned the grounde as drops of dewe,
Nought myght preuayle to flee nor yet to yelde,
For whom they take they murdre in the fyelde.

They know no lawe of armes nor none wil lerne:
They make not warre (as other do) a playe,
The lorde, the boye, the Galloglas, the kerne,
Yelde or not yelde, whom so they take they slay,
They save no prysoners, for raunsom nor for pay:
Theyr chiefest boote they counte theyr bodohs heade,
Theyr ende of warre to see theyr enmye deade.

Amongest these men or rather savage beastes,
I lost my lyfe, by cruell murder slaine.
And therfore Baldwin note thou well my geastes,
And warne all princes rashnes to refraine:
Bid them beware their enmies when they faine,
Nor yet presume vnequally to strive,
Had I thus done, I had ben man alive.

But I dispysed the naked Iryshmen,
And for they flewe, I feared them the lesse:
I thought one man ynough to matche with ten,
And through this careles vnadvisednesse,
I was destroyed, and all my men I gesse,
At vnawares assaulted by our foen,
Whiche were in numbre fourty to vs one.

Se here the staye of fortunate estate,
The vayne assuraunce of this britell lyfe,
For I but yong, proclaymed prince of late,
Right fortunate in children and in wife,
Lost all at once by stroke of bloody knife:
Wherby assurde let men them selues assure,
That welth and lyfe are doubtfull to endure.

Howe syr Thomas of Wudstocke Duke of Glocester, vncle to king Richarde the seconde, was vnlawfully murdred.

Whose state is stablisht in semyng most sure,
And so far from daunger of Fortunes blast,
As by the compas of mans coniecture,
No brasen pyller maye be fyxte more fast:
Yet wantyng the staye of prudent forecast,
Whan frowarde Fortune lyst for to frowne,
Maye in a moment tourne vpsyde downe.

In proofe whereof, O Baldwin, take payne
To hearken awhyle to Thomas of Wudstocke,
Addrest in presence his fate to complayne,
In the forlorne hope of the Englysh flocke:
Extracte by discent from the royall stocke,
Sonne to kyng Edward third of that name,
And seconde to none in glory and fame.

This noble father to maynteyne my state,
With Buckyngham Erldom dyd me indowe,
Both Nature and Fortune to me were grate,
Denyeng nothing which they myght allowe:
Theyr sundry graces in me did so flowe,
As bewty, strength, high fauour and fame.
Who may of God more wysh than the same?

Brothers we were to the numbre of seuen,
I beyng the syxt, and yongest but one:
A more royall race was not vnder heauen,
More stowte or more stately of stomacke and person,
Princes all pereles in eche condicion:
Namely syr Edwarde called the blacke prince,
Whan had Englande the lyke before eyther since?

But what of all this, any man to assure,
In state vncarefull of Fortunes varyaunce?
Syth dayly and hourely we see it in vre,
That where most cause is of affyaunce,
Euen there is founde moste weake assuraunce,
Let none trust Fortune, but folowe Reason:
For often we see in trust is treason.

This prouerbe in proofe ouer true I tryed,
Finding high treason in place of high trust.
And most faulte of fayth where I most affyed:
Beyng by them, that should haue been iust,
Trayterously entrapt, ere I coulde mystrust.
Ah wretched worlde what it is to trust thee,
Let them that wyll learne nowe hearken to mee.

After king Edwarde the thyrdes decease,
Succeded my Nephewe Rycharde to reyne,
Who for his glory and honors encrease,
With princely wagies dyd me enterteyne,
Agaynst the Frenchmen to be his Chyefteyne:
So passyng the seas with royall puissaunce,
With God and S. George I inuaded Fraunce.

Wasting the countrey with swurde and with fyer,
Ouerturning townes, high castels and towers,
Lyke Mars God of warre enflamed with yre,
I forced the Frenchmen to abandon theyr bowers:
Where euer we matcht I wan at all howers,
In suche wyse visyting both Cytie and village,
That alway my soldiers were laden with pillage.

With honoure and triumph was my retourne,
Was none more ioyous than yong king Richarde:
Who minding more highly my state to adourne,
with Glocester Dukedome dyd me rewarde:
And after in mariage I was prefarde,
To a daughter of Bohan an earle honorable,
By whome I was in Englande high Constable.

Thus hoysted so high on Fortunes wheele,
As one on a stage attendyng a playe,
Seeth not on whiche syde the scaffolde doth reele,
Tyll tymber and poales, and all flee awaye:
So fared it by mee, for day by daye,
As honour encreased I loked styll hyer,
Not seyng the daunger of my fonde desyer.

For whan Fortunes flud ran with full streame,
I beyng a Duke descended of Kinges,
Constable of Englande, chiefe officer in the realme,
Abused with esperaunce in these vaine thinges,
I went without feete, and flewe without winges:
Presumyng so far vpon my high state
That dread set aparte, my prince I would mate.

For where as al kings haue counsel of their choyse
To whom they refer the rule of theyr lande,
With certayne famyliers in whom to reioyce,
For pleasure or profyt, as the case shall stande,
I not bearyng this, would nedes take in hande,
Maulgree his wyll those persons to dysgrace,
And such as I thought fyt to appoynt in their place.

But as an olde booke sayth, who so wyll assaye,
Aboute the Cats necke to hang on a bell,
Had fyrst nede to cut the Cats clawes awaye,

Least yf the Cat be curst, or not tamed well,
She haply with her nayles may clawe him to the fell:
For doyng on the bell about the cats necke,
By beyng to busy I caught a sore checke.

Reade well the sentence of the Rat of renoune,
Which Pierce the plowman discribes in his dreame,
And who so hath wyt the sense to expoune,
Shall fynde that to bridle the prince of a realme,
Is euen (as who sayeth) to striue with the streame:
Note this all subiectes, and construe it well,
And busy not your braine about the cats bell.

But in that ye be Lyeges learne to obaye,
Submytting your wylles to your princes lawes,
It fytteth not a subiecte to haue his owne waye,
Remember this bywurde of the Cats clawes:
For princes lyke Lyons haue long and large pawes
That reache at raundon, and whom they once twitch,
They clawe to the bone before the skyn itch.

But to my purpose, I beyng once bent,
Towardes the atchiuyng of my attemptate,
Fower bolde Barrons were of myne assent,
By oth and allyaunce fastly confederate:
Fyrst Henry of Derby, an Earle of estate,
Richarde of Arundell, and Thomas of Warwicke,
With Mowbray erle Marshall a man most warlicke.

At Ratcote brydge assembled our bande,
The Commons in clusters cam to vs that day,
To daunte Robert Vere, then Duke of Irelande,
By whom king Rycharde was ruled alway:
We put hym to flyght, and brake his array,
Then maulgree the kyng, his leaue or assent,
By Constables power we called a parlyament.

Where not in roabes, but with bastardes bright,
We cam for to parle of the Publyke weale,
Confyrming our quarell, with maine and with might
With swurdes and no wurdes we tryed our appeale,
In stede of Reason declaryng our Zeale,
And whom so we knewe with the kyng in good grace
Playnely we depriued him of power and of place.

Sum with shorte proces were banysht the lande,
Sum executed with capytall payne,
Wherof who so lyst, the whole to vnderstande,
In the parlyament roll it appeareth playne,
And furder howe stoutly we dyd the king strayne,
The Rule of his realme wholy to resygne,
To the order of those, whom we dyd assygne.

But note the sequele of suche presumption,
After we had these myracles wrought,
The king enflamed with indignacion,
That to suche bondage he should be brought,
Suppressyng the yre of his inwarde thought:
Studyed nought els but howe that he myght
Be highly reuenged of his high dispight.

Aggreued was also this latter offence,
with former matter his yre to renue:
For once at wyndsore I brought to his presence,
The Mayor of London with all his retinue,
To axe a reckening of the Realmes reuenue:
And the soldiers of Brest were by me made bolde,
To clayme entertainment the towne being solde.

These griefes remembred, with all the remnaunt,
Of hate in his hert hourded a treasure,
Yet openly in shewe made he no semblaunt,
By wurde nor by deede to beare displeasure:
But loue dayes dissembled do neuer endure,
And who so trusteth a foe reconcylde,
Is for the most parte alwayes begilde.

For as fyer yll quencht will vp at a starte,
And sores not well salued do breake out of newe,
So hatred hydden in an yrefull harte,
Where it hath had long season to brewe,
Vpon euery occasion doth easely renewe:
Not fayling at last, yf it be not let,
To paye large vsury besides the due det.

Euin so it fared by this frendship fained,
Outwardly sounde, and inwardly rotten:

For whan the kinges fauour in semyng was gained,
All olde dyspleasures forgyuen and forgotten,
Euin than at a sodayne the shaft was shotten,
Whiche pearced my harte voyde of mistrust,
Alas that a prince should be so vniust.

For lying at Plasshey my selfe to repose,
By reason of syckenes whiche helde me full sore:
The king espying me aparte from those,
with whom I confedered in bande before,
Thought it not meete, to tract the tyme more,
But glad to take me at suche auauntage,
Came to salute me with friendly vysage.

Who hauyng a bande bounde to his bent,
By coulour of kyndenes to vyset his Eame,
Tooke tyme to accomplysh his cruell intent:
And in a small vessell downe by the streame,
Conueyed me to Calays out of the realme,
where without proces or doome of my peres,
Not nature but murder abridged my yeres.

This acte was odious to God and to man,
Yet rygour to cloke in habyte of reason,
By crafty compas deuise they can,
Articles nyne of ryght haynous treason:
But doome after death is sure out of season,
For who euer sawe so straunge a presydent,
As execucion doen before iudgement.

Thus hate harboured in depth of mynde,
By sought occasyon burst out of newe,
And cruelty abused the lawe of kynde,
whan that the Nephewe the Vncle slewe,
Alas king Rycharde sore mayst thou rewe:
whiche by this facte preparedst the waye,
Of thy harde destynie to hasten the daye.

For blood axeth blood as guerdon dewe,
And vengeaunce for vengeaunce is iust rewarde,
O ryghteous God thy iudgementes are true,
For looke what measure we other awarde,
The same for vs agayne is preparde:
Take heed ye princes by examples past,
Blood wyll haue blood, eyther fyrst or last.

101

Howe the Lorde Mowbray promoted by Kyng Richarde the seconde, was by hym banyshed the Realme, and dyed miserably in exyle.

Though sorowe and shame abash me to reherce
My lothsum lyfe and death of due deserued,
Yet that the paynes thereof may other perce,
To leaue the lyke, least they be lykely serued,
Ah Baldwin marke, I wil shew thee how I swarued:
Dyssemblyng, Enuy, and Flattery, bane that be
Of all their hostes, haue shewed their power on me.

102

I blame not Fortune though she dyd her parte,
And true it is she can doo lytell harme,
She gydeth goods, she hampreth not the harte,
A vertuous mynde is safe from euery charme:
Vyce, onely vyce, with her stoute strengthles arme,
Doth cause the harte to euyll to enclyne,
Whiche I alas, doo fynde to true by myne,

For where by byrth I came of noble kynde,
The Mowbrayes heyre, a famous house and olde,
Fortune I thanke her, was to me so kynde,
That of my prince I had what so I wolde:
Yet neyther of vs was muche to other holde,
For I through flattery abused his wanton youth,
And his fonde trust augmented my vntruth.

He made me fyrst the earle of Notyngham,
And Marshall of the realme, in whiche estate,
The Piers and people ioyntly to me came,
with sore complaynt against them that of late
Made offycers, had brought the king in hate
By makynge sale of Iustice, ryght and lawe,
And lyuyng nought, without all dreede or awe.

I gaue them ayde these euyls to redresse,
And went to London with an army strong,
And caused the king against his wyll oppresse
By cruell death, all suche as led hym wrong:
The lorde chiefe Iustice suffred these among,
So dyd the Stuarde of his housholde head,
The Chauncelour scapte, for he aforehande fled.

103

These wicked men thus from the king remoued,
who best vs pleased, succeded in theyr place:
For whiche both kyng and commons muche vs loued
But chiefely I with all stoode high in grace,
The kyng ensued my rede in euery case,
whence selfe loue bred: for glory maketh proude,
And pryde aye looketh alone to be allowde.

wherfore to thende I might alone enioye
The kinges good wyll I made his lust my lawe:
And where of late I laboured to destroye,
Suche flatryng folke as thereto stoode in awe,
Nowe learned I among the rest to clawe:
For pride is suche, yf it be kindely caught,
As stroyeth good, and styrreth vp every nought.

Pryde pricketh men to flatter for the pray,
To oppresse and pol for mayntenaunce of the same,
To malyce suche as matche vnethes it may:
And to be briefe, pride doth the harte enflame,
To fyer what myschief any fraude maye frame,
And euer at length the euyls by it wrought
Confounde the wurker, and bring him vnto nought.

Beholde in me due proofe of euerye parte:
For pryde fyrst forced me my prince to flatter
So muche, that what so euer pleased his harte,
Were it neuer so evyll, I thought a lawfull matter,
Whiche caused the lordes afresh against him clatter,
Because he had his holdes beyonde sea solde,
And seen his souldiers of theyr wages polde.

104

Though all these yls were doen by my assent,
Yet suche was lucke, that eche man deemed no:
For see the duke of Glocester for me sent,
With other lordes, whose hartes did blede for wo,
To see the Realme so fast to ruyne go.
In faulte whereof, they sayde the two dukes wer,
The one of Yorke, the other of Lancaster.

On whose remove fro beyng aboute the king
We all agreed, and sware a solempne oth,
And whyle the rest prouyded for this thyng,
I flatter I, to win the prayse of troth,
Wretche that I was brake fayth and promise both:
For I bewrayed the king theyr whole intent,
For whiche vnwares they all were tane and shent.

Thus was the warder of the common weale,
The Duke of Glocester gyltles made awaye,
With other moo, more wretche I so to deale,
Who through vntruth their trust dyd yll betraye:
Yet by this means obteyned I my praye,
Of king and Dukes I founde for this suche fauour
As made me Duke of Norfolke, for my labour.

But see howe pride and envy ioyntly runne,
Because my prince dyd more than me, preferre
Syr Henry Bolenbroke, the eldest sunne
Of Iohn of Gaunte, the Duke of Lancaster,
Proude I that would alone be blasyng sterre,
Envyed this Earle, for nought saue that the shine,
Of his desertes dyd glyster more then mine:

105

To the ende therfore his lyght should be the lesse,
I slyly sought all shyftes to put it out:
But as the peyze that would the palme tree presse,
Doth cause the bowes sprede larger rounde about,
So spyte and enuy causeth glory sprout.
And aye the more the top is ouertrode,
The deper doth the sounde roote sprede abrode.

For when this Henry Erle of Harforde sawe,
What spoyle the kyng made of the noble blood,
And that without all Iustice, cause, or lawe:
To suffer him so he thought not sure nor good.
Wherfore to me two faced in a hood,
As touching this, he fully brake his mynde,
As to his frende that should remedy fynde.

But I, although I knewe my prince dyd yll,
So that my heart abhorred sore the same,
Yet myschief so through malyce led my wyll,
To bring this Earle from honour vnto shame,
And towarde my selfe, my souerayne to enflame:
That I bewrayed his wurdes vnto the king,
Not as a rede, but as a most haynous thyng.

Thus where my duty bounde me to have tolde,
My prince his fault, and wylde him to refrayne,
Through flattery loe, I dyd his yll vpholde,
whiche turnde at length both hym and me to payne:
Wo, wo, to kynges whose counsaylours do fayne,
Wo, wo to realmes where suche are put in trust,
As leave the lawe, to serve the princes lust.

106

And wo to him that by his flatteryng rede,
Maynteyneth a prince in any kynde of vyce:
wo wurth hym eke for envy, pryde, or mede,
That mysreportes any honest enterpryse,
Because I beast in all these poyntes was nyce,
The plages of all together on me lyght,
And due, for yll ylldoers doth acquite.

For when the Earle was charged with my playnt,
He flatte denyed that any parte was true,
And claymde by armes to aunswere his attaynt,
And I by vse that warly feates well knewe,
To his desyre incontinently drewe:
wherwith the king dyd seme ryght well content,
As one that past not muche with whom it went.

At tyme and place apoynted we apearde,
At all poyntes armde to proue our quarels iust,
And whan our frendes on eche parte had vs chearde,
And that the Haroldes bad vs do our lust,
with spere in rest we tooke a course to iust:
But ere our horses had run halfe theyr way,
A shoute was made, the kyng dyd byd vs stay.

And for to avoyde the sheddyng of our bloode,
with shame and death, which one must nedes haue had
The king through counsaile of the lordes thought good
To banysh both, whiche iudgement strayt was rad:
No maruayle than though both were wroth and sad,
But chiefely I that was exylde for aye,
My enmy straunged but for a ten yeares daye.

107

The date expirde, whan by this doulfull doome
I should departe to lyve in banysht bande,
On payne of death, to Englande not to coome,
I went my way: the kyng seasde in his hande,
My offyces, my honours, goods and lande,
To paye the due, as openly he tolde,
Of myghty summes, whiche I had from hym polde.

See Baldwin see, the salarye of synne,
Marke with what meede vile vyces are rewarded.
Through pryde and envy I lose both kyth and kynne,
And for my flattring playnte so well regarded,
Exyle and slaunder are iustly me awarded:
My wife and heyre lacke landes and lawful right
And me theyr lorde made dame Dianaes knyght.

If these mishaps at home be not inough,
Adioyne to them my sorowes in exyle:
I went to Almayne fyrst, a lande ryght rough,
In whiche I founde suche churlysh folke and vyle,
As made me loth my lyfe ech other whyle:
There loe, I learned what it is to be a gest
Abrode, and what to lyve at home in rest.

For they esteme no one man more than eche,
They vse as well the Lackey as the Lorde,
And lyke theyr maners churlysh is theyr speche,
Their lodging hard, their bourd to be abhord:
Their pleyted garmentes herewith well accorde,

108

All iagde and frounst, with diuers coloures dekt,
They swere, they curse, and drynke tyll they be flekt.

They hate all suche as these their maners hate,
Which reason would no wise man should allow:
With these I dwelt, lamenting mine estate
Till at the length they had got knowledge, how
I was exilde because I dyd auow
A false complaynt agaynst my trusty frende:
For which they named me traytour styl vnende,

That what for shame, and what for werynes
I stale fro thence, and went to Venise towne,
Where as I founde more ease and frendlynes,
But greater gryefe: for now the great renowne
Of Bolenbroke whom I would haue put downe
Was waxt so great in Britaine and in Fraunce,
That Venise through ech man did him auaunce.

Thus loe his glory grew through great despyte
And I therby increased in defame:
Thus enuy euer doth her host acquyte
Wyth trouble, anguysh, sorow, smart and shame,
But sets the vertues of her foe in flame:
To water lyke, whych maketh clere the stone,
And soyles it selfe by running thervpon.

109

Or ere I had soiurned there a yere
Strange tidinges came he was to England goen,
Had tane the king, & that which touched him nere
Enprisoned him, with other of his foen,
And made hym yelde hym vp his crowne and throne:
When I these thinges for true by serche had tryed,
Griefe griped me so I pined away and dyed.

Note here the ende of pride, se Flateries fine,
Marke the reward of enuy and false complaint,
And warne all princes from them to declyne
Lest likely fault do find the like attaynt.
Let this my life be to them a restraynt,
By others harmes who lysteth take no hede
Shall by his owne learne other better rede.

111

Howe kyng Richarde the seconde was for his euyll gouernaunce deposed from his seat, and miserably murdred in prison.

Happy is the prince that hath in welth the grace
To folowe vertue, keping vices vnder,
But wo to him whose will hath wisedomes place:
For who so renteth ryght and law a sunder
On him at length loe, al the world shall wunder,
Hygh byrth, choyse fortune, force, nor Princely mace

112

Can warrant King or Keysar fro the case,
Shame sueth sinne, as rayne drops do the thunder.
Let Princes therfore vertuous life embrace
That wilfull pleasures cause them not to blunder.

Beholde my hap, see how the sely route
Do gase vpon me, and eche to other saye:
Se where he lieth for whome none late might route,
Loe howe the power, the pride, and riche aray
Of myghty rulers lightly fade away.
The Kyng whych erst kept all the realme in doute,
The veryest rascall now dare checke and lowte:
What moulde be Kynges made of, but carayn clay?
Beholde his woundes, howe blew they be about,
Whych whyle he lived, thought neuer to decay.

Me thinke I heare the people thus deuise:
And therfore Baldwin sith thou wilt declare
How princes fell, to make the liuing wise,
My vicious story in no poynt see thou spare,
But paynt it out, that rulers may beware
Good counsayle, lawe, or vertue to despyse.

113

For realmes haue rules, and rulers haue a syse,
Which if they kepe not, doubtles say I dare
That eythers gryefes the other shall agrise
Till the one be lost, the other brought to care.

I am a Kyng that ruled all by lust,
That forced not of vertue, ryght, or lawe,
But alway put false Flatterers most in trust,
Ensuing such as could my vices clawe:
By faythful counsayle passing not a strawe.
What pleasure pryckt, that thought I to be iust.
I set my minde, to feede, to spoyle, to iust,
Three meales a day could skarce content my mawe,
And all to augment my lecherous minde that must
To Venus pleasures alway be in awe.

For mayntenaunce wherof, my realme I polde
Through Subsidies, sore fines, loanes, many a prest,

114

Blanke charters, othes, & shiftes not knowen of olde,
For whych my Subiectes did me sore detest.
I also made away the towne of Brest,
My fault wherin because mine vncle tolde
(For Prynces vyces may not be controlde)
I found the meanes his bowels to vnbrest.
The Piers and Lordes that did his cause vphold,
With death, exile, or greuous fines opprest.

Neyther lakt I ayde in any wicked dede,
For gaping Gulles whom I promoted had
Woulde furder all in hope of higher mede.
A king can neuer imagine ought so bad
But most about him will perfourme it glad
For sickenes seldeme doth so swiftely brede
As vicious humors growe the griefe to feede.
Thus kinges estates of all be wurst bastad,
Abusde in welth, abandoned at nede,
And nerest harme whan they be least adrad.

My life and death the truth of this can trye:
For while I fought in Ireland with my foes,

115

Mine vncle Edmunde whom I left to gide
My realme at home, right traytrously arose
To helpe the Percies plying my depose,
And cald fro Fraunce Erle Bolenbroke, whom I
Condemned ten yeres in exyle to lye:
Who cruelly did put to death all those
That in myne ayde durst looke but once awry,
Whose number was but slender I suppose.

For whan I was cum back this stur to stay,
The Erle of Worcester whom I trusted moste
(Whiles we in Wales at Flint our castell lay
Both to refresh and multiply mine oste)
Did in my hall in sight of least and moste
Bebreake his staffe, my houshold office stay,
Bad eche man shifte, and rode him selfe away.
See princes, see the power wherof we boste,
Whome most we trust, at nede do vs betray,
Through whose false faith my land and life I lost.

116

For whan my trayterous Stuard thus was goen,
My seruauntes shranke away on euery side,
That caught I was, and caryed to my foen:
Who for theyr prince a prison dyd provide,
And therin kept me, til duke Henryes pride
Dyd cause me yeld him vp my crowne and throne.
Whych shortly made my frendly foes to grone:
For Henry seing in me their falshode tryde
Abhorde them all, and would be rulde by none,
For whych they sought to stoppe him strayt a tyde.

The chiefe conspirde by death to drive him down,
For which exployte, a solemne othe they swore
To render me my libertie and crown,
Wherof them selues deprived me before.
But salues helpe seeld an overlong suffred sore.
To stoppe the brech no boote to runne or rowne
When swelling fluds have overflowen the town:

117

Til sailes be spred the ship may kepe the shore.
The Ankers wayed, though al the frayte do frowne,
With streame and steere perforce it shalbe bore.

For though the piers set Henry in his state,
Yet could they not displace him thence agayne:
And where they easily put me downe of late,
They could restore me by no maner payne:
Thinges hardly mende, but may be mard amayne.
And whan a man is falne in froward fate
Still mischeves light one in anothers pate:
And wel meant meanes his mishaps to restraine
Waxe wretched mones, wherby his ioyes abate.
Due proofe wherof in me appereth playne.

For whan king Henry knew that for my cause
His lordes in maske would kil him if they might,
To dash all dowtes, he tooke no farther pause
But sent sir Pierce of Exton a traytrous knight
To Pomfret Castell, with other armed light,

118

Who causeles kild me there agaynst all lawes.
Thus lawles life, to lawles deth ey drawes.
Wherfore byd Kynges be rulde and rule by right,
Who wurketh his wil, & shunneth wisedomes sawes
In flateries clawes, & shames foule pawes shal light.

120

Howe Owen Glendour seduced by false prophesies tooke vpon him to be prince of Wales, and was by Henry then prince therof, chased to the mountaynes, where he miserably dyed for lacke of foode.

I pray the Baldwin sith thou doest entend
To shewe the fall of such as clymbe to hye,
Remember me, whose miserable ende
May teache a man his vicious life to flye:

121

Oh Fortune, Fortune, out on her I crye,
My body and fame she hath made leane and slender
For I poore wretch am sterued Owen Glendour.

A Welshman borne, and of a gentle blud,
But ill brought vp, wherby full wel I find,
That neither birth nor linage make vs good
Though it be true that Cat wil after kinde:
Fleshe gendreth fleshe, so doeth not soule or minde,
They gender not, but fowly do degender,
When men to vice from vertue them do surrender.

Ech thing by nature tendeth to the same
Wherof it came, and is disposed like:
Downe sinkes the mold, vp mountes the fiery flame,
With horne the hart, with hoofe the horse doth strike:
The Wulfe doth spoyle, the suttle Fox doth pyke,
And generally no fish, flesh, fowle, or plant
Doth any property that their dame had, want.

But as for men, sith seuerally they haue
A mind whose maners are by learning made,
Good bringing vp alonly doth them save
In vertuous dedes, which with their parentes fade.

122

So that true gentry standeth in the trade
Of vertuous life, not in the fleshly line:
For blud is Brute, but Gentry is diuine.

Experience doth cause me thus to say,
And that the rather for my countreymen,
Which vaunt and boast their selues aboue the day
If they may strayne their stocke for wurthy men:
Which let be true, are they the better than?
Nay farre the wurse if so they be not good,
For why they steyne the bewty of theyr blood.

How would we mocke the burden bearing mule
If he would brag he wer an horses sunne,
To presse his pride (might nothing els him rule,)
His boast to proue, no more but byd him runne:
The horse for swiftenes hath his glory wunne,
To which the mule could neuer the more aspier
Though he should prove that Pegas was his sier.

Ech man may crake of that which is his own,
Our parentes vertues theirs are and not oures:
Who therfore wil of noble kind be knowen
Ought shine in vertue like his auncestors,

123

Gentry consisteth not in landes and towers:
He is a Churle though all the world be his,
He Arthurs heyre if that he liue amys.

For vertuous lyfe doth make a gentleman
Of her possessour, all be he poore as Iob,
Yea though no name of elders shewe he can:
For proofe take Merlyn fathered by an Hob.
But who so settes his mind to spoyle and rob,
Although he cum by due discent fro Brute,
He is a Chorle, vngentle, vile, and brute.

Well thus dyd I for want of better wyt,
Because my parentes noughtly brought me vp:
For gentle men (they sayd) was nought so fyt
As to attaste by bolde attemptes the cup
Of conquestes wyne, wherof I thought to sup:
And therfore bent my selfe to rob and ryue,
And whome I could of landes and goodes depryue.

For Henry the fourth did then vsurpe the crowne,
Despoyled the kyng, with Mortimer the heyre:
For whych his subiectes sought to put him downe.
And I, whyle Fortune offred me so fayre,
Dyd what I myght his honour to appeyre:
And toke on me to be the prynce of Wales,
Entiste therto by many of Merlines tales.

124

For whych, such Idle as wayte vpon the spoyle,
From euery parte of Wales vnto me drew:
For loytring youth vntaught in any toyle
Are redy aye all mischiefe to ensue.
Through help of these so great my glory grew,
That I defyed my Kyng through lofty hart,
And made sharp warre on all that tooke his part.

See lucke, I tooke lord Reynolde Grey of Rythen,
And him enforst my doughter to espouse,
And so vnraunsomed held him still: and sithen
In Wygmore land through battayle rygorous
I caught the ryght heyre of the crowned house
The Erle of March syr Edmund Mortymer,
And in a dungeon kept hym prysoner,

Then al the marches longyng vnto Wales
By Syverne west I did inuade and burne:
Destroyed the townes in mountaynes and in vales,
And riche in spoyles did homward safe retourne:
Was none so bold durst once agaynst me spurne.
Thus prosperously doth Fortune forward call
Those whom she mindes to geue the sorest fall.

Whan fame had brought these tidinges to the king
(Although the Skots than vexed him ryght sore)
A myghty army agaynst me he dyd bryng:
Wherof the French Kyng beyng warned afore,
Who mortall hate agaynst kyng Henry bore,
To greve our foe he quyckely to me sent
Twelve thousand Frenchmen armed to war, & bent.

125

A part of them led by the Erle of Marche
Lord Iames of Burbon, a valiaunt tryed knyght
Withheld by winds to Wales ward forth to marche,
Tooke lande at Plymmouth pryuily on a nyght:
And when he had done al he durst or myght,
After that a mayny of his men were slayne
He stole to shyp, and sayled home agayne.

Twelve thousand moe in Mylford dyd aryue,
And came to me, then lying at Denbygh
With armed Welshmen thousandes double fiue:
With whom we went to wurcester well nigh,
And there encampte vs on a mount on high,
To abide the kyng, who shortly after came
And pitched his feild, on a Hyll hard by the same.

Ther eyght dayes long, our hostes lay face to face,
And neyther durst the others power assayle:
But they so stopt the passages the space
That vitayles coulde not cum to our auayle,
Wherthrough constrayned our hartes began to fayle
So that the Frenchmen shrancke away by night,
And I with mine to the mountaynes toke our flight:

The king pursued vs, greatly to his cost,
From Hyls to wuds, fro wuds to valeyes playne:
And by the way his men and stuf he lost.
And whan he see he gayned nought saue payne,
He blewe retreat, and got him home agayne:
Then with my power I boldly came abrode
Taken in my cuntrey for a very God.

126

Immediatly after fell a Ioly Iarre
Betwene the king, and Percies worthy bluds,
Which grew at last vnto a deadly warre:
For like as drops engendre mighty fluds,
And litle seedes sprut furth great leaves and buds,
Euen so small strifes, if they be suffred run
Brede wrath and war, and death or they be don.

The kyng would haue the raunsum of such Scots
As these the Percyes had tane in the feeld:
But see how strongly Luker knits her knottes,
The king will haue, the Percies wil not yeeld,
Desire of goodes soone craves, but graunteth seeld:
Oh cursed goodes desire of you hath wrought
All wyckednes, that hath or can be thought.

The Percies deemed it meter for the king
To haue redeemed theyr cosin Mortymer,
Who in his quarel all his power did bryng
To fight with me, that tooke him prisoner
Than of their pray to rob his Souldier:
And therfore willed him see sum mean wer found,
To quit furth him whom I kept vily bound.

Because the king misliked their request,
They came them selves and did accord with me,
Complayning how the kyngdome was opprest,
By Henries rule, wherfore we dyd agre
To put him downe, and part the realme in three:
The North part theirs, Wales wholy to be mine
The rest to rest to therle of Marches line.

127

And for to set vs hereon more agog
A prophet came (a vengeaunce take them all)
Affirming Henry to be Gogmagog
Whom Merlyn doth a Mouldwarp euer call,
Accurst of god, that must be brought in thrall
By a wulf, a Dragon, and a Lyon strong,
Which should deuide his kingdome them among.

This crafty dreamer made vs thre such beastes
To thinke we were these foresayd beastes in deede:
And for that cause our badges and our creastes
We searched out, whych scarcely wel agreed:
Howbeit the Haroldes redy at such a neede,
Drew downe such issues from olde auncestours,
As proued these ensignes to be surely oures.

Ye crafty Welshemen, wherfore do you mocke
The noble men thus with your fayned rymes?
Ye noble men why flye you not the flocke
Of such as haue seduced so many times?
False Prophesies are plages for divers crymes
Whych god doth let the divilish sorte devise
To trouble such as are not godly wyse.

And that appered by vs thre beastes in dede,
Through false perswasion highly borne in hand
That in our feat we could not chuse but spede
To kyll the kyng, and to enioye his land:
For which exployt we bound our selues in band
To stand contented ech man with his part,
So fully folly assured our folysh hart.

128

But such they say as fysh before the net
Shal seldome surfyt of the pray they take,
Of thinges to cum the haps be so vnset
That none but fooles may warrant of them make:
The full assured, succes doth oft forsake.
For Fortune findeth none so fyt to flout,
As suresby sots whych cast no kinde of doute.

How sayest thou Henry Hotspur, do I lye?
For thou right manly gauest the king a feeld,
And there was slayn because thou wouldest not fly:
Sir Thomas Percie thine vncle (forst to yeeld)
Did cast his head (a wunder seen but seeld)
From Shrewsbury town to the top of London bridge.
Lo thus fond hope did theyr both liues abridge.

Whan Henry king this victory had wunne,
Destroyed the Percies, put their power to flyght,
He did appoynt prince Henry his eldest sunne
With all his power to meete me if he might:
But I discumfit through my partners fight
Had not the hart to mete him face to face,
But fled away, and he pursued the chase.

Now Baldwin marke, for I cald prince of Wales,
And made beleve I should be he in dede,
Was made to flye among the hilles and dales,
Where al my men forsooke me at my nede.
Who trusteth loyterers seeld hath lucky spede:
And whan the captaynes corage doth him fayle
His souldiers hartes a litle thing may quayle.

129

And so Prince Henry chased me, that loe
I found no place wherin I might abide:
For as the dogges pursue the selly doe,
The brach behind the houndes on euery side,
So traste they me among the mountaynes wide:
Wherby I found I was the hartles hare
And not the beast Colprophete did declare.

And at the last: like as the litle roche,
Must eyther be eat, or leape vpon the shore
Whan as the hungry pickrel doth approch,
And there find death which it eskapte before:
So double death assaulted me so sore
That eyther I must vnto my enmy yeeld,
Or starue for hunger in the barayne feeld.

Here shame and payne a whyle were at a strife,
Payne prayed me yeeld, shame bad me rather fast:
The one bad spare, the other spend my life,
But shame (shame haue it) ouercam at last.
Than hunger gnew, that doth the stone wall brast
And made me eat both gravell, durt and mud,
And last of all, my dung, my fleshe, and blud.

This was mine ende to horrible to heare,
Yet good ynough for a life that was so yll.

130

Wherby (O Baldwin) warne all men to beare
Theyr youth such loue, to bring them vp in skill
Byd Princes flye Colprophetes lying byll:
And not presume to clime aboue their states,
For they be faultes that foyle men, not their fates

132

How Henry Percy Earle of Northhumberland, was for his couetous and trayterous attempt put to death at Yorke.

O morall Senec true find I thy saying,
That neyther kinsfolke, ryches, strength, or fauour
Are free from Fortune, but are ay decaying:
No worldly welth is ought save doubtful labour,
Mans life in earth is like vnto a tabour:
Which now to mirth doth mildly men provoke
And strayt to war, with a more sturdy stroke.

All this full true I Percy find by proofe,
Which whilom was erle of Northumberland:
And therfore Baldwin for my Piers behoof
To note mens falles sith thou hast tane in hand,

133

I would thou shouldest my state well vnderstand:
For fewe kinges were more then I redouted,
Through double Fortune lyfted vp and louted.

As for my kinne their noblenes is knowen,
My valiauntise were folly for to prayse,
Wherthrough the Scottes so oft were ouerthrowen
That who but I was doubted in my dayes:
And that kyng Rychard found at all assayes,
For neuer Scottes rebelled in his rayne
But through my force were eyther caught or slayne.

A brother I had was Erle of Worcester
Alwayes in fauour and office with the king,
And by my wife Dame Elinor Mortimer,
I had a son which so the Scottes did sting,
That being yong, and but a very spring
Syr Henry Hotspur they gaue him to name,
And though I say it, he did deserue the same.

We thre tryumphed in king Richards time,
Til Fortune ought both him and vs a spite:
But chiefly me, whom clere from any crime,
My king did banish from his favour quite,
And openly proclaymed trayterous knight:
Wherethrough false slaunder forced me to be
That which before I did most deadly flee.

134

Let men beware how they true folke defame,
Or threaten on them the blame of vices nought,
For infamy bredeth wrath, wreke foloweth shame:
Eke open slaunder, oftentimes hath brought
That to effect, that erst was neuer thought:
To be misdemed men suffer in a sort,
But none can beare the griefe of misreport.

Because my king did shame me wrongfully,
I hated him, and in dede became his foe:
And while he did at war in Ireland lye,
I did conspire to turne his weale to woe:
And through the duke of Yorke and other moe,
All royall power from him we quickely tooke
And gaue the same to Henry Boleynbroke.

Neyther dyd we this alonely for this cause,
But to say truth, force drave vs to the same:
For he dispising god and all good lawes
Slew whom he would, made sinne a very game.
And seing neither age nor counsayle could him tame,
We thought it wel done for the kingdomes sake,
To leaue his rule that did al rule forsake.

But whan sir Henry had attaynde his place,
He strayt becam in all poyntes wurse than he:
Destroyed the piers, & slewe kyng Rychards grace,
Agaynst his othe made to the lordes and me:
And seking quarelles how to disagre,
He shamelesly required me and my sonne
To yeld him Scottes which we in field had wun.

135

My Nephew also Edmund Mortymer
The very heyre apparaunt to the Crowne,
Whom Owen Glendour held as prisoner,
Vilely bound, in dungeon depe cast downe,
He would not raunsum: but did felly frowne
Agaynst my brother and me that for him spake,
And him proclaymed traytour for our sake.

This fowle despite did cause vs to conspire
To put him downe as we did Richard erst,
And that we might this matter set on fyre
From Owens iayle, our cosin we remerst,
And vnto Glendour all our griefes reherst,
Who made a bonde with Mortymer and me.
To pryue the king, and part the realme in thre.

But whan king Henry heard of this devise
Toward Owen Glendour he sped him very quyck
Mynding by force to stop our enterprise:
And as the deuell would, then fell I sick,
Howbeit my brother, & sonne, more politike
Than prosperous, with an oast fro Scotland brought,
Encountred him at Shrewsbury, wher they fought.

The one was tane and kild, the other slayne,
And shortly after was Owen put to flight:
By meanes wherof I forced was to fayne,
That I knew nothing of the former fight.
Fraude oft avayles more than doth sturdy might:
For by my fayning I brought him in belief
I knew not that wherin my part was chief.

136

And while the king thus tooke me for his frend
I sought all meanes my former wrong to wreake,
Which that I might bring to the sooner ende
To the bishop of Yorke I did the matter breake,
And to Therle Marshall likewise did I speake,
Whose father was through Henries cause exyled
The bishops brother with trayterous death defiled.

These strayt assented to do what they could,
So did lorde Hastinges and lord Fauconbridge:
Which altogether promised they would
Set all their power the kinges dayes to abridge.
Be se the spite, before the byrdes wer flidge
The king had woord, and seysoned on the nest
Wherby alas my frendes wer al opprest.

The bluddy tyrant brought them all to ende
Excepted me, which into Scotland skapte
To George of Dunbar therle of March, my frend,
Who in my cause al that he could ey skrapte:
And when I had for greater succour gapte
Both at the Frenchman and the Flemminges hand,
And could get none, I toke such as I fand.

And with the helpe of George my very frend,
I did invade Northumberlande ful bold,
Whereas the folke drew to me stil vnend,
Bent to the death my party to vphold:
Through helpe of these ful many a fort and hold.
The which the king right manfully had mand,
I easely wunne, and seysed in my hand

137

Not so content (for vengeaunce drave me on)
I entred Yorkeshire there to waste and spoyle,
But ere I had far in the countrey gon
The shirif therof, Rafe Rekesby did assoyle
My troubled hoost of much part of our toyle,
For he assauting freshly, tooke through power
Me and lord Bardolph both at Bramham more.

And thence conueyed vs to the towne of Yorke
Vntil he knew, what was the kinges entent:
There loe Lord Bardolf kinder than the Storke,
Did lose his head, which was to London sent,
With whom for frendshippe mine in like case went.
This was my hap, my fortune, or my fawte,
This life I led, and thus I came to naught.

Wherfore good Baldwin wil the pyers take hede
Of slaunder, malyce, and conspiracy,
Of couetise, whence al the rest procede:
For couetise ioynt with contumacy,
Doth cause all mischief in mens hartes to brede.
Ad therfore this to Esperance, my wurd.
Who causeth bludshed shall not skape the swurd.

139

How Richard erle of Cambridge entending the kinges destruction was put to death at Southhampton.

Hast maketh wast, hath commonly ben sayd,
And secrete mischiefe seeld hath lucky spede:
A murdering mind with proper peyze is wayd,
Al this is true, I find it in my Crede.
And therfore Baldwin warne all states take hede,
How they conspire any other to betrappe,
Least mischiefe meant light in the miners lappe.

For I lord Richard, heyre Plantagenet
Was Erle of Cambridge, and right fortunate,
If I had had the grace my wit to set
To have content me with mine owne estate:
But o false honours, breders of debate,
The loue of you our lewde hartes doth allure
To lese our selues by seking you vnsure.

Because my brother Edmund Mortimer,
Whose eldest sister was my wedded wife,
I meane that Edmund that was prisoner
In Wales so long, through Owens busy strife,

140

Because I say, that after Edmundes life,
His rightes and titles must by law be mine,
(For he ne had, nor could encrease his line)

Because the right of realme & crowne was ours,
I serched means to helpe him thervnto.
And where the Henries held it by their powers
I sought a shift their tenures to vndo,
Which being force, sith force or sleyt must do,
I voyde of might, because their power was strong
Set privy sleyte agaynst theyr open wrong.

But sith the deathes of most part of my kinne
Did dash my hope, throughout the fathers dayes
I let it slip, and thought it best beginne
Whan as the sonne shuld dred lest such assayes:
For force through spede, sleyght spedeth through delayes
And seeld doth treason time so fitly find
As whan al dangers most be out of minde.

Wherfore while Henry of that name the fifte,
Prepared his army to go conquer Fraunce,
Lord Skrope and I thought to attempt a drifte
To put him downe my brother to avaunce:
But were it gods wil, my luck, or his good chaunce,
The king wist wholy wherabout we went,
The night before the king to shipward bent.

Then were we strayt as traytours apprehended,
Our purpose spied, the cause therof was hid,
And therfore loe a false cause we pretended
Wherthrough my brother was fro daunger ryd:

141

We sayd for hier of the French kinges coyne, we did
Behight to kil the king: and thus with shame
We stayned our selves, to save our frend fro blame.

Whan we had thus confest so foule a treason,
That we deserved, we suffred by the lawe.
Se Baldwin see, and note (as it is reason)
How wicked dedes to wofull endes do drawe,
All force doth fayle, no crafte is wurth a straw,
To attayne thinges lost, and therfore let them go,
For might ruleth right, and wil though God say no.

143

How Thomas Montague the earle of Salysbury in the middes of his glory, was chaunceably slayne with a piece of ordinaunce.

What fooles be we to trust vnto our strength,
Our wit, our courage, or our noble fame,
Which time it selfe must nedes deuour at length
Though froward Fortune could not foyle the same.
But seing this Goddes gideth al the game,
Which still to chaunge doth set her onely lust,
Why toyle we so for thinges so hard to trust.

A goodly thing is surely good reporte,
Which noble hartes, do seke by course of kinde,
But seen the date so doubtful and so short,
The wayes so rough wherby we do it find:
I can not chuse but prayse the princely minde
That preaseth for it, though we find opprest
By foule defame those that deserve it best.

Concerning whom marke Baldwin what I say,
I meane the vertuous hindred of their brute,
Among which number reken wel I may
My valiaunt father Iohn lord Montacute,

144

Who lost his life (I iudge) in iust pursute:
I say the cause and not the casual spede,
Is to be wayed in euery kinde of dede.

This rule obserued, how many shall we find
For vertues sake with infamy opprest?
How many agayn through helpe of fortune blind,
For yll attemptes atchiued, with honour blest?
Succes is wurst ofttimes whan cause is best,
Therfore say I: god send them sory happes,
That iudge the causes by their after clappes.

The ende in dede, is iudge of euery thing,
Which is the cause, or latter poynt of time:
The first true verdyct at the first may bryng,
The last is slow, or slipper as the slime,
Oft chaunging names of innocence and crime.
Duke Thomas death was Iustice two yeres long,
And euer sence sore tiranny and wrong.

Wherfore I pray the Baldwin waye the cause,
And prayse my father as he doth deserue:
Because erle Henry, king agaynst all lawes,
Endeuoured king Richard for to starve
In iayle, wherby the regal crowne might swarve
Out of the line to which it than was due,
(Wherby God knowes what euil might ensue)

My lord Iohn Holland duke of Excester,
Which was dere cosin to this wretched king,
Did mooue my father, and the erle of Glocester,
With other lordes to ponder well the thyng:
Who seing the mischiefe that began to spring,
Did all consent, this Henry to depose,
And to restore kyng Richard to the rose.

145

And while they did deuise a prety trayne
Wherby to bring their purpose bettre about,
Which was in maske, this Henry to haue slayne:
The duke of Awmerle blew their counsayle out,
Yet was their purpose good there is no doubt.
What cause can be more wurthy for a knight,
Than save his king, and helpe true heires to right?

For this with them my father was destroyed,
And buryed in the dounghil of defame.
Thus evil chaunce theyr glory did auoyde,
Wheras their cause doth clayme eternal fame.
Whan dedes therfore vnluckely do frame,
Men ought not iudge the authours to be naught,
For right through might is often overraught.

And God doth suffer that it should be so,
But why, my wit is feble to decise,
Except it be to heape vp wrath and wo
Vpon their heades that iniuries devise.
The cause why mischiefes many times arise,
And light on them that wold mens wronges redresse,
Is for the rancour that they beare, I gesse.

God hateth rigour though it furder right,
For sinne is sinne, how euer it be vsed:
And therfore suffereth shame and death to light,
To punish vice, though it be wel abused.
Who furdereth right is not therby excused,
If through the same he do sum other wrong:
To every vice due guerdon doth belong.

146

What preach I now, I am a man of warre,
And that my body (I dare say) doth professe,
Of cured woundes beset with many a skarre,
My broken Iaw vnheald can say no lesse.
O Fortune, Fortune, cause of all distresse
My father had great cause thy fraude to cursse.
But much more I, abused ten times wursse.

Thou neuer flatteredst him in all his life,
But me thou dandledst like thy darling deare:
Thy giftes I found in every corner rife,
Where ever I went, I met thy smyling cheare:
Which was not for a day, or for a yeare,
But through the rayne of thre right worthy kynges,
I found the forward in al kind of thinges.

The while king Henry conquered in Fraunce
I sued the warres, and still found victory.
In all assaultes so happy was my chaunce,
Holdes yelde or wunne did make my enmies sory:
Dame Prudence eke augmented so my glory,
That in all treaties ever I was one
Whan weyghty matters were agreed vpon.

But whan this king this mighty conquerour,
Through death vnripe, was both his realmes bereft,
His sely infant did receyue his power,
Pore litle babe ful yong in cradell left,
Where crowne and Scepter hurt him with the heft:
Whose wurthy vncles had the governaunce,
The one at home, the other abrode in Fraunce.

147

And I which was in peace and war wel skilled,
With both these rulers greatly was estemed:
Bare rule at home as often as they willed,
And fought in Fraunce whan thei it nedeful demed.
And every where so good my seruice semed,
That Englishmen to me great loue did beare,
Our foes the French, my force fulfilled with feare.

I alwayes thought it fitly for a prince,
And such as haue the regiment of realmes,
His subiectes hartes with mildnes to convince,
Wyth iustice myxt, auoyding all extremes.
For like as Phebus with his chearfull beames,
Doth freshly force the fragrant floures to florish,
So rulers mildnes subiectes loue doth norish.

This found I true: for through my mild behauour
Their hartes I had with me to liue and dye:
And in their speache for to declare their fauour,
They called me styll good earle of Salisbury,
The lordes confest the commons did not lye.
For vertuous life, fre hart, and lowly mind,
With high and low shal alwayes fauour find.

Which vertues chief becum a man of war,
Wherof in Fraunce I founde experyence,
For in assaultes due mildnes passeth farre
Al rigour, force, and sturdy violence:
For men wil stoutly sticke to their defence
When cruel captaynes covet them to spoyle,
And so enforst, oft geue their foes the foyle.

148

But when they know they shall be frendly vsed,
They hazard not their heades, but rather yelde,
For this, my offers neuer were refused
Of any towne, or surely very seelde:
But force and furies fyt be for the feelde.
And there in dede I vsed so the same,
My foes would flye if they had heard my name.

For whan lord Steward and erle Vantadore,
Had cruelly besieged Crauant towne,
Which we had wunne, and kept long time before,
Which lieth in Awxer on the riuer Youne,
To rayse the siege the Regent sent me downe:
Where as I vsed all rigour that I might,
I killed all, that were not saued by flight.

When the erle of Bedford then in Fraunce lord regent,
Knew in what sort I had remoued the syege,
In Brye and Champayne he made me vice gerent,
And Lieutenaunt for him and for my Lyege:
Which caused me go to Bry, and ther besyege
Mountaguillon, with twenty wekes assaut,
Which at the last was yelded me for naught.

And for the duke of Britayns brother, Arthur,
Both erle of Richmonde and of Yvery,
Against his othe from vs had made departure,
To Charles the Dolphin, our chief enemy,
I with the regent went to Normandy,
To take his towne of Yvery, which of spight
Did to vs dayly al the harme they might.

149

They at the first compounded by a day
To yeeld, if rescues did not cum before.
And whiles in hope to fight, we at it lay,
The Dolphin gathered men two thousand skore,
With erles, lordes, and captaynes ioly store:
Of which the duke of Alanson was gide,
And sent them downe to see if we would bide.

But they left vs and downe to Vernoile went,
And made their vaunt they had our army slayne,
And through that lye, that towne from vs they hent,
Which shortly after turned to their payne:
For there both armies met vpon the plaine,
And we .viii. M. whom they flew, not slewe before,
Did kil of them, ten thousand men and more.

When we had taken Vernoile thus againe,
To driue the Dolphin vtterly out of Fraunce,
The Regent sent me to Aniowe and to Mayne,
Wher I besieged the warlik towne of Mawns:
Ther lord of Toysers Baldwins valiaunce
Did well appere, which wold not yeeld the towne,
Till all the towres & walles wer battred downe.

But here now Baldwin take it in good part,
Though that I brought this Baldwin ther to yeeld:
The Lion fearce for all his noble hart,
Being overmatched, is forst to flye the feeld.
If Mars him selfe had there ben with his sheeld,
And in my stormes had stoutly me withstoode,
He should haue yeeld, or els haue shed my bloode.

150

This wurthy knight both hardy, stout, and wise,
Wrought well his feate: as time and place require,
Whan fortune fayles, it is the best advice
To strike the sayle, least al lie in the mire.
This have I sayd to thend thou take no yre,
For though no cause be found, so nature frames,
Men haue a zeale to such as beare their names.

But to returne, in Mayne wan I at length,
Such towns & fortes as might either helpe or hurt,
I manned Mayon & Suzans townes of strength,
Fort Barnarde, Thanceaux, & S. Cales the curt,
With Lile sues Bolton, standing in the durt:
Eke Gwerland, Susze, Loupeland and Mountsure,
With Malicorne, these wan I and kept full sure.

Besides al this, I tooke nere forty holdes,
But those I razed even with the grounde.
And for these dedes, as sely shepe in foldes
Do shrinke for feare at every litle sound,
So fled my foes before my face ful round:
Was none so hardy durst abide the fight,
So Mars and Fortune furdered me their knight.

I tel no lye, so gastful grewe my name,
That it alone discomfited an host:
The Scots and Frenchmen wil confesse the same,
Els wil the towne which they like cowardes lost.
For whan they sieged Bewron with great bost,
Being fourty .M. Britayns, French, and Scottes,
Fiue hundred men did vanquish them like sottes.

151

For while the Frenchmen did assault them stil,
Our Englishmen came boldly furth at night,
Criyng sainct George, Salisbury, kil, kil, kil,
And offred freshly with their foes to fight,
And they as frenchly tooke them selves to flight,
Supposing surely that I had ben there.
Se how my name did put them all in feare.

Thus was the Dolphins power discomfited,
Fower .M. slayne, their campe tane as it stoode,
Wherby our towne and souldiers profited,
For there were vitayles plentifull and good:
This while was I in England by the rood
To appeace a strife that was right foule befall,
Betwene Duke Humfrey and the Cardinall.

The Duke of Exceter shortly after died,
Which of the king at home had gouernaunce,
Whose roume the earle of Warwike then supplied,
And I tooke his, and sped me into Fraunce.
And hauing a zeale to conquer Orlyaunce,
With much ado I gat the regentes ayde,
And marched thither and siege about it layde.

But in the way I tooke the towne of Yayn,
Wher murdred wer for stoutnes many a man:
But Baugency I tooke with litle payne,
For which to shew them fauour I began:
This caused the townes of Mewne and Iargeman,
That stoode on Loyer, to profer me the keyes,
Ere I came nere them, welny by two dayes.

152

See here how Fortune forward can allure,
What baytes she layeth to bring men to their endes.
Who having hap like this, but would hope sure
To bring to bale what euer he entendes?
But soone is sowre the sweete that Fortune sendes:
Whan hope and hap, whan helth and welth is hyest,
Than wo and wracke, desease, and nede be nyest.

For while I, suing this so good successe,
Layd siege to Orlyaunce on the river syde,
The Bastard (Cuckold Cawnyes sonne I gesse,
Tho thought the dukes) who had the towne in gide,
Came fearcely forth, when he his time espide,
To raise the siege, but was beat backe agayne,
And hard pursued both to his losse and payne.

For there we wan the bulwarke on the bridge
With a mighty tower standing fast therby.
Ah cursed tower that didst my dayes abridge,
Would god thou hadst bene furder, eyther I.
For in this tower a chamber standes on hie,
From which a man may view through al the towne
By certayne windowes yron grated downe.

Where on a day (now Baldwin note mine ende)
I stoode in vewing where the towne was weake,
And as I busily talked with my frend,
Shot fro the towne, which al the grate did breake,
A pellet came, and drove a mighty fleake,
Agaynst my face, and tare away my cheeke,
For payne wherof I dyed within a weeke.

153

See Baldwin see the vncertaynty of glory,
How sodayne mischief dasheth all to dust.
And warne all princes by my broken story,
The happiest Fortune chiefly to mistrust.
Was neuer man that alway had his lust.
Than such be fooles, in fancy more then mad,
Which hope to haue that neuer any had.

155

How king Iames the first for breaking his othes and bondes, was by gods suffrauns miserably murdred of his owne subiectes.

If for examples sake thou write thy booke,
I charge the Baldwin thou forget me not:
Whom Fortune alwayes frowardly forsooke,
Such was my lucke, my merite, or my lot.
I am that Iames king Roberts sonne the Skot,
That was in England prisoner all his youth,
Through mine vncle Walters trayterous vntruth.

For whan my father through disease and age,
Vnwieldy was to gouerne well his land,
Because his brother Walter semed sage,
He put the rule therof into his hand.
Than had my father you shall vnderstand
Of lawfull barnes, me, and one only other,
Nempt Dauy Rothsay, who was mine elder brother

This Dauy was prince of Scotland, and so take,
Till his aduoutry caused men complayne:
Which that he might by monyshment forsake,
My father prayed mine vncle take the payne
To threaten him, his vices to refrayne.
But he false traytour, butcherly murdring wretch,
To get the crowne, began to fetch a fetch.

156

And finding now a proffer to his pray,
Deuised meanes my brother to deuower,
And for that cause convayed him day by day,
From place to place, from castell vnto tower,
To Faulkland fort, where like a tormentour
He starued him, and put to death a wife
Whom through a reede he sukt to saue his life.

O wretched death, fye cruel tiranny,
A prince in prison lost for fault of foode?
Was neuer enmy wrought such villany.
A trusted brother stroye his brothers blood
Wo wurth foe frendly, fye on double hood.
Ah wretched father, see thy sonne is lost,
Sterved by thy brother, whom thou trustedst most.

Of whom whan sum began to find the fraud,
And yet the traytor made him selfe so clere,
That he should seeme to haue deserued laud,
So wofull did he for his death appeare,
My doubtful father louing me ful deere
To auoyde all daunger that might after chaunce,
Sent me away, but nine yeres olde, to Fraunce.

But windes and wether wer so contrary,
That we wer driuen to the English coast,
Which realme with Skotland at that time did vary
So that they tooke me prisoner, not as oste:
For which my father fearing I wer lost,

157

Conceiued shortly such an inward thought
As to the graue immediatly him brought.

Than had mine vncle all the regiment
At home, and I in England prisoner lay,
For to him selfe he thought it detryment,
For my releace any raunsum for to pay,
For (as he thought) he had possest his pray:
And therfore wisht I might in durauns dure
Till I had dyed, so should his rayne be sure.

But good king Henry seing I was a child,
And heyre by ryght vnto a realme and crowne,
Dyd bring me vp, not lyke my brother, wylde
But vertuously in feates of high renowne:
In liberall artes in instrumentall sowne:
By meane wherof whan I was after king,
I did my realme to ciuil order bring.

For ere I had been prisoner eyghtene yere,
In which short space two noble princes dyed,
Wherof the first in prudence had no peere
The other in warre most valyant throwly tryed,
Whose rowme his sonne babe Henry eke supplyed
The pyers of England which did gouerne all,
Did of their goodnes helpe me out of thrall.

They maried me to a cosin of their king
The Duke of Somersets daughter rich & fayre.
Releast my raunsome saue a trifling thing:
And after I had done homage to the hayer,
And sworne my frendship neuer should appayre,
They brought me kingly furnisht to my lande,
Which I receyued at mine vncles hand.

158

Wherof my lordes and commons wer ful glad,
So was mine vncle chiefly (as he sayed)
Who in his mouth no other matter had,
Saue punish such as had my brother trayed.
The faut wherof epparantly he layed,
To good duke Murdo, his elder brothers sonne,
Whose father dyed long ere this dede was doen.

My cursed vncle slyer than the snake
Which would by craft vnto the crowne aspier,
Because he sawe this Murdo was a stake
That stayed vp the stop of his desier,
(For his elder brother was Duke Murdoes sier)
He thought it best to haue him made away,
So was he suer (I goen) to haue his pray.

And by his craftes the traytour brought to passe
That I destroyed Duke Murdo, and his kin
Poore innocentes, my louing frendes, alas.
O kinges and Princes what plight stand we in,
A trusted traytour shal you quickely winne
To put to death your kin and frendes most iust:
Take hede therfore, take hede whose rede ye trust.

And at the last to bring me hole in hate
With god and man, at home and eke abrode,
He counsayled me for surance of my state:
To helpe the Frenchmen, then nye overtrode
By Englishmen, and more to lay on lode,
With power and force al England to invade,
Against the othe and homage that I made.

159

And though at first my conscience did grudge
To breake the bondes of frendship knit by oth,
Yet after profe (see mischiefe) I did iudge
It madnes for a king to kepe his troth.
And semblably with all the world it goth.
Sinnes ofte assayed are thought to be no sinne,
So sinne doth soyle, the soule it sinketh in.

But as diseases common cause of death,
Bring daunger most, whan least they pricke & smart
Which is a signe they haue expulst the breth
Of liuely heat which doth defende the hart:
Euen so such sinnes as felt are on no part
Haue conquered grace, and by their wicked vre,
So kild the soule that it can haue no cure.

And grace agate, vice stil succedeth vice,
And all to haste the vengeaunce for the furst.
I arede therfore all people to be wise,
And stoppe the bracke whan it begins to burst.
Attaste no poyson (vice is venim wurst,
It mates the mind) beware eke of to much,
All kil through muchnes, sum with only touche.

Whan I had learned to set my othe at nought,
And through much vse the sence of sinne exyled,
Agaynst king Henry, what I could I wrought,
My fayth, my othe, vniustly foule defiled.
And while sly Fortune at my doinges smiled,
The wrath of God which I had wel deserued,
Fell on my necke, for thus loe was I serued.

160

Ere I had raygned fully fiftene yere,
While time I laye at Pertho at my place,
With the Quene my wife & children me to chere,
My murdring vncle with the double face,
That longed for my kingdome and my mace,
To slay me there suborned Robert Gram,
With whom his nephew Robert Stuart cam.

And whan they time fit for their purpose found,
Into my priuy chaumber they astart,
Where with their sweardes they gave me many a wound,
And slue al such as stucke vnto my parte:
There loe my wife dyd shewe her louing harte,
Who to defende me, felled one or twayne,
And was sore wounded ere I coulde be slayne.

See Baldwin Baldwin, the vnhappy endes,
Of suche as passe not for theyr lawfull oth:
Of those that causeles leaue theyr fayth or frendes,
And murdre kynsfolke through their foes vntroth,
Warne, warne all princes, all lyke sinnes to loth,
And chiefely suche as in my Realme be borne,
For God hates hyghly suche as are forsworne.

162

How Lorde William Delapole Duke of Suffolke was worthily punyshed for abusing his Kyng and causing the destruction of good Duke Humfrey.

Heauy is the hap wherto all men be bound,
I meane the death, which no estate may flye:
But to be banisht, headed so, and drownd,
In sinke of shame from top of honors hye,
Was never man so served I thinke but I:
And therfore Baldwin fro thy grave of griefe
Reiect me not, of wretched princes chiefe.

My only life in all poyntes may suffise
To shewe howe base all baytes of Fortune be,
Which thaw like yse, through heate of enuies eyes:
Or vicious dedes which much possessed me.
Good hap with vices can not long agree,
Which bring best fortunes to the basest fall,
And happiest hap to enuy to be thrall.

163

I am the prince duke William De la Poole
That was so famous in Quene Margets dayes.
That found the meane Duke Humfreyes blud to coole
whose vertuous paynes deserve eternal prayse
Wherby I note that Fortune can not raise,
Any one aloft without sum others wracke:
Fluds drowne no fieldes before they find a bracke.

But as the waters which do breake their walles
Do loose the course they had within the shore,
And dayly rotting stinke within their stalles
For fault of moouing which they found before:
Euen so the state that over high is bore
Doth loose the lyfe of peoples love it had,
And rots it selfe vntil it fall to bad.

For while I was but Erle, eche man was glad
To say and do the best by me they might:
And Fortune ever since I was a lad
Did smile vpon me with a chereful sight,
For whan my Kyng had doubed me a Knight
And sent me furth to serve at warre in Fraunce,
My lucky spede mine honor dyd enhaunce.

Where to omit the many feites I wrought
Vnder others gyde, I do remember one
Which with my souldyers valiantly was fought
None other captayne save my selfe alone,
I meane not now the apprinze of Pucel Ione
In which attempte my travayle was not smal,
Though the Duke of Burgoyn had the prayse of al.

164

But the siege of Awmarle is the feate I prayse
A strong built towne, with castes, walles, & vaultes,
With men and weapon armed at al assayes:
To which I gave nie five times five assaultes,
Tyl at the last they yelded it for naughtes.
Yet Lord Rambures like a valiaunt Knight
Defended it as long as euer he might.

But what prevayled it these townes to winne
Which shortly after must be lost againe,
Wherby I see there is more glory in
The keping thinges than is in their attayne:
To get and kepe not is but losse of payne.
Therfore ought men prouide to saue their winnings
In al attemptes, els lose they their beginninges.

Because we could not kepe the townes we wunne
(For they were more than we might easely wyelde)
One yere vndyd what we in ten had doen:
For envy at home, and treason abrode, dyd yelde
Kyng Charles his Realme of Fraunce, made barain fielde,
For bluddy warres had wasted al encreace,
Which causde the Pope helpe pouerty sue for peace,

So that in Tourayne at the towne of Toures
Duke Charles and other for their Prince appered,
So dyd Lord Rosse, and I than Erle, for oures:
And when we shewed wherein eche other dered,
We sought out meanes all quarels to haue clered,
Wherein the Lordes of Germany, of Spayne,
Of Hungary and Denmarke, tooke exceding paine.

165

But sith we could no final peace induce,
For neither would the others couenants heare,
For eightene monthes we dyd conclude a truce:
And while as frendes we lay together there
Because my warrant dyd me therein beare,
To make a perfite peace, and through accorde,
I sought a mariage for my soveraine Lorde.

And for the French kinges doughters wer to small
I fancied most dame Margarete his niece,
A lovely lady, beautifull and tall,
Fayre spoken, pleasaunt, a very princely piece,
In wit and learning matcheles hence to Grece,
Duke Rayners daughter of Aniow, king by stile,
Of Naples, Ierusalem, and of Scicil yle.

But ere I could the graunt of her attayne,
All that our king had of her fathers landes,
As Mauntes the citee, the country whole of Mayne,
And most of Aniow duchy in our handes,
I did release him by assured bandes.
And as for dowry with her none I sought,
I thought no peace could be to derely bought.

But whan this mariage throwly was agreed
Although my king were glad of such a make,
His vncle Humfrey abhorred it in deed,
Because therby his precontract he brake,
Made with the heire of the erle of Arminake,
A noble maide with store of goodes endowed,
Which more than this with losse, the duke allowed.

166

But love and beauty in the king so wrought
That neither profite or promise he regarded,
But set his vncles counsayle still at nought:
And for my paynes I highly was rewarded.
Thus vertue starves, but lustfoode must be larded.
For I made Marquise went to Fraunce againe,
And brought this Bride vnto my soverayne.

At whom because Duke Humfrey aye repined,
Calling their mariage aduowtry (as it was)
The Quene did move me, erst therto enclined,
To helpe to bring him to his Requiem masse.
Which sith it could for no crime cum to passe
His life and doinges were so right and clere,
Through privy murder we brought him to his beere

Thus righteousnes brought Humfrey to rebuke
Because he would no wickednes allowe,
But for my doinges I was made a duke
So Fortune can both bend and smothe her browe
On whom she list, not passing why nor howe.
O lord how high, how soone she did me raise,
How fast she filde me both with prayes and prayse.

The Lordes and Commons both of like assent,
Besought my soverayne, kneling on their knees,
To recorde my doinges in the parliament,
As dedes deseruing everlasting fees.
In which attempt they did no labour leese,

167

For they set not my prayse so fast in flame,
As he was ready to reward the same.

But note the ende, my dedes so wurthy demed
Of Kinge, of Lordes, and Commons altogether,
Wer shortly after treasons false estemed,
And al men curst Quene Margets cumming hither,
For Charles the french king, in his feates not lither
Whan he had rendred Rayner Mauntes & Mayne,
Found meane to winne all Normandy agayne.

This made the people curse the mariage
Esteming it the cause of every losse:
Wherfore at me with open mouth they rage,
Affirming me to have brought the realme to mosse:
Whan king & Quene sawe thinges thus go a crosse,
To quiet all a parliament they called,
And caused me in prison to be thralled,

And shortly after brought me furth abrode.
Which made the Commons more than double wood:
And sum with weapons would have layed on lode,
If their graund captaine Blewberd, in his moode,
Had not in time with wisedome bene withstoode.
But though that he and mo wer executed
The people still their wurst against me bruted.

And so applyed the Parliament with billes,
Of haynous wronges, and open traytrous crimes,
That king & queene were forst against their willes
Fro place to place to adiourne it divers times,
For princes power is like the sandy slymes,
Which must perforce geve place vnto the wave,
Or sue the windy sourges whan they rave.

168

Their life was not more dere to them than I,
Which made them search all shiftes to save me still.
But aye my foes such faultes did on me trye
That to preserve me from a wurser yll,
The king was fayne, ful sore agaynst his will,
For five yeres space to send me in exile,
In hope to have restored me in a while.

But marke howe vengeaunce wayteth vpon vice.
As I was sayling toward the coast of Fraunce,
The Earle of Deuonshires barke, of litle price,
Encountred me vpon the seas by chaunce,
Whose captaine tooke me by his valiaunce,
Let passe my shippes, with all the frayt and loade,
But led me with him into Dover roade.

Where whan he had recounted me my faultes,
As murdring of Duke Humfrey in his bed,
And howe I had brought all the realme to naughtes
In causing the King vnlawfully to wed,
There was no grace, but I must loose my head.
Wherfore he made me shrive me in his boate,
On the edge wherof my necke in two he smoat.

169

A piteous ende, and therfore Baldwin warne,
All pyers and princes to abhorre vntroth,
For vicious grayne must cum to fowl endes barne:
Who brueth breach of lawful bond or oth,
God wil ere long, cause all the world to loth.
Was never prince that other did oppresse
Unrighteously, but died in distresse.

171

How Iacke Cade traiterously rebelling agaynst his Kyng, was for his treasons and cruell doinges wurthely punyshed.

Shal I cal it Fortune or my froward folly
That lifted me, and layed me downe below?
Or was it courage that me made so Ioly,
Which of the starres and bodyes grement grow?
What euer it were this one poynt sure I know,
Which shal be mete for euery man to marke:
Our lust and wils our evils chefely warke.

It may be wel that planetes doe enclyne,
And our complexions move our myndes to yll,
But such is Reason, that they brynge to fine
No worke, vnayded of our lust and wyl:
For heauen and earth are subiect both to skyl.
The skyl of God ruleth al, it is so strong,
Man may by skyl gyde thinges that to him long.

Though lust be sturdy and wyl inclined to nought,
This forst by mixture, that by heavens course,
Yet through the skyl God hath in Reason wrought
And geuen man, no lust nor wyl so course
But may be stayed or swaged of the sourse,
So that it shall in nothing force the mynde
To worke our wo, or leaue the proper kynde.

172

But though this skil be geven every man
To rule the wyl, and kepe the minde aloft,
For lacke of grace ful fewe vse it can,
These worldly pleasures tickle vs so oft:
Skyl is not weake, but wyl strong, flesh is soft
And yeldes it selfe to pleasure that it loueth,
And hales the mynde to that it most reproueth.

Now if this happe wherby we yelde our mynde
To lust and wyll, be fortune, as we name her,
Than is she iustly called false and blynde,
And no reproche can be to much to blame her:
Yet is the shame our owne when so we shame her,
For sure this hap if it be rightly knowen,
Cummeth of our selves, and so the blame our owne.

For who so lyveth in the skole of skyll
And medleth not with any worldes affaires,
Forsaketh pompes and honors that do spyl
The myndes recourse to Graces quiet stayers,
His state no Fortune by no meane appayers:
For Fortune is the folly and plage of those
Which to the worlde their wretched willes dispose.

Among which Fooles (Marke Baldwyn) I am one
That would not stay my selfe in mine estate.
I thought to rule, but to obey to none,
And therfore fel I with my Kyng at bate.
And to the ende I might him better mate,

173

Iohn Mortimer I caused my selfe be called,
Whose Kingly blood the Henries nye had thralled.

This shift I vsed the people to perswade
To leave their Prince, on my side more to sticke,
Wheras in deede my fathers name was Kade
Whose noble stocke was never wurth a sticke.
But touching wit I was both rype and quicke,
Had strength of lims, large stature, cumly face,
Which made men wene my lynage were not base.

And seing stoutnes stucke by men in Kent
Whose Valiaunt hartes refuse none enterprise,
With false perswasions straite to them I went,
And sayd they suffred to great iniuryes:
By meane wherof I caused them to rise,
And battayle wyse to cum to blacke heth playne
And thence their grefes vnto the Kyng complayne.

Who being deafe (as men say) on that eare,
For we desired releace of subsidies,
Refused roughly our requestes to heare
And came against vs as his enemies.
But we to trap hym, sought out subtiltyes,
Remoued our campe, and backe to Senocke went,
After whom the Staffordes with their power wer sent.

174

Se here how Fortune setting vs a flote
Brought to our nettes a porcion of our pray.
For why the Staffordes with their army hote
Assayled vs at Senocke, where we laye:
From whence alive they parted not away,
Whiche whan the Kynges retinew vnderstode
They all affirmed my quarel to be good

Which caused the king, and quene whom al did hate,
To raise their campe, and sodaynly depart:
And that they might the peoples grudge abate,
To imprison sum ful sore against their hart.
Lord Sayes was one, whom I made after smart.
For after the Staffordes & their oast was slaine,
To Blackheath fyelde I marched backe againe.

And where the king would nothing heare before,
Nowe was he glad to send to know my minde:
And I therby enflamed much the more,
Refused his grauntes, so folly made me blind.
For this he flew and left lord Skales behind,
Mo helpe the towne, and strengthen London tower,
Towardes which I marched forward with my power.

And found there all thinges after my desier,
I entred London, did there what I list,
The Treasurer, lord Sayes, I did conspier
To have condemned: wherof whan I mist,
(For he by lawe my malice did resist)
By force I tooke him in Guyld hall fro the heape,
And headed him before the crosse in cheape.

175

His sonne in law, Iames Cromer shrive of Kent,
I caught at Myle ende, where as than he laye:
Beheaded him, and on a poale I sent
His head to London, where his fathers laye.
With these two heades I made a prety play,
For pight on poales I bare them through the strete,
And for my sport made ech kisse other swete.

Than brake I prisons, let furth whom I woulde,
And vsed the citie as it had be mine:
Tooke fram the marchanntes, money, ware, & golde:
From sum by force, from other sum by fine.
This at the length did cause them to repine,
So that lord Skales consenting with the mayre,
Forbad vs to their citie to repayre.

For al this while mine hoast in Southwarke lay,
Who whan they knewe our passage was denyed,
Came boldly to the bridge and made a fraye,
For in we would, the townes men vs defied:
But whan with strokes we had the matter tryed,
We wan the bridge and set much part on fire,
This doen, to Southwarke backe we did retier.

The morowe after came the Chauncellour
With generall pardon for my men halfe gone,
Which heard and read, the rest within an houre
Shranke all awaye, eche man to shift for one.
And whan I sawe they left me post alone,
I did disguise me like a knight of the post,
And into Sussex roade away in poste.

176

And there I lurked, till that cursed coyne
That restles begle sought and found me out.
For strayt the king by promise did enioyne
A thousand marke, to whosoever mought
Apprend my corse: which made men seke about.
Among the which one Alexander Iden,
Found out the hole wherin the fox was hidden.

But ere he tooke me, I put him to his trumpes,
For yeeld I would not while my handes would holde
But hope of money made him stur his stumpes,
And to assault me valiauntly and bolde.
Two howres and more our cumbate was not colde,
Til at the last he lent me such a stroke,
That downe I fell, and never after spoke.

Than was my carkas caried like a hog,
To Southwarke borow where it lay a night,
The next day drawen to Newgate like a dog,
All men reioycing at the rufull sight:
Than were on poales my parboylde quarters pight,
And set aloft for vermine to deuower,
Meete graue for rebels that resist the power.

Full litell knowe we wretches what we do.
Whan we presume our princes to resist.
We war with God, against his glory to,
That placeth in his office whom he list,
Therfore was never traytour yet but mist
The marke he shot, and came to shamefull ende
Nor never shall til God be forst to bend.

177

God hath ordayned the power, all princes be
His Lieutenauntes, or debities in realmes,
Against their foes still therfore fighteth he,
And as his enmies drives them to extremes,
Their wise deuises prove but doltish dreames.
No subiect ought for any kind of cause,
To force the lord, but yeeld him to the lawes.

And therefore Baldwin warne men folow reason
Subdue theyr wylles, and be not Fortunes slaues,
A troublous ende doth ever folowe treason,
There is no trust in rebelles, raskall knaues,
In Fortune lesse, whiche wurketh as the waves:
From whose assautes who lyst to stande at large,
Must folowe skyll, and flye all worldly charge.

182

How Richard Plantagenet duke of York was slayne through his over rash boldnes, and his sonne the earle of Rutland for his lack of valiauns.

Trust Fortune (quoth he) in whom was neuer trust,
O folly of men that haue no better grace,
All rest, renowne, and dedes lie in the dust
Of al the sort that sue her slipper trace.
What meanest thou Baldwin for to hide thy face?
Thou nedest not feare although I misse my head:
Nor yet to mourne, for this my sonne is dead.

The cause why thus I lead him in my hand,
His skin with blud and teares so sore bestaynd.
Is that thou mayst the better vnderstand
How hardly Fortune hath for vs ordaynde:
In whom her love and hate be hole contaynde.
For I am Richard prince Plantagenet,
The duke of Yorke in royall rase beget.

183

For Richarde erle of Cambridge, eldest sonne
Of Edmund Langley, third sonne of king Edward,
Engendred me of Anne, whose course did runne
Of Mortimers to be the issue garde:
For when her brother Edmund died a warde,
She was sole hayer by due discent of line,
Wherby her rightes and titles al wer mine,

But marke me now I pray thee Baldwin marke,
And see how force oft overbeareth right:
Waye how vsurpers tyrannously warke,
To kepe by murder that they get by might,
And note what troublous daungers do alight
On such as seke to reposses their owne,
And how through rigour right is overthrowen.

The earle of Herford, Henry Bolenbrooke,
Of whom duke Mowbray tolde thee now of late,
Whan voyde of cause he had King Richard tooke:
He murdred him, vsurped his estate,
Without all right or title, sauing hate
Of others rule, or love to rule alone:
These two excepted, title had he none.

The realme and crowne was Edmund Mortimers
Whose father Roger, was king Richardes hayre,

184

Which caused Henry and the Lancasters
To seeke all shiftes, our housholdes to appayre,
For sure he was to sit beside the chayre
Wer we of power to clayme our lawfull right,
Wherfore to stroye vs he did all he might.

His cursed sunne ensued his cruel path.
And kept my giltles cosin strayt in duraunce:
For whom my father hard intreated hath.
But liuing hopeles of his liues assuraunce
He thought it best by politik procuraunce,
To prive the king, and so restore his frend:
Which brought him selfe to an infamous ende.

For whan king Henry of that name the fift,
Had tane my father in this conspiracy,
He from Sir Edmund all the blame to shift,
Was fayne to say the French king, his ally,
Had hyred him this trayterous act to trye,
For which condemned, shortly he was slayne.
In helping right this was my fathers gayne.

185

Thus whan the linage of the Mortimers
Were made away by this vsurping line,
Sum hanged, sum slayne, sum pined prisoners:
Because the crowne by right of law was mine,
They gan as fast agaynst me to repine:
In feare alwayes least I should sturre them strife.
For gilty hartes have never quiet life.

Yet at the last in Henryes dayes the sixt,
I was restored to my fathers landes,
Made duke of Yorke, wherthrough my minde I fixt,
To get the crowne and kingdome in my handes.
For ayde wherin I knit assured bandes
With Nevels stocke, whose doughter was my make
Who for no wo would ever me forsake.

O lord what happe had I through mariage,
Fower goodly boyes in youth my wife she boore.
Right valiaunt men, and prudent for their age.
Such bretherne she had and nephewes stil in store,
As none had erst, nor any shal haue more:

186

The erle of Salisbury, and his sonne of Warwike,
Wer matchles men from Barbary to Barwike.

Through helpe of whom and Fortunes lovely looke
I vndertooke to clayme my lawful right,
And to abash such as agaynst me tooke,
I raysed power at all poyntes prest to fight:
Of whom the chiefe that chiefly bare me spite,
Was Somerset the Duke, whom to annoy
I alway fought, through spite, spite to distroy.

And maugre him, so choyse loe was my chaunce,
Yea though the quene that all rulde tooke his part,
I twise bare stroke in Normandy and Fraunce,
And last liuetenant in Ireland, where my hart
Found remedy for euery kind of smart.
For through the love my doinges there did brede,
I had their helpe at all times in my nede.

This spiteful duke, his silly king and quene,
With armed hostes I thrise met in the field,
The first vnfought through treaty made betwene,
The second ioynde, wherin the king did yeeld,
The duke was slayne, the quene enforst to shylde

187

Her selfe by flight. The third the quene did fight,
Where I was slaine being overmacht by might.

Before this last were other battayles three,
The first the erle of Salisbury led alone,
And fought on Bloreheth, and got the victory:
In the next was I and my kinsfolke euerychone.
But seing our souldiers stale vnto our foen,
We warely brake our cumpany on a night,
Dissolved our hoaste, and tooke our selues to flight.

This boye and I in Ireland did vs save,
Mine eldest sonne with Warwicke and his father,
To Caleys got, whence by the reade I gave
They came againe to London, and did gather
An other hoast, wherof I spake not rather:
And met our foes, slew many a lord and knight,
And tooke the King, and drave the Queene to flight.

This done came I to England all in haste.
To make my claime vnto the realme and crowne:
And in the house while parliament did last,
I in the kinges seat boldly sat me downe,

188

And claymed it: wherat the lordes did frowne,
But what for that, I did so wel procede,
That al at last confest it mine in dede.

But sith the king had rayned now so long,
They would he should continue til he died,
And to the ende that than none did me wrong,
Protectour and heire apparant they me cryed:
But sith the Quene and others this denied,
I sped me toward the North, where than she lay,
In minde by force to cause her to obey.

Wherof she warnde prepared a mighty power,
And ere that mine were altogether ready,
Came bold to Boswurth, and besieged my bower,
Where like a beast I was so rashe and heady,
That out I would, there could be no remedy,
With skant fiue thousand souldiers, to assayle
Fower times so many, encampt to most avayle.

And so was slayne at first: and while my childe
Skarce twelve yere olde, sought secretly to part,

189

That cruell Clifford, lord, nay Lorell wilde,
While the infant wept, and praied him rue his smart
Knowing what he was, with his dagger clave his hart:
This doen he came to the campe where I lay dead,
Dispoylde my corps, and cut away my head.

And whan he had put a paper crowne theron,
As a gawring stocke he sent it to the Queen,
And she for spite, commaunded it anon
To be had to Yorke: where that it might be seen,
They placed it where other traytours been.
This mischiefe Fortune did me after death,
Such was my life, and such my losse of breath.

Wherfore see Baldwin that thou set it furth
To the ende the fraude of Fortune may be knowen,
That eke all princes well may way the wurth:
Of thinges, for which the sedes of warre be sowen:
No state so sure but soone is overthrowen.
No worldly good can counterpeyze the prise,
Of halfe the paynes that may therof arise.

190

Farre better it wer to loose a piece of right,
Than limmes and life in sousing for the same.
It is not force of frendship nor of might,
But god that causeth thinges to fro or frame.
Not wit, but lucke, doth wield the winners game.
Wherfore if we our follies would refrayne,
Time would redres all wronges, we voyd of payne.

Wherfore warne princes not to wade in warre,
For any cause, except the realmes defence:
Their troublous titles are vnwurthy farre,
The blud, the life, the spoyle of innocence.
Of frendes and foes behold my foule expence.
And never the nere: best therfore tary time,
So right shall raigne, and quiet calme ech crime.

192

How the lord Clyfford for his straunge and abhominable cruelty, came to as straunge and sodayne a death.

Open confession axeth open penaunce,
And wisedome would a man his shame to hide:
Yet sith forgeuenes cummeth through repentaunce
I thinke it best that men their crimes ascried,
For nought so secrete but at length is spied:
For couer fire, and it wil neuer linne
Til it breake furth, in like case shame and sinne.

As for my selfe my faultes be out so playne
And published so brode in every place,
That though I would I can not hide a grayne.
All care is bootles in a cureles case,
To learne by others griefe sum haue the grace,
And therfore Baldwin write my wretched fall,
The brief wherof I briefly vtter shall.

193

I am the same that slue duke Richardes childe
The louely babe that begged life with teares.
Wherby my honour fowly I defilde.
Poore selly lambes the Lyon neuer teares:
The feble mouse may lye among the beares:
But wrath of man his rancour to requite,
Forgets all reason, ruth, & vertue quite.

I mean by rancour the parentall wreke
Surnamde a vertue (as the vicious say)
But litle know the wicked what they speake,
In boldning vs our enmyes kin to slay,
To punish sinne, is good, it is no nay.
They wreke not sinne, but merit wreke for sinne,
That wreke the fathers faultes vpon his kyn.

Because my father lord John Clifford died
Slayne at S. Albons, in his princes ayde,
Agaynst the duke my hart for malyce fryed,
So that I could from wreke no way be stayed.
But to avenge my fathers death, assayde
All meanes I might the duke of Yorke to annoy.
And all his kin and frendes to kill and stroy.

194

This made me with my bluddy daggar wound.
His giltles sunne that never agaynst me sturde:
His fathers body lying dead on ground,
To pearce with speare, eke with my cruell swurd
To part his necke, and with his head to bourd,
Envested with a paper royal crowne,
From place to place to beare it vp and downe.

But cruelty can never skape the skourge
Of shame, of horror, and of sodayne death.
Repentaunce selfe that other sinnes may pourge,
Doth flye from this, so sore the soule it slayeth,
Dispayre dissolves the tirauntes bitter breath:
For sodayne vengeaunce sodaynly alightes
On cruell heades, to quite thier cruel spightes.

This find I true, for as I lay in stale
To fight agaynst duke Richardes eldest sonne,
I was destroyed not far from Dintingdale:
For as I would my gorget haue vndoen
To event the heat that had me nye vndoen,

195

An headles arrow strake me through the throte
Wherthrough my soule forsooke his filthy coate.

Was this a chaunce? no suer, gods iust award,
Wherin due iustice playnly doth appere:
An headles arrowe payed me my reward,
For heading Richard lying on the bere.
And as I would his child in no wise heare,
So sodayn death bereft my tounge the power,
To aske for pardon at my dying hower.

Wherfore good Baldwin warne the bluddy sort,
To leave their wrath, their rigour to refrayne:
Tell cruel iudges, horror is the port
To which they sayle through shame, & sodayn payne:
Hel haleth tirauntes downe to death amayne.
Was never yet nor shalbe cruell deede,
Left vnrewarded with as cruel meede.

197

The infamous ende of Lord Iohn Tiptoft Earle of Wurcester, for cruelly executing his princes butcherly commaundementes.

The glorious man is not so loth to lurke,
As the infamous glad to lye vnknowen:
Which maketh me Baldwin disalow thy wurke,
Where princes faultes so openly be blowen.
I speake not this alonely for mine owne
Which wer my princes (if that they wer any)
But for my Pyers, in numbre very many.

198

Or might report vprightly vse her tong,
It would lesse greve vs to augment thy matter.
But suer I am thou shalt be forst among,
To frayne the truth, the living for to flatter:
And otherwhiles in poyntes vnknowen to smatter.
For time never was, nor ever I thinke shall be,
That truth vnshent should speake in all thinges fre.

This doeth appere (I dare say) by my story,
Which divers writers diversly declare,
But story writers ought for neyther glory,
Feare, nor favour, truth of thinges to spare.
But still it fares as alway it did fare,
Affection, feare, or doubtes that dayly brue,
Do cause that stories never can be true.

Vnfruytfull Fabyan folowed the face
Of time and dedes, but let the causes slip:
Whych Hall hath added, but with double grace,
For feare I thinke least trouble might him trip:
For this or that (sayeth he) he felt the whip.
Thus story writers leave the causes out,
Or so rehears them, as they wer in dout.

But seing causes are the chiefest thinges
That should be noted of the story wryters,
That men may learne what endes al causes bringes
They be vnwurthy the name of Croniclers,
That leave them cleane out of their registers.
Or doubtfully report them: for the fruite
Of reading stories, standeth in the suite.

199

And therfore Baldwin eyther speake vpright
Of our affayres, or touche them not at all:
As for my selfe I waye al thinges so light,
That nought I passe how men report my fall.
The truth wherof yet playnly shew I shall,
That thou mayst write, and other therby rede,
What thinges I did, wherof they should take hede.

Thou hast heard of Tiptoftes erles of Wurcester
I am that Iohn that lived in Edwardes dayes
The fourth, and was his frend and counsayler,
And Butcher to, as common rumor sayes.
But peoples voyce is neyther shame nor prayse:
For whom they would alive devour to day,
To morow dead, they wil wurship what they may.

But though the peoples verdit go by chaunce,
Yet was there cause to cal me as they did.
For I enforst by meane of gouernaunce,
Did execute what euer my king did byd.
From blame herein my selfe I can not ryd,
But fye vpon the wretched state, that must
Defame it selfe, to serue the princes lust.

The chiefest crime wherwith men do me charge,
Is death of the Earle of Desmundes noble sonnes.
Of which the kinges charge doth me clere discharge,
By strayt commaundement and Iniunctions:
Theffect wherof so rigorously runnes,
That eyther I must procure to se them dead,
Or for contempt as a traytour lose my head.

200

What would mine enemies do in such a case,
Obey the king, or proper death procure?
They may wel say their fancy for a face,
But life is swete, and love hard to recure.
They would haue doen as I did I am sure:
For seldome wil a welthy man at ease
For others cause his prince in ought displease.

How much lesse I, which was lieutenant than
In the Irishe yle, preferred by the king:
But who for love or dread of any man,
Consentes to accomplish any wicked thing,
Although chiefe fault therof from other spring,
Shall not eskape Gods vengeaunce for his dede,
Who skuseth none that dare do yl for drede.

This in my king and me may wel appere,
Which for our faultes did not eskape the scourge:
For whan we thought our states most sure and clere
The wind of Warwick blew vp such a sourge
As from the realme and crowne the king did pourge,
And me both from mine office, frendes, and wife,
From good report, from honest death, and life.

For Therle of Warwick through a cancard grudge,
Which to king Edward causeles he did beare,
Out of his realme by force did make trudge,
And set king Henry agayne vpon his chaire.
And then all such as Edwardes louers were
As traytours tane, were greuously opprest,
But chiefly I, because I loved him best.

201

And for my goodes and livinges wer not small,
The gapers for them bare the world in hand
For ten yeres space, that I was cause of all
The executions done within the land.
For thys did such as did not vnderstand
My enmies drift, thinke all reportes wer true:
And so to hate me wurse than any Iewe.

For seeldome shall a ruler lose his life,
Before false rumours openly be spred:
Wherby this proverbe is as true as rife,
That rulers rumours hunt about a head.
Frowne Fortune once all good report is fled:
For present shew doth make the mayny blind,
And such as see, dare not disclose their mind.

Through this was I king Edwardes butcher named,
And bare the shame of all his cruell dedes:
I cleare me not, I wurthely was blamed,
Though force was such I must obey him nedes.
With hyest rulers seldome wel it spedes,
For they be ever nearest to the nip,
And fault who shall, for all fele they the whip.

For whan I was by parliament attaynted,
King Edwardes evilles all wer counted mine.
No truth avaylde, so lyes wer faste and paynted,
Which made the people at my life repine,
Crying: Crucifige, kill that butchers line:
That whan I should have gone to Blockam feast,
I could not passe so sore they on me preast.

202

And had not bene the officers so strong
I thinke they would have eaten me aliue,
Howbeit hardly haled from the throng,
I was in the Fleete fast shrowded by the shrive.
Thus one dayes life their malice did me give:
Which whan they knew, for spite the next day after,
They kept them calme, so suffred I the slaughter.

Now tel me Baldwin, what fault doest thou find,
In me, that iustly should such death deserve?
None sure, except desire of honour blind,
Which made me seke in offices to serve.
What minde so good, that honors make not swerve?
So mayst thou see, it only was my state
That caused my death, and brought me so in hate.

Warne therfore all men, wisely to beware,
What offices they enterprise to beare:
The hyest alway most maligned are,
Of peoples grudge, and princes hate in feare.
For princes faultes his faultors all men teare.
Which to auoyde, let none such office take,
Save he that can for right his prince forsake.

205

How sir Richard Nevell Earle of Warwike, and his brother Iohn Lord Marquise Mountacute through their to-much boldnes wer slayne at Barnet field.

Among the heauy heape of happy knyghtes,
Whom Fortune stalde vpon her stailesse stage,
Oft hoyst on hye, oft pight in wretched plightes,
Behold me Baldwin, a per se of my age,
Lord Richard Nevell, Earle by mariage
Of Warwike duchy, of Sarum by discent,
Which erst my father through his mariage hent.

Wouldest thou beholde false Fortune in her kind
Note well my life so shalt thou see her naked:
Ful fayre before, but toto foule behind,
Most drowsy still whan most she semes awaked:

206

My fame and shame her shift full oft hath shaked,
By enterchaunge, alowe and vp alofte,
The Luysard like that chaungeth hewe ful oft.

For while the Duke of Yorke in life remayned
Mine vncle deare, I was his happy hand:
In all attemptes my purpose I attayned,
Though King and Quene & most Lordes of the land
With all their power did often me withstand,
For god gaue Fortune, and my good behaviour,
Did from their prince steale me the peoples fauour,

So that through me in feldes right manly fought,
By force mine vncle tooke king Harry twise:
And for my cosin Edward so I wrought,
When both our syers were slayne through rashe aduice:
That he atchieved his fathers enterprise:
For into Scotland King and Quene we chased,
By meane wherof the kingdome he embraced.

Which after he had enioyde in quiet peace,
(For shortly after was king Henry take,
And put in prison) his power to encreace,
I went to Fraunce, and matched him with a make,
The French kinges doughter, whom he did forsake:
For while with payne I brought his sute to passe,
He to a widowe rashly wedded was.

This made the French king shrewdly to suspecte,
That all my treaties had but yll pretence,

207

And whan I sawe my king so bent to lust,
That with his fayth he past not to dispence,
Which is a princes honors chiefe defence,
I could not rest til I had found a meane.
To mende his misse, or els to marre him cleane.

Wherfore I allyed me with his brother George,
Encensing him his brother to maligne
Through many a tale I did agaynst him forge:
So that through power we did from Calays bring
And found at home, we frayed so the king,
That he to go to Freseland ward amayne,
Wherby king Henry had the crowne agayne.

Then put we the earle of Wurcester to death
King Edwardes frend, a man to fowle defamed:
And in the while came Edward into breath,
For with the duke of Burgoyne so he framed.
That with the power that he to him had named,
Vnlooked for he came to England strayt,
And got to Yorke, and tooke the towne by sleyte.

And after through the sufferans of my brother,
Which like a beast occasion fowly lost,
He came to London safe with many other,
And tooke the towne to good king Harries cost,
Which was through him from post to piller tost,
Til therle of Oxeford, I, and other more,
Assembled power his fredome to restore.

208

Wherof king Edward warned came with spede,
And camped with his oste at Barnet towne,
Where we right fierce encountred him in dede
On Easter day, right early on the downe,
There many a man was slayne and striken downe
On eyther side, and neyther part did gayne
Til I and my brother both at length were slayne.

For we to harten our overmatched men,
Forsooke our stedes, and in the thickest throng,
Ran preacing furth on foote, and fought so then,
That down we drave them wer they never so strong.
But ere this lucke had lasted very long:
With numbre and force we wer so fowlye cloyed.
And rescue fayled, that quite we wer destroyed.

Now tell me Baldwin hast thou heard or read,
Of any man that did as I have done?
That in his time so many armies led,
And victory at every vyage wunne?
Hast thou ever heard of subiect vnder sonne,
That plaaste and baaste his soveraynes so oft,
By enterchaunge, now low, and than aloft?

Perchaunce thou thinkest my doinges were not such
As I and other do affirme they were.
And in thy minde I see thou musest much
What meanes I vsed, that should me so prefer:
Wherin because I wil thou shalt not erre,
The truth of all I wil at large recite,
The short is this: I was no hippocrite.

209

I never did nor sayd, save what I mente,
The common weale was still my chiefest care,
To priuate gayne or glory I was not bent,
I never passed vpon delicious fare.
Of nedeful foode my bourde was never bare.
No creditour did curs me day by day.
I vsed playnnes, ever pitch and pay.

I heard olde soldiers, and poore wurkemen whine
Because their dutyes wer not duly payd.
Agayne I sawe howe people did repine,
At those through whom their paimentes wer delayd:
And proofe did oft assure (as scripture sayd)
That god doth wreke the wretched peoples griefes,
I sawe the polles cut of fro polling theves.

This made me alway iustly for to deale.
Which whan the people playnly vnderstoode,
Bycause they sawe me mind the common weale
They still endeuoured how to do me good,
Ready to spend their substaunce, life, and blud,
In any cause wherto I did them move
For suer they wer it was for their behove.

And so it was. For whan the realme decayde,
By such as good king Henry sore abused,
To mende the state I gave his enmies ayde:
But whan king Edward sinful prankes stil vsed,
And would not mend, I likewise him refused:
And holpe vp Henry the better of the twayne,
And in his quarel (iust I thinke) was slayne.

210

And therfore Baldwin teach by proofe of me,
That such as covet peoples love to get,
Must see their wurkes and wurdes in all agree:
Live liberally, and kepe them out of det,
On common weale let al their care be set,
For vpright dealing, dets payd, poore sustayned,
Is meane wherby all hartes are throwly gayned.

212

How king Henry the syxt a vertuous prince, was after many other miseries cruelly murdered in the Tower of London.

If ever woful wight had cause to rue his state,
Or by his rufull plight to move men moane his fate,
My piteous playnt may preace my mishaps to rehearce,
wherof the least most lightly heard, the hardest hart may pearce

What hart so hard can heare, of innocens opprest
By fraude in worldly goodes, but melteth in the brest
Whan giltles men be spoylde, imprisoned for theyr owne,
who wayleth not their wretched case to whom the cause is knowen

The Lyon licketh the sores of selly wounded shepe,
The dead mans corse may cause the Crocodile to wepe,
The waves that waste the rockes, refresh the rotten redes,
Such ruth the wracke of innocens in cruel creature bredes.

What hart is than so hard, but wyl for pitye blede,
To heare so cruell lucke so cleare a life succede?
To see a silly soule with woe and sorowe souste,
A king deprived, in prison pente, to death with daggars doust.

213

Woulde god the day of birth had brought me to my beere,
Than had I never felt the chaunge of Fortunes cheere.
Would god the grave had gript me in her gredy woumbe,
Whan crowne in cradle made me king, with oyle of holy thoumbe.

Would god the rufull toumbe had bene my royall trone,
So should no kingly charge have made me make my mone:
O that my soule had flowen to heaven with the ioy,
When one sort cryed: God save the king, another, Vive le roy.

So had I not been washt in waves of worldly woe,
My mynde to quyet bent, had not bene tossed so:
My frendes had bene alyve, my subiectes vnopprest:
But death or cruell destiny, denyed me this rest.

Alas what should we count the cause of wretches cares,
The starres do styrre them vp, Astronomy declares:
Or humours sayth the leache, the double true divines,
To the will of god, or yll of man, the doubtfull cause assignes.

Such doltish heades as dreame that all thinges drive by haps,
Count lack of former care for cause of afterclaps.
Attributing to man a power fro God bereft,
Abusing vs, and robbing him, through their most wicked theft.

But god doth gide the world, and every hap by skyll.
Our wit and willing power are paysed by his will:
What wyt most wisely wardes, and wil most deadly vrkes,
Though al our power would presse it downe, doth dash our warest wurkes.

214

Than destiny, our sinne, Gods wil, or els his wreake,
Do wurke our wretched woes, for humours be to weake:
Except we take them so, as they prouoke to sinne,
For through our lust by humours fed, al vicious dedes beginne

So sinne and they be one, both wurking like effect,
And cause the wrath of God to wreake the soule infect.
Thus wrath and wreake divine, mans sinnes and humours yll,
Concur in one, though in a sort, ech doth a course fulfill.

If likewise such as say the welken fortune warkes,
Take Fortune for our fate, and sterres therof the markes,
Then destiny with fate, and Gods wil al be one:
But if they meane it otherwise, skath causers skyes be none.

Thus of our heavy happes, chiefe causes be but twayne,
Wheron the rest depende, and vnderput remayne.
The chiefe the wil diuine, called destiny and fate,
The other sinne, through humours holpe, which god doth highly hate,

The first appoynteth payne for good mens exercise,
The second doth deserve due punishment for vice:
This witnesseth the wrath, and that the love of God,
The good for love, the bad for sinne, God beateth with his rod.

Although my sundry sinnes do place me with the wurst,
My happes yet cause me hope to be among the furst:
The eye that searcheth all, and seeth every thought.
Doth know how sore I hated sinne, and after vertue sought.

The solace of the soule my chiefest pleasure was,
Of worldly pompe, of fame, or game, I did not pas:

215

My kingdomes nor my crowne I prised not a crum:
In heaven wer my rytches heapt, to which I sought to cum.

Yet wer my sorowes such as never man had like,
So divers stormes at once, so often did me strike:
But why, God knowes, not I, except it wer for this
To shew by patarne of a prince, how britle honour is.

Our kingdomes are but cares, our state deuoyde of stay,
Our riches redy snares, to hasten our decay:
Our pleasures priuy prickes our vices to prouoke,
Our pompe a pumpe, our fame a flame, our power a smouldring smoke.

I speake not but by proofe, and that may many rue.
My life doth crie it out, my death doth trye it true:
Wherof I will in briefe, rehearce my heavy hap,
That Baldwin in his woful warpe, my wretchednes may wrap.

In Windsore borne I was: and bare my fathers name,
Who wanne by war all Fraunce to his eternall fame:
And left to me the crowne, to be receyued in peace,
Through mariage made with Charles his haire, vpon his lifes decease.

Which shortly did ensue, yet died my father furst,
And both their realmes were mine, ere I a yere were nurst:
Which as they fell to soone, so faded they as fast,
For Charles and Edward got them both, or fortye yeres were past.

This Charles was eldest sonne of Charles my father in law,
To whom as heire of Fraunce, the Frenchmen did them draw.
But Edward was the heire of Richard duke of Yorke.
The hayer of Roger Mortimer, slayne by the kerne of Korke.

216

Before I came to age Charles had recovered Fraunce,
And kilde my men of warre, so lucky was his chaunce:
And through a mad contract I made with Rayners daughter,
I gave and lost all Normandy, the cause of many a slaughter.

First of mine vncle Humfrey, abhorring sore this acte,
Because I therby brake a better precontracte:
Than of the flattring duke that first the mariage made,
The iust rewarde of such as dare their princes yll perswade.

And I poore sely wretche abode the brunt of all:
My mariage lust so swete was mixt with bitter gall.
My wife was wise and good had she bene rightly sought,
But our vnlawful getting it, may make a good thing nought.

Wherfore warne men beware how they iust promise breake
Least proofe of paynful plagues do cause them waile the wreke:
Aduise wel ere they graunt, but what they graunt, perfourme.
For god wil plage all doublenes, although we feele no wourme

I falsly borne in hand beleved I did wel,
But al thinges be not true that learned men do tell:
My cleargy sayd a prince was to no promis bounde,
Whose wordes to be no gospel tho, I to my griefe haue found.

For after mariage ioynde Quene Margarete and me,
For one mishap afore, I dayly met with three:
Of Normandy and Fraunce Charles got away my crowne,
The Duke of Yorke & other sought at home to put me downe.

Bellona rang the bell at home and all abrode,
With whose mishaps amayne fel Fortune did me lode:
In Fraunce I lost my fortes, at home the foughten fielde,
My kindred slaine, my frendes opprest, my selfe enforste to yelde

217

Duke Richard tooke me twise, and forst me to resigne,
My crowne, and titles, due vnto my fathers ligne:
And kept me as a warde, did all thinges as him list,
Til time my wife through bluddy sword had tane me from his fyst.

But though she slew the duke, my sorowes did not slake,
But like to hiders head, stil more and more awake:
For Edward through the ayde of Warwick and his brother,
From one field drave me to the Skots, and toke me in another.

Then went my frendes to wracke, for Edward ware the crowne
Fro which for nine yeres space his prison held me downe:
Yet thence through Warwikes wurke I was againe releast,
And Edward driven fro the realme, to seke his frendes by East.

But what prevayleth payn, or prouidens of man
To helpe him to good hap, whom destiny doth ban?
Who moyleth to remove the rocke out of the mud,
Shall myer him selfe, & hardly skape the swelling of the flud.

This al my frendes have found and I have felt it so.
Ordayned to be the touche of wretchednes and woe,
For ere I had a yeare possest my seat agayne,
I lost both it and liberty, my helpers all were slayne.

For Edward first by stelth, and sith by gadered strength,
Arrived and got to Yorke and London at the length:
Tooke me and tyed me vp, yet Warwike was so stout,
He came with power to Barnet fyelde, in hope to helpe me out.

218

And there alas was slayne, with many a wurthy knight.
O Lord that ever such luck should hap in helping right:
Last came my wife and sonne, that long lay in exyle,
Defyed the King, and fought a fyelde, I may bewaile the while.

For there mine only sonne, not thirtene yere of age,
Was tane and murdered strayte, by Edward in his rage:
And shortly I my selfe to stynt al furder strife
Stabbed with his brothers bluddy blade in prison lost my life.

Loe here the heauy happes which happened me by heape,
See here the pleasaunt fruytes that many princes reape,
The payneful plagues of those that breake their lawful bandes,
Their mede which may & wil not save their frendes fro bluddy handes.

God graunt my woful haps to greuous to rehearce,
May teache all states to know how depely daungers pearce:
How frayle al honours are, how brittle worldly blisse,
That warned through my feareful fate, they feare to do amys.

220

How George Plantagenet third sonne of the Duke of Yorke, was by his brother King Edward wrongfully imprisoned, and by his brother Richard miserably murdered.

The foule is fowle men say, that files the nest.
which maketh me loath to speak now, might I chuse,
But seing time vnburdened hath her brest,
And fame blowen vp the blast of all abuse,
My silence rather might my life accuse
Than shroud our shame, though fayne I would it so:
For truth wil out, though all the world say no.

And therfore Baldwin hartely I the beseche.
To pause awhile vpon my heauy playnt,
And though vnneth I vtter spedy spech,
No fault of wit, or folly maketh me faynt:
No heady drinkes have geven my tounge attaynte
Through quaffing craft, yet wine my wits confound
Not which I dranke of, but wherin I dround.

221

What prince I am although I nede not shewe.
Because my wine bewrayes me by the smell,
For never was creature sowst in Bacchus dewe
To death but I, through Fortunes rigour fel:
Yet that thou mayst my story better tell,
I will declare as briefly as I may,
My welth, my woe, and causers of decay.

The famous house sournamed Plantagenet,
Wherat dame Fortune frowardly did frowne,
While Bolenbroke vniustly sought to set
His lord king Richard quite beside the crowne,
Though many a day it wanted due renowne,
God so preserved by prouidens and grace,
That lawful heires did never faile the race.

For Lionell king Edwardes elder childe,
Both vncle and haire to Richard yssulesse,
Begot a doughter Philip, whom vnfilde
The earle of March espousde, and god did blesse
With fruyte assinde the kingdome to possesse:
I mean sir Roger Mortimer, whose hayer
The earle of Cambridge maried Anne the fayer.

This earle of Cambridge Richard clept by name,
Was sonne to Edmund Langley duke of Yorke:
Which Edmund was fift brother to the same
Duke Lyonel, that al this line doth korke:
Of which two houses ioyned in a forke,
My father Richard prince Plantagenet
True duke of Yorke, was lawful heire beget.

222

Who tooke to wife as you shal vnderstand
A mayden of a noble house and olde,
Raulfe Nevels daughter Earle of Westmerland:
Whose sonne Earle Richard was a baron bolde,
And had the right of Salysbury in holde,
Through mariage made with good Earle Thomas hayer,
Whose earned prayses never shal appaire.

The duke my father had by this his wife,
Fower sonnes, of whom the eldest Edward hight,
The second Iohn, who lost in youth his life,
At wakefield slayne by Clifford cruell knight.
I George am third of Clarence duke by right.
The fowerth borne to the mischiefe of vs all,
Was duke of Glocester, whom men Richard call.

Whan as our syer in sute of right was slayne,
(Whose life and death him selfe declared earst,)
My brother Edward plyed his cause amayne,
And got the crowne, as Warwick hath rehearst:
The pride wherof so depe his stomacke pearst,
That he forgot his frendes, dispisde his kin,
Of oth or office passing not a pinne.

Which made the earle of Warwike to maligne.
My brothers state, and to attempt a waye,

223

To bring from prison Henry selly king,
To helpe him to the kingdome if he may.
And knowing me to be the chiefest staye,
My brother had, he did me vndermine
To cause me to his treasons to encline.

Wherto I was prepared long before,
My brother had bene to me so vnkinde:
For sure no cankar fretteth fleshe so sore,
As vnkinde dealing doth a louing minde.
Loves strongest bandes vnkindnes doth vnbinde,
It moveth love to malice, zele to hate,
Chiefe frendes to foes, and bretherne to debate.

And though the Earle of Warwike subtile syer,
Perceyved I bare a grudge agaynst my brother,
Yet towarde his feat to set me more on fire,
He kindeled vp one firebrand with another:
For knowing fansie was the forcing rother,
Which stiereth youth to any kinde of strife,
He offered me his daughter to my wife.

Wherthrough and with his crafty filed tounge,
He stale my hart, that erst vnstedy was:
For I was witles, wanton, fonde, and younge,
Whole bent to pleasure, brittle as the glas:
I can not lye, In vino veritas.
I did esteme the beawty of my bryde,
Above my selfe and all the world beside.

224

These fond affeccions ioynt with lacke of skyll,
(Which trap the hart, and blinde the iyes of youth,
And pricke the minde to practise any yll)
So tickled me, that voyd of kindly truth:
(Which where it wantes, all wickednes ensueth)
I stinted not to persecute my brother,
Till time he left his kingdome to an other.

Thus karnall love did quench the loue of kind,
Til lust were lost through fansy fully fed.
But whan at length I came vnto my minde,
I sawe how lewdly lightnes had me led,
To seeke with payne the peril of my hed:
For had king Henry once bene setled sure,
I was assured my dayes could not endure.

And therfore though I bound my selfe by othe
To helpe king Henry al that ever I might,
Yet at the treaty of my bretherne both,
Which reason graunted to require but right,
I left his part, wherby he perisht quite:
And reconsilde me to my bretherne twayne,
And so came Edward to the crowne againe.

This made my father in lawe to fret and fume,
To stampe and stare, and call me false forsworne,
And at the length with all his power, presume
To helpe king Henry vtterly forlorne.
Our frendly profers stil he tooke in skorne,
Refused peace, and came to Barnet field,
And there was kilde, bicause he would not yeeld:

225

His brother also there with him was slayne,
Wherby decayed the kayes of chiualrie.
For never lived the matches of them twaine,
In manhode, power, and marciall pollicy,
In vertuous thewes, and frendly constancy,
That would to god, if it had bene his wil
They might have turnde to vs, and liued stil.

But what shal be, shal be: there is no choyse,
Thinges nedes must drive as destiny decreeth:
For which we ought in all our haps reioyce,
Because the eye eterne all thing forseeth,
Which to no yll at any time agreeth,
For yls to yll to vs, be good to it,
So farre his skilles excede our reach of wit.

The wounded man which must abide the smart,
Of stitching vp, or searing of his sore,
As thing to bad, reproves the Surgeons art,
Which notwithstanding doth his helth restore.
The childe likewise to science plied sore,
Countes knowledge yll, his teacher to be wood,
Yet Surgery and sciences be good.

But as the pacientes griefe and Scholers payne,
Cause them deme bad such thinges as sure be best,
So want of wisedome causeth vs complayne
Of every hap, wherby we seme opprest:
The poore do pine for pelfe, the rich for rest,
And whan as losse or sicknes vs assayle:
We curse our fate, our Fortune we bewayle.

226

Yet for our good, god wurketh every thing.
For through the death of those two noble peres
My brother lived and raignde a quiet king,
Who had they lived perchaunce in course of yeares,
Would have delivered Henry from the breres,
Or holpe his sonne to enioye the careful crowne,
Wherby our lyne should have be quite put downe.

A careful crowne it may be iustly named,
Not only for the cares therto annext,
To see the subiect wel and duly framed,
With which good care few kinges are greatly vext
But for the dread wherwith they are perplext,
Of losing lordship, liberty, or life:
Which woful wrackes in kingdomes happen rife.

The which to shun while sum to sore have sought
They have not spared all persons to suspect:
And to destroy such as they gilty thought:
Though no apparaunce proved them infect.
Take me for one of this wrong punisht sect,
Imprisoned first, accused without cause,
And doen to death, no proces had by lawes.

Wherin I note how vengeaunce doth acquite
Like yll for yll how vices vertue quell:
For as my mariage love did me excite
Against the king my brother to rebell,
So love to have his children prosper well,
Prouoked him against both lawe and right,
To murder me, his brother, and his knight.

227

For by his quene two goodly sonnes he had.
Borne to be punisht for their parentes sinne:
Whose fortunes kalked made their father sad,
Such wofull haps were founde to be therin:
Which to auouch, writ in a rotten skinne
A prophecy was found, which sayd a G,
Of Edwardes children should destruccion be.

Me to be G, because my name was George
My brother thought, and therfore did me hate.
But woe be to the wicked heades that forge
Such doubtful dreames to brede vnkinde debate:
For God, a gleve, a gibet, grate or gate,
A Grave, a Griffeth or a Gregory,
As well as George are written with a G.

Such doubtfull riddles are no prophecies.
For prophecies, in writing though obscure,
Are playne in sence, the darke be very lyes:
What god forsheweth is euident and pure.
Truth is no Harold nor no Sophist sure:
She noteth not mens names, their shildes nor creastes,
Though she compare them vnto birdes and beastes.

But whom she doth forshewe shal rule by force,
She termeth a Wulfe, a Dragon or a Beare:
A wilful Prince, a raynles ranging horse.
A bolde, a Lyon: a coward much in feare,
A hare or hart: a crafty, pricked eare:
A lecherous, a Bull, a Goote, a Foale:
An vnderminer, a Moldwarp, or a mole.

228

By knowen beastes thus truth doth playne declare
What men they be, of whom she speakes before.
And who so can mens properties compare
And marke what beast they do resemble more,
Shall soone discerne who is the griesly bore.
For God by beastes expresseth mens condicions,
And not their badges, haroldes supersticions.

And learned Merline whom God gave the sprite,
To know, and vtter princes actes to cum,
Like to the Iewish prophetes, did recite
In shade of beastes, their doinges all and sum:
Expressing playne by maners of the dum,
That kinges and lordes such properties should have
As had the beastes whose name he to them gave:

Which while the folish did not well consider,
And seing princes gave, for difference
And knowledge of their issues myxt together,
All maner beastes, for badges of pretence,
They tooke those badges to expres the sence
Of Merlines minde, and those that gave the same,
To be the princes noted by their name.

And hereof sprang the false namde prophecies,
That go by letters, siphers, armes, or signes:
Which all be foolish, false and crafty lies,
Deuised by gesse, or Guiles vntrue diuines:
For whan they sawe that many of many lines
Gave armes alike, they wist not which was he,
Whom Merline meant the noted beast to be.

229

For all the broode of Warwickes geve the Bear,
The Buckinghames do likewise geve the swan:
But which Bear bearer shoulde the lyon teare
They wer as wise as Goose the fery man:
Yet in their skil they ceased not to skan:
And to be demed of the people wise,
Set furth their gloses vpon prophecies.

And whom they doubted openly to name
They darkly termed, or by sum letter meant:
For so they mought how ever the world did frame,
Preserve them selves from shame or being shent.
For howsoever contrary it went,
They might expound their meaning otherwise,
As haps in thinges should newly stil arise.

And thus there grew of a mistaken truth,
An arte so false, as made the true suspect:
Wherof hath cum much mischiefe, more the ruth,
That errours should our mindes so much infect.
True prophecies have fowly been reiect:
The false which brede both murder, warre & strife,
Belyved to the losse of many a goodmans life.

And therfore Baldwin teach men to discerne,
Which prophecies be false and which be true:
And for a ground this lesson let them learne,
That all be false which are deuised newe:
The age of thinges is iudged by the hue.
All Riddels made by letters, names or armes,
Are yong and false, for wurse than witches charmes.

230

I know thou musest at this lore of mine,
How I no student, should have learned it:
And doest impute it to the fume of wine
That styrs the tounge, and sharpeneth vp the wit,
But harke, a frende did teache me every whit.
A man of mine, in al good knowledge rife,
For which he giltles, lost his learned life.

This man abode my servaunt many a day,
And stil in study set his hole delite:
Which taught me more than I could beare away
Of every arte: and by his searching sight
Of thinges to cum he could forshew as right,
As I rehearce the pageantes that wer past:
Such perfectnes god gaue him at the last.

He knew my brother Richard was the Bore,
Whose tuskes should teare my brothers boyes & me,
And gave me warning therof long before.
But wit nor warning can in no degree
Let thinges to hap, which are ordaynde to bee.
Witnes the paynted Lionesse, which slue
A prince imprisoned, Lions to eschue.

He tolde me to, my youkefelow should dye,
(Wherin would God he had bene no diuine)
And after her death, I should woe earnestly
A spouse, wherat my brother should repine:
And finde the meanes she should be none of mine.
For which such malice, should among vs rise,
As save my death no treaty should decise.

231

And as he sayd, so all thinges came to passe:
For whan King Henry and his sonne wer slayne,
And every broyle so throughly quenched was,
That the King my brother quietly did rayne,
I, reconsiled to his love agayne,
In prosperous health did leade a quiet life,
For five yeares space with honors laden rife.

And to augment the fulnes of my blisse,
Two lovely children by my wife I had:
But froward hap, whose maner ever is,
In chiefest ioy to make the happy sad,
Bemixt my swete with bitternes to bad:
For while I swam in ioyes on every side,
My louing wife, my chiefest iewel died.

Whose lacke whan sole I had bewaylde a yeare,
The Duke of Burgoynes wife dame Margarete
My louing sister, willing me to cheare,
To mary againe did kindly me intreat:
And wisht me matched with a mayden nete
A stepdaughter of hers, duke Charles, his hayer,
A noble damesell, yong, discrete and fayer.

To whose desyer, because I did encline,
The King my brother doubting my degree,
Through prophecies, against vs did repine:
And at no hande, would to our willes agree.
For which such rancor pearst both him and me
That face to face we fell to flat defiaunce,
But were appeased by frendes of our aliaunce.

232

Howbeit my mariage vtterly was dasht:
Wherein because my servaunt sayd his minde,
A meane was sought wherby he might be lasht.
And for they could no crime agaynst him finde,
They forged a fault the peoples iyes to blinde,
And tolde he should by sorceries pretende,
To bring the King vnto a spedy ende.

Of all which poyntes he was as innocent,
As is the babe that lacketh kindely breth:
And yet condemned by the Kinges assent,
Most cruelly put to a shamefull death.
This fierd my hart, as foulder doth the heath:
So that I could not but exclame and crye,
Against so great and open an iniury.

For this I was commaunded to the tower,
The king my brother was so cruel harted:
And whan my brother Richard saw the hower
Was cum, for which his hart so sore had smarted,
He thought best take the time before it parted.
For he endeuoured to attayne the crowne,
From which my life must nedes have held him downe.

For though the king within a while had died,
As nedes he must, he surfayted so oft,
I must have had his children in my gyde
So Richard should beside the crowne have coft:
This made him plye the while the waxe was soft,
To find a meane to bring me to an ende,
For realme rape spareth neither kin nor frend.

233

And whan he sawe how reason can asswage
Through length of time, my brother Edwardes yre,
With forged tales he set him new in rage,
Til at the last they did my death conspire.
And though my truth sore troubled their desire,
For all the world did know mine innocence,
Yet they agreed to charge me with offence.

And covertly within the tower they called,
A quest to geve such verdite as they should:
Who what with fear, and what with fauour thralde,
Durst nought pronounce but as my brethern would
And though my false accusers never could
Prove ought they sayd, I giltles was condemned:
Such verdites passe where iustice is contemned.

This feat atchieved, yet could they not for shame
Cause me be kilde by any common way,
But like a wulfe the tirant Richard came,
(My brother, nay my butcher I may say)
Vnto the tower, when all men wer away,
Save such as wer provided for the feate:
Who in this wise did straungely me entreate.

His purpose was, with a prepared string
To strangle me. but I bestird me so,
That by no force they could me therto bring,
Which caused him that purpose to forgo.
Howbeit they bound me whether I would or no.
And in a butte of Malmesey standing by,
Newe Christned me, because I should not crie.

234

Thus drounde I was, yet for no due desert,
Except the zeale of Iustice be a crime:
False prophecies bewitched king Edwardes hert.
My brother Richard to the crowne wold clime.
Note these thre causes in thy ruful ryme:
And boldly say they did procure my fal,
And death, of deathes most straunge and hard of al.

And warne all princes prophecies to eschue
That are to darke or doubtful to be knowen:
What God hath sayd, that can not but ensue,
Though all the world would have it overthrowen.
When men suppose by fetches of their owne
To flye theyr fate, they further on the same,
Like quenching blastes, which oft reuive the flame.

Will princes therfore not to thinke by murder
They may auoide what prophecies behight,
But by their meanes theyr mischiefes they may furder,
And cause gods vengeaunce heauier to alight:
Wo wurth the wretch that strives with gods forsighte.
They are not wise, but wickedly do arre,
Which thinke yll dedes, due destinies may barre.

For if we thinke that prophecies be true,
We must beleve it can not but betide
Which God in them forsheweth shall ensue:
For his decrees vnchaunged do abide.
Which to be true my bretherne both have tried.
Whose wicked warkes warne princes to detest,
That others harmes may kepe them better blest.

236

How king Edward through his surfeting and vntemperate life, sodainly died in the mids of his prosperity.

Miseremini mei ye that be my frendes,
This world hath formed me downe to fall:
How may I endure whan that every thing endes?
What creature is borne to be eternall,
Now there is no more but pray for me all.
Thus say I Edward that late was your King,
And .xxiii. yeares ruled this imperiall:
Sum vnto pleasure and sum to no liking:
Mercy I aske of my misdoing,
What auayleth it frendes to be my foe?
Sith I can not resist, nor amend your complayning,
Quia ecce nunc in pulvere dormio.

I slepe now in molde as it is naturall,
As earth vnto earth hath his reverture:
What ordeyned God to be terrestriall,
Without recourse to the earth by nature?
Who to live ever may him selfe assure?
What is it to trust on mutability?
Sith that in this world nothing may endure?
For now am I gone that was late in prosperity.

237

To presume therupon it is but a vanitye,
Not certayne, but as a chery fayre ful of wo.
Rayned not I of late in great prosperitye?
Et ecce nunc in pulvere dormio.

Where was in my life such an one as I,
While Lady Fortune with me had continuaunce?
Graunted not she me to have victory,
In England to rayne, and to contribute Fraunce?
She toke me by the hand and led me a daunce,
And with her sugred lyppes on me she smyled.
But what for her dissembled countenaunce,
I could not be ware tyl I was begiled.
Now from this worlde she hath me exiled,
Whan I was lothest hence for to goe,
And am in age as who saieth but a childe.
Et ecce nunc in pulvere dormio.

I had ynough I helde me not contente,
Without remembraunce that I should dye:
And moreover to encroch ready was I bent,
I knew not how long I should it occupy,
I made the tower strong I wist not why.
I knew not to whom I purchased Tattersall.
I amended Dover on the mountayne hye,
And London I prouoked to fortify the wall.

238

I made Notingham a place full royall.
Windsore, Eltam, and many other mo.
Yet at the last I went from them all,
Et ecce nunc in pulvere dormio.

Where is now my conquest and victory?
Where is my ritches, and royall array?
Where be my coursers and my horses hye?
Where is my mirth, my solas, and playe?
As vanity to nought all is wyddred away:
O Lady Bes, long for me may you call,
For I am departed vntill doomes day:
But love you that lord that is soveraine of all.
Where be my castels and buyldinges royall?
But Windsore alone now have I no moe.
And of Eton the prayers perpetuall,
Et ecce nunc in pulvere dormio.

Why should a man be proude or presume hye?
Saynt Barnard therof nobly doth treat,
Saying a man is but a sacke of stercory,
And shall returne vnto wurmes meat:
Why what became of Alexander the great?
Or els of strong Sampson, who can tell?
Wer not wurmes ordayned their flesh to freate?
And of Salomon that was of wit the well?
Absolon profered his heare for to sell,
Yet for all his beauty, wurmes eat him also.
And I but late in honour did excell,
Et ecce nunc in pulvere dormio.

239

I have playd my pageaunt: now am I past,
Ye wote well all I was of no great elde.
This all thing concluded shall be at the last,
Whan death approcheth, than lost is the felde:
Than seing this world me no longer vphelde,
For nought would conserve me here in my place,
In manus tuas domine my spirite vp I yelde,
Humbly beseching the o God, of thy grace.
O you curteous commons your hartes enbrace,
Beningly now to pray for me also,
For right well you know your king I was.
Et ecce nunc in pulvere dormio.

240

FINIS.

241

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN THE EDITION OF 1563

245

How Sir Anthony Wudvile Lorde Rivers and Skales, Gouernour of prince Edward, was with his Neuew Lord Richard Gray and other causeles imprisoned, and cruelly murdered.

As sylly suiters letted by delayes
To shew theyr prynce the meanyng of theyr mynde,
That long have bought theyr brokers yeas & nayes
And neuer the nyer: do dayly wayte to fynde
The prynces grace, from waighty affayres vntwind:
Which tyme attayned, by attendyng all the yeare,
The weryed prince wyll than no suters heare:

246

My case was such not many dayes agoe.
For after brute had blased all abrode
That Baldwyn through the ayd of other moe,
Of fame or shame fallen prynces would vnloade
Out from our graves we got without abode,
And preaced forward with the rufull rout,
That sought to have theyr doynges bulted out.

But whan I had long attended for my turne
To tell my tale as dyvers other dyd:
In hope I should no longar whyle soiourne
But from my suytes have spedily been ryd,
Whan course and place both orderly had byd
Me shew my mynde, and I prepared to saye,
The hearers paused, arose and went theyr way.

These doubtfull doynges drave me to my dumpes,
Vncertayne what should moeve them so to doe:
I feared least affeccions lothly lumpes
Or inwarde grudge had dryven them therto,
Whose wycked stynges all storyes truth vndoe.
Oft causyng good to be reported yll,
Or dround in suddes of Lethes muddy swyll.

For hytherto slye wryters wyly wittes
Which have engrossed princes cheefe affayres,
Have been lyke horses snaffled with the byttes
Of fansye, feare, or doubtes full diepe dispayres,
Whose raynes enchayned to the chefest chayres,

247

Have so ben strayned of those that bare the stroke
That truth was forst to chow or els to choke.

Thys caused such as lothed lowd to lye,
To passe with sylence sundry prynces lyues.
Lesse faut it is to leave, than leade awry:
And better dround, that ever bound in gyves.
For fatall fraude this world so fondly dryves,
That whatsoeuer writers braines may brue
Be it neuer so false, at length is tane for true.

What harme may hap by helpe of lying pennes
How wrytten lyes may lewdly be maynteyned.
The lothly rytes, the divilysh ydoll dennes
With gyltles blud of vertuous men bestayned,
Is such a proofe as all good hartes haue playned.
The taly groundes of storyes throughly tryes,
The deth of martyrs vengeauns on it cryes.

Far better therfore not to wryte at all
Than stayne the truth for any maner cause,
For this they meane to let my story fall
(Thought I) and ear my tyme theyr volume clause.
But after I knew it only was a pause,
Made purposely, most for the readers ease,
Assure thée Baldwyn, highly it dyd me please.

For freshest wits, I know wyll sone be weary,
In redyng long what ever booke it be,
Except it be vayne matter, straunge or mery,
well saust with lyes, and glared all with glee,
With which becaus no grave truth may agre,
The closest style for storyes is the metest,
In ruful moanes the shortest fourme is swetest.

248

And syth the playntes alredy by the pende,
Are briefe ynough, the number also small,
The tediousnes I thynk doeth none offend,
Save such as have no lust to learne at all,
Regarde none such: no matter what they brall.
Warne thou the wary, least they hap to stumble.
As for the carelesse, care not what they mumble.

My lyfe is such as (if thou note it wel)
May cause the witty wealthy to beware.
For theyr sakes therfore playnly will I tell,
How false and combrous worldly honors are,
How cankred foes, bryng careles folk to care.
How tyrantes suffered, and not queld in tyme
Do cut theyr throates that suffre them to clime.

Neyther wyll I hyde the chiefest poynt of all
Which wysest rulers least of all regarde,
That was and wyll be cause of many a fall.
This can not be to ernestly declarde
Becaus it is so seelde, and slackly heard.
The abuse and skornyng of gods ordynaunces,
Is chefest cause of care & wofull chaunces.

Gods holly orders hyghly are abused
When men do chaunge their endes for straunge respects:
They skorned are, whan they be cleane refused
For that they can not serve our fond affectes.
The one our shame, the other our synn detectes.
It is a shame for christians to abuse them,
But deadly synne for skorners to refuse them.

249

I meane not this all onlye of degrees
Ordeynde by God for peoples preseruacion,
But of hys law, good orders, and decrees,
Prouyded for his creatures conseruacion.
And specially the state of procreacion
Wherin we here the number of them encreace
Which shall in heauen enioye eternall peace.

The only ende why god ordayned thys,
Was for the encreasyng of that blessed number
For whome he hath prepared eternall blysse.
They that refuse it for the care or cumbre
Beyng apt therto, are in a synful slumber:
No fonde respect, no vayne devised vowes
Can quit or bar what God in charge allowes.

It is not good for man to lyve alone
Sayd God: and therfore made he hym a make:
Sole lyfe sayd Chryste is graunted few or none,
All seedsheders are bound lyke wyues to take:
Yet not for lust, for landes, or ryches sake,
But to beget and foster so theyr frute
That heauen and earth be stored with the suite.

But as thys state is damnably refused
Of many apt and able thervnto,
So is it lykewyse wyckedly abused
Of all that vse it as they should not doe:
Wherin are gyltye all the gredy: who
For gayne, for frendshyp, landes or honors wed,
And these pollute the vndefyled bed.

250

And therfore god through iustice can not ceas
To plage these faultes with sundry sortes of whips:
As disagrement, healthes or wealthes decreas,
Or lothyng sore the neuer lyked lyppes.
Disdayne also with rygor sumtyme nips
Presumyng mates, vnequally that matche:
Sum bytter leaven soures the musty batche.

We worldly folke account hym very wyse
That hath the wyt moste wealthily to wed.
By all meanes therfor alwayes we devyse
To see our issue ryche in spousals sped.
We buy and sell rych orphans: babes skant bred
Must mary ere they know what maryage meanes,
Boyes mary old trots, old fooles wed yong queanes.

We call thys weddyng, which in any wyse
Can be no maryage, but pollucion playne.
A new found trade of humane marchandyse,
The devyls net, a fylthy fleshly gayne:
Of kynde and nature an vnnaturall stayne,
A fowle abuse of gods most holy order,
And yet allowed almost in every border.

Would god I were the last that shall haue cause
Agaynst thys crepyng cancar to complayne,
That men would so regarde theyr makers lawes,
That all would leaue the lewdnes of theyr brayne,
That holly orders, holly myght remayne.
That our respectes in weddyng should not choke
The ende and frute of gods most holy yoke.

The sage kyng Solon after that he sawe,
What myschiefes folow missought maryages,
To bar all baytes, establyshed thys lawe.
No frende nor father shall gyue herytages,

251

Coyne, catall, stuffe, or other caryages
With any mayd for dowry or weddyng sale,
By any meane, on payne of bannyng bale.

Had thys good law in England bene in force
My father had not so cruelly been slayne.
My brother had not causeles lost hys corps.
Our maryage had not bred vs such disdayne,
My selfe had lackt great part of grevous payne,
We wedded wyves for dignitie and landes,
And left our lyves in envyes bluddy handes.

My father hyght Syr Richard Wudvyle: he
Espoused the duches of Bedford, and by her
Had issue males my brother Iohn, and me
Called Anthony. Kyng Edward dyd preferre
Vs far aboue the state wherein we were.
For he espoused our syster Elizabeth,
Whom Syr Iohn Gray made wedow by his deth.

How glad wer we, thinke you of this alyaunce?
So nerely coupled with so noble a kyng.
Who durst with any of vs be at defyauns
Thus made of myght the myghtyest to wryng?
But fye, what cares do hyghest honours bryng,
What carelessenes our selves or frendes to know,
What spyte and envye both of high and lowe.

Becaus the kyng had made our sister Queene
It was his honor to prefer her kyn.
And syth the readyest way, as wysest ween,
Was first by weddyng welthy heyres to wyn,
It pleased the prynce by lyke meane to begyn.

252

To me he gaue the rych lord Skales hys heir,
A vertuous mayd, in myne eye very fayre.

He ioyned to my brother Iohn, the olde
Duches of Norfolke, notable of fame.
My nephue Thomas (who had in hys holde
The honor and rightes of Marquis Dorcets name)
Espoused Cicilie a ryght wealthy Dame,
Lorde Bonuyles heyr: by whom he was possest
In al the rites wherthrough that house was blest.

The honors that my father attaynde were dyuers
Fyrst Chamberlayn, than Constable he was.
I do omyt the gainfullest, Erle Ryvers.
Thus glystred we in glory clere as glas.
Such myracles can prynces bryng to passe
Among theyr lieges whom they mynde to heave
To honors false, who all theyr gestes deceyve.

Honors are lyke that cruel kyng of Thrace,
With newcum gestes that fed his hungry horses.
Or lyke the tyrant Busiris: whose grace
Offered hys gods all straungers strangled corses.
To forreyners so hard false honors force is
That all her bourders straungers eyther geastes
She spoyles to feede her gods & gredy beastes.

Her Gods be those whome God by law or lot,
Or kynde by byrthe, doth place in highest rowmes.
Her beastes be such as gredilye haue got
Office or charge to gyde the sely growmes.
These officers in lawe or charge ar browmes,

253

That swepe away the sweet from symple wretches,
And spoyle the enryched by their crafty fetches.

These plucke downe those whom princes set aloft,
By wrestyng lawes, and false conspyracyes:
Yea kynges them selues by these are spoyled oft.
Whan wylfull prynces carelesly despyse
To hear the oppressed peoples heavy cryes,
Nor wyll correct theyr pollyng theues, than God
Doeth make those Reues the retchles princes rod.

The seconde Richard is a proofe of thys
Whom crafty Lawyers by theyr lawes deposed.
An other paterne good kyng Henry is
Whose ryght by them hath dyversly been glosed,
Good whyle he grew, bad whan he was vnrosed.
And as they foaded these and dyuers other
With lyke deceyt they vsed the kyng my brother.

Whyle he prevayled they said he owed the crown,
All Lawes and ryghtes agreed with the same:
But whan by dryftes he seemed to be downe,
All lawes and ryght extremely dyd him blame
Nought saue vsurpyng traytor was hys name.
So constantly the Iudges construe lawes,
That all agree styll with the stronger cause.

These as I sayd, and other lyke in charge
Are honors horses whom she feedes with gestes.
For all whome princes frankly do enlarge
With dignities, these bark at in theyr brestes:
Theyr spite, theyr myght, their falshod neuer rests
Tyll they devour them: sparyng neyther blud,
Ne Lym nor Lyfe, and all to get theyr good.

254

The Earle of Warwyck was a praunsyng courser
That hauty hart of hys could beare no mate:
Our welth through him waxt many a time the wurser
So cancardlye he had our kyn in hate.
He troubled oft the kynges vnstedy state
And that becaus he would not be hys warde
To wed and wurke, as he shuld lyst awarde.

He spyted vs becaus we were preferred
By maryage to dignytyes so great,
But craftely hys malyce he deferred
Tyll trayterously he found meanes to entreate
Our brother of Clarens to assyst hys feat:
whome whan he had by maryage to hym bound
Than wrought he strayght our linage to confound.

Through slaunderous brutes he brued many a broil
Through out the realme agaynst the king my brother:
And raised traiterous rebels thirstyng spoyle
To murder men: of whome among all other
One Robin of Riddesdal many a soul did smother:
His raskall rabble at my father wroth
Took syer and sonne, & quicke beheaded bothe.

Thys haynous act although the king detested,
Yet was he fayne to pardone: for the rowte
Of Rebels all the realme so sore infested,
That every way assayled, he stoode in doubte:
And though he were of courage high & stoute,
Yet he assayed by fayre meanes to asswage
His enemyes yre, reveled by rebels rage.

255

But Warwick was not pacyfyed thus,
Hys constant rancor causeles was extreme.
No meane coulde serve the quarell to discus,
Tyl he had driuen the king out of the realme.
Neither would he then be waked from his dream.
For whan my brother was cum and placed again,
He stynted not tyll he was stoutly slayne.

Than grew the kyng and realme to quyet rest,
Our stocke and frendes styll flying higher an higher:
The Quene with chyldren frutefully was blest:
I gouerned them, It was the kynges desyer.
This set theyr vncles furyously on fyer,
That we the quenes blud wer assygned to governe
The prynce, not they, the kynges own blud & bretherne.

This caused the duke of Clarens so to chafe
That with the kyng he braynles fell at bate:
The counsayle warely for to kepe hym safe
From raysyng tumultes as he dyd of late,
Imprysoned hym: where through his brothers hate
He was condempned, and murdered in such sort
As he hym selfe hath truly made report.

Was none abhorred these mischiefes more than I,
Yet coulde I not be therwith discontented,
Consyderyng that hys rancour touched me nye.
Els would my conscience neuer have consented
To wyshe hym harme, could he have been contented.
But feare of hurt, for safegard of our state
Doth cause more myschiefe than desert or hate.

256

Such is the state that many wyshe to beare,
That eyther we must with others blud be stained,
Or leade our lyves contynually in feare.
You mountyng myndes beholde here what is gayned
By combrous honor, paynfully attayned:
A damned soule for murdryng them that hate you,
Or doubtfull lyfe, in daunger lest they mate you.

The cause (I think) why sum of hygh degree
Do deadly hate all sekers to assend,
Is this: The cloyne contented can not be
With any state, tyll tyme he apprehend
The highest top: for therto clymers tende.
Which seeldome is attaynde without the wrack
Of those betwene, that stay and bear hym back.

To save theim selues they therfore are compeld
To hate such clymers, and with wit and power
To compas meanes wherthrough they may be queld,
Ear they ascend theyr honors to devour.
This caused the duke of Clarence frown & lowre
At me and other whom the kyng promoted
To dignities: wherin he madly doted.

For seing we wer his dere alyed frendes,
Our furderauns should rather have made him glad
Than enmye like to wyshe our wofull endes.
We were the nerest kynsfolk that he had.
We ioyed with him, his sorowe made vs sad:
But he estemed so much hys paynted sheath
That he disdayned the love of all beneath.

257

But see how sharpely god revengeth synne:
As he malygned me and many other
Hys faythfull frendes, and kyndest of hys kyn,
So Rychard duke of Glocester, hys naturall brother,
Malygned hym: and beastly dyd hym smother.
A divelysh deede, a moste vnkyndly part,
Yet iuste revenge for his vnnaturall hart.

Although this brother queller, Tyraunt fell
Envyed our state as much and more than he:
Yet dyd hys clokyng flattery so excell
To all our frendesward, chiefly vnto me,
That he appeared our trusty stay to be:
For outwardly he wrought our state to furder,
Where inwardly he mynded nought save murder.

Thus in aperaunce who but I was blest?
The chiefest honors heaped on my head:
Beloved of all, enioying quyet rest.
The forward prynce by me alone was led,
A noble ympe, to all good vertues bread:
The Kyng my lyege without my counsayl knowen
Agreed nought: though wysest were his owne.

But quyet blisse in no state lasteth long
Assayled styll by mischefe many wayes:
Whose spoylyng battry glowyng hote and stronge,
No flowyng wealth, no force nor wysdome stayes
Her smoakles poulder beaten souldyers slayes.
By open force foule mischief oft preuayles,
By secrete sleyght, she seeld her purpose fayles.

258

The kyng was bent to much to folysh pleasure,
In banketyng he had to great delyght:
Thys made hym grow in grossnes out of measure,
Which, as it kyndleth carnall appetyte,
So quencheth it the lyvelynes of spryte.
Wherof ensue such sycknes and diseases
As none can cure save death that all displeases.

Through this fault furdered by hys brothers fraude
(Now god forgeve me yf I iudge amys)
Or through that beast hys rybald or hys baude
That larded styll those sinfull lustes of hys,
He sodaynly forsoke all worldly blysse.
That loathed leach, that never wellcum death,
Through spasmous humours stopped vp his breth.

That tyme lay I at Ludloe wales hys border.
For with the prince the kyng had sent me thyther
To stay the robberyes, spoyle, and fowle disorder,
Of dyvers outlawes gathered there together:
Whose bandyng tended no man wyst well whyther.
Whan these by wysdome safely wer suppressed,
Came wofull newes, our soveraygne was deceassed.

The gryefe wherof, whan reason had asswaged,
Becaus the prynce remayned in my guyde,
For hys defende great store of men I waged,
Doubtyng the stormes which at such tymes betyde.
But whyle I there thus warely dyd provyde,
Commaundement came to send them home agayne
And bryng the kyng thence with his householde trayne.

259

This charge sent from the counsayle and the Queene
Though much agaynst my mynde I beast obeyed:
The devyll hym selfe wrought all the dryft I weene,
Becaus he would have innocentes betrayed:
For ere the kyng wer halfe hys way convayed,
A sorte of traytors falsely hym betrapt
I caught afore, and close in pryson clapt.

The duke of Glocestre that incarned devyll
Confedered with the Duke of Buckyngham,
With eke Lorde Hastynges, hasty both to evyll
To meete the kyng in mournyng habyt came,
(A cruell woulfe though clothed lyke a Lambe)
And at Northhampton, where as than I bayted
They tooke their inne, as they on me had wayted.

The kyng that nyght at Stonystratford lay,
A towne to small to harbar all his trayne:
This was the cause why he was goen awaye
While I with other dyd behynde remayne.
But wyll you see how falsely fyendes can fayne?
Not Synon sly, whose fraude best fame rebukes,
Was halfe so suttle as these double dukes.

Fyrst to myne Inne, cummeth in my brother false
Embraceth me: wel met good brother Skales,
And wepes withall: the other me enhalse
With welcum coosyn, now welcum out of Wales
O happy day, for now all stormy gales
Of stryfe and rancor vtterly are swaged,
And we your owne to Lyve or dye vnwaged.

260

Thys profered seruice, saust with salutacions
Immoderate, might cause me to suspect:
For commonly in all dissimulacions
The exces of glaveryng doth the guyle detect.
Reason refuseth falshode to dyrect:
The wyll therfore for feare of being spyed
Excedeth mean, becaus it wanteth gyde.

This is the cause why such as fayne to weepe
Do houle outryght, or waylyng cry ah,
Tearyng them selves, & straynyng syghes moste depe.
Why such dissemblers as would seme to laugh
Breth not Tihhy, but braye out, hah hah hah.
Why beggers faynyng bravery are the proudest
Why cowardes braggyng boldnes, wrangle loudest.

For commonly all that do counterfayte
In any thyng, excede the naturall mean,
And that for feare of faylyng in theyr feat.
But these conspyrers couched all so cleane,
Through close demeanour, that theyr wyles dyd wean
My hart from doubtes, so many a fals device
They forged fresh, to hyde theyr enterprise.

They supped with me, propoundyng frendly talke
Of our affayres, styll gevyng me the prayse.
And ever among the cups to mewarde walke:
I drynk to you good Cuz ech traytor sayes:
Our banquet doen whan they should go theyr wayes
They tooke theyr leave, oft wyshyng me good nyght
As hartily as any creature myght.

261

A noble hart they say is Lyon lyke,
It can not couche, dissemble, crouch nor fayne.
Howe villaynous wer these, and how vnlyke?
Of noble stocke the moste ignoble stayne.
Theyr wulvysh hartes, theyr traytrous foxly brayne
Eyther prooue them base, of raskall race engendred
Or from hault lynage bastardlyke degendred.

Such pollyng heades as prayse for prudent pollicie
False practises, I wysh wer pact on poales.
I meane the bastard law broode, which can mollyfie
All kynd of causes in theyr crafty nolles.
These vndermyne all vertue, blynde as molles,
They bolster wrong, they rack and strayne the ryght
And prayse for law both malyce fraude, and myght.

These quenche the wurthy flames of noble kynde,
Provokyng best borne to the basest vyces,
Through craftes they make the bouldest courage blinde,
Dislyking hyghly valeaunt enterpryses:
And praysyng vyly villanous devices.
These make the boare a Hog, the Bul an oxe.
The Swan a Goose, the Lyon a Wulfe or foxe.

The Lawyer Catesby and hys crafty feeres
A rowte that never did good in any realme,
Are they that had transformed these noble peeres:
They turned theyr blud to melancholick fleume.
Theyr courage hault to cowardyse extreame.
Theyr force and manhode into fraude and malyce,
Theyr wit to wyles: stout Hector in to Parys.

262

These glaverers goen, my selfe to rest I layd,
And doubtyng nothyng, soundly fel a slepe:
But sodaynlye my seruantes sore afrayed
Awaked me: and drawyng sighes full deepe,
Alas (quoth one) my Lord we are betrayed.
How so (quoth I) the dukes are goen theyr wayes
They have barred the gates, and borne away the keyes.

Whyle he thus spake, there came into my mynde
This fearefull dreame, whereout I waked was:
I saw a ryver stopt with stormes of wynde
Wherethrough a Swan, a Bull and Bore dyd passe.
Fraunchyng the fysh and frye, with teeth of brasse,
The ryver dryed vp save a lytell streame
Which at the last dyd water all the realme.

My thought thys streame dyd drown the cruell bore
In lytle space, it grew so depe and brode:
But he had kylled the bull and swan before.
Besydes all this I saw an ougly tode
Crall toward me, on which me thought I trode:
But what became of her, or what of me
My sodayne wakyng would not let me see.

These dremes consydered with this sodayne newes
So dyvers from theyr doynges over nyght,
Dyd cause me not a lyttle for to muse,
I blest me, and ryse in all the hast I myght.
By this, Aurora spred abrode the lyght
Which fro the endes of Phebus beames she tooke
Who than the bulles chiefe gallery forsooke.

263

When I had opened the wyndow to looke out
There myght I see the streetes eche where beset,
My inne on ech syde compassed about
With armed watchmen, all escapes to let
Thus had these Neroes caught me in theyr net.
But to what ende, I could not throwly gesse,
Such was my playnnes, such theyr doublenes.

My conscince was so clere I could not doubt
Theyr deadly dryft, which lesse apparaunt lay
Becaus they caused theyr men returne the rout
That yode toward Stonystratford: as they say
Becaus the dukes wyll fyrst be there to day:
For this (thought I) they hynder me in Ieast,
For gyltles myndes do easely deme the best.

By thys the Dukes were cum into myne inne
For they were lodged in an other by.
I gote me to them, thinkyng it a synne
Within my chamber cowardly to lye.
And meryly I asked my brother why
He vsed me so? he sterne in evyll sadnes
Cryed out: I arrest the traytor for thy badnes.

How so (quoth I) whence ryseth your suspicion?
Thou art a traytor (quoth he) I thee arrest.
Arrest (quoth I) why where is your commission?
He drew hys weapon, so dyd all the rest
Crying: yeld the traytor. I so sore distrest
Made no resystaunce: but was sent to ward
None save theyr seruauntes assygned to my gard.

264

Thys doen they sped them to the kyng in poste,
And after theyr humble reuerence to hym doen,
They trayterously began to rule the roste
They pycked a quarell to my systers sonne
Lord Richard Gray: The king would not be wonne
To agree to them, yet they agaynst all reason,
Arrested hym. (they sayd) for haynous treason.

Syr Thomas Vaughan and Syr Richard Hault
To wurthy knyghtes were lykewyse apprehended,
These all were gylty in one kynde of fault,
They would not lyke the practyse then pretended:
And seyng the kyng was herewith sore offended,
Back to Northhampton they brought him agayne
And thence discharged most part of his trayne.

There loe duke Richard made hym selfe protector
Of kyng and realme by open proclamation,
Though neyther kyng nor Queene were his elector
Thus he presumed by lawles vsurpacion.
But wyll you see his depe dissimulacion?
He sent me a dyshe of deyntyes from his bourd
That day, and with it, this fals frendly wourd.

Commende me to hym: All thynges shalbe well,
I am hys frende, byd hym be of good chere:
These newes I prayed the messanger go tell
My Nephue Richard, whome I loued full deare.
But what he ment by well, now shal you heare:
He thought it well to have vs quickly murdered
Which not long after thorowly he furdered.

265

For strayt from thence we closely wer convayed
For iayle to iayle Northward we wyst not whither:
Where after we had a while in sunder straied,
At last we met at Pomfret all together.
Syr Richard Ratclyf had vs welcum thither,
Who openly, all law and ryght contempned
Beheaded vs, before we were condempned.

My Cosyn Richard could not be content
To leave his lyfe, becaus he wyst not why,
Good gentle man that never harme had meant,
Therfore he asked wherfore he shuld dye:
The priest his gostly father dyd replye
With wepyng eyes: I know one wofull cause.
The realme hath neyther ryghteous lordes nor lawes.

Syr Thomas Vaughan chafyng cryed styl:
This tyraunt Glocester is the graceles G
That will his brothers chyldren beastlye kyll.
And least the people through his talke might see
The mischiefes toward, and therto not agree
Our tormentour that false periured knyght
Bad stop our mouthes, with wurdes of high despyte.

Thus dyed we gyltles, proces heard we none,
No cause alleged, no Iudge, nor yet accuser,
No quest empaneld passed vs vppon.
That murderer Ratclyf, lawe and ryghtes refuser,
Dyd all to flatter Richard his abuser.
Vnhappy both that ever they were borne,
Through gyltles blud that have theyr soules forlorne.

266

In parte I graunt I well deserved thys,
Becaus I caused not spedy execution
Be doen on Richard for that murder of hys,
when fyrst he wrought kyng Henryes close confusion.
Nor for his brothers hatefull persecution.
These cruell murders paynfull death deserved
Which had he suffred, many had ben preserued.

Warne therfore all that charge or offyce beare
To se all murderers spedely executed:
And spare them not for favoure or for fear:
By gyltles blud the earth remaynes polluted.
For lack of Iustice kyngdomes are transmuted.
They that save murderers from deserved payne,
Shall through those murderers miserably be slayn.

268

Howe the Lord Hastynges was betrayed by trustyng to much to his evyl counsayler Catesby, and vilanously murdered in the tower of London by Richarde Duke of Glocestre.

Hastynges I am, whose hastned death whoe knewe,
My lyfe with prayse, my death with plaint pursue.
With others, fearyng least my headlesse name
Be wrongd, by partiall bruite of flatteryng fame:
Cleaving my tombe the waye my fame forewent,
Though bared of loanes which body & Fortune lent
Erst my proud vaunt: present present to thee
My honoure, fall, and forced destenye.

Ne feare to stayn thy credyt by my tale.
In Laethes floud, long since, in Stigian vale
Selfe love I dreynt. what tyme hath fyned for true,
And ceasseth not, (though stale) styll to renewe:
Recount I wyl. wherof be this the proofe.
That blase I wyll my prayse, and my reproofe.
We naked ghostes are but the verye man.
Ne of our selves more than we ought we skanne.

269

But doubte distracteth me, yf I should consent
To yeelde myne honourd name a martyrd Saynt.
Yf Martirdome rest in the mysers lyfe
Through tormentes wrongly reft by fatall knyfe:
Howe fortunes Nurslyng I, and dearest babe,
Ought therto stoope, none maye me well perswade.
For howe maye myser martyrdome betyde,
To whome in Cradell Fortune was affyed?

Sée howe this grossest aier infecteth me since,
Forgot have I, of foyaltye to my prynce.
My happye meede is, Martir to be named?
And what the heavens embrace, the world aye blamed:
For, mens vniustyce wreaked but Gods iust Ire,
And by wrong end, turned wreake to Iustice hyre.
O Iudgmentes iust, by vniustice iustice dealt,
Whoe dowteth, of me may learne, the truth who felt.

So therfore, as my fall may many staye:
Aswell the prynce, from violent headlong swaie,
Of noble peeres, from honours throne to dust,
As nobles lesse in tyckle state to trust:
Shonning those synnes, that shake the golden leaves
Perforce from boughes, eare Nature bare the greaves:
So, what my lyfe professed, my death heare teacheth.
And, as with word so with example preacheth.

The hyllye heauens, and valey Earthe belowe,
Yet ryng hys Fame, whose dedes so great dyd grow.

270

Edward the fourth ye know vnnamed I meane.
Whose noble nature so to me dyd leane,
That I hys staffe was, I his only ioye,
And even what Pandare was to hym of Troy.
Which moved hym fyrst, to create me chamberlayne.
To serve hys sweetes, to my most sower payne.

Wherein, to iustly praysed for secretnesse
(For now my guylt with shrykyng I confesse)
To hym to true, to vntrue to the Queene,
Suche hate I wanne, as lasted longe betweene
Oure familyes. Shores wyfe was my nyce cheate.
The wholye whore, and eke the wyly peate.
I fedd his lust with lovely peces so,
That Gods sharpe wrath I purchased, my iust woe.

See here of Nobles newe the dyverse source.
Some vertue rayseth, some clyme by sluttyshe sortes.
The fyrst, though onely of them selves begonne,
Yet circlewyse into them selues doe ronne.
With in theyr Fame theyr force vnyted so,
Both endelesse is, and stronger gaynst theyr foe.
For, when endeth hit that neuer hath begonne?
Or by what force, maye circled knot be vndone?

Thother, as by wycked meanes they grewe,
And raygned by flattery or violence: so sone rue.
First tomblyng stepp from honoures old, is vyce.
Which once discended, some lynger, none aryse

271

To former type. but they catch vertues spraye,
Which mounteth them that clyme by lawfull waye.
Beware to ryse by serving princely lust.
Surely to stand, one meane is rysyng iust.

Which learne by me. whome let it helpe to excuse,
That ruthfull nowe my selfe I do accuse.
And that my prynce I ever pleased with suche,
As harmed none, and hym contented much.
In vyce, som favoure, or lesse hate let wynne,
That I ne wryed to worser end my sinne.
But vsed my favoure to the safetye of such,
As furye of Later warre to lyue dyd grutche.

For as on durt (though durty) shyneth the sonne:
So, even amyds my vyce, my vertue shoane.
My selfe I spared with any his cheate to stayne,
For love and reverence so I could refrayne.
Gisippus wyfe erst Tytus would desyre
With frendshyps breach. I quenchd that brutyshe fyre.
Manly hit is, to loth the fawnyng lust.
Small vaunt to flye, what of constraynt thou must.

These therfore rased, yf thou myne offyce skanne,
Loe none I hurt but furdered every manne.
My chamber England was, my staffe the law:
Wherby sauns rygoure, all I held in awe.
So lovyng to all, so beloued of all,
As, (what ensued vppon my bloudy fall
Though I ne felt) yet surely this I thynke.
Full many a tricklyng teare theyr mouthes did drynke.

272

Disdayne not prynces easye accesse, meeke cheare.
We knowe, then Angells statelyer port ye beare
Of God hym selfe: to massye a charge for sprytes.
But then, my lordes, consyder, he delyghts
To vayle his grace to vs poore earthely wants,
To symplest shrubbes, and to the dunghyll plantes.
Expresse hym then, in myght and mercyes meane.
So shall ye wynne, as now ye welld, the realme.

But all to long I feare I do delaye
The many meanes, wherby I dyd bewraye
My zelous wyll, to earne my prynces grace.
Least thou differ, to thynke me kynde percace
As nought may last, so Fortunes weathery cheare
With powtyng lookes gan lower on my Syre,
And on her wheele, advaunsd hye in hys roome
The Warwick Earle, mase of Chrystendoome.

Besydes the temptyng prowesse of the foe,
His traytor brother dyd my prynce forgoe.
The cause was lyked, I was hys lynked alye.
Yet, nor the cause, nor brothers trecherye,
Nor enmyes force, ne band of myngled bloude:
Made Hastynges beare hys prynce other mynd then good.
But tane and scaped from Warwicks gripyng pawes,
With me he fled through fortunes frowardst flawes.

To London come, at large we might have seemed,
Had not we then the realme a pryson deemd.
Ech bush a barre, eche spray a banner splayed,
Eche house a fort our passage to haue stayed.

273

To Linne we leape, where whyle we awayt the tyde,
My secrete fryndes in secrete I supplyed,
In mouth to mayntayne Henry syxt theyr kynge,
By deede to devoyre Edward to bryng in.

The restles tyde, to bare the empty baye,
With waltryng waves roames wamblyng forth. Away
The mery maryner hayles. The braggyng boye,
To masts hye top vp hyes. In signe of ioye
The wauering flagge is vaunsd. The suttle Seas
Theyr swellyng ceasse: to calmest even peace
Sinkth down theyr pride. with dronkennes gainst al care
The Seamen armed, awayte theyr noble fare.

On Bord we come. The massye Anchors weyed,
One Englyshe shippe, two Hulkes of Holland, ayde
In suche a pynche. So small tho was the trayne,
Such his constraynt. that nowe, that one with payne
Commaund he myght, whoe erst mought many moe:
Then brought the ghastlye Greekes to Tenedo.
So nought is ours that we by happe maye lose,
What nearest seems, is farthest of in woes.

As banished wightes, such ioyes we mought have made.
Easd of aye thretnyng death, that late we dradde.
But once our countreyes syght (not care) exempt,
No harboure shewyng, that mought our feare relent,
No covert cave, No shrubbe to shroud our lyves,
No hollow wodde, no flyght, that oft depryves
The myghty hys pray, no Sanctuary left
For exyled prynce, that shroudes eche slave from theft:

274

In pryson pent, whose woddye walles to passe
Of no lesse peryll than the dying was:
With the Oceane moated, battered with the waves,
(As chaynd at Oares the wretched Galley slaves,
At mercy sit of Sea and enmyes shott,
And shonne with death what they with flyght may not)
But greenysh waves, and desert lowryng Skyes
All comfort ells forclosed oure exyled eyes:

Loe loe from highest toppe, the Slavyshe boye
Sent vp with syght of land our hertes to ioye:
Descryes at hand whole fleet of easterlynges.
As then whote enmyes of the Britishe kynges.
The mouse may somtyme help the Lyon in nede
The byttle bee once spylt the Aegles breed.
O prynces seke no foes. In your distresse,
The Earth, the seas, conspyre your heavinesse.

Oure foe descryed by flyght we shonne in hast,
And lade with Canvase now the bendyng mast.
The shyppe was rackt to trye her saylyng then,
As Squirells clime the troupes of trusty men.
The stearesman sekes a redier course to ronne,
The souldyer stirres, the gonner hyes to gonne,
The flemynges sweate, the englyshe shyp disdaynes
To wayte behynde to beare the flemynges traynes.

Forth flyeth the bark, as from the vyolent goonne
The pellet pearsth all stayes and stops eft soone.
And swift she swimmeth, as oft in sunny daye
The dolphine fleetes in Seas in mery Maye.

275

As we for lyves, so Theasterlynges for gayne,
Thwack on the sayles, and after make amayne.
Though laden they were, and of burthen great:
A Kyng to master yet, what swayne nold sweat?

So myde the vale, the greyhound seyng stert
His fearfull foe, pursueth. Before she flerteth.
And where she turnth, he turnth her there to beare.
The one pray prycketh, the other safetyes feare.
So were we chased, so fled we afore our foes.
Bett flyght then fyght, in so vneven close.
I end. Some think perhaps, to long he stayeth
In peryll present sheweng his fixed fayth.

This ventred I, this dread I dyd sustayne,
To trye my truth, my lyfe I dyd disdayne.
But, loe, lyke tryall agaynst his civile foe.
Faythes worst is tryall, which is reserued to woe.
I passe our scape, and sharpe retournyng home,
Where we were welcumd by our wonted fone.
To batayle mayne discendes the empyres ryght.
At Barnet ioyne the hostes in bloudy fyght.

There ioynd thre batayles ranged in such arraye,
As mought for terrour Alexander fray.
What should I staye to tell the long discourse?
Whoe wan the pallme? whoe bare away the worse?
Suffyseth to saye by my reserved band,
Oure enemyes fled, we had the vpper hand.
My Iron armye helld her steady place,
My prynce to shyeld, his feared foe to chace.

276

The lyke successe befell me in Tewkesbury field.
My furyous force, there forsd perforce, to yelde
The traytour foe: and render to my kyng
Her onelye sonne, least he more bate myght bryng.
Thus hast thou a mirrour of a subiectes minde,
Suche as perhaps is rare agayne to fynd:
The Carving cuts, that cleave the trusty steele,
My fayth, and due allegiaunce, could not fyle.

But out alas. what prayse maye I recount,
That is not spyced with spott, that doth surmount
My greatest vaunt? For bloudy warr to feete
A Tyger was I, all for peace vnmeete.
A Souldyours handes must oft be dyed with goare,
Least starke with rest, they finewd wax, and hoare.
Peace could I wyn by warr, but peace not vse.
Fewe dayes enioy he, whoe warlyke peace doth choose.

When Crofts a Knyght, presented Henryes heyre
To this our prynce, in furyous mood enquere
Of hym he gan, what folye or phrensye vayne,
With armes forsd hym to invade his realme?
Whome answeryng, that he claymd his fathers ryght:
With Gauntlet smitt, commaunded from hys syght:
Clarence, Glocester, Dorcet, and I Hastyngs slewe.
The guylt whereof we shortly all dyd rue.

Clarence, as Cirus, drownd in bloudlyke wyne.
Dorcett I furthered to his spedy pyne.
Of me, my selfe am speakyng presydent.
Nor easyer fate the brystled boare is lent.

277

Oure bloudes have payd the vengeaunce of our guylt,
His fryed boanes, shall broyle for bloud he hath spilt.
O waltsome murther, that attaynteth our fame.
O horryble traytours wantyng worthy name.

Whoe more mischevouslye of all states deserve,
As better they, whoe fyrst dyd such preserve.
Yf those, for gyftes, we recken heavenly wyghtes,
These may we well deeme fends, and dampned sprytes.
And whyle on earth they walke, disguysed devyls,
Sworne foes of vertue, factours for all evylls.
Whose bloudye hands torment theyr goared hartes.
Through bloudsheds horrour, in soundest slepe he sterts.

O happy world were the Lyons men.
All Lyons should at least be spared then.
No suerty now, no lastyng league is bloude.
A meacock is, whoe dreadth to see blud shed.
Stale is the paterne, the fact must nedes be ryfe.
Whyle .ii. were armyes .ii., the issues of fyrst wyfe,
With armed Hert and hand, thone bloudy brother,
With cruell chase pursueth and murdreth thother.

Which whoe defyeth not? yet whoe ceasseth to sue?
The bloudy Caynes theyr bloudy Syre renew.
The horrour yet is lyke in common frayes.
For in eche murther, brother brother slayes.

278

Traytours to nature, Countrey, kinne and kynde.
Whome no bande serveth in brothers zeale to bynd.
O symple age, when slaunder slaughter was.
The tonges small evyll, how doth this mischefe passe?

Hopest thou to cloake thy covert mischief wrought?
Thy conscience, Caytyf, shall proclayme thy thought.
A vysyon, Chaucer sheweth, discloasd thy cryme.
The Fox descrye the crowes and chatteryng Pyen.
And shall thy felow felons, not bewraye
The guiltlesse death, whome guilty hands doe slaye?
Vnpunished scaped for haynous cryme some one,
But vnadvenged, in mynde or bodye, none.

Vengeaunce on mynd, the freatyng furyes take.
The synnefull coarse, lyke earthquake agewes shake.
Theyr frownyng lookes, their frounced mindes bewray.
In hast they runne, and mids theyr race they staye,
As gydded roe. Amyds theyr speache they whist,
At meate they muse. No where they may persyst
But some feare netleth them. Aye hang they so.
So never wanteth the wicked murtherer woe.

An infant rent with lyons ramping pawes?
Whye slaunder I Lyons? They feare the sacred lawes
Of prynces bloud. Aye me, more brute than beast,
Wyth princes sydes, (Licaons pye) to feast?

279

O Tyrant Tygres, O insatiable wolues,
O Englishe curtesye, monstrous mawes and gulfes.
My death shall forthwith preach my earned meede.
Yf fyrst to one lyke murther I procede.

Whyle Edward lyued, dissembled discord lurked:
In double hertes yet so his reuerence workd.
But when succedyng tender feble age,
Gave open gap to tyrants rushing rage:
I holpe the Boare, and Buck, to captyuate
Lord Rivers, Graye, Sir Thomas Vaughan and Hawte.
Yf land would hellp the Sea, well earnd that ground
Hit selfe, to be wyth Conqueryng waves surround.

Theyr spedy death by pryvy dome procured,
At Pomfret: tho my lyfe short whyle endured.
My selfe I slew, when them I damned to death.
At once my throate I ryved, and reft them breth.
For that selfe day, afore or neare the hower
That wythered Atropos nippd the spryngyng flower
With vyolent hand, of theyr foorth runnyng lyfe:
My head and body, in Tower twynd lyke knyfe.

280

By this my paterne, all ye peeres beware.
Oft hangeth he hym selfe, whoe others weenth to snare,
Spare to be eche others butcher. Feare the kyte,
Whoe soareth aloft, whyle frogge and mouse do fyght
In civill Combatt, grapplyng voyd of feare
Of foreyn foe. at once all both to beare.
Which playner by my pytied playnt to see,
A whyle anew your listnyng lend to me.

To true it is .ii. sondry assemblies kept,
At Crossbyes place, and Baynardes castell sett.
The Dukes at Crossebyes, but at Baynards we.
The one to crown a kyng, the other to be.
Suspicious is secession of foule frends,
When eythers dryft to others myschefe tendes.
I feared the end. My Catesbyes beyng there
Discharged all dowtes. Hym held I most entyre.

Whose great preferment by my meanes, I thought
Some spurre, to paye the thankfullnesse he ought.
The trust he ought me, made me trust him so:
That priuye he was bothe to my weale and woe.
My harts one halfe, my chest of confydence,
My tresures trust, my ioye dwelt in his presence.
I loved hym Baldwyn, as the apple of myne eye.
I lothed my lyfe when Catesby would me dye.

Flye from thy chanell Thames, forsake thy streames,
Leve the Adamant Iron, Phebus lay thy beames:
Ceasse heauenly Sphears at last your weary warke,
Betray your charge, returne to Chaos darke.

281

At least, some rutheles Tyger hange her whellpe,
My Catesby so with some excuse to hellp.
And me to comfort, that I aloane, ne seeme
Of all dame natures workes, left in extreme.

A Golden treasure is the tryed frend.
But whoe may gold from counterfaytes defend?
Trust not to sone, ne all to lyght mistrust.
With thone thy selfe, with thother thy frend thou hurtst.
Whoe twyneth betwyxt, and steareth the golden meane,
Nor rashely loveth, nor mistrusteth in vayne.
For frendshyp poyson, for safetye mithridate
Hit is, thy frend to love as thou wouldest hate.

Of tyckle credyte ne had ben the mischiefe,
What needed Virbius miracle doubled lyfe?
Credulytye surnamed first the Aegean seas.
Mistrust, doth trayson in the trustyest rayse.
Suspicious Romulus, staynd his walls fyrst reard
With Brothers bloud, whome for lyght leape he feared.
So not in brotherhode ielousye may be borne,
The ialous cuckold weares the infamous horne.

A beast may preach by tryal, not foresyght.
Could I have shonnd this credyte, nere had lyght
The dreaded death, vpon my guylty head.
But fooles aye wont to learne by after reade.

282

Had Catesby kept vnstaynd, the truth he plyght,
Yet had ye enioyed me, and I yet the lyght.
All Derbyes doutes I cleared with his name.
I knewe, no harme could happ vs, sauns hys blame.

But see the fruites of fickle lyght belief.
The Ambitious dukes corrupt the traytour theef,
To groape me, yf allured I would assent,
To bin a partner of theyr cursd entent.
Wherto, when neyther force nor frendshyp vayld,
By tyraunt force theyr purpose they assailed.
And summond shortly a councell in the tower,
Of Iune the fyftenth, at apoynted hower.

Alas. are counsels wryed to catch the goode?
Is no place now exempt from sheadyng bloud.
Sith counsells, that were carefull to preserve
The guyltlesse good, are meanes to make them starve.
What may not mischief of mad man abuse?
Religions cloake some one to vyce doth chuse,
And maketh god protectour of his cryme.
O monstrous world, well ought we wyshe thy fine.

The fatall skyes, roll on the blackest daye,
When doubled bloudshed, my bloud must repay.
Others none forceth. To me, Syr Thomas Haward
As spurre is buckled, to prouoke me forward.

283

Darbie whoe feared the parted syttynges yore.
Whether, much more he knew by experyence hoare,
Or vnaffected, Clearer truth could see:
At midnight darke this message sendes to me.

Hastynges away. in slepe the Gods foreshew
By dreadfull dreame, fell fates vnto vs two.
Me thought a Boare with tuske so rased our throate,
That both our shoulders of the bloud dyd smoake.
Aryse to horse, strayght homewarde let vs hye.
And syth our foe we may not mate, o flye.
Of Chaunteclere you learne dreames sooth to know.
Thence wysemen conster, more then the Cock doth crow.

While thus he spake, I held within myne arme
Shores wyfe, the tender peece, to kepe me warme.
Fye on adultery, fye on lecherous lust.
Marke in me ye nobles all, Gods iudgmentes iust.
A Pandare, murtherer, and Adulterer thus,
Onely such death I dye, as I ne blushe.
Now, least my Dame mought feare appall my hart:
With eger moode vp in my bed I steart.

And, is thy Lord (quoth I) a sorcerer?
A wyse man now becumme? a dreame reader?
What though so Chaunteclere crowed? I reke it not.
On my part pledeth as well dame Partelott.
Uniudgd hangth yet the case betwixt them twaye,
Ne was his dreame Cause of hys hap I saye.

284

Shall dremyng doutes from prynce my seruyce slacke?
Naye, then mought Hastynges lyfe and lyvyng lacke.

He parteth. I sleepe. my mynde surcharged with synne,
As Phebus beames by mysty clowde kept in,
Ne could missegeve, ne dreame of my mysse happe.
As block I tumbled to myne enemyes trappe.
Securitye causelesse through my carelesse frende,
Reft me foresyght of my approchyng end.
So Catesby clawed me, as when the Catt doth playe
Delieng with mouse, whom straight he mindes to slaye.

The morow come, the latest lyght to me,
On Palfray mounted, to the Tower I hye.
Accompanyed with that Haward my mortall foe,
To slaughter led. thou God wouldest have yt so.
(O depe dissemblers, Honouryng with your cheare,
Whome in hydd hart ye trayterouslye teare.)
Never had realme so open signes of wrack.
As I had shewed me of my heavy happ.

The vysyon fyrst of Stanley, late descryed.
Then myrth so extreme, that neare for ioye I dyed.
Were hit, that Swannelyke I foresong my death,
Or merye mynde foresaw the loose of breath
That long it coueyted, from thys earthes annoye.
But even as syker as thende of woe is ioye,
And gloryous lyght to obscure night doth tend:
So extreame myrth in extreame moane doth ende.

285

For whye, extreames are happs rackd out of course.
By vyolent myght far swinged forth perforce.
Which as thei are pearcingst while they violentst move,
For nearst they cleave to cause that doth them shove:
So soonest fall from that theyr hyghest extreame,
To thother contrary that doth want of meane.
So lawghed he erst, whoe lawghed out his breath.
So laughed I, whan I laughd my selfe to death.

The pleasyngst meanes boade not the luckiest endes.
Not aye, found treasure to lyke plesure tendes.
Mirth meanes not myrth all tyme. thryse happy hyre
Of wyt, to shonne the excesse that all desyer.
But this I passe. I hye to other lyke.
My palfrey in the playnest paved streete,
Thryse bowed his boanes, thryse kneled on the flower,
Thryse shonnd (as Balams asse) the dreaded tower.

What? shoulde I thynke he had sence of after happs?
As beastes forshew the drought or rayny drapps,
As humoures in them want or ells abound,
By influence from the heavens, or chaunge of grounde?
Or doe we enterprete by successe eche sygne?
And as we fansye of ech happ devyne?
And make that cause, that kynne is to theffect?
Not havyng ought of consequence respect?

Bucephalus kneeling onely to his lorde,
Shewed onely, he was, monarche of the world.
Whye maye not then, the steede foreshew by fall,
What Casuall happ the sitter happen shall?
Darius horse by brayeng brought a realme.
And what letteth, why he ne is (as the Asse) Gods meane,
By speakyng sygne, to shew his hap to come,
Whoe is deaf hearer of his speakyng domme?

286

But forward yet. In tower streete I stayed.
Where (could I have seene) loe Haward al bewrayde.
For as I commond with a pryest I mett:
Away my lord quoth he. your tyme ne is yet
To take a pryest. Loe, Synon myght be seene,
Had Troyans eares, as they had hares foole eyen.
But, whome thou God allotted hast to dye
Some grace it is to dye with wympled eye.

Ne was this all. For even at Towerwharfe,
Neare to those walles within whose syght I starfe,
Where erst, in sorowe sowst and depe distresse,
I emparted all my pynyng pensyfnesse
With Hastynges: (so my pursevaunt men call)
Even there, the same to meete hit did me fall.
Who gan to me most dolefully renewe,
The wofull conference had erst in that Lieu.

Hastinges (quoth I) accordyng now they fare,
At Pomfret this daye dyeng, whoe caused that care.
My self have all the world now at my will,
With pleasures cloyed, engorged with the fyll.
God graunt it so quoth he whye doutest thou tho
Quoth I? and all in chafe, to hym gan shewe
In ample wyse, our drift with tedious tale.
And entred so the tower to my bale.

287

What should we thinke of sygnes? They are but happs.
How maye they then, be sygnes of afterclaps?
Doth every Chaunce forshew or cause some other?
Or endyng at it selfe, extendth no furder?
As thoverflowyng floude some mount doth choake,
But to his ayde some other floud hit yoake:
So, yf with sygnes thy synnes once ioyne, beware.
Els wherto chaunces tend, nere curyous care.

Had not my synne deserued my death as wreake,
What myght my myrth have hurt? or horses becke?
Or Hawardes bitter scoffe? or Hastinges talke?
What meane then foole Astrologers to calke,
That twyncklyng sterres flyng downe the fixed fate?
And all is guyded by the sterrye state?
Perdye, a certayne taxe assygnd they have
To shyne, and tymes divyde, not fate to grave.

But graunt they somwhat gyve: is at one instant
Of every babe the byrth in heauen so skannd,
That they that restlesse roll, and never staye,
Should in his lyfe beare yet so vyolent swaye:
That, not his actions onely next to byrth,
But even last fyne, and death be sweyed therwith?
Howe may one mocion make so sundry effectes?
Or one impression tend to such respectes?

Some rule there is yet. Els, whye were differrd
Tyll nowe, these plages, so long ere now deserved?
Yf for they are tryfles, they ne seeme of care:
But toyes with god the statelyest scepters are.

288

Yet in them to playne, doth appere foresett,
The certayne rule and fatall lymytes sett.
Yet thinke we not, this sure foresettyng fate.
But Gods fast prouydence for eche pryncely state.

And hath he erst restraynd his provydence?
Or is he nygard of his free dispence?
Or is he vncertayne foresett dryfts to dryue?
That not Dame Chaunce but he all goods may gyve?
A heathen god they hold, whoe fortune keepe,
To deal them happs, whyle god they ween a sleepe.
Mock godds they are, and many Gods induce,
Whoe fortune fayne to father theyr abuse.

Howe so it be, hit mought have warned me.
But, what I could not, that in me see ye.
Whoe runne in race, the honour lyke to wynn,
Whose fayrest forme, nought maye deforme but synne.
Alas, when most I dyd defye all dread,
By syngle heare deaths sworde hong over my head.
For herk the end and lysten now my fall.
This is the last, and this the fruit of all.

To Councell chamber come, awhyle we stayd
For hym, without whom nought was done or sayd.
At last he came, and curteously excused,
For he so long our patience had abused.
And pleasantly began to paynt his cheare,
And sayd. My lord of Elye, would we had here
Some of the strawberyes, whereof you haue stoare.
The last delyghted me as nothyng more.

289

Would, what so ye wyshe, I mought as well commaund,
My lord (quoth he) as those. And out of hand.
His servant sendth to Elye place for them.
Out goeth from vs the restlesse devyll agayne.
Belyke (I thynk) scarce yet perswaded full,
To worke the mischiefe that thus maddeth his scull.
At last determynd, of his bloudy thought
And force ordaynd, to worke the wyle he sought:

Frownyng he enters, with so chaunged cheare,
As for myld May had chopped fowle Januere.
And lowryng on me with the goggle eye,
The whetted tuske, and furrowed forhead hye,
His Crooked shoulder bristellyke set vp,
With frothy Iawes, whose foame he chawed and suppd,
With angry lookes that flamed as the fyer:
Thus gan at last to grunt the grymest syre.

What earned they, whoe me, the kyngdomes staye,
Contryved have councell, trayterously to slaye?
Abashed all sate. I thought I mought be bolld,
For conscyence clearenesse, and acquayntaunce olld.
Theyr hyre is playne quoth I. Be death the least,
To whoe so seekth your grace so to molest.
Withouten staye: the Queene, and the whore shores wyfe,
By witchcraft (quoth he) seeke to wast my lyfe.

Loe here the wythered and bewytched arme,
That thus is spent by those .ii. Sorceresse charme.
And bared his arme and shewed his swynyshe skynne.
Suche cloakes they vse, that seek to clowd theyr synne.

290

But out alas, hit serueth not for the rayne.
To all the howse the coloure was to playne.
Nature had gyven hym many a maymed marke,
And hit amonges, to note her monstrous warke.

My doubtfull hart distracted this replye.
For thone I cared not. Thother nyppd so nye
That whyst I could not. But forthwith brake forth.
Yf so hit be, of death they are doutlesse worth.
Yf, traytour quod he? playest thou with yfs and ands?
Ile on thy body avowe it with these hands.
And therwithall he myghtely bounced the bord.
In rushd hys byll men. one hym selfe bestyrrd.

Layeng at lord Stanley. whose braine he had suerly cleft
Had he not downe beneath the table crept.
But Elye, Yorke, and I, were taken strayght.
Imprysoned they: I should no longar wayt,
But charged was to shryue me, and shyft with hast.
My lord must dyne, and now midday was past.
The boares first dyshe, not the boares head should be.
But Hastynges heade the boaryshe beast would see.

Whye staye I his dyner? vnto the chapell ioyneth
A greenish hyll, that body and sowle oft twyneth.
There on a block my head was stryken of.
Iohn Baptists dishe, for Herode bloudy gnoffe.
Thus lyved I Baldwyn, thus dyed I, thus I fell:
This is the summe. which all at large to tell
Would volumes fyll. whence yet these lessons note
Ye noble lords, to learne and kenne by roate.

By fylthy rysyng feare your names to stayne.
Yf not for vertues love, for dread of payne.

291

Whome so the myndes vnquyet state vpheaves,
Be hit for love or feare: when fancye reaves
Reason his ryght, by mockyng of the witt:
Yf once the cause of this affection flytt,
Reason preuaylyng on the vnbrydled thought:
Downe tottreth whoe by fansy clombe aloft.

So hath the ryser fowle no staye of fall,
No not of those that raysd hym fyrst of all.
His surety standes, in maynteynyng the cawse
That heaved him first, which reft by reasons sawes,
Not onelye fallth he to hys former state,
But lyveth for ever in his prynces hate.
And marke my lordes, God for adultery sleaeth
Though ye it thynk to sweet a synne for death.

Serve truely your prynce and fear no rebells myght,
On princes halves the myghty god doth fyght.
O much more then forsweare a forein foe,
Whoe seeketh your realme and countrey to vndoe.
Murther detest, have hands vnstaynd with bloude.
Aye with your succour do protect the good.
Chace treason where trust should be. wed to your frend
Youre hart and power, to your lyves last end.

Flye tickle credyte, shonne alyke distrust.
To true hit is, and credyte it you must:
The Ialous nature wanteth no stormy stryfe,
The symple sowle aye leadeth a sower lyfe.

292

Beware of flaterers, frends in outward showe.
Best is of such to make thyne open foe.
What all men seek, that all men seek to fayne.
Some such to be, some such to seeme, them payne.

Marke gods iust iudgments, punishyng synne by synne.
And slyppery state wherin aloft we swymme.
The prouerbe, all day vp yf we ne fall,
Agreeth well to vs hye heaved worldlynges all.
From dunghill couche vpsterte, in honours weed
We shyne: whyle fortune false, (whome none erst feed
To stand with staye and forswear ticklnesse:)
Sowseth vs in myre of durtye brittlenesse.

And learne ye prynces by my wronged sprite,
Not to misseconster what is meant aryght.
The whinged wordes to oft preuent the wytt,
When sylence ceassth afore the lypps to sytt.
Alas, what may the wordes yeeld worthy death?
The words worst is, the speakers stynkyng breath.
Words are but wynd. whye cost they then so muche?
The guylty kyck, when they to smartly touche.

Forth irreturnable flyeth the spoken word,
Be hit in scoffe, in earest, or in bourd.
Without returne, and vnreceyved, hit hangs.
And at the takers mercy, or rygour, stands.
Which yf he sowerly wrest with wrathfull cheare,
The shyveryng word turns to the speakers feare.
Yf frendly curtesye do the word resollve,
To the Speakers comfort sweetly hit dissolueth.

293

Even as the vapour which the fyer repells,
Turns not to earth, but in mydd aer dwells.
Where whyle it hangth, yf Boreas frosty flawes
With rygour rattle yt: not to rayne it thawes,
But thonder, lyghtnynges, rattlyng hayle and snow
Sends downe to earth, whence first hit rose below.
But yf fayre phebus with his countenaunce sweete
Resolue it, downe the dewe, or Manna fleeteth.

The Manna dew, that in the easterne lands,
Excellth the laboure of the bees small hands.
Els for her Memnon gray, Auroras teares,
On the earth hit stylleth, the partner of her feares.
Or sendeth sweete showers to gladd theyr mother earth,
Whence fyrst they tooke theyr fyrst inconstant byrth.
To so great gryefes, ill taken wynd doth grow.
Of words well taken, such delyghtes do flowe.

This learned, thus be here at length an end.
What synce ensued, to the I wyll commend.
Now farewell Baldwyn, shyeld my torne name,
From sclaunderous trompe of blastyng black defame.
But ere I part, hereof thou record beare.
I clayme no part of vertues reckned here.
My vyce my selfe, but god my vertues take.
So hence depart I, as I entred, naked.

Thus ended Hastynges both his lyfe and tale,
Contaynyng all his blysse, and worldes bale.
Happye he lyved, to happye but for synne,
Happye he dyed whome ryght hys death dyd bryng.

294

Thus ever happy. For there rests no meane
Twyse blyssefull lyfes and balefull deathes extreame.
Yet feared not his foes to head his name.
And by these sclaunders to procure hys shame.

In rousty armure as in extreame shyft,
They cladd them selues, to cloake theyr diuelysh dryft.
And forthwith for substancyall cytezyns sent,
Declaryng to them, Hastynges forged entent
Was to haue slayne the duke: and to haue seysed
The kyngs yonge person, slayeng whom he had pleasd.
But god of Iustyce had withturnd that fate,
Which where hit ought, lyght on hys proper pate.

Then fedd they fame by proclamation spredd,
Nought to forgett, that mought defame hym dead,
Which was so curyous, and so clerkly pennd,
So long with all: that when some dyd attend
Hys death so yonge: they saw, that longe afore
The Shroud was shaped, then babe to dye was boare.
So wonteth god to blynde the worldly wyse,
That not to see, that all the world espyes.

One hearyng hit, cryed out. A goodly cast,
And well contryved, fowle cast away for hast.
Wherto another gan in scoffe replye,
Fyrst pennd it was by enspyryng prophecye.
So can god reape vp secrete mischiefes wrought,
To the confusyon of the workers thought.

295

My lords, the tubb, that drownd the Clarence duke,
Dround not his death, ne yet his deathes rebuke.

Your polytyke secretes gard with trusty loyaltye
So shall they lurk in most assured secretye.
By Hastynges death, and after fame, ye learne,
The earth for murther cryeth out vengeaunce sterne.
Flye from his fautes, and spare his quyted fame.
The Eager houndes forbeare theyr slayne game.
Deade, deade. Avaunt Curres from the conquered chase.
Ill mought he lyue who loveth the deade to race.

Thus lyued this lord, thus dyed he, thus he slept.
Mids forward race when first to rest he stept,
Envyous death, that bounceth as well with mace
At Caysars courtes, as at the poorest gates:
When nature seemd to slow, by artes sloape meane,
Conueyghd him sooner to his liues extreame.
Happy, in preuenting woes that after happd,
In slomber swete his liuing lightes he lappd.

Whose thus vntimely death, yf any grieve:
Knowe he, he lived to dye, and dyed to lyue.
Vntimely neuer comes the liues last mett.
In Cradle death may rightly clayme his dett.
Strayght after byrth due is the fatall beere.
By deathes permission the aged linger here.
Euen in thy Swathebands out commission goeth
To loose thy breath, that yet but yongly bloweth.

296

Happy, thrise happy, who so loosth his breath,
As life he gayneth by his liuing death.
As Hastinges here. Whom time and truthe agree,
To engrave by fame in strong eternitie.
Who spareth not spitting, if he spitte but bloud?
Yet this our lord, spared not for others good,
With one swete breath his present death to speake,
Agaynst the vsurpour Boare, that hellyshe freak.

Worthy to liue, who liued not for him selfe
But prised his fame more then this worldly pelfe.
Whose name and line, if any yet preserue,
We wyshe they liue like honour to deserue.
Whether thou seke by Martial prowesse prayse,
Or Pallas pollecie hygh thy name to rayse,
Or trustye seruice iust death to attayne:
Hastinges foreled. Trace here his bloudy trayne.

298

The Induction.

The wrathfull winter prochinge on a pace,
With blustring blastes had al ybared the treen,
And olde Saturnus with his frosty face
With chilling colde had pearst the tender green:
The mantels rent, wherein enwrapped been
The gladsom groves that nowe laye ouerthrowen,
The tapets torne, and euery blome downe blowen.

The soyle that earst so seemely was to seen
Was all despoyled of her beauties hewe:
And soot freshe flowers (wherwith the sommers queen
Had clad the earth) now Boreas blastes downe blewe.
And small fowles flocking, in theyr song did rewe
The winters wrath, wherwith eche thing defaste
In woful wise bewayld the sommer past.

Hawthorne had lost his motley lyverye,
The naked twigges were shivering all for colde:
And dropping downe the teares abundantly,
Eche thing (me thought) with weping eye me tolde
The cruell season, bidding me withholde
My selfe within, for I was gotten out
Into the fieldes where as I walkte about.

299

When loe the night with mistie mantels spred
Gan darke the daye, and dim the azure skyes,
And Venus in her message Hermes sped
To bluddy Mars, to wyl him not to ryse,
While she her selfe approcht in speedy wise:
And Virgo hiding her disdaineful brest
With Thetis nowe had layd her downe to rest.

Whiles Scorpio dreading Sagittarius dart,
Whose bowe prest bent in sight, the string had slypt,
Downe slyd into the Ocean flud aparte,
The Beare that in the Iryshe seas had dipt
His griesly feete, with spede from thence he whypt:
For Thetis hasting from the Virgines bed,
Pursued the Bear, that ear she came was fled.

And Phaeton nowe neare reaching to his race
With glistering beames, gold streamynge where they bent,
Was prest to enter in his resting place.
Erythius that in the cart fyrste went
Had euen nowe attaynde his iourneyes stent.
And fast declining hid away his head,
while Titan couched him in his purple bed.

And pale Cinthea with her borowed light
Beginning to supply her brothers place,
was past the Noonesteede syxe degrees in sight
when sparklyng starres amyd the heauens face
with twinkling light shoen on the earth apace,
That whyle they brought about the nightes chare,
The darke had dimmed the daye ear I was ware.

300

And sorowing I to see the sommer flowers,
The liuely greene, the lusty leas forlorne,
The sturdy trees so shattered with the showers,
The fieldes so fade that floorisht so beforne,
It taught me wel all earthly thinges be borne
To dye the death, for nought long time may last.
The sommers beauty yeeldes to winters blast.

Then looking vpward to the heauens leames
with nightes starres thicke powdred euery where,
which erst so glistened with the golden streames
That chearefull Phebus spred downe from his sphere,
Beholding darke oppressing day so neare:
The sodayne sight reduced to my minde,
The sundry chaunges that in earth we fynde.

That musing on this worldly wealth in thought,
which comes and goes more faster than we see
The flyckering flame that with the fyer is wrought,
My busie minde presented vnto me
Such fall of pieres as in this realme had be:
That ofte I wisht some would their woes descryue.
To warne the rest whom fortune left aliue.

And strayt forth stalking with redoubled pace
For that I sawe the night drewe on so fast,
In blacke all clad there fell before my face
A piteous wight, whom woe had al forwaste,
Furth from her iyen the cristall teares outbrast,
And syghing sore her handes she wrong and folde,
Tare al her heare that ruth was to beholde.

301

Her body small forwithered and forespent,
As is the stalke that sommers drought opprest,
Her wealked face with woful teares besprent,
Her colour pale, and (as it seemd her best)
In woe and playnt reposed was her rest.
And as the stone that droppes of water weares,
So dented were her cheekes with fall of teares.

Her iyes swollen with flowing streames aflote,
Wherewith her lookes throwen vp full piteouslye,
Her forceles handes together ofte she smote,
With dolefull shrikes, that eckoed in the skye:
Whose playnt such sighes dyd strayt accompany,
That in my doome was neuer man did see
A wight but halfe so woe begon as she.

I stoode agast beholding all her plight,
Tweene dread and dolour so distreynd in hart
That while my heares vpstarted with the sight,
The teares out streamde for sorowe of her smart:
But when I sawe no ende that could aparte
The deadly dewle, which she so sore dyd make,
With dolefull voice then thus to her I spake.

Vnwrap thy woes what euer wight thou be
And stint betime to spill thy selfe wyth playnt,
Tell what thou art, and whence, for well I see
Thou canst not dure wyth sorowe thus attaynt.
And with that worde of sorrowe all forfaynt
She looked vp, and prostrate as she laye
With piteous sound loe thus she gan to saye.

302

Alas, I wretche whom thus thou seest distreyned
With wasting woes that neuer shall aslake,
Sorrowe I am, in endeles tormentes payned,
Among the furies in the infernall lake:
Where Pluto god of Hel so griesly blacke
Doth holde his throne, and Letheus deadly taste
Doth rieue remembraunce of eche thyng forepast.

Whence come I am, the drery destinie
And luckeles lot for to bemone of those,
Whom Fortune in this maze of miserie
Of wretched chaunce most wofull myrrours chose
That when thou seest how lightly they did lose
Theyr pompe, theyr power, & that they thought most sure,
Thou mayest soone deeme no earthly ioye may dure.

Whose rufull voyce no sooner had out brayed
Those wofull wordes, wherewith she sorrowed so,
But out alas she shryght and never stayed,
Fell downe, and all to dasht her selfe for woe.
The colde pale dread my lyms gan overgo,
And I so sorrowed at her sorowes eft,
That what with griefe and feare my wittes were reft.

I strecht my selfe, and strayt my hart reuiues,
That dread and dolour erst did so appale,
Lyke him that with the feruent feuer stryves
When sickenes seekes his castell health to skale:
With gathered spirites so forst I feare to auale.
And rearing her with anguishe all fordone,
My spirits returnd, and then I thus begonne.

303

O Sorrowe, alas, sith Sorrowe is thy name,
And that to thee this drere doth well pertayne,
In vayne it were to seeke to ceas the same:
But as a man hym selfe with sorrowe slayne,
So I alas do comfort thee in payne,
That here in sorrowe art forsonke so depe
That at thy sight I can but sigh and wepe.

I had no sooner spoken of a syke
But that the storme so rumbled in her brest,
As Eolus could neuer roare the like,
And showers downe rayned from her iyen so fast,
That all bedreynt the place, till at the last
Well eased they the dolour of her minde,
As rage of rayne doth swage the stormy wynde.

For furth she paced in her fearfull tale:
Cum, cum, (quod she) and see what I shall shewe,
Cum heare the playning, and the bytter bale
Of worthy men, by Fortune ouerthrowe.
Cum thou and see them rewing al in rowe.
They were but shades that erst in minde thou rolde.
Cum, cum with me, thine iyes shall them beholde.

What could these wordes but make me more agast?
To heare her tell whereon I musde while eare?
So was I mazed therewyth, tyll at the last,
Musing vpon her wurdes, and what they were,
All sodaynly well lessoned was my feare:
For to my minde returned howe she telde
Both what she was, and where her wun she helde.

304

Whereby I knewe that she a Goddesse was,
And therewithall resorted to my minde
My thought, that late presented me the glas
Of brittle state, of cares that here we finde,
Of thousand woes to silly men assynde:
And howe she nowe byd me come and beholde,
To see with iye that erst in thought I rolde.

Flat downe I fell, and with al reuerence
Adored her, perceyuing nowe that she
A Goddesse sent by godly prouidence,
In earthly shape thus showed her selfe to me,
To wayle and rue this worldes vncertayntye:
And while I honourd thus her godheds might,
With playning voyce these wurdes to me she shryght.

I shal the guyde first to the griesly lake,
And thence vnto the blisfull place of rest.
Where thou shalt see and heare the playnt they make,
That whilom here bare swinge among the best.
This shalt thou see, but great is the vnrest
That thou must byde before thou canst attayne
Vnto the dreadfull place where these remayne.

And with these wurdes as I vpraysed stood,
And gan to folowe her that strayght furth paced,
Eare I was ware, into a desert wood
We nowe were cum: where hand in hand imbraced,
She led the way, and through the thicke so traced,
As but I had bene guyded by her might,
It was no waye for any mortall wight.

305

But loe, while thus amid the desert darke,
We passed on with steppes and pace vnmete:
A rumbling roar confusde with howle and barke
Of Dogs, shoke all the ground vnder our feete,
And stroke the din within our eares so deepe,
As halfe distraught vnto the ground I fell,
Besought retourne, and not to visite hell.

But she forthwith vplifting me apace
Remoued my dread, and with a stedfast minde
Bad me come on, for here was now the place,
The place where we our trauayle ende should finde.
Wherewith I arose, and to the place assynde
Astoynde I stalke, when strayt we approched nere
The dredfull place, that you wil dread to here.

An hydeous hole al vaste, withouten shape,
Of endles depth, orewhelmde with ragged stone,
Wyth ougly mouth, and grisly Iawes doth gape,
And to our sight confounds it selfe in one.
Here entred we, and yeding forth, anone
An horrible lothly lake we might discerne
As blacke as pitche, that cleped is Auerne.

A deadly gulfe where nought but rubbishe growes,
With fowle blacke swelth in thickned lumpes that lyes,
Which vp in the ayer such stinking vapors throwes
That ouer there, may flye no fowle but dyes,
Choakt with the pestilent sauours that aryse.
Hither we cum, whence forth we still dyd pace,
In dreadful feare amid the dreadfull place.

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And first within the portche and iawes of Hell
Sate diepe Remorse of conscience, al besprent
With teares: and to her selfe oft would she tell
Her wretchednes, and cursing neuer stent
To sob and sigh: but euer thus lament,
With thoughtful care, as she that all in vayne
Would weare and waste continually in payne.

Her iyes vnstedfast rolling here and there,
Whurld on eche place, as place that vengeaunce brought,
So was her minde continually in feare,
Tossed and tormented with the tedious thought
Of those detested crymes which she had wrought:
With dreadful cheare and lookes throwen to the skye,
Wyshyng for death, and yet she could not dye.

Next sawe we Dread al tremblyng how he shooke,
With foote vncertayne profered here and there:
Benumde of speache, and with a gastly looke
Searcht euery place al pale and dead for feare,
His cap borne vp with staring of his heare,
Stoynde and amazde at his owne shade for dreed,
And fearing greater daungers than was nede.

And next within the entry of this lake
Sate fell Reuenge gnashing her teeth for yre,
Deuising meanes howe she may vengeaunce take,
Neuer in rest tyll she haue her desire:
But frets within so farforth with the fyer
Of wreaking flames, that nowe determines she,
To dye by death, or vengde by death to be.

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When fell Reuenge with bloudy foule pretence
Had showed her selfe as next in order set,
With trembling limmes we softly parted thence,
Tyll in our iyes another sight we met:
When fro my hart a sigh forthwith I fet
Rewing alas vpon the wofull plight
Of Miserie, that next appered in sight.

His face was leane, and sumdeale pyned away,
And eke his handes consumed to the bone,
But what his body was I can not say,
For on his carkas, rayment had he none
Saue cloutes & patches pieced one by one.
With staffe in hand, and skrip on shoulders cast,
His chiefe defence agaynst the winters blast.

His foode for most, was wylde fruytes of the tree,
Vnles sumtime sum crummes fell to his share:
Which in his wallet, long God wote kept he.
As on the which full dayntlye would he fare.
His drinke the running streame: his cup the bare
Of his palme closed, his bed the hard colde grounde.
To this poore life was Miserie ybound.

Whose wretched state when we had well behelde
With tender ruth on him and on his feres,
In thoughtful cares, furth then our pace we helde.
And by and by, an other shape apperes
Of Greedy care, stil brushing vp the breres,
His knuckles knobd, his fleshe deepe dented in,
With tawed handes, and hard ytanned skyn.

308

The morrowe graye no sooner hath begunne
To spreade his light euen peping in our iyes,
When he is vp and to his worke yrunne,
But let the nightes blacke mistye mantels rise,
And with fowle darke neuer so much disguyse
The fayre bright day, yet ceasseth he no whyle,
But hath his candels to prolong his toyle.

By him lay Heauy slepe the cosin of death
Flat on the ground, and stil as any stone,
A very corps, save yelding forth a breath.
Small kepe tooke he whom Fortune frowned on.
Or whom she lifted vp into the trone
Of high renowne, but as a liuing death,
So dead alyve, of lyef he drewe the breath.

The bodyes rest, the quyete of the hart,
The travayles ease, the still nightes feer was he.
And of our life in earth the better parte,
Reuer of sight, and yet in whom we see
Thinges oft that tide, and ofte that neuer bee.
Without respect esteming equally
Kyng Cresus pompe, and Irus pouertie.

And next in order sad Olde age we found
His beard al hoare, his iyes hollow and blynde,
With drouping chere still poring on the ground,
As on the place where nature him assinde
To rest, when that the sisters had vntwynde
His vitall threde, and ended with theyr knyfe
The fleting course of fast declining life.

309

There heard we him with broken and hollow playnt
Rewe with him selfe his ende approching fast,
And all for nought his wretched minde torment.
With swete remembraunce of his pleasures past,
And freshe delites of lusty youth forwaste.
Recounting which, how would he sob & shrike?
And to be yong againe of Ioue beseke.

But and the cruell fates so fixed be
That time forepast can not retourne agayne,
This one request of Ioue yet prayed he:
That in such withered plight, and wretched paine,
As elde (accompanied with his lothsom trayne.)
Had brought on him, all were it woe and griefe.
He myght a while yet linger forth his lief,

And not so soone descend into the pit:
Where death, when he the mortall corps hath slayne,
With retcheles hande in grave doth couer it,
Thereafter neuer to enioye agayne
The gladsome light, but in the ground ylayne,
In depth of darkenes waste and weare to nought,
As he had neuer into the world been brought.

But who had seene him sobbing, howe he stoode
Vnto him selfe and howe he would bemone
His youth forepast, as though it wrought hym good
To talke of youth, al wer his youth foregone,
He would haue mused, & meruayld muche whereon
This wretched age should life desyre so fayne,
And knowes ful wel life doth but length his payne.

310

Crookebackt he was, toothshaken, and blere iyed,
Went on three feete, and sometime crept on fower,
With olde lame bones, that ratled by his syde,
His skalpe all pilde, & he with elde forlore:
His withered fist stil knocking at deathes dore,
Fumbling and driueling as he drawes his breth,
For briefe the shape and messenger of death.

And fast by him pale Maladie was plaste,
Sore sicke in bed, her colour al forgone,
Bereft of stomake, sauor, and of taste,
Ne could she brooke no meat but brothes alone.
Her breath corrupt, her kepers euery one
Abhorring her, her sickenes past recure,
Detesting phisicke, and all phisickes cure.

But oh the doleful sight that then we see,
We turnde our looke and on the other side
A griesly shape of Famine mought we see,
With greedy lookes, and gaping mouth that cryed,
And roard for meat as she should there haue dyed,
Her body thin and bare as any bone,
Wherto was left nought but the case alone.

And that alas was knawen on euery where,
All full of holes, that I ne mought refrayne
From teares, to se how she her armes could teare
And with her teeth gnashe on the bones in vayne:
When all for nought she fayne would so sustayne
Her starven corps, that rather seemde a shade,
Then any substaunce of a creature made.

Great was her force whom stonewall could not stay,
Her tearyng nayles snatching at all she sawe:
With gaping Iawes that by no meanes ymay

311

Be satisfyed from hunger of her mawe,
But eates her selfe as she that hath no lawe:
Gnawyng alas her carkas all in vayne,
Where you may count eche sinow, bone, and vayne.

On her while we thus firmely fixt our iyes,
That bled for ruth of such a drery sight,
Loe sodaynelye she shryght in so huge wyse,
As made hell gates to shyver with the myght.
Wherewith a darte we sawe howe it did lyght.
Ryght on her brest, and therewithal pale death
Enthryllyng it to reve her of her breath.

And by and by a dum dead corps we sawe,
Heauy and colde, the shape of death aryght,
That dauntes all earthly creatures to his lawe:
Agaynst whose force in vayne it is to fyght
Ne piers, ne princes, nor no mortall wyght,
No townes, ne realmes, cities, ne strongest tower,
But al perforce must yeeld vnto his power.

His Dart anon out of the corps he tooke,
And in his hand (a dreadfull sight to see)
With great tryumphe eftsones the same he shooke,
That most of all my feares affrayed me:
His bodie dight with nought but bones perdye
The naked shape of man there sawe I playne,
All save the fleshe, the synowe, and the vayne.

Lastly stoode Warre in glitteryng armes yclad.
With visage grym, sterne lookes, and blackely hewed
In his right hand a naked sworde he had,
That to the hiltes was al with blud embrewed:

312

And in his left (that kinges and kingdomes rewed)
Famine and fyer he held, and therewythall
He razed townes, and threwe downe towers and all.

Cities he sakt, and realmes that whilom flowred,
In honor, glory, and rule above the best,
He overwhelmde, and all theyr fame deuowred,
Consumed, destroyed, wasted, and neuer ceast,
Tyll he theyr wealth, theyr name, and all opprest.
His face forhewed with woundes, and by his side,
There hunge his targe with gashes depe and wyde.

In mids of which, depaynted there we founde
Deadly debate, al ful of snaky heare,
That with a blouddy fillet was ybound,
Outbrething nought but discord euery where.
And round about were portrayd here and there
The hugie hostes, Darius and his power,
His kynges, prynces, his pieres, and all his flower.

Whom great Macedo vanquisht there in sight,
With diepe slaughter, dispoylyng all his pryde,
Pearst through his realmes, and daunted all his might.
Duke Hanniball beheld I there beside,
In Cannas field, victor howe he did ride,
And woful Romaynes that in vayne withstoode
And Consull Paulus covered all in blood.

Yet sawe I more the fight at Trasimene.
And Trebey field, and eke when Hanniball
And worthy Scipio last in armes were seene
Before Carthago gate, to trye for all
The worldes empyre, to whom it should befal.

313

There sawe I Pompeye, and Cesar clad in armes,
Theyr hostes alyed and al theyr civil harmes.

With conquerours hands forbathde in their owne blood,
And Cesar weping ouer Pompeyes head.
Yet sawe I Scilla and Marius where they stoode,
Theyr great crueltie, and the diepe bludshed
Of frendes: Cyrus I sawe and his host dead,
And howe the Queene with great despyte hath flonge
His head in bloud of them she overcome.

Xerxes the Percian kyng yet sawe I there
With his huge host that dranke the riuers drye,
Dismounted hilles, and made the vales vprere,
His hoste and all yet sawe I slayne perdye.
Thebes I sawe all razde howe it dyd lye
In heapes of stones, and Tyrus put to spoyle,
With walles and towers flat euened with the soyle.

But Troy alas (me thought) aboue them all,
It made myne iyes in very teares consume:
When I beheld the wofull werd befall,
That by the wrathfull wyl of Gods was come:
And Ioves vnmooved sentence and foredoome
On Priam kyng, and on his towne so bent.
I could not lyn, but I must there lament.

And that the more sith destinie was so sterne
As force perforce, there might no force auayle,
But she must fall: and by her fall we learne,
That cities, towres, wealth, world, and al shall quayle.
No manhoode, might, nor nothing mought preuayle,
Al were there prest ful many a prynce and piere
And many a knight that solde his death full deere.

314

Not wurthy Hector wurthyest of them all,
Her hope, her ioye, his force is nowe for nought.
O Troy, Troy, there is no boote but bale,
The hugie horse within thy walles is brought:
Thy turrets fall, thy knightes that whilom fought
In armes amyd the fyeld, are slayne in bed,
Thy Gods defylde, and all thy honour dead.

The flames vpspring, and cruelly they crepe
From wall to roofe, til all to cindres waste,
Some fyer the houses where the wretches slepe,
Sum rushe in here, sum run in there as fast.
In euery where or sworde or fyer they taste.
The walles are torne, the towers whurld to the ground,
There is no mischiefe but may there be found.

Cassandra yet there sawe I howe they haled
From Pallas house, with spercled tresse vndone,
Her wristes fast bound, and with Greeks rout empaled:
And Priam eke in vayne howe he did runne
To armes, whom Pyrrhus with despite hath done
To cruel death, and bathed him in the bayne
Of his sonnes blud before the altare slayne.

But howe can I descryve the doleful sight,
That in the shylde so liuelike fayer did shyne?
Sith in this world I thinke was neuer wyght
Could haue set furth the halfe, not halfe so fyne.
I can no more but tell howe there is seene
Fayer Ilium fal in burning red gledes downe,
And from the soyle great Troy Neptunus towne.

315

Herefrom when scarce I could mine iyes withdrawe
That fylde with teares as doeth the spryngyng well,
We passed on so far furth tyl we sawe
Rude Acheron, a lothsome lake to tell
That boyles and bubs vp swelth as blacke as hell.
Where grisly Charon at theyr fixed tide
Stil ferreies ghostes vnto the farder side,

The aged God no sooner sorowe spyed,
But hasting strayt vnto the banke apace
With hollow call vnto the rout he cryed,
To swarve apart, and geue the Goddesse place.
Strayt it was done, when to the shoar we pace,
Where hand in hand as we then linked fast,
Within the boate we are together plaste.

And furth we launch ful fraughted to the brinke,
Whan with the vnwonted weyght, the rustye keele
Began to cracke as if the same should sinke.
We hoyse vp mast and sayle, that in a whyle.
We set the shore, where scarcely we had while
For to arryve, but that we heard anone
A thre sound barke confounded al in one.

We had not long furth past, but that we sawe,
Blacke Cerberus the hydeous hound of hell,
With bristles reard, and with a thre mouthed Iawe,
Foredinning the ayer with his horrible yel.
Out of the diepe darke cave where he did dwell,
The Goddesse strayt he knewe, and by and by
He peaste and couched, while that we passed by.

316

Thence cum we to the horrour and the hel,
The large great kyngdomes, and the dreadful raygne
Of Pluto in his trone where he dyd dwell,
The wyde waste places, and the hugye playne:
The waylinges, shrykes, and sundry sortes of payne,
The syghes, the sobbes, the diepe and deadly groane,
Earth, ayer, and all resounding playnt and moane.

Here pewled the babes, and here the maydes vnwed
with folded handes theyr sory chaunce bewayled,
Here wept the gyltles slayne, and louers dead,
That slewe them selues when nothyng els auayled;
A thousand sortes of sorrowes here that wayled
with sighes and teares, sobs, shrykes, and all yfere,
That (oh alas) it was a hel to heare.

we stayed vs strayt, and wyth a rufull feare,
Beheld this heauy sight, while from mine eyes,
The vapored teares downstilled here and there,
And Sorowe eke in far more woful wyse.
Tooke on with playnt, vp heauing to the skyes
Her wretched handes, that with her crye the rout
Gan all in heapes to swarme vs round about.

Loe here (quoth Sorowe) Prynces of renowne,
That whilom sat on top of Fortunes wheele
Nowe layed ful lowe, like wretches whurled downe,
Euen with one frowne, that stayed but with a smyle,
And nowe behold the thing that thou erewhile,
Saw only in thought, and what thou now shalt heare
Recompt the same to Kesar, King, and Pier.

317

Then first came Henry duke of Buckingham,
His cloke of blacke al pilde and quite forworne,
Wringing his handes, and Fortune ofte doth blame,
Which of a duke hath made him nowe her skorne.
With gastly lookes as one in maner lorne,
Oft spred his armes, stretcht handes he ioynes as fast,
With ruful chere, and vapored eyes vpcast.

His cloke he rent, his manly breast he beat,
His heare al torne about the place it laye,
My hart so molte to see his griefe so great,
As felingly me thought it dropt awaye:
His iyes they whurled about withouten staye,
With stormy syghes the place dyd so complayne,
As if his hart at eche had burst in twayne.

Thryse he began to tell his doleful tale,
And thrise the sighes did swalowe vp his voyce,
At eche of which he shryked so wythal
As though the heauens rived with the noyse:
Tyll at the last recovering his voyce,
Supping the teares that all his brest beraynde
On cruel Fortune weping thus he playnde.

318

The complaynt of Henrye duke of Buckingham.

Who trustes to much in honours highest trone
And warely watche not slye dame Fortunes snare:
Or who in courte will beare the swaye alone,
And wysely weygh not howe to wyeld the care,
Beholde he me, and by my death beware:
Whom flattering Fortune falsely so begilde
That loe she slewe, where earst ful smooth she smylde.

And Sackeuylle sith in purpose nowe thou hast
The woful fal of prynces to discryve,
Whom Fortune both vplyft, and gayn downe cast,
To shewe thereby the vnsuerty in this life,
Marke wel my fal, which I shal shewe belive.
And paynt it furth that all estates may knowe:
Haue they the warning, and be mine the woe.

For noble bloud made me both prince and pier
Yea pierles too, had reason purchast place,
And God with giftes endowed me largely here.
But what auayles his giftes where fayles his grace?
My mothers syer sprong of a kyngely race
And calde was Edmund duke of Somerset,
Bereft of lyef ere tyme by nature set.

319

Whose faythfull hart to Henry syxt so wrought
That never he hym in weale or woe forsooke,
Tyl lastly he at Tewxbury fyeld was cought
Where with an axe his violent death he toke:
He never could kyng Edwardes party brooke,
Tyll by his death he vouchte that quarell good,
In which his syer and graundsyer spylt theyr bloud.

And such was erst my fathers cruell chaunce,
Of Stafford Earle by name that Humfrey hyght,
Who ever prest dyd Henries parte auaunce,
And neuer ceast tyl at Saynt Albones fight
He lost his lyfe as than did many a knyght:
where eke my graundsyer duke of Buckingham
was wounded sore, and hardly skapte vntane.

But what may boot to stay the sisters three?
When Atropos perforce wil cut the threde:
The doleful day was come when you might see
Northhampton fyeld with armed men orespred,
where fate would algates haue my graundsyer dead:
So rushyng furth amyds the fyercest fight,
He lived & dyed there in his maysters ryght.

In place of whom, as it befel my lot,
Like on a stage, so stept I in strayt waye,
Enioying there but wofully god wot,
As he that had a slender part to playe:
To teache therby, in earth no state may stay,
But as our partes abridge or length our age
So passe we all while others fyll the stage.

For of my selfe the drery fate to playne,
I was sometime a prince withouten pier,
When Edward fift began his ruful raygne,
Ay me, then I began that hatefull yeare,

320

To cumpas that which I have bought so deare:
I bare the swynge, I and that wretched wyght,
The duke of Glocester that Rychard hyght.

For when the fates had reft that royal prince
Edward the fowrth, chiefe myrrour of that name,
The duke and I fast ioyned ever since,
In faythfull love, our secrete driftes to frame:
What he thought best, to me so seemde the same,
My selfe not bent so much for to aspyer,
As to fulfyl that greedy dukes desyre.

Whose restles minde sore thyrsting after rule,
When that he sawe his nephewes both to ben
Through tender yeares as yet vnfyt to rule,
And rather ruled by theyr mothers kyn,
There sought he first his mischyefe to begyn,
To plucke from them theyr mothers frendes assynde,
For wel he wist they would withstand his mynde.

To folowe which, he ran so headlong swyft,
With eygre thyrst of his desired draught,
To seeke theyr deathes that sought to dashe his dryft,
Of whom the chiefe the Queenes allyes he thought,
That bent thereto wyth mountes of mischiefe fraught,
He knewe theyr lyues would be so sore his let,
That in theyr deathes his only helpe he set.

And I most cursed caytief that I was,
Seeing the state vnstedfast howe it stood,
His chief complyce to bryng the same to passe,
Vnhappy wretche consented to theyr blood:
Ye Kinges and Piers that swim in worldly good,

321

In seekyng blud the ende aduert you playne,
And see if bloud ey aske not blud agayne.

Consyder Cyrus in your cruell thought,
A makeles prynce in ryches and in myght,
And weygh in minde the bloudy dedes he wrought,
In sheading which he set his whole delyght:
But see the guerdon lotted to this wyght,
He whose huge power no man might ouerthrowe,
Tomyris Queen with great despite hath slowe.

His head dismembred from his mangled corps,
Her selfe she cast into a vessell fraught
With clottered bloud of them that felt her force.
And with these wordes a iust reward she taught:
Drynke nowe thy fyll of thy desyred draught.
Loe marke the fine that did this prynce befall:
Marke not this one, but marke the ende of all.

Behold Cambises and his fatal daye,
Where Murders mischief myrrour like is left:
While he his brother Mergus cast to slaye,
A dreadful thing, his wittes were him bereft.
A sword he caught wherewith he perced eft
His body gored, which he of liefe benooms:
So iust is God in al his dreadfull doomes.

O bluddy Brutus rightly didst thou rew,
And thou Cassius iustly came thy fall,
That with the swurd wherewith thou Cesar slewe
Murdrest thy selfe, and reft thy life withall.
A myrrour let him be vnto you all
That murderers be, of murder to your meede:
For murder crieth out vengeance on your seede.

322

Loe Bessus he that armde with murderers knyfe,
And traytrous hart agaynst his royall kyng,
With bluddy handes bereft his maysters life,
Aduert the fine his fowle offence dyd bryng:
And lothing murder as most lothly thing
Beholde in him the iust deserued fall,
That euer hath, and shall betide them all.

What booted him his false vsurped raygne?
Wherto by murder he did so ascende?
When like a wretche, led in an yron chayne
He was presented by his chiefest frende
Vnto the foes of him whom he had slayne:
That euen they should venge so fowle a gylt,
That rather sought to haue his bloud yspylt.

Take hede ye princes and ye prelates all
Of this outrage, which though it slepe a while
And not disclosde, as it doth seeld befall,
Yet God that suffreth silence to beguyle
Such gyltes, wherwith both earth and ayre ye file,
At last discryes them to your fowle deface,
You see the examples set before your face.

And deepely grave within your stony hartes,
The drery dewle that myghty Macedo,
With teares vnfolded wrapt in deadly smartes,
When he the death of Clitus sorowed so,
whom erst he murdred wyth the deadly blowe
Raught in his rage vpon his frende so deare,
For which behold loe how his panges appere.

323

The launced spear he writhes out of the wound,
From which the purple blud spins on his face:
His heynous gylt when he returned found,
He throwes him selfe vpon the corpes alas.
And in his armes howe ofte doth he imbrace
His murdred frende? and kyssyng him in vayne,
Furth flowe the fluds of salte repentant rayne.

His frendes amazde at such a murder doen,
In feareful flockes begyn to shrynke away.
And he thereat with heapes of griefe fordoen,
Hateth him selfe, wishing his latter daye.
Nowe he him selfe perceyued in like staye,
As is the wilde beast in the desert bred,
Both dreading others and him selfe adred.

He calles for Death, and loathing lenger lyfe,
Bent to his bane, refuseth kyndely foode:
And ploungde in depth of death and dolours stryfe,
Had quelde him selfe, had not his frendes wythstoode.
Loe he that thus had shed the gylteles blud,
Though he wer Kyng and Kesar over all
Yet chose he death to guerdon death withall.

This prynce whose pyer was never vnder sonne,
Whose glystening fame the earth did overglyde,
Whych with his power welnye the world had wonne,
His bluddy handes him selfe could not abyde,
But fully bent with famine to have dyed:
The wurthy prynce deemed in his regarde,
That death for death could be but iust rewarde.

324

Yet we that were so drowned in the depth
Of diepe desyre to drinke the gylteles blud,
Lyke to the wulfe, with greedy lookes that lepth
Into the snare, to feede on deadly foode,
So we delyghted in the state we stoode,
Blinded so farre in all our blynded trayne
That blind we sawe not our destruction playne.

We spared none whose life could ought forlet
Our wycked purpose to his pas to cum.
Fower wurthy knyghtes we headed at Pomfret
Gylteles (God wote) withouten lawe or doome.
My heart even bleedes to tell you al and some,
And howe Lord Hastinges when he feared least,
Dispiteously was murdred and opprest.

These rockes vpraught, that threatned most our wreck
We séemde to sayle much surer in the streame:
And Fortune faryng as she were at becke
Layed in our lap the rule of all the realme.
The nephewes strayt deposde were by the Eame.
And we advaunst to that we bought full deare,
He crowned king, and I his chyefest Pyer.

Thus hauing wonne our long desired pray,
To make him king that he might make me chiefe,
Downthrow we strayt his sellie nephewes twaye,
From princes pompe, to woful prisoners lyfe:
In hope that nowe stynt was all furder stryfe.
Sith he was king, and I chiefe stroke did beare
Who ioyed but we, yet who more cause to feare?

The gylteles bloud which we vniustly shed,
The royall babes deuested from theyr trone,

325

And we like traytours raygning in theyr sted,
These heauy burdens pressed vs vpon,
Tormenting vs so by our selues alone,
Much like the felon that pursued by night,
Startes at eche bushe as his foe were in sight.

Nowe doubting state, nowe dreading losse of life,
In feare of wrecke at euery blast of wynde,
Now start in dreames through dread of murdrers knyfe,
As though euen then revengement were assynde.
With restles thought so is the guylty minde
Turmoyled, and never feeleth ease or stay,
But lives in feare of that which folowes aye.

Well gave that iudge his doome vpon the death
Of Titus Clelius that in bed was slayne:
Whan every wight the cruell murder leyeth
To his two sonnes that in his chamber layen,
The Iudge, that by the proofe perceyueth playne,
That they were found fast sleping in theyr bed,
Hath deemde them gylteles of this blud yshed.

He thought it could not be, that they which brake
The lawes of God and man in such outrage
Could so forthwith them selves to slepe betake:
He rather thought the horror and the rage
Of such an haynous gylt, could never swage.
Nor never suffer them to slepe or rest,
Or dreadles breath one breth out of theyr brest.

326

So gnawes the griefe of conscyence evermore
And in the hart it is so diepe ygrave,
That they may neyther slepe nor rest therfore,
Ne thynke one thought but on the dread they have.
Styl to the death fortossed with the wave
Of restles woe, in terror and dispeyre.
They lead a lyef continually in feare.

Like to the Dere that stryken with the dart,
Withdrawes him selfe into some secrete place,
And feeling green the wound about his hart,
Startles with panges tyl he fall on the grasse,
And in great feare lyes gasping there a space,
Furth braying sighes as though eche pang had brought
The present death which he doeth dread so oft:

So we diepe wounded with the bluddy thought,
And gnawing wurme that grieved our conscience so,
Never tooke ease, but as our hart furth brought
The strayned syghes in wytnes of our woe,
Such restles cares our fault did well beknowe:
Wherewith of our deserved fall the feares
In every place rang death within our eares.

And as yll grayne is never well ykept,
So fared it by vs within a while:
That which so long wyth such vnrest we reapt,
In dread and daunger by all wyt and wyle,
Loe sée the fine, when once it felt the whele
Of slipper Fortune, stay it mought no stowne,
The wheele whurles vp, but strayt it whurleth downe.

327

For hauyng rule and riches in our hand,
Who durst gaynsay the thing that we averde?
Wyl was wysedome, our lust for lawe dyd stand,
In sorte so straunge, that who was not afeard
When he the sound but of kyng Rychard heard?
So hatefull waxt the hearyng of his name,
That you may deeme the residewe by the same.

But what auaylde the terror and the fear,
Wherewyth he kept his lieges vnder awe?
It rather wan him hatred every where,
And fayned faces forst by feare of lawe:
That but while Fortune doth with fauour blaw
Flatter through feare: for in theyr hart lurkes aye
A secrete hate that hopeth for a daye.

Recordeth Dionisius the kynge,
That with his rigor so his realme opprest,
As that he thought by cruell feare to bryng
His subiectes vnder, as him lyked best:
But loe the dread wherewyth him selfe was strest,
And you shal see the fine of forced feare,
Most myrrour like in this proud prynce appeare.

All were his head with crowne of golde ysprad,
And in his hand the royall scepter set:
And he with pryncely purple rychely clad,
Yet was his hart wyth wretched cares orefret:
And inwardly with deadly fear beset,
Of those whom he by rygour kept in awe,
And sore opprest with might of Tyrants lawe.

328

Agaynst whose feare, no heapes of golde and glie,
Ne strength of garde, nor all his hyred power,
Ne prowde hyghe Towers that preaced to the skye,
His cruel hart of safetie could assure:
But dreading them whom he should deeme most sure,
Hym selfe his beard wyth burning brand would cear,
Of death deservde so vexed him the feare.

This might suffise to represent the fine
Of Tyrantes force, theyr feares, and theyr vnrest,
But heare this one, although my hart repyne
To let the sound once synke wythin my brest:
Of fell Phereus, that above the rest,
Such lothsum crueltee on his people wrought,
As (oh alas) I tremble wyth the thought.

Sum he encased in the coates of Beares,
Among wylde beastes deuoured so to be:
And sum for praye vnto the hunters speares,
Lyke savage beastes withouten ruth to dye.
Sumtime to encrease his horrible crueltye,
The quicke with face to face engraved hee,
Eche others death that eche mought living see.

Loe what more cruell horror mought be found,
To purchase feare, if feare could staye his raygne?
It booted not, It rather strake the wounde
Of feare in him, to feare the lyke agayne.
And so he dyd full ofte and not in vayne:
As in his life his cares could wytnes well
But moste of all his wretched ende doth tell.

329

His owne dere wyfe whom as his life he loved,
He durst not trust, nor proche vnto her bed,
But causing fyrst his slave with naked sworde
To go before, him selfe with tremblyng dread
Strayt foloweth fast, and whorling in his head
His rolling iyen, he searcheth here and there
The diepe daunger that he so sore did feare.

For not in vayne it ran styll in his brest,
Sum wretched hap should hale him to his ende.
And therfore alwaye by his pillowe prest
Had he a sworde, and with that sworde he wende,
In vayne (God wote) all peryls to defende:
For loe his wife foreyrked of his raygne,
Sleping in bed this cruel wretche hath slayne.

What should I more nowe seeke to say in this?
Or one Iote farder linger furth my tale?
With cruel Nero, or with Phalaris,
Caligula, Domician, and all
The cruell route? or of theyr wretched fall?
I can no more, but in my name aduert
Al earthly powers beware of Tyrants hart.

And as our state endured but a throwe,
So best in vs the staye of such a state
May best appeare to hang on overthrowe,
And better teache Tyrantes deserved hate
Than any Tyrantes death tofore or late.
So cruell seemde this Rychard thyrd to me,
That loe my selfe now loathde his crueltee.

330

For when alas, I saw the Tyrant kyng
Content not only from his nephewes twayne
To ryve worldes blysse, but also al worldes beyng,
Saunce earthly gylt ycausing both be slayne,
My hart agryesd that such a wretche should raygne,
Whose bluddy brest so salvaged out of kynde,
That Phalaris had never so bluddy a minde.

Ne could I brooke him once wythin my brest,
But wyth the thought my teeth would gnashe wythal:
For though I earst wer his by sworne behest,
Yet when I sawe mischiefe on mischiefe fall,
So diepe in blud, to murder prynce and all,
Ay then thought I, alas, and wealaway,
And to my selfe thus mourning would I say.

If neyther love, kynred, ne knot of bloud,
His owne alegeaunce to his prynce of due,
Nor yet the state of trust wherein he stoode,
The worlds defame, nor nought could tourne him true
Those gylteles babes, could they not make him rue?
Nor could theyr youth, nor innocence withal
Move him from reuing them theyr lyfe and all?

Alas, it could not move him any iote,
Ne make him once to rue or wet his iye,
Sturde him no more than that that styrreth not:
But as the rocke or stone that wyl not plye,
So was his hart made hard to crueltye,
To murder them, alas I weepe in thought,
To thinke on that which this fel wretche hath wrought

331

That nowe when he had done the thing he sought,
And as he would, complysht and cumpast all,
And sawe and knewe the treason he had wrought
To God and man, to slaye his prynce and all,
Then seemde he fyrst to doubte and dread vs all,
And me in chiefe, whoes death all meanes he myght,
He sought to wurke by malice and by might.

Such heapes of harmes vpharbard in his brest
With enuyous hart my honour to deface,
As knowyng he that I whych woted best
His wretched dryftes, and all his cursed case,
If ever sprang within me sparke of grace,
Must nedes abhorre him and his hatefull race:
Now more and more can cast me out of grace.

Which sodayne chaunge, when I by secrete chaunce
Had well perceyved by proofe of enuious frowne,
And sawe the lot that did me to aduaunce
Hym to a kyng that sought to cast me downe,
To late it was to linger any stowne:
Syth present choyse lay cast before myne iye,
To wurke his death or I my selfe to dye.

And as the knyght in fyeld among his foes,
Beset wyth swurdes, must slaye or there be slayne:
So I alas lapt in a thousand woes,
Beholding death on every syde so playne,
I rather chose by sum slye secrete trayne
To wurke his death, and I to lyve thereby,
Than he to lyve, and I of force to dye.

332

Which heauy choyse so hastened me to chose,
That I in parte agryeved at his disdayne,
In part to wreke the dolefull death of those
Two tender babes, his sillye nephewes twayne,
By him alas commaunded to be slayne,
With paynted chere humbly before his face,
Strayght tooke my leave, & rode to Brecknocke place.

And there as close and covert as I myght,
My purposed practise to his passe to bryng,
In secrete dryftes I lingred day and night:
All howe I might depose this cruell kyng,
That seemd to all so much desyerd a thyng,
As therto trusting I emprysde the same:
But to much trusting brought me to my bane.

For while I nowe had Fortune at my becke
Mistrusting I no earthly thing at all,
Vnwares alas, least looking for a checke,
She mated me in turning of a ball:
When least I fearde, then nerest was my fall,
And when whole hoastes wer prest to stroy my foen,
She chaunged her chere, and left me post alone.

I had vpraysde a mighty band of men,
And marched furth in order of array,
Leadyng my power amyd the forest Dene,
Agaynst that Tyrant banner to displaye:
But loe my souldiers cowardly shranke away.
For such is Fortune when she lyst to frowne,
Who seemes most sure, him soonest whurles she down

333

O let no prynce put trust in commontie,
Nor hope in fayth of gyddy peoples mynde,
But let all noble men take hede by me,
That by the proofe to well the payne do fynde:
Loe, where is truth or trust? or what could bynde
The vayne people, but they will swarve and swaye,
As chaunce bryngs chaunge, to dryve & draw that way?

Rome thou that once aduaunced vp so hye,
Thy staye, patron, and flower of excellence,
Hast nowe throwen him to depth of miserye,
Exiled him that was thy whole defence,
Ne comptest it not an horryble offence:
To reven him of honour and of fame,
That wan it thée when thou hadst lost the same.

Beholde Camillus, he that erst reuyved
The state of Rome, that dyeng he dyd fynde,
Of his owne state is nowe alas depryved,
Banisht by them whom he dyd thus det bynde:
That cruell folke, vnthankeful and vnkynde,
Declared wel theyr false inconstancye,
And Fortune eke her mutabilitye.

And thou Scipio, a myrrour mayst thou be
To all Nobles, that they learne not to late,
Howe they once trust the vnstable commontye.
Thou that recuredst the torne dismembred state,
Euen when the conquerour was at the gate,
Art now exylde, as though thou not deserved
To rest in her, whom thou hadst so preserved.

334

Ingrateful Rome hast shewed thy crueltye,
On hym, by whom thou lyvest yet in fame,
But nor thy dede, nor his desert shall dye,
But his owne wurdes shal witnes aye the same:
For loe hys grave doth thee most iustly blame.
And with disdayne in Marble sayes to thée:
Vnkynde countrey my bones shalt thou not see.

What more vnwurthy than this his exyle?
More iust than this the wofull playnt he wrote?
Or who could shewe a playner proofe the while,
Of moste false fayth, than they that thus forgot
His great desertes? that so deserved not?
His cindres yet loe, doth he them denye,
That him denyed amongst them for to dye.

Milciades, O happy hadst thou be,
And well rewarded of thy countrey men,
If in the fyeld when thou hadst forst to flye
By thy prowes, thre hundred thousand men,
Content they had bene to exyle thée then:
And not to cast thée in depth of pryson so,
Laden wyth gyves to ende thy lyfe in woe.

Alas howe harde and steely hartes had they
That not contented there to have thée dye,
With fettred gyves in pryson where thou laye,
Increast so far in hatefull crueltye,
That buryall to thy corps, they eke denye:
Ne wyl they graunt the same tyll thy sonne have
Put on thy gyves to purchase thée a grave.

335

Loe Hanniball as long as fixed fate,
And bryttle Fortune had ordeyned so,
Who ever more aduaunst his countrey state
Then thou, that lyvedst for her and for no moe?
But when the stormy waves began to grow,
Without respect of thy desertes erwhile,
Art by thy countrey throwen into exyle.

Vnfrendly Fortune shal I thée nowe blame?
Or shal I fault the fates that so ordayne?
Or art thou Iove the causer of the same?
Or crueltie her selfe doth she constrayne?
Or on whom els alas shal I complayne?
O trustles world I can accusen none,
But fyckle fayth of commontye alone.

The Polipus nor the Chameleon straunge,
That turne them selves to every hewe they sée
Are not so full of vayne and fickle chaunge
As is this false vnstedfast commontye.
Loe I alas with mine adversitie
Have tryed it true, for they are fled and gone
And of an oast there is not left me one.

That I alas in this calamitie
Alone was left, and to my selfe mought playne
This treason, and this wretched cowardye,
And eke with teares bewepen and complayne
My hateful hap, styll lookyng to be slayne.
Wandryng in woe, and to the gods on hye
Cleapyng for vengeaunce of this treacherye.

336

And as the Turtle that hath lost her make,
Whom grypyng sorowe doth so sore attaynt,
With dolefull voyce and sound whych she doth make
Mourning her losse, fylles all the grove wyth playnt,
So I alas forsaken, and forfaynt,
With restles foote the wud rome vp and downe,
Which of my dole al shyvering doth resowne.

And beyng thus alone, and all forsake,
Amyd the thycke, forwandred in despayer,
As one dismayed ne wyst what waye to take,
Vntyll at last gan to my mynde repayer,
A man of mine called Humfrey Banastair:
Wherewyth me feeling much recomforted,
In hope of succour to his house I fled.

Who beyng one whom earst I had vpbrought
Euen from his youth, and loved and lyked best,
To gentrye state auauncing him from nought,
And had in secrete trust above the rest,
Of specyal trust nowe being thus dystrest
Full secreatly to him I me conueyed
Not doubting there but I should fynde some ayde.

But out alas on cruell trecherye,
When that this caytief once an ynklyng hard,
Howe that kyng Rychard had proclaymde, that he
Which me descryed should have for his rewarde
A thousand poundes, and farther be prefarde,
His truthe so turnde to treason, all distaynde
That fayth quyte fled, and I by trust was traynde.

337

For by this wretche I beyng strayt betrayed,
To one Iohn Mitton, shiriffe of Shropshire then,
All sodaynely was taken, and conuayed
To Salisbury, wyth rout of harnest men,
Vnto kyng Rychard there encamped then:
Fast by the citye with a myghtye hoste
Withouten doome where head and lyfe I lost.

And with these wordes, as if the axe even there
Dismembred had his head and corps aparte,
Dead fel he downe: and we in woful feare
Stoode mazed when he would to lyef revert:
But deadly griefes stil grewe about his hart,
That styll he laye, sumtyme reuived wyth payne,
And wyth a sygh becumming dead agayne.

Mydnyght was cum, and every vitall thyng
With swete sound slepe theyr weary lyms dyd rest,
The beastes were still, the lytle byrdes that syng,
Nowe sweetely slept besides theyr mothers brest:
The olde and all were shrowded in theyr nest.
The waters calme, the cruel seas did ceas,
The wuds, the fyeldes, & all thinges held theyr peace.

The golden stars wer whyrlde amyd theyr race,
And on the earth did laugh wyth twinkling lyght,
When eche thing nestled in his restyng place,
Forgat dayes payne with pleasure of the nyght:
The Hare had not the greedy houndes in sight,
The fearfull Dear of death stoode not in doubt,
The Patrydge drept not of the Falcons foote.

338

The ougly Beare nowe mynded not the stake,
Nor how the cruell mastyues do hym tear,
The stag laye still vnroused from the brake,
The fomy boar feard not the hunters spear.
All thing was still in desert, bush and brear.
With quyet hart now from their trauailes rest,
Soundly they slept in midst of all their rest.

When Buckyngham amid his plaint opprest,
With surgyng sorowes and with pinching paynes
In sort thus sowned, and with a sigh he ceast.
To tellen furth the treachery and the traynes,
Of Banastar, which him so sore distraynes.
That from a sigh he falles into a sounde,
And from a sounde lyeth ragyng on the ground

So twiching wer the panges that he assayed,
And he so sore with rufull rage distraught.
To thinke vpon the wretch that hym betrayed,
Whom earst he made a Gentylman of naught.
That more and more agreued with this thought,
He stormes out sighes, and with redoubled sore,
Stroke with the Furies, rageth more and more.

Who so hath seene the Bull chased with Dartes,
And with dyepe woundes forgald and gored so,
Tyl he oppressed with the deadlye smartes,
Fall in a rage, and runne vpon his foe,
Let him I saye, beholde the ragyng woe
Of Buckyngham, that in these grypes of gryefe
Rageth gaynst him that hath betrayed his lyef.

339

With blud red iyen he stareth here and there,
Frothing at mouth, with face as pale as cloute:
When loe my lymmes were trembling all for feare,
And I amazde stoode styll in dread and doubt,
While I mought see him throwe his armes about:
And gaynst the ground him selfe plounge with such force
As if the lyfe forthwyth should leave the corps.

With smoke of syghes sumtyme I myght beholde
The place al dymde, like to the mornyng myst:
And strayt agayne the teares how they downrolde
Alongst his cheekes, as if the ryuers hyst:
Whoes flowing streemes ne wer no sooner whist,
But to the stars such dreadfull shoutes he sent,
As if the trone of mighty Iove should rent,

And I the while with spirites wel nye bereft,
Beheld the plyght and panges that dyd him strayne.
And howe the blud his deadly colour left,
And strayt returnde with flamyng red agayne:
When sodaynly amid his ragyng payne,
He gave a sygh, and with that sygh he sayed:
Oh Banastar, and strayt agayne he stayed.

Dead laye his corps as dead as any stone,
Tyll swellyng syghes stormyng within his brest
Vpraysde his head, that downeward fell anone,
With lookes vpcast, and syghes that never ceast:
Furth streamde the teares recordes of his vnrest,
When he wyth shrykes thus groveling on the ground,
Ybrayed these wordes with shryll and dolefull sound.

Heaven and earth, and ye eternal lampes
That in the heavens wrapt, wyl vs to rest,
Thou bryght Phebe, that clearest the nightes dampes
Witnes the playntes that in these panges opprest

340

I woful wretche vnlade out of my brest.
And let me yeald my last wordes ere I part,
You, you, I call to record of my smart.

And thou Alecto feede me wyth thy foode
Let fal thy serpentes from thy snaky heare,
For such relyefe wel sittes me in this moode,
To feede my playnt with horror and wyth feare,
While rage afreshe thy venomd worme arear.
And thou Sibilla when thou seest me faynte,
Addres thy selfe the gyde of my complaynt.

And thou O Iove, that with thy depe fordoome
Dost rule the earth, and raygne above the skyes,
That wrekest wronges, and gevest the dreadful doome
Agaynst the wretche that doth thy trone despyse,
Receyve these wurdes, and wreake them in such wyse,
As heaven and earth may witnesse and beholde,
Thy heapes of wrath vpon this wretche vnfolde.

Thou Banaster, gaynst thée I clepe and call
Vnto the Gods, that they iust vengeaunce take
On thée, thy bloud, thy stayned stocke and all;
O Iove, to thée aboue the rest I make
My humble playnt, guyde me that what I speake,
May be thy wyll vpon thys wretche to fall,
On thée Banastar, wretche of wretches all.

O would to God, that cruel dismal daye,
That gave me light fyrst to behold thy face,
With fowle eclypse had reft my syght away:
The vnhappy hower, the tyme, and eke the place,

341

The sunne and Moone, the sters, and all that was
In theyr aspectes helping in ought to thée,
The earth, and ayer, and all accursed bee.

And thou caytief, that like a monstar swarved,
From kynde and kyndenes, hast thy mayster lorne,
Whom neyther truth, nor trust wherein thou served,
Ne his desertes, could move, nor thy fayth sworne,
Howe shall I curse, but wyshe that thou vnborne
Had bene, or that the earth had rent in twaye,
And swallowed thee in cradle as thou laye.

To this did I even from thy tender youth
Witsafe to bryng thée vp? dyd I herefore
Beleve the oath of thy vndoubted trouth?
Aduaunce thée vp, and trust thée evermore?
By trusting thée that I should dye therefore?
O wretche, and wurse than wretche, what shal I say?
But cleap and curse gaynst thee and thine for aye.

Hated be thou, disdaynd of every wyght,
And poynted at where ever that thou goe,
A trayterous wretche, vnwurthy of the light,
Be thou estemed: and to encrease thy woe,
The sound be hatefull of thy name also:
And in this sort with shame and sharpe reproche,
Leade thou thy life till greater grief approch.

Dole and despayer, let those be thy delight,
Wrapped in woes that can not be vnfolde,
To wayle the daye, and wepe the weary night,
With rayny iyen and syghes can not be tolde,
And let no wyght thy woe seeke to withholde:
But coumpt thée wurthy (wretche) of sorrowes store,
That suffryng much, oughtest still to suffer more,

342

Deserve thou death, yea be thou demed to dye
A shamefull death, to ende thy shamefull lyfe:
A syght longed for, ioyful to euerye iye,
Whan thou shalt be arraygned as a thief,
Standing at bar, and pleadyng for thy lyef,
With trembling toung in dread and dolors rage,
Lade with white lockes, and fowerskore yeres of age.

Yet shall not death delyuer thee so soone
Out of thy woes, so happye shalt thou not bee:
But to the eternall Ioue this is my boone,
That thou may liue thine eldest sonne to see
Reft of his wits, and in a fowle bores stye
To ende his dayes in rage and death distrest,
A wurthy tumbe where one of thyne should rest.

And after this, yet pray I more, thou may
Thy second sonne sée drowned in a dyke,
And in such sorte to close his latter daye,
As heard or seen earst hath not bene the lyke:
Ystrangled in a puddle not so deepe
As halfe a foote, that such hard losse of lyfe,
So cruelly chaunst, may be thy greater gryefe.

And not yet shall thy hugie sorrowes cease,
Ioue shal not so withholde his wrath fro thée,
But that thy plagues may more and more encreas,
Thou shalt still lyve, that thou thy selfe mayst sée

343

Thy deare doughter stroken with leprosye:
That she that earst was all thy hole delyght,
Thou now mayst loath to haue her cum in sight.

And after that, let shame and sorrowes gryefe
Feede furth thy yeares continually in wo,
That thou mayest live in death, and dye in lyef,
And in this sorte forewayld and wearyed so,
At length thy ghost to parte thy body fro:
This pray I Iove, and wyth this latter breath,
Vengeaunce I aske vpon my cruell death.

This sayd, he floung his retcheles armes abrode,
And groveling flat vpon the ground he lay,
Which with his teeth he al to gnasht and gnawed:
Depe groanes he fet, as he that would awaye.
But loe in vayne he dyd the death assay:
Although I thinke was never man that knewe,
Such deadly paynes where death dyd not ensewe.

So strove he thus a while as with the death,
Nowe pale as lead, and colde as any stone.
Nowe styl as calme, nowe storming forth a breath
Of smoaky syghes, as breath and al were gone:
But every thing hath ende: so he anone
Came to him selfe, when wyth a sygh outbrayed,
With woful cheare these woful wurdes he sayd.

Ah where am I, what thing, or whence is this?
Who reft my wyts? or howe do I thus lye?
My lims do quake, my thought agasted is,
Why sygh I so? Or wherevnto do I
Thus grovle on the ground? and by and by
Vpraysde he stoode, and wyth a sygh hath stayed,
When to him selfe retourned, thus he sayed.

344

Suffiseth nowe this playnt and this regrete,
Whereof my hart his bottome hath vnfraught:
And of my death let pieres and princes wete
The worldes vntrust, that they thereby be taught.
And in her wealth, sith that such chaunge is wrought,
Hope not to much, but in the myds of all
Thinke on my death, and what may them befall.

So long as Fortune would permyt the same,
I lyved in rule and ryches wyth the best:
And past my time in honour and in fame.
That of mishap no feare was in my brest:
But false Fortune whan I suspected least,
Dyd turne the wheele, and wyth a dolefull fall
Hath me bereft of honour life and all.

Loe what auayles in ryches fluds that flowes?
Though she so smylde as all the world wer his?
Euen kinges and kesars byden Fortunes throwes,
And simple sorte must bear it as it is.
Take hede by me that blithd in balefull blisse:
My rule, my riches, royall blud and all,
Whan Fortune frounde the feller made my fall.

For hard mishaps that happens vnto such,
Whoes wretched state earst neuer fell no chaunge,
Agryue them not in any part so much,
As theyr distres to whome it is so straunge,
That all theyr lyues nay passed pleasures raunge:
Theyr sodayne wo that ay wield welth at will,
Algates their hartes more pearcingly must thril.

345

For of my byrth, my blud was of the best,
Fyrst borne an Earle, than duke by due discent:
To swinge the sway in court amonge the rest,
Dame Fortune me her rule most largely lent:
And kynd with corage so my corps had blent,
That loe on whom but me dyd she most smyle?
And whom but me lo, dyd she most begyle?

Now hast thou heard the whole of my vnhap,
My chaunce, my chaunge, the cause of all my care:
In wealth and wo, how Fortune dyd me wrap,
With world at will to win me to her snare.
Byd kynges, byd kesars, by all states beware,
And tell them this from me that tryed it true.
Who reckles rules, right soone may hap to rue.

347

Howe Collingbourne was cruelly executed for making a foolishe rime.

Beware, take heede, take heede, beware, beware
You Poetes you, that purpose to rehearce
By any arte what Tyrantes doynges are,
Erinnis rage is growen so fell and fearce
That vicious actes may not be toucht in verse:
The Muses freedoome, graunted them of elde,
Is barde, slye reasons treasons hye are held.

Be rough in ryme, and then they say you rayle,
Though Iuuenal so be, that makes no matter:
With Ieremye you shal be had to iayle,
Or forst with Marciall, Ceasars faultes to flatter,
Clarkes must be taught to clawe and not to clatter:
Free Hellicon, & franke Pernassus hylles,
Are Helly hauntes, & ranke pernicious ylles.

Touche covertly in termes, and then you taunt,
Though praysed Poetes, alway dyd the lyke,
Controll vs not, els traytour vyle auaunt,
What passe we what the learned do mislyke?
Our sinnes we see, wherin to swarme we seeke.
We passe not what the people saye or thynke.
Theyr shyttle hate maketh none but cowardes shrinke.

We knowe say they the course of Fortunes wheele,
Howe constantly it whyrleth styll about,
Arrearing nowe, whyle elder headlong reele.
Howe al the riders alwaye hange in doubt.

348

But what for that? we count him but a lowte
That stickes to mount, and basely like a beast
Lyves temperately for feare of blockam feast.

In deede we would of all be deemed gods
What ever we doe: and therfore partely hate
Rude preachers that dare threaten vs plages & rods,
And blase the blots whereby we stayne our state:
But nought we passe what any such do prate.
Of course and office they must say theyr pleasure,
And we of course must heare and mend at leasure.

But when these pelting poetes in theyr rymes
Shall taunt, and iest, or paynt our wicked wurkes,
And cause the people knowe, and curse our crymes,
This ougly fault, no Tyrant lyves but vrkes.
And therefore lothe we taunters worse than Turkes.
They minde thereby to make vs knowe our mis,
And so to amend, but they but doate in this.

We knowe our faultes as wel as any other,
We also doubt the daungers for them due:
Yet styll we trust so ryght to guyde the rother,
That skape we shal the sourges that ensue.
We thinke we knowe moe shiftes than other knewe.
In vayne therfore for vs are counsayles wryt:
We knowe our faultes, and wil not mend a whit.

349

These are the affections of the wycked sorte,
That preace for honours, welth, and pleasure vayne.
Ceas therfore Baldwyn, ceas I thée exhort,
Withdrawe thy pen, for nothing shalt thou gayne
Save hate, with losse of paper, ynke and payne.
Fewe hate theyr sinnes, all hate to heare them touched,
Howe covertly so ever they be couched.

Thy entent I knowe is godly, playne, and good,
To warne the wyse, to fraye the fond fro yll:
But wycked worldelinges are so wytles wood,
That to the wurst they all thinges construe styl.
Wyth rygour oft they recompence good wyll:
They racke the wurdes tyl tyme theyr synowes burst,
In doubtfull sences, strayning styll the wurst.

A paynefull proofe taught me the truth of this,
Through Tyrauntes rage, and Fortunes cruel tourne:
They murdred me, for metryng thinges amys.
For wotst thou what? I am that Colingbourne
Whych rymed that whych made full many mourne:
The Cat, the Rat, and Lovel our Dog,
Do rule al England, vnder a Hog.

Whereof the meanyng was so playne and true,
That every foole perceyved it at furst:
Most liked it, for most that most thinges knewe,
In hugger mugger, muttred what they durst.

350

The kyng him selfe of most was held accurst,
Both for his owne and for his faultours faultes,
Of whom were three, the naughtiest of all naughtes.

The chyefe was Catisby whom I called a Cat,
A crafty lawyer catching all he could.
The second Ratclife, whom I named a Rat,
A cruel beast to gnawe on whom he should.
Lord Lovell barkt & byt whom Rychard would.
Whom therfore ryghtly I dyd terme our Dog,
Wherewyth to ryme I cleped the Kyng a Hog.

Tyll he vsurped the crowne, he gave the Bore,
In whych estate would God he had deceased,
Than had the realme not ruyned so sore.
His Nephewes raygne should not so soone have ceassed,
The noble blud had not bene so decreased.
His Rat, his Cat, and Bloudhound had not noyed
So many thousandes as they have destroyed.

Theyr laweles dealynges al men dyd lament,
And so dyd I, and therfore made the rymes
To shewe my wyt, howe wel I could invent,
To warne withal the careles of theyr crymes,
I thought the freedome of the auncient tymes
Stoode styll in force. Ridentem dicere verum
Quis vetat? None, save clymers stil in ferum.

351

Belyke no Tyrantes were in Horace dayes,
And therefore Poetes freely blamed vyce.
Witnes theyr Satyr sharpe, and tragicke playes,
With chyefest Prynces chyefly had in pryce.
They name no man, they myxe theyr gall with spyce,
No more do I, I name no man outryght,
But ryddle wise, I meane them as I myght.

When bruyt had brought this to theyr gylty eares,
Who rudely named were noted in the ryme,
They all conspyred like most greedy Beares,
To charge me wyth most haynous traytrous cryme:
And damned me the gallow tree to clyme,
And strangled fyrst in quarters to be cut,
Whych should on hye over London gates be put.

This wicked iudgement vexed me so sore,
That I exclamed agaynst theyr tyranny:
Wherewyth encenst, to make my payne the more,
They practised a shamefull villanye:
They cut me downe alyve, and cruelly
Rypt vp my paunche and bulke to make me smart,
And lingred long eare they tooke out my hart.

Here Tyraunt Rychard played the eager Hog,
His grashyng tuskes my tender grystels shore:
His bloudhound Lovell playd the ravenyng Dog,
His wuluishe teeth, my gylteles carkas toar:

352

His Rat, and Cat, did what they myght, and more,
Cat Catesby clawed my guts to make me smart,
The Rat Lord Ratclyve gnawed me to the hart.

If Iewes had kylde the iustest kyng alyve,
If Turkes had burnt vp churches, Gods, and all,
What greater payne could cruel hartes contryve,
Than that I suffred, for this trespas smal?
I am not Prince nor Piere, but yet my fall
Is wurthy to be thought vpon for this,
To see how cankard Tyrantes malyce is.

To teach also all subiectes to take heade
They meddle not with Magistrates affayres,
But praye to God to mende them if it nede:
To warne also all Poetes that be strayers,
To kepe them close in compas of their chayers,
And whan they touch thinges which they wish amended.
To sause them so, that fewe nede be offended.

And so to myxe theyr sharpe rebukes with myrth,
That they maye pearce, not causyng any payne,
Saue such as followeth euery kyndly byrth,
Requyted strayte, with gladnes of the gayne.
A poet must be plesaunt, not to playne,
No flatterer, no bolsterer of vyce,
But sound and swete, in all thinges ware and wyse.

The Greekes do paynt a Poetes office whole
In Pegasus, theyr fayned horse wyth wynges,

353

Whom shaped so Medusaes blud did foale,
Who with his feete strake out the Muses sprynges
Fro flintie rockes to Hellicon that clynges.
And then flewe vp vnto the starrye skye,
And there abides among the heauens hye.

For he that shal a perfect Poete be,
Must fyrst be bred out of Medusaes blud:
He must be chaste and vertuous as was she,
Who to her power the Ocean god wythstoode.
To thende also his doome be iust and good,
He must (as she had) have one onlye iye,
Regarde of truth, that nought maye leade awrye.

In courage eke he must be like a horse,
He maye not feare to register the ryght.
And that no power or fansie do him force,
No byt nor reyne his tender Iawes may twight.
He must be armed wyth strength of wyt and spryght
To dashe the rockes, darke causes and obscure,
Tyll he attayne the sprynges of truth most pure.

His hooves must also plyant be and strong,
To ryve the rockes of lust and errors blynde,
In brayneles heades, that alway wander wrong:
These must he bryse wyth reasons playne and kinde,
Tyll sprynges of grace do gushe out of the minde.
For tyl affections from the fond be dryven,
In vayne is truth tolde, or good counsayle geuen.

354

Like Pegasus a Poet must have wynges,
To flye to heaven, thereto to feede and rest:
He must have knoweledge of eternal thynges,
Almighty Iove must harber in his brest.
With worldly cares he may not be opprest,
The wynges of skyll and hope must heave him hyer,
That al the ioyes which worldly wyts desyre.

He must be also nymble, free, and swyft
To trauayle farre to viewe the trades of men,
Great knowledge oft is gotten by the shyft:
Thynges notable he must be quicke to pen,
Reprouyng vyces sharpely now and then.
He must be swyft when touched tyrants chafe,
To gallop thence to kepe his carkas safe.

These propertyes yf I had well consydered,
Especially that whych I touched last,
With speedy flyght my feete should have delyvered
My feble body from the stormy blast:
They should have caught me, ere I had be cast.
But trusting vaynely to the Tyrauntes grace,
I never shronke, nor chaunged porte or place.

I thought the Poetes auncient liberties
Had bene allowed plea at any barre.

355

I had forgot howe newefound tyrannies
Wyth ryght and freedome were at open warre,
That lust was lawe, that myght dyd make and mar,
That with the lewde save this no order was,
Sic volo, sic iubeo, stet pro ratione voluntas.

Where this is lawe, it booteth not to pleade,
No pryuilege or libertyes auayle.
But wyth the learnde whom lawe and wisedome lead
Although through rashenes Poetes hap to rayle,
A plea of dotage may all quarels quayle:
Their libertyes theyr wrytinges to expounde,
Doth quyt them clere from faultes by Momus founde.

This auncient freedome ought not be debarred
From any wyght that speaketh ought, or wryteth.
The authours meanyng should of ryght be heard,
He knoweth best to what ende he endyteth:
Wordes sometyme beare more than the hart behiteth.
Admyt therefore the authours exposicion,
Yf playne, for truth: if forst, for his submission.

Of slaunderers iust lawes requyre no more
Save to amend that seemed euel sayd:
Or to vnsaye the slaunders sayd afore,
And aske forgeuenes for the hasty brayd:

356

To Heretykes no greater payne is layed
Than to recant theyr errours or retract:
And wurse than these can be no wryters acte.

Yes (quoth the Cat) thy rayling wordes be treason
And treason is far worse than heresye.
Then must it folowe by this foolyshe reason,
That kynges be more than God in maiestie,
And soules be lesse than bodyes in degree.
For Heretikes both soules and God offend,
Traytours but seeke to bryng mans lyfe to ende.

I speake not this to abase the haynous faulte
Of traytrous actes abhord of God and man,
But to make playne theyr iudgement to be naught
That heresye for lesser sinne do ban,
I curse them both as deepe as any can,
And alway dyd: yet through my foolyshe ryme,
They arraynde & staynde me wyth that shameful crime.

I never meant the kyng or counsayle harme,
Vnles to wyshe them safetye were offence.
Agaynst theyr power I neuer lyfted arme,
Neyther pen nor tounge for any yll pretence.
The ryme I made, though rude, was sound in sence,
For they therein whom I so fondly named,
So ruled all that they were fowle defamed.

This was no treason but the very troth,
They ruled all, none could denye the same:
What was the cause then why they were so wroth?

357

What, is it treason in a riming frame
To clyp, to stretche, to adde, or chaunge a name?
And this reserved, there is no rime or reason,
That any craft can clowt to seeme a treason.

For where I meant the kyng by name of Hog,
I only alluded to his badge the Boare:
To Lovels name I added more our Dog,
Because most Dogs have borne that name of yore.
These metafors I vse with other more,
As Cat, and Rat, the halfe names of the rest,
To hide the sence which they so wrongly wrest.

I praye you nowe what treason fynde you here?
Enough: you rubbed the gylty on the gal,
Both sence and names do note them very nere.
I graunt that was the chiefe cause of my fall,
Yet can you finde therein no treason at all:
There is no worde agaynst the prynce or state,
Nor harme to them whom al the realme dyd hate.

But sith the gylty alwayes are suspicious,
And dread the ruyne that must sewe by reason,
They can not chose but count theyr counsayle vicious
That note theyr faultes, and therfore cal it treason:
All grace and goodnes with the lewde is geason.
This is the cause why they good thinges detest,
Whereas the good take yll thynges to the best.

358

And therfore Baldwyn boldly to the good
Rebuke thou vice, so shalt thou purchase thankes
As for the bad thou shalt but move his mood,
Though plesantly thou touch his sinfull prankes:
Warne poetes therfore not to passe the bankes
Of Hellicon, but kepe them in the streames,
So shall their freedome save them from extreames.

360

How Richard Plantagenet duke of Glocester, murdered his brothers children vsurping the crowne, and in the third yeare of his raygne was most worthely deprived of life and kingdome in Bosworth playne by Henry Earle of Richemond after called king Henry the .vii.

What hart so hard, but doth abhorre to heare
The ruful raygne of me the thyrd Rychard?
King vnkindely cald though I the crowne dyd weare,
Who entred by rigour, but ryght did not regard,
By tyranny proceding in kyllyng kyng Edward,
Fyft of that name, ryght heyre vnto the crowne,
With Rychard his brother, prynces of renowne.

Of trust they were committed vnto my governaunce,
But trust turned to treason to truly it was tryed,
Both agaynst nature, duetye, and allegiaunce,
For through my procurement most shamefully they died
Desire of a kyngdome forgetteth all kynred,
As after by discourse it shalbe shewed here,
How cruelly these innocentes in pryson murdred were.

The Lordes and Commons all with one assent,
Protectour made me both of land and Kyng,
But I therewyth alas was not content:
For mindyng mischiefe I ment another thyng,
Which to confusion in short time dyd me bryng,
For I desyrous to rule and raygne alone,
Sought crowne and kingdome, yet title had I none.

361

To all Piers and princes a president I may be.
The like to beware howe they do enterpryse,
And learne theyr wretched falles by my fact to forsee,
Which ruful stand bewayling my chaunce before theyr eyes,
As one cleane bereft of all felicities:
For ryght through might I cruelly defaced,
But might helped ryght, and me agayne dysplaced.

Alas that ever Prince should thus his honour stayne
With the bloud of Innocentes most shameful to be tolde
For these two noble ympes I caused to be slayne,
Of yeares not ful rype as yet to rule and raygne.
For which I was abhorred both of yong and old,
But as the deede was odious in syght of god and man,
So shame and destruction in the ende I wan.

Both God, nature, dutie, allegiaunce al forgott,
This vile and haynous acte vnnaturally I conspyred:
Which horrible deede done, alas, alas, god wot
Such terrors me tormented, and so my spyrytes fyred
As vnto such a murder and shameful deede requyred,
Such broyle dayly felt I breeding in my brest,
Wherby more and more, increased myne vnrest.

My brothers children were right heyres vnto the crowne
Whom nature rather bound to defend than distroy,
But I not regarding theyr ryght nor my renowne
My whole care and study to this ende did imploye,
The crowne to obtayne, and them both to put downe:
Wherein I God offended, prouoking iust his yre,
For this my attempt and most wicked desyre.

362

To cruel cursed Cayn compare my carefull case,
Whych did vniustly slaye his brother iust Abel,
And did not I in rage make runne that rufull race
My brother duke of Clarens, whose death I shame to tell
For that so straunge it was, as it was horrible?
For sure he drenched was, and yet no water neare,
Which strange is to be tolde to al that shal it heare.

The But he was not whereat I dyd shoote,
But yet he stoode betwene the marke and me:
For had he lived, for me it was no boote
To tempt the thing that by no meanes could be,
For I thyrd was then of my brethren thrée:
But yet I thought the elder beyng gone,
Then nedes must I beare the stroke alone.

Desire to rule made me alas to rewe,
My fatal fall I could it not forsee,
Puft vp in pride, so hawtie then I grewe,
That none my peare I thought now could be,
Disdayning such as were of hygh degree:
Thus dayly rising and pulling other downe,
At last I shot howe to wyn the crowne.

And dayly deuising which was the best waye
And meane howe I myght my nephewes both deuoure
I secretely then sent wythout further delay
To Brackynbury then lieuetenaunt of the tower,
Requesting him by letters to helpe vnto his power,
For to accomplyshe this my desire and wyl,
And that he would secretely my brothers children kyll.

363

He aunswered playnely with a flat naye,
Sayeng that to dye he would not doe that dede:
But finding then a proffer ready for my pray,
Wel worth a frende (quoth I) yet in time of nede.
Iames Tyrryl hyte his name, whom wyth al speede,
I sent agayne to Brackynbury, as you heard before,
Commaunding him deliver the keyes of every dore.

The keyes he rendered, but partaker would not be
Of that flagitious facte. O happy man I say,
And as you heard before, he rather chose to dye
Then on those silly lambes his violent handes to lay.
His conscience him prycked, his prynce to betray:
O constant minde, that wouldest not condyscend,
Thee may I prayse, and my selfe discommend.

What though he refused, yet be sure you maye,
That other were as ready to take in hand the thyng,
Which watched and wayted as duely for theyr pray,
As ever dyd the Cat for the Mouse taking,
And howe they might their purpose best to passe bryng:
Where Tyrryl he thought good to have no bloud shed,
Becast them to kyl by smothering in theyr bed.

The Wolves at hand were ready to devoure
The silly lambes in bed whereas they laye
Abiding death and looking for the hower,
For well they wyst, they could not scape awaye.
Ah, woe is me, that did them thus betraye,
In assigning this vile dede to be done,
By Myles Forrest, and wycked Iohn Dyghton.

364

Who priuely into theyr chamber stale,
In secrete wyse somewhat before midnyght,
And gan the bed together tug and hale,
Bewrapping them alas in rufull plyght,
Keping them downe, by force, by power, and might,
With haling, tugging, tormoyling, torne and tost,
Tyl they of force were forced yeeld the ghost.

Which when I heard, my hart I felt was eased
Of grudge, of gryefe, and inward deadly payne,
But with this deede the Nobles were displeased,
And sayd: O God, shal such a Tyraunt raygne,
That hath so cruelly his brothers chyldren slayne?
Which brute once blowen in the peoples eares,
Theyr dolour was such, that they brast out in teares.

But what thing may suffise vnto the bloudy man,
The more he bathes in bloud, the bloudier he is alway:
By proofe I do this speake, whych best declare it can,
Which only was the cause of this prynces decaye.
The wolfe was never greedier than I was of my pray,
But who so vseth murder ful wel affirme I dare,
Wyth murder shal be quyt, ere he therof be ware.

And marke the sequell of this begonne mischiefe
Which shortly after was cause of my decaye,
For high and lowe conceyved such a gryefe
And hate against me, whych sought day by daye,
All wayes and meanes that possible they may,
On me to be revenged for this sinne,
For cruell murdering vnnaturally my kyn.

365

Not only kyn, but kyng the truth to saye
Whom vnkyndely of kyngdome I bereft,
His life also from him I raught away,
With his brothers, whych to my charge were left.
Of ambicion behold the worke and weft,
Prouoking me to do this haynous treason,
And murder them agaynst al right and reason.

After whose death thus wrought by violence,
The Lordes not liking this vnnaturall dede,
Began on me to have great diffidence,
Such brynnyng hate gan in their hartes to breede,
Which made me doubt, and sore my daunger drede:
Which doubt and drede proved not in vayne,
By that ensewed alas vnto my payne.

For I supposing all thinges were as I wyshed,
When I had brought these silly babes to bane,
But yet in that my purpose farre I missed:
For as the Moone doth chaunge after the wane,
So chaunged the hartes of such as I had tane
To be most true, to troubles dyd me turne,
Such rage and rancour in boyling brestes do burne.

And sodaynely a bruyte abrode was blowen,
That Buckingham the duke both sterne and stout,
In fyeld was ready, with divers to me knowen,
To gyve me battayle if I durst come out:
Which daunted me and put me in great doubt,
For that I had no armie then prepared,
But after that I litel for it cared.

366

But yet remembryng, that oft a lytle sparke
Suffered doth growe vnto a great flame,
I thought it wysedome wisely for to warke,
Mustered then men in every place I came.
And marching forward dayly wyth the same,
Directly towardes the towne of Salisbury,
Where I gat knowledge of the dukes army.

And as I passed over Salysbury downe,
The rumour ran the duke was fled and gone,
His hoste dispersed besides Shrewisbury towne,
And he dismayd was left there post alone,
Bewayling his chaunce and makyng great mone:
Towardes whom I hasted with al expedicion,
Making due serche and diligent inquisicion.

But at the first I could not of him heare,
For he was scaped by secrete bywayes,
Vnto the house of Humfrey Banystar,
Whom he had much preferred in his dayes,
And was good lord to him in al assayes:
Which he ful euel requyted in the ende,
When he was driven to seeke a trustye frende.

For it so happened to his mishap, alas,
When I no knowledge of the Duke could heare
A proclamacion by my commaundement was
Publyshed and cryed throughout euery shyre,
That who so could tel where the Duke were,
A thousand marke should have for his payne,
What thing so hard but money can obtayne?

367

But were it for mony, mede, or drede,
That Banystar thus betrayed his ghest,
Divers have diversly deuined of this dede,
Some deeme the worst, and some iudge the best,
The doubt not dissolved nor playnely exprest,
But of the Dukes death he doubteles was cause,
Which dyed without iudgement or order of lawes.

Loe this noble Duke I brought thus vnto bane,
Whose doynges I doubted and had in great dred,
At Banysters house I made him to be tane,
And wythout iudgement be shortened by the head,
By the Shrive of Shropshire to Salisbury led.
In the market place vpon the scaffolde newe
Where all the beholders did much his death rewe.

And after this done I brake vp my hoste,
Greatly applauded with this happy happe,
And forthwyth I sent to every sea coste
To foresee al mischieues and stoppe every gappe,
Before they should chaunce and lyght in my lappe
Geving them in charge to have good regarde
The sea coast to kepe with good watche and warde.

Directing my letters vnto every shryve,
With strayt commaundement vnder our name,
To suffer no man in theyr partes to aryve
Nor to passe forth out of the same,
As they tendered our favour, and voyd would our blame,
Doyng therein their paine and industrye,
With diligent care and vigilant eye.

368

And thus setting thinges in order as you heare,
To prevent mischieves that myght then betyde,
I thought my selfe sure, and out of all feare,
And for other thinges began to provyde:
To Notyngham castel strayt dyd I ride,
Where I was not very long space,
Straunge tydinges came whych dyd me sore amase.

Reported it was, and that for certaynetye,
Therle of Rychemond landed was in Wales
At Mylford haven, wyth an huge armye,
Dismissing his navie which were many sayles:
Whych at the fyrst I thought fleing tales.
But in the ende dyd otherwyse prove,
Which not a litle dyd me vexe and move.

Thus fawning Fortune began on me to frowne,
And cast on me her scorneful lowring looke:
Then gan I feare the fall of my renowne,
My hart it faynted, my sinowes sore they shooke,
This heauy happe a scourge for sinne I tooke,
Yet dyd I not then vtterly despayre,
Hooping stormes past, the weather should be fayre.

And then with all speede possible I myght,
I caused them muster through out every shyre,
Determining wyth the Earle spedely to fyght,
Before that his power much encreased were,
By such as to him great favour did beare:
Which were no smal number by true reporte made,
Dayly repayring him for to ayde.

Directing my letters to divers noble men,
With earnest request theyr power to prepare,

369

To Notyngham castel where as I laye then.
To ayde and assyst me in this weyghty affayre:
Where strayt to my presence did then repayre,
Iohn duke of Norfolke, his eldest sonne also,
With therle of Northhumberland and many other mo.

And thus beyng furnysht with men and municion,
Forward we marched in order of battayle raye,
Makyng by scoutes every way inquisicion,
In what place the earle with his campe laye:
Towardes whom directly we tooke then our waye,
Evermore minding to seeke our most auayle,
In place convenient to gyve to him battayle.

So long we laboured, at last our armies met
On Bosworth playne besydes Lecester towne,
Where sure I thought the garland for to get,
And purchase peace, or els to lose my crowne.
But fyckle Fortune alas on me dyd frowne,
For when I was encamped in the fyelde,
Where most I trusted I soonest was begyld.

The brand of malyce thus kyndlyng in my brest
Of deadly hate which I to him dyd beare,
Prycked me forward, and bad me not desist,
But boldely fight, and take at all no feare,
To wynne the fyeld, and the earle to conquere:
Thus hopyng glory great to gayne and get,
My army then in order dyd I set.

Betide me life or death I desperately ran,
And ioyned me in battayle wyth this Earle so stoute,
But Fortune so him fauoured that he the battayle wan
With force and great power I was beset about,
Which when I did behold, in myds of the whole rout

370

With dent of sword I cast me on him to be revenged,
Where in the middest of them my wretched life I ended.

My body it was hurryed and tugged like a Dogge,
On horsebacke all naked and bare as I was borne.
My head, handes, & feete, downe hanging like a Hogge,
With dyrt and bloud besprent, my corps al to torne,
Cursing the day that ever I was borne.
With greuous woundes bemangled most horrible to se
So sore they did abhorre this my vile crueltye.

Loe here you may beholde the due and iust rewarde
Of tiranny and treason which God doth most detest,
For if vnto my duety I had taken regarde,
I myght haue lived stil in honour with the best,
And had I not attempt the thing that I ought lest.
But desire to rule alas dyd me so blinde,
Which caused me to do agaynst nature and kynde.

Ah cursed caytive why did I clymbe so hye,
Which was the cause of this my baleful thrall.
For styll I thyrsted for the regal dignitie,
But hasty rising threatneth sodayne fall,
Content your selves with your estates all,
And seeke not right by wrong to suppresse,
For God hath promist eche wrong to redresse.

See here the fine and fatall fall of me,
And guerdon due for this my wretched deede,
Whych to all prynces a myrrour nowe may be
That shal this tragicall story after reede,
Wyshyng them all by me to take heede,
And suffer ryght to rule as it is reason,
For Time trieth out both truth and also treason.

373

Howe Shores wife, Edwarde the fowerthes concubine, was by king Richarde despoyled of all her goodes, and forced to do open penance.

Among the rest by Fortune overthrowen,
I am not least, that most may wayle her fate:
My fame and brute abrode the world is blowen,
Who can forget a thing thus done so late?
My great mischaunce, my fall, and heauye state,
Is such a marke whereat eche tounge doth shoote,
That my good name is pluckt vp by the roote.

This wandryng worlde bewitched me with wyles,
And wonne my wittes wyth wanton sugred ioyes,
In Fortunes frekes who trustes her when she smyles,
Shal fynde her false, and full of fyckle toyes,
Her tryumphes al but fyl our eares wyth noyse,
Her flatteryng gyftes are pleasures myxt wyth payne.
Yea al her wordes are thunders threatnyng rayne.

The fond desire that we in glory set,
Doth thirle our hartes to hope in slipper happe,
A blast of pompe is all the fruyt we get,
And vnder that lyes hidde a sodayne clappe:
In seeking rest vnwares we fall in trappe.
In groping flowers wyth Nettels stong we are,
In labouring long, we reape the crop of care.

374

Oh darke deceyt with paynted face for showe,
Oh poysoned baite that makes vs egre styll,
Oh fayned frende deceyuing people so,
Oh world of thée we can not speake to yll,
Yet fooles we are that bende so to thy skyll,
The plage and skourge that thousandes dayly feele,
Should warne the wise to shonne thy whyrling whele.

But who can stop the streame that runnes full swyft?
Or quenche the fyer that crept is in the strawe?
The thirstye drinkes, there is no other shyft,
Perforce is such, that nede obeyes no lawe,
Thus bound we are in worldly yokes to drawe,
And can not staye, nor turne agayne in tyme,
Nor learne of those that sought to hygh to clyme.

My selfe for proofe, loe here I nowe appeare,
In womans weede with wepyng watered eyes,
That bought her youth and her delyghtes ful deare.
Whose lowde reproche doth sound vnto the skyes
And byds my corse out of the grave to ryse,
As one that may no longer hide her face,
But nedes must come and shewe her piteous case.

The shete of shame wherein I shrowded was
Did move me ofte to playne before this daye,
And in mine eares dyd ryng the trumpe of brasse,
Which is defame that doth eche vice bewraye.
Yea though ful dead and lowe in earth I laye,
I heard the voyce of me what people sayd,
But then to speake alas I was affrayed.

375

And nowe a time for me I see preparde,
I heare the lives and falles of many wyghtes:
My tale therfore the better may be heard,
For at the torche the litle candle lightes.
Where Pageantes be, small thinges fil out the sightes.
Wherefore geve eare, good Baldwyn do thy best,
My tragedy to place among the rest.

Because that truthe shal witnesse wel with thee,
I wil rehearse in order as it fell,
My life, my death, my dolefull destenie,
My wealth, my woe, my doing every deale,
My bitter blisse, wherein I long dyd dwell:
A whole discourse of me Shores wife by name,
Now shalt thou heare as thou hadst sene the same.

Of noble bloud I can not boast my byrth,
For I was made out of the meanest molde,
Myne heritage but seven foote of earth,
Fortune ne gave to me the gyftes of golde:
But I could bragge of nature if I would,
Who fyld my face with favour freshe and fayer,
Whose beautie shone like Phebus in the ayer

My shape, some sayd, was seemely to eche sight,
My countenaunce did shewe a sober grace,
Myne eyes in lookes were never proved lyght,
My tongue in wordes were chaste in every case,
Myne eares were deafe, and would no lovers place,
Save that (alas) a prynce dyd blot my browe,
Loe, there the strong did make the weake to bowe.

376

The maiestie that kynges to people beare,
The stately porte, the awful chere they showe,
Doth make the meane to shrynke and couche for feare,
Like as the hound, that doth his maister knowe:
What then, since I was made vnto the bowe:
There is no cloke, can serve to hyde my fault,
For I agreed the fort he should assaulte.

The Egles force, subdues eche byrd that flyes,
What mettal may resist the flaming fyre?
Doth not the sonne, dasill the clearest eyes,
And melt the ise, and make the frost retire?
Who can withstand a puissaunt kynges desyre?
The stiffest stones are perced through with tooles,
The wisest are with princes made but fooles.

Yf kynde had wrought my forme in common frames,
And set me forth in coloures black and browne,
Or beautie had bene parched in Phebus flames,
Or shamefast waies had pluckt my fethers downe,
Then had I kept my name and good renowne:
For natures gyftes was cause of all my griefe.
A pleasaunt pray entiseth many a thiefe.

Thus woe to thee that wrought my peacocks pryde
By clothing me with natures tapistrye,
Woe wurth the hewe wherein my face was dyed,
Whych made me thinke I pleased everye eye:
Like as the sterres make men beholde the skye,
So beauties showe doth make the wife ful fond.
And bringes free hartes ful oft to endeles bond.

377

But cleare from blame my frendes can not be found,
Before my time my youth they did abuse:
In maryage, a prentyse was I bound,
When that meere love I knewe not howe to vse.
But wealaway, that can not me excuse,
The harme is mine though they deuysed my care,
And I must smart and syt in slaundrous snare.

Yet geve me leave to pleade my case at large,
Yf that the horse do runne beyond his race,
Or any thing that kepers have in charge
Do breake theyr course, where rulers may take place,
Or meat be set before the hungryes face,
Who is in fault? the offendour yea or no,
Or they that are the cause of all this wo?

Note wel what stryfe this forced maryage makes,
What lothed lyves do come where love doth lacke,
What scratting bryers do growe vpon such brakes,
What common weales by it are brought to wracke,
What heavy loade is put on pacientes backe,
What straunge delyghtes this braunch of vice doth brede
And marke what graine sprynges out of such a seede.

Compel the hawke to syt that is vnmande,
Or make the hound vntaught to drawe the dere,
Or bryng the free agaynst his wil in band,
Or move the sad a pleasaunt tale to heare,
Your time is lost and you are never the nere:
So love ne learnes of force the knot to knyt,
She serves but those that feele sweete fancies fyt,

378

The lesse defame redoundes to my disprayse,
I was entyste by traynes, and trapt by trust:
Though in my power remayned yeas or nayes,
Vnto my frendes yet nedes consent I must,
In every thing, yea lawfull or vniust:
They brake the boowes and shakte the trée by sleyght,
And bent the wand that might have growen ful streight

What helpe in this, the pale thus broken downe,
The Deere must nedes in daunger runne astraye:
At me therfore why should the world so frowne,
My weakenes made my youth a prynces praye.
Though wysedome should the course of nature stay,
Yet trye my case who lyst, and they shal prove,
The rypest wittes are soonest thralles to love.

What nede I more to cleare my selfe to much?
A kyng me wanne, and had me at his call:
His royall state, his pryncely grace was such,
The hope of will (that women seeke for all,)
The ease and wealth, the gyftes whych were not smal,
Besieged me so strongly rounde aboute,
My power was weake, I could not holde him out.

Duke haniball in all his conquest greate.
Or Ceaser yet, whose tryumphes did excede,
Of all their spoyles which made them toyle and sweat,
Were not so glad to haue so ryche a meade.
As was this prince when I to hym agreed.
And yelded me a prisoner willynglye,
As one that knew no way awaye to flee.

379

The Nightingale for all his mery voyce
Nor yet the Larke that stil delightes to syng,
Did never make the hearers so reioyce,
As I with wordes have made this worthy kyng:
I never iard, in tune was every stryng,
I tempered so my tounge to please his eare,
That what I sayd was currant every where.

I ioynde my talke, my gestures, and my grace
In wittie frames that long might last and stand,
So that I brought the kyng in such a case,
That to his death I was his chiefest hand.
I governed him that ruled all this land:
I bare the sword though he did weare the crowne,
I strake the stroke that threwe the mightye downe.

Yf iustice sayd that iudgement was but death,
With my sweete wordes I could the kyng perswade,
And make him pause and take therein a breath,
Tyl I wyth suyte the fawtors peace had made:
I knewe what waye to vse him in his trade,
I had the arte to make the Lyon meeke,
There was no poynt wherein I was to seeke.

Yf I did frowne, who then did looke awrye?
Yf I dyd smyle, who would not laugh outryght?
Yf I but spake, who durst my wordes denye?
Yf I pursued, who would forsake the flyght?
I meane my power was knowen to every wyght.
On such a heyght good hap had buylt my bower,
As though my swete should never have turnd to sower.

380

My husband then, as one that knewe his good,
Refused to kepe a prynces concubine,
Forseing the ende and mischiefe as it stoode,
Agaynst the king did never much repyne,
He sawe the grape whereof he dranke the wyne,
Though inward thought his hart did still torment,
Yet outwardly he seemde he was content.

To purchase prayse and winne the peoples zeale,
Yea rather bent of kinde to do some good,
I ever did vpholde the common weale,
I had delyght to save the gylteles bloud:
Eche suters cause when that I vnderstoode,
I did preferre as it had bene mine owne,
And helpt them vp, that might have bene orethrowne.

My power was prest to ryght the poore mans wrong,
My handes were free to geve where nede requyred,
To watche for grace I never thought it long,
To do men good I nede not be desyred.
Nor yet with gyftes my hart was never hyred.
But when the ball was at my foote to guyde,
I played to those that fortune did abide.

My want was wealth, my woe was ease at wyll,
My robes were ryche, and braver then the sonne:
My Fortune then was farre above my skyll,
My state was great, my glasse did ever runne,
My fatal threede so happely was spunne,
That then I sat in earthly pleasures clad,
And for the time a Goddesse place I had.

381

But I had not so sone this lyef possest,
But my good happe began to slyp asyde.
And fortune then dyd me so sore molest,
That vnto playntes was tourned all my pride.
It booted not to rowe agaynst the tyde:
Myne oares were weke my hart and strength did fayle,
the wynd was rough I durst not beare a sayle.

What steppes of stryef belonge to highe estate?
The clymynge vp is doubtfull to indure,
The seate it selfe doth purchase priuie hate,
And honours fame is fyckle and vnsure,
And all she brynges, is floures that be vnpure:
Which fall as fast as they do sprout and spring,
And cannot last they are so vayne a thyng.

We count no care to catche that we do wyshe,
But what we wynne is long to vs vnknowen,
Til present payne be served in our dyshe,
We skarce perceyve whereon our gryefe hath growen:
What grayne proves wel that is so rashely sowen?
Yf that a meane dyd measure all our deedes,
In stead of corne we should not gather weedes.

The setled minde is free from Fortunes power,
They nede not feare who looke not vp aloft,
But they that clyme are carefull every hower,
For when they fall they light not very softe:
Examples hath the wysest warned ofte,
That where the trees the smallest braunches bere,
The stormes do blowe and have most rigor there.

Where is it strong but nere the ground and roote?
Where is it weake but on the hyghest sprayes?

382

Where may a man so surely set his foote,
But on those bowes that groweth lowe alwayes?
The litle twigges are but vnstedfast stayes,
Yf they breake not, they bend wyth every blast,
Who trustes to them shal never stand full fast.

The wynde is great vpon the hyghest hilles,
The quiete life is in the dale belowe,
Who treades on yse shal slide agaynst theyr wylles,
They want no care that curious artes would knowe,
Who lives at ease and can content him so,
Is perfect wise, and settes vs all to scoole,
Who hates this lore may wel be called a foole.

What greater gryefe may come to any lyfe,
Than after sweete to taste the bitter sower?
Or after peace to fall at warre and stryfe,
Or after myrth to have a cause to lower?
Vnder such proppes false Fortune buyldes her bower,
On sodayne chaunge her flitting frames be set,
Where is no way for to escape her net.

The hastye smart that Fortune sendes in spyte
Is hard to brooke where gladnes we imbrace,
She threatens not, but sodaynly doth smyte,
Where ioye is moste there doth she sorowe place.
But sure I thinke, this is to strange a case,
For vs to feele such gryefe amyd our game,
And know not why vntil we taste the same.

383

As earst I sayd, my blisse was turnde to bale,
I had good cause to weepe and wring my handes,
And showe sad cheare with countenaunce full pale,
For I was brought in sorowes woful bandes:
A pyrrye came and set my shippe on sandes,
What should I hide, or colour care and noye?
Kyng Edward dyed in whom was all my ioye.

And when the earth receyved had his corse,
And that in tombe, this worthye prince was layd,
The world on me began to shewe his force,
Of troubles then my parte I long assayed:
For they, of whom I never was afrayed,
Vndyd me most, and wrought me such despyte,
That they bereft from me my pleasure quyte.

As long as life remaynd in Edwardes brest,
Who was but I? who had such frendes at call?
His body was no sooner put in chest,
But wel was him that could procure my fall:
His brother was mine enemy most of all
Protector then, whose vice did stil abound,
From yll to worse tyll death dyd him confound.

He falsely fayned, that I of counsayle was
To poyson him, which thing I never ment,
But he could set thereon a face of brasse,
To bring to passe his lewde and false entent,
To such mischiefe this Tyrantes heart was bent.
To God, ne man, he never stoode in awe,
For in his wrath he made his wyll a lawe.

384

Lord Hastinges bloud for vengeauns on him cries,
And many moe, that were to long to name:
But most of all, and in most wofull wise
I had good cause this wretched man to blame.
Before the world I suffred open shame,
Where people were as thicke as is the sand,
I penaunce tooke with taper in my hand.

Eche iye did stare, and looke me in the face,
As I past by the rumours on me ranne,
But Patience then had lent me such a grace,
My quiete lookes were praised of every man:
The shamefast bloud brought me such colour than,
That thousandes sayd, which sawe my sobre chere,
It is great ruth to see this woman here.

But what prevailde the peoples pitie there?
This raging wolfe would spare no gylteles bloud.
Oh wicked wombe that such yll fruite did beare,
Oh cursed earth that yeldeth forth such mud,
The hell consume all thinges that dyd the good,
The heavens shut theyr gates against thy spryte,
The world tread downe thy glory vnder feete,

I aske of God a vengeance on thy bones,
Thy stinking corps corrupts the ayre I knowe:
Thy shameful death no earthly wyght bemones,
For in thy lyfe thy workes were hated so,
That every man dyd wyshe thy overthrowe:
Wherefore I may, though percial nowe I am,
Curse every cause whereof thy body came.

Woe wurth the man that fathered such a childe:
Woe worth the hower wherein thou wast begate,
Woe wurth the brestes that have the world begylde,
To norryshe thée that all the world dyd hate.
Woe wurth the Gods that gave thée such a fate,

385

To lyve so long, that death deserved so ofte.
Woe wurth the chaunce that set thee vp alofte.

Ye Princes all, and Rulers everychone,
In punyshement beware of hatreds yre.
Before ye skourge, take hede, looke well thereon:
In wrathes yl wil yf malice kyndle fyre,
Your hartes wil bourne in such a hote desire,
That in those flames the smoake shal dym your sight,
Ye shal forget to ioyne your iustice ryght.

You should not iudge til thinges be wel deserned,
Your charge is styll to mainteyne vpryght lawes,
In conscience rules ye should be throughly learned,
Where clemencie byds wrath and rashenes pawes,
And further sayeth, stryke not wythout a cause,
And when ye smite do it for Iustice sake,
Then in good part eche man your skourge wil take.

Yf that such zeale had moved this Tyrantes minde,
To make my plague a warning for the rest,
I had small cause such fault in him to finde,
Such punishement is vsed for the best:
But by yll wil and power I was opprest.
He spoyled my goodes and left me bare and poore,
And caused me to begge from dore to dore,

What fall was this, to come from Princes fare,
To watche for crummes among the blinde and lame?
When almes was delt I had a hungry share,
Bycause I knewe not howe to aske for shame,
Tyll force and nede had brought me in such frame,
That starve I must, or learne to beg an almes,
With booke in hand, and say S. Dauids psalmes.

386

Where I was wont the golden chaynes to weare,
A payre of beades about my necke was wound,
A lynnen clothe was lapt about my heare,
A ragged gowne that trayled on the ground,
A dishe that clapt and gave a heavie sound,
A stayeng staffe and wallet therewithal,
I bare about as witnesse of my fal.

I had no house wherein to hyde my head,
The open strete my lodging was perforce,
Ful ofte I went al hungry to my bed,
My fleshe consumed, I looked like a corse,
Yet in that plyght who had on me remorse?
O God thou knowest my frendes forsooke me than,
Not one holpe me that suckered many a man.

They frownde on me that faund on me before,
And fled from me that followed me ful fast,
They hated me, by whom I set much store,
They knewe ful wel my Fortune dyd not last,
In every place I was condemnd and cast:
To pleade my cause at barre it was no boote,
For every man dyd tread me vnder foote.

Thus long I lyved all weary of my life,
Tyl death approcht and rid me from that woe:
Example take by me both maide and wyfe,
Beware, take heede, fall not to follie so,
A myrrour make of my great overthrowe:
Defye this world, and all his wanton wayes,
Beware by me, that spent so yll her dayes.

388

The tragedie of Edmund duke of Somerset, slayne at the first battayle at Saynct Albanes, in the tyme of Henrye the sixte.

Some I suppose are borne vnfortunate,
Els good endeuours could not yll succede,
What shal I call it? yll Fortune or fate,
That some mens attemptes have never good speede,
Theyr trauayle thankeles, all bootles theyr hede:
Where other vnlyke in workyng or skyll,
Outwrestle the world, and wyeld it at wyll,

Of the fyrst number I count my selfe one,
To all mishap I wene predestinate,
Beleve me Baldwyne there be fewe or none,
To whom Fortune was ever more ingrate.
Make thou therfore my lyfe a caveat,
That who so wyth force wil worke agaynst kynde,
Sayleth as who sayeth, agaynst the stream & wynde.

For I of Somerset which duke Edmund hight,
Extract by discent from Lancaster line,
Were it by folly or Fortunes fell despyte,
Or by yll aspecte of some crooked sygne,

389

Of my workes never could see a good fine:
What so I began dyd seldome wel ende:
God from such Fortune all good men defend.

Where I sought to save, most parte I dyd spyll,
For good hap with me was alway at warre.
The lynage of Yorke whom I bare so yll,
By my spite became bryght as the morning starre,
Thus somewhiles men make when fayne they would marre.
The more ye lop trees, the greater they growe,
The more ye stop streames the hygher they flowe.

By malice of me his glory grewe the more,
And mine, as the moone in the wane, waxt lesse:
For having the place which he had before,
Governour of Fraunce, nedes I must confesse,
That lost was Normandie wythout redresse,
Yet wrought I al wayes that wyt myght contryve,
But what doth it boote with the streame to stryve?

Borne was I neyther to warre nor to peace
For Mars was maligne to all my whole trade:
My byrth I beleve was in Ioves decreas,
When Cancer in his course beyng retrograde,
Declyned from Sol to Saturnus shade,

390

Where aspectes were good, opposites did marre,
So grew myne vnhap both in peace and warre.

A straunge natiuitie in calculation,
As all my lyves course dyd after declare,
Whereof in a bryefe to make relacion,
That other by me may learne to beware,
Overlight credence was cause of my care.
And want of foresight in geuyng assent,
To condemne Humfrey the duke innocent,

Humfrey I meane that was the protector,
Duke of Glocester of the royall bloud,
So long as he was Englandes dyrectour,
Kyng Henries tytle to the crowne was good.
This prynce as a pyller most stedfastly stood:
Or like to a proppe set vnder a vyne,
In state to vpholde al Lancasters line.

O hedeles trust, vnware of harme to cum,
O malice headlong swyft to serve fond wyll,
Did ever madnes man so much benomme
Of prudent forecast, reason wit, and skyll,
As me blinde Bayard consenting to spyll,
The bloud of my cosyn my refuge and staye,
To my destruction making open waye?

391

So long as the Duke bare the stroke and swaye,
So long no Rebelles quarelles durst begin,
But when that the post was once pulled awaye,
Which stoode to vpholde the king and his kyn,
Yorke and his banders proudly preased in.
To chalenge the crowne by title of ryght,
Beginning with lawe and ending with myght.

Abrode went bruites in countrey and in towne,
That Yorke of England was the heyre true,
And howe Henry vsurped had the crowne
Agaynst al right, which al the realme may rue:
The people then, embrasing titles newe,
Yrksome of present, and longing for a chaunge,
Assented soone bycause they love to raunge.

True is the text which we in scripture read,
Ve terrae illi cuius rex est puer.
Woe to the land whereof a chylde is head,
Whether chylde or childyshe the case is one sure,
Where kynges be yong we dayly see in vre,
The people awles wanting one to dread,
Lead theyr lives lawles by weakenes of the heade.

392

And no lesse true is this text agayne,
Beata terra cuius rex est nobilis.
Blest is the land where a stout kyng doth rayne,
Where in good peace eche man possesseth his,
Where ill men feare to fault or do amis,
Where the prynce prest hath alway sword in hand,
At home and abrode his enemyes to wythstand.

In case king Henry had bene such a one,
Hardy and stoute as his fathers afore,
Long mought he have sat in the royall throne,
Without any feare of common vprore.
But dayly his weakenes shewed more and more,
And that gave boldenes to the aduers bande,
To spoyle him at last both of life and land.

His humble hart was nothyng vnknowen,
To the gallantes of Yorke & theyr retinue,
A ground lyeng lowe is soone overflowen,
And shored houses can not long continue,
Ioyntes can not knyt where as is no synowe,
And so a prynce, not dred as well as loved
Is from his place, by practise soone removed.

393

Well mought I see had I not wanted brayne,
The wurke begon to vndermine the state,
When the chiefe lynke was lewced fro the chayne,
And that men durst vpon bloud royal grate,
Howe tickle a holde had I of mine estate?
When the head poste laye flat vpon the flore,
Mought not I thinke my staf next the dore?

So mought also dame Margarete the Queene,
By meane of whom this mischiefe fyrst began,
Dyd she trowe ye her selfe not overwéen
Death to procure to such a noble man?
Whych she and hers afterward did ban,
On whom dyd hang as I before have sayd,
Her husbandes life, his honour and his ayde.

For whylest he lyved whych was our stable staye,
Yorke and his ympes were kept as vnder yoke,
But when our poste removed was away,
Then burst out flame that late before was smoke,
The traytour covert then cast of his cloke,
And he that lay hyd came forth in open light,
With titles blynde whych he set forth for ryght.

394

Whych thyng to compasse him fyrst behooved,
The kyng and his kyn a sunder to set:
Who being perforce or practise remooved,
Then had they auoyded the pryncipall let,
Which kept the sought pray so long from the net:
The next poynt after, was them selves to place
In hyghest authoritie about his grace.

Therfore he wrought strayght me to displace,
No cause pretending but the common weale,
The crowne of England was the very case,
Why to the commons they burned so in zeale.
My faultes were cloakes theyr practise to conceale,
In counsayle hearing consider the entent,
For by pretence of truth treason ofte is ment,

So theyr pretence was only to remove
Counsayle corrupt from place about the kyng.
But O ye Prynces, you it doth behoove,
This case to construe as no fayned thyng,
That never traytour did subdue his kyng,
But for his plat ere he would furder wade,
Agaynst his frendes the quarel fyrst he made.

And if by hap he could so bryng about,
Them to subdue at his owne wyshe and wyll,

395

Then would he waxe so arrogant and stout,
That no reason his outrage myght fulfyll.
But to procede vpon his purpose styl
Tyll kyng and counsayle brought were in one case:
Loe to a rebell what it is to geve place.

So for the fyshe casting forth his net,
The next poynt was in dryuing out his plat,
Common doltes to cause furiously to fret,
And to rebel, I can not tel for what,
Requyring redres of this and of that:
Who yf they speede, he standing at receyt,
Graspe would the pray that he long dyd awayte.

Then by surmyse of sumthing pretended,
Such to displace as they may well suspect
Lyke to wythstand theyr practises entended,
And in theyr roomes theyr banders to elect,
The adverse party proudly to reiect.
And then wyth reportes the simple to abuse,
And when these helpes fayle, open force to vse.

So this Dukes traynes were covert and not séene,
Which nought lesse meant, then he most pretended.
Lyke to a serpent covert vnder greene,
To the weale publycke séemed wholly bended:

396

Zelous he was, and would have all thing mended,
But by that mendment nothyng els he ment,
But to be kyng, to that marke was his bent.

For had he bene playne as he meant in dede,
Henry to depose from the royall place,
His haste had bene waste, and much worse his speede,
The kyng then standing in his peoples grace.
This Duke therfore set forth a goodly face,
As one that meant no quarell for the crowne,
Such as bare rule he only would put downe.

But all for nought so long as I bare stroke,
Served these dryftes, and proved all vayne,
Then dyd he attempt the people to provoke,
To make commocion and vprores amayne:
Which to appease, the kyng him selfe was fayne,
From Blackheath in Kent, to send me to the Tower.
Such was the force of rebels that hower.

The tempest yet therewyth was not ceased,
For Yorke was bent his purpose to pursue,
Who seing howe soone I was released,
And yll successe of suffraunce to insue:
Then like a Iudas vnto his lord vntrue,
Esteming time lost lenger to deferre,
By Warwykes ayde proclaymed open warre,

At S. Albanes towne both our hostes dyd mete,
Which to trye a fielde was no equal place,

397

Forst we were to fyght in every lane and strete,
No feare of foes could make me shun the place:
There I and Warwyke fronted face to face,
At an Inne dore, the Castel was the syne,
Where with a sword was cut my fatal line.

Oft was I warned to come in Castel none,
But thought no whit of any common sygne,
I dyd ymagine a Castel buylt wyth stone,
For of no Inne I could the same diuine:
In Prophetes skyl my wyt was never fine,
A Foole is he that such vayne dreames doth dread,
And more foole of both that wyl by them be led.

My life I lost in that vnlucky place,
With many Lordes that leaned to my parte:
The Erle Percy had there no better grace,
Clyfford for all his courage could not shun the darte,
Stafford although stout, free went not from this marte.
Babthorp the attorney for all his skyll in lawe,
In this poynt of pleading was found very rawe.

So thus this poore kyng disarmed of his bandes,
His frendes slayne wanting al assistence,

398

Was made a pray vnto his enemies handes,
Pryued of power, and pryncely reverence,
And as a pupyl voyd of all experience,
Innocent playne, and symply wytted
Was as a Lambe to the Wolfe committed.

A Parlyament then was called wyth speede
A Parlyament, nay a playne conspiracye,
When all in poste it was by acte decreed,
That after the death of the syxt Henry,
Yorke should succede vnto the regally,
And in his life the charge and protection,
Of kyng and realme at the dukes direction.

And thus was Yorke declared protectour,
Protector sayd I, nay proditor playne.
A ranke rebell the prynces director
A liege to lead his lord and soveraygne,
What honest hart would not conceyve disdayne
To sée the foote appeare above the head,
A monster is in spyte of nature bred.

Some haply here wyl move a farder doubt,
And for Yorkes parte allege an elder right,
O braynles heades that so run in and out.
Whan length of time a state hath firmely pyght:

399

And good accorde hath put all stryfe to flyght,
Were it not better such titles should slepe,
Than all a realme for theyr tryall to wepe?

From the heyre female came Yorke and his lede,
And we of Lancaster from the heyre male,
Of whom thrée kinges in order dyd succede,
By iust discent: this is no fayned tale.
Who would have thought that any storme or gale
Our shyp could shake, having such anker hold?
None I thinke sure vnlesse God so would.

After this hurle the kyng was fayne to flée,
Northward in poste for succour and relyefe.
O blessed God howe straunge it was to sée,
A ryghtfull prynce pursued as a thiefe:
To thée O England what can be more repryefe?
Then to pursue thy Prynce wyth armed hand,
What greater shame may be to any land?

Traytours dyd triumphe, true men lay in the dust,
Reuing and robbing roysted every where,
Will stoode for skyll, and lawe obeyed lust,
Might trode downe right, of kyng there was no feare.
All thing was tried only by shield and speare.
Al which vnhappes that they were not foreséene,
I was in fault, or some about the Queene.

400

Thou lookest Baldwyn I should my selfe accuse,
Of some subtyle dryft or other lyke thyng,
Wherein I should my prynces eares abuse,
To the Dukes foes overmuch adhering,
Though some mens practise did me thereto bryng,
My fault only consisted in consent,
Forgeve it me, for sore I dyd repent:

Yf I at fyrst when brandes began to smoke,
The sparkes to quenche by any way had sought,
England had never felt this mortal stroke,
Which nowe to late lamenting helpeth nought.
Two poyntes of wyt to dearly have I bought,
The fyrst that better is timely to foresée,
Then after over late a counsaylour to be.

The second poynt, not easely to assent
To aduise geven agaynst thy faythful frende,
But of the speaker ponder the intent,
The meaning ful, the poynt, and final ende.
A saynt in showe, in proofe is found a fende,
The subtyle man the simple to abuse,
Much pleasaunt speache and eloquence doth vse.

And so was I abusde and other moe
By Suffolkes sleyghtes, who sought to please the quene,

401

Forecasting not the miserye and woe
Whych thereof came, and soone was after sene:
With glosing tonge he made vs fooles to weene,
That Humfrey dyd to Englandes crowne aspyre,
Which to prevent, his death they dyd conspyre.

What should I more of myne vnhaps declare,
Whereof my death at last hath made an ende?
Not I alone was cause of all this care,
Some besides me there were that did offend.
None I accuse, nor yet my selfe defend,
Faultes I know I had, as none lives wythout,
My chiefe fault was folly I put thée out of doubt.

Folly was the chiefe, the noughty time was next,
Which made my fortune subiect to the chiefe:
If England then wyth strife had not bene vext.
Glory might have growen where as ensewed gryefe
Yet one thing to me is comfort and relyefe,
Constant I was in my Prynces quarell,
To dye or lyve and spared for no parell.

What though Fortune enuious was my foe,
A noble hart ought not the sooner yelde,
Nor shrynke abacke for any weale or woe,
But for his Prynce lye bleeding in the feelde:
If priuie spyte at any time me helde,
The pryce is payed: and grevous is my guerdon,
As for the rest God I trust wyll pardon.

402

The wilfull fall of Blacke Smyth, and the foolishe ende of the Lord Awdeley.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Who is more bolde then is the blynde Beard?
Where is more craft than in the clowted shoen?
Who catche more harme then such as nothing feard?
Where is more guyle then were mistrust is none?
No playsters helpe before the gryefe be knowen.
So semes by me who could no wysedome lere,
Vntyll such time I bought my wyt to deare.

403

Who being boystous stout, and brayneles bolde,
Puft vp wyth pryde, with fyer and furies fret,
Incenst with tales so rude and playnely tolde,
Wherein deceyt wyth double knot was knyt,
I trapped was as sely fishe in net,
Who swift in swimming, not doubtful of disceyt,
Is caught in gyn wherein is layd no bayt.

Such force and vertue hath this doleful playnt,
Set forth wyth syghes and teares of Crocodyle,
Who seemes in sight as simple as a saynt,
Hath layd a bayte the wareles to begyle,
And as they weepe they worke disceyt the while,
Whose ruful cheare the rulers so relent,
To worke in hast that they at last repent.

Take hede therfore ye rulers of the land,
Be blynd in sight, and stop your other eare,
In sentence slowe tyl skyll the truthe hath skand,
In all your doomes both love and hate forbeare,
So shal your iudgement iust and ryght appeare:
It was a southfast sentence long agoe,
That hastye men shal never lacke much woe.

Is it not truth? Baldwyn what sayest thou?
Say on thy minde, I pray the muse no more,
Me thinke thou starest and lookest I wote not howe,
As though thou never sawest a man before:
By like thou musest why I teache this lore,
Els what I am that here so boldly dare,
Among the prease of princes to compare.

404

Though I be bolde, I pray thée blame not me,
Lyke as men sowe, such corne nedes must they reape,
And nature hath so planted in eche degrée,
That Crabbes like Crabbes wil kindly cral and crepe:
The sutell Foxe vnlike the silly shepe:
It is according to myne education,
Forward to prease in rout and congregacion.

Behold my cote burnt wyth the sparkes of fyer,
My lether apron fylde wyth horseshoe nayles,
Behold my hammer and my pyncers here,
Behold my lookes a marke that seldome fayles:
My chekes declare I was not fed wyth quayles,
My face, my clothes, my tooles wyth al my fashion,
Declare full wel a prynce of rude creacion.

A prynce I sayd, a prynce I say agayne,
Though not by byrth, by crafty vsurpacion,
Who doutes but some men pryncehoode do obtayne,
By open force and wrongful dominacion,
Yet whyle they rule are had in reputation:
Even so by me, the whyle I wrought my feate,
I was a Prynce at least in my conceyte.

I dare the bolder take on me the name,
Because of him whom here I leade in hand,
Tychet Lord Audeley a lord of byrth and fame,
Which with his strength and power servde in my band,
I was a Prynce whyle that I was so mande:
His Butterflye styll vnderneth my shielde,
Displayed was from Welles to Blackheath fyelde.

405

But nowe beholde he doth bewayle the same:
Thus after wittes theyr rashenes do deprave,
Beholde dismayd he dare not speake for shame,
He lookes like one that late came from the grave,
Or one that came forth of Trophonius cave,
For that in wyt he had so litle pyth,
As he a lord to serve a traytour smyth.

Such is the Corage of the noble hart,
Which doth despyse the vile and baser sorte,
He may not touch that savers of the Cart,
Him listeth not wyth eche Iacke lout to sporte,
He lets him passe for payring of his porte,
The iolly Egles catche not litle flees,
The courtly sylkes matche seeld with homly frees.

But surely Baldwyne if I were allowde
To saye the trouth, I could somewhat declare:
But Clarkes wyl say, this Smith doth waxe to proude,
Thus in preceptes of wysedome to compare,
But Smithes must speake that clarkes for feare ne dare.
It is a thyng that all men may lament,
When clarkes kepe close the truth least they be shent.

The Hostler, Barber, Myller, and the smyth,
Heare of the sawes of such as wysedome ken,
And learne some wyt although they want the pyth,
That Clarkes pretende: and yet both nowe and then,
The greatest Clarkes prove not the wisest men:
It is not right that men forbid should be,
To speake the truth all were he bond or free.

And for becavse I have vsed to fret and fome,
Not passing greatly whom I should displease,
I dare be bolde a while to play the mome,
Out of my sacke some others faultes to lease,

406

And let my owne behinde my backe to peyse.
For he that hath his owne before his iye,
Shal not so quicke anothers fault espye.

I say was never no such woful case,
As is when honour doth it selfe abuse:
The noble man that vertue doth imbrace,
Represseth pryde, and humblenes doth vse,
By wysedome workes, and rashenes doth refuse:
His wanton wyl and lust that brydel can,
In dede is gentil both to God and man.

But where the nobles want both wyt and grace,
Regard no rede, care not but for theyr lust,
Oppresse the poore, set wil in reasons place,
And in their wordes and doomes be found vniust,
Wealth goeth to wracke tyl all lye in the dust:
There Fortune frownes, and spite beginth to growe,
Til high, and lowe, and al be overthrowe.

Then syth that vertue hath so good rewarde,
And after vice so duely wayteth shame,
Howe happth that Prynces have no more regarde,
Their tender youth wyth vertue to enflame?
For lacke whereof theyr wyt and wyl is lame,
Infecte with folly, prone to lust and pryde,
Not knowing howe them selfes or theyrs to guyde.

Whereby it hapneth to the wanton wyght,
As to a shyppe vpon the stormy seas,
Whych lacking sterne to guyde it selfe aryght,
From shore to shore the wynde and tide do téese,

407

Finding no place to rest or take his ease,
Tyl at the last it synke vpon the sande:
So fare they all that have not vertue cand.

The Plowman fyrst his land doth dresse and torne,
And makes it apte or ere the seede be sowe,
Whereby he is full like to reape good corne,
Where otherwise no seede but wéede would growe:
By whych ensample men may easely knowe,
When youth have welth before they can wel vse it,
It is no wonder though they do abuse it.

Howe can he rule wel in a common welth,
Whych knoweth not him selfe in rule to frame?
Howe should he rule him selfe in ghostly health,
Which never learnd one lesson for the same?
If such catche harme theyr parentes are to blame:
For nedes must they be blynde, and blyndly ledde,
Where no good lesson can be taught or red.

Some thinke theyr youth discrete and wysely taught,
That brag, and boste, and weare their fether brave,
Can royst, and rowt, both lowre, and looke alofte,
Can sweare and stare, and call their felowes knave,
Can pyll and poll, and catche before they crave,
Can carde and dyse, both cogge and foyst at fare,
Play on vnthriftye, til theyr purse be bare.

Some teache theyr youth to pype, to syng, and daunce,
To hauke, to hunt, to choose and kyl theyr game,
To wynde theyr horne, and with their horse to praunce,
To play at Tenys, set the lute in frame,

408

Runne at the ring and vse such other game:
Which fetes although they be not all vnfyt,
Yet can not they the marke of vertue hit.

For noble youth, there is no thyng so meete
As learning is, to knowe the good from yll:
To knowe the tounges, and perfectly endyte,
And of the lawes to have a perfect skyll,
Thinges to reforme as ryght and iustice will:
For honour is ordeyned for no cause,
But to sée ryght maynteyned by the lawes,

It spytes my heart to heare when noble men
Can not disclose their secretes to theyr frende,
In savegarde sure wyth paper, ynke, and pen,
But fyrst they must a secretary fynde,
To whom they shewe the bottome of theyr minde:
And be he false or true, a blabbe or close,
To him they must theyr counsayle nedes disclose.

And where they rule that have of lawe no skyll,
There is no boote, they nedes must seke for ayde:
Then ruled are they, and rule as others wyll:
As he that on a stage his parte hath playd:
But he was taught nought hath he done or sayd.
Such youth therfore seeke scyence of the sage,
As thynke to rule when that ye come to age.

Where youth is brought vp in feare and obedyence,
Kept from yll company, brydeld of theyr lust,
Do serve god duely and knowe theyr allegiaunce,
Learne godly wisedome which time nor age can rust:

409

Where Prince, people, & peares nedes prosper must:
For happy are the people and blessed is that land,
Where truth and vertue have got the over hand.

I speake this Baldwyn of this ruful Lord,
Whom I perforce do here present to thée,
He fayntes so sore he may not speake a worde:
I pleade his cause wythout rewarde or fée,
And am inforst to speake for him and me:
If in his youth he had bene wysely tought,
He should not nowe his wyt so deare have bought.

For what is he that hath but halfe a wyt,
But may wel knowe that rebelles can not spede:
Marke wel my tale, and take good hede to it,
Recount it well and take it for good rede,
If it prove vntrue I wyl not trust my crede.
Was never rebell before the world, nor since,
That could or shall preuayle agaynst his prynce,

For ere the subiect beginneth to rebell,
Within him selfe let hym consider well,
Foresée the daunger, and beat wel in his brayne,
Howe hard it is his purpose to obtayne,
For if he once be entred to the breares,
He hath a raging Wolfe fast by the eares.

And when he is once entred to rule the beastly route
Although he would he can no way get out:
He may be sure none wyl to him resorte,
But such as are the vile and rascall sorte:
All honest men, as well the most as lest,
To taste of Treason wyl vtterly detest.

410

Then let him way how long he can be sure,
Where fayth nor frendshippe may no while endure:
He whom he trusteth moste, to gayne a grote
Wil fall him from and assay to cut his throte,
Among the knaves and slaves where vice is rooted,
There is no other frendshippe to be looked.

With slashers, slaves, and snuffers so falshod is in price
That simple fayth is deadly sinne, & vertue counted vice.
And where the quarell is so vyle and bad,
What hope of ayde then is there to be had?
Thinkes he that men wyl runne at this or that,
To do a thing they knowe not howe or what?

Nor yet what daunger may thereof betide,
Where wysedome would they should at home abyde,
Rather than seke and knowe not what to fynde.
Wise men wil first debate this in theyr minde:
Ful sure they are yf that they go to wrecke,
Without all grace they lose both head and necke.

They lose theyr landes and goodes, theyr chyld & wyfe
With sorowe and shame shal lead a wofull life,
If he be slayne in fyeld he dyeth acurst,
Which of all wreckes we should accompt the worst:
And he that dyeth defending his liege lord,
Is blyst and blyst agayne by Gods owne worde.

And where the souldiers wages is vnpayd,
There is the captayne slenderly obeyed,
And where the souldyer is out of feare and drede,
He wil be lacke when that there is most nede,
And priuately he seekes his ease and leasure,
And wyl be ruled but at his wil and pleasure.

411

And where some drawe forth, & other do drawe backe,
There in the ende must nedes be woe and wracke:
To hope for aydes of lordes it is but vayne,
Whose foretaught wyt of treason knoweth the payne,
They knowe what power a prynce hath in his land,
And what it is with rebelles for to stand.

They knowe by treason honour is defaced,
Theyr ofspryng and theyr progeny disgraced,
They knowe to honour is not so worthy a thyng,
As to be true and faythfull to theyr kyng,
Above conysaunce or armes, or pedigrewe a farre,
An vnspotted cote is like a blasyng starre:

Therfore the rebel is accurst and madde,
That hoopeth for that whych rebell never hadde:
Who trusting stil to tales doth hang in hope,
Tyll at the last he hang fast by the rope,
For though that tales be tolde that hope myght fede,
Such foolishe hope hath styll vnhappy spede.

It is a custome that never wyl be broken,
In broyles the bagge of lyes is ever open,
Such lyeng newes men dayly wyl invent,
As can the hearers fancie best content,
And as the newes do runne and never cease,
So more and more they dayly do increase.

And as they encrease they multiplye as fast,
That ten is ten hundred, ten thousand at the last.

412

And though the rebell had ones got the fielde,
Thinkes he thereby to make his Prince to yelde?
A Princes power within his owne regyon,
Is not so soone brought vnto confusion.

For kinges by God are strong and stoutly harted,
That they of subiectes wil not be subverted:
If kinges would yeeld, yet God would them restrayne,
Of whom the Prynce hath grace and power to raygne:
Who straytly chargeth vs above al thing,
That no man should resist agaynst his kyng.

Who that resisteth his dread soveraygne lord,
Doth dampne his soule by Gods owne very worde.
A christen subiect should with honour due,
Obey his soveraygne though he were a Iue:
Whereby assured when subiectes do rebell,
Gods wrath is kindled and threatneth fyer and hell.

It is soone knowen when Gods wrath is kyndled,
Howe they shall spéede with whom he is offended:
If God geve victorye to whom he liketh best,
Why looke they for it whom God doth most detest?
For treason is hateful and abhord in Gods sight,
Example of Iudas that most wycked wyght:

Which is the chiefe cause no treason preuayles,
For yll must he spede whom Gods wrath assayles:
Let Traytors and Rebels looke to spede then,
When Gods mighty power is subiect to men.
Much might be sayd that goeth more nere the pyth,
But this suffiseth for a rurall Smyth.

413

Baldwyn when thou hearest my reason in this case,
Belike thou thinkest I was not very wyse,
And that I was accurst, or els lacked grace,
Which knowyng the ende of my fond enterpryse,
Would thus presume agaynst my prynce to ryse:
But as there is a cause that moveth every woe,
Somewhat there was wherof this sore did growe.

And to be playne and simple in this case,
The cause why I such matter tooke in hand,
Was nothyng els but pryde and lacke of grace,
Vayne hope of helpe, and tales both false and fond:
By meane whereof my prynce I dyd wythstand,
Denyed the taxe assest by conuocacion
To maynteyne warre agaynst the scottyshe nacion.

Whereat the Cornyshe men dyd much repyne,
For they of Golde and sylver were full bare,
And lyved hardly digging in the mine,
They sayd they had no money for to spare:
Began fyrst to grudge and then to sweare and stare,
Forgot theyr due obeysaunce, and rashely fel to rauing,
And sayd they would not beare such pollinge & such shauing.

They fyrst accusde the kyng as author of theyr gryefe,
And then the byshop Moreton, and sir Reynold Bray,
For they then were about the kyng most chiefe,
Because they thought the hole fault in them lay:
They did protest to ryd them out of the waye.
Such thanke have they that rule about a prynce,
They beare the blame of others mens offence.

414

When I perceyved the commons in a roare,
Then I and Flamoke consulted both together,
To whom the people resorted more and more,
Lamenting and cryeng, helpe vs nowe or never,
Breake this yoake of bondage then are we frée for ever:
Wherat we inflamed in hope to have a Fame,
To be theyr capitaynes toke on vs the name.

Then myght you heare the people make a shoute,
And crie, God save the Captens, & send vs al good spede
Then he that faynted was counted but a lowt,
The ruffians ran abrode to sowe sedicious sede:
To call for company then there was no nede
For every man laboured an other to entyce,
To be partaker of his wicked vice.

Then al such newes as made for our avayle,
Was brought to me, but such as sounded yll,
Was none so bolde to speake or yet bewayle:
Everich was so wedded vnto his wyll,
That forth they cryed wyth bowes, sword, and bil.
And what the rufler spake the lowte tooke for a verdite,
For there the best was worst, the worst was best regarded.

For when men goe a madding, there still the viler part
Conspire together and wil have al the sway,
And be it well or yll they must have al the porte,
As they wyl do, the rest must nedes obey,
They prattle and prate as doth the Popyngaye:
They crye and commaund the rest to kepe tharray,
Whiles they may range and robbe for spoyle and pray.

And when we had prepared every thyng,
We went to Tawnton wyth al our prouision,
And there we slewe the prouost of Penryn,
For that on the subsidie he sat in commission:

415

He was not wyse, nor yet of great discrescion,
That durst approche his enemies in theyr rage,
When wyt nor reason could theyr yre asswage.

From thens we went to Wels, where we were receiued
Of this lorde Awdeley as of our chiefe captayne,
And so had the name, but yet he was deceyved,
For I in dede did rule the clubbyshe trayne,
My cartly knyghtes true honour dyd disdayne:
For like doth love his like, it will be none other,
A chorle wil love a chorle before he wyll his brother.

Then from Wels to Wynchester, and so to Blackheth field,
And there we encamped looking for more ayde,
But when none came, we thought our selves begylde,
Such Cornyshemen as knewe they were betrayed,
From theyr fellowes by nyght away they strayed:
There myght we learne howe vayne it is to trust,
Our fayned frendes in quarels so vniust.

But we the sturdy captaynes that thought our power was strong
Were bent to trie our Fortune what ever should betide
We were the bolder, for that the kyng so long
Deferred battayle: whych so increast our pryde,
That sure we thought the kyng him selfe dyd hide
Within the citie, therfore wyth courage hault,
We did determyne the citye to assault.

But he workyng contrary to our expectacion,
Was fully minded to let vs runne our race,
Tyll we were from our domestical habitacion,
Where that of ayde or succour was no place,

416

And then to be plagued as it should please his grace,
But all doubtfull poyntes, howe ever they did sound,
To our best vayle we alway dyd expound.

When that the kynge sawe tyme, wyth corage bolde
He sent a power to circumvent vs all:
Where we enclosed as simple shepe in folde,
Were slayne and murdred as beastes in Bochers stall,
The kyng him selfe, what ever chaunce myght fall,
Was strongly encamped wythin saynct Georges fyeld,
And there abode tyl that he heard vs yelde.

Then downe we kneled, and cryed to save our lyfe,
It was to late our folly to bewayle,
There were we spoyled of armour, cote, and knyfe:
And we which thought wyth pride the citye to assayle,
Were led in prysoners naked as my nayle,
But of vs two thousand they had slayne before,
And we of them thrée hundred and no more.

This my Lord and we the Captayns of the West,
Tooke our Inne at Newgate, fast in fetters tyde,
Where after tryall we had but litle rest,
My Lorde thorowe London was drawen on a slyde,
To Tower Hil where wyth axe he dyed,
Clad in his cote armor paynted all in paper,
Al torne and reversed in spyte of his behaver.

And I wyth Thomas Flamoke, and other of our bent,
As traytors at Tyborne our iudgement dyd obey:
The people looked I should my fault lament,
To whom I boldly spake that for my fond assaye,

417

I was sure of fame that never should decay:
Whereby ye may perceyve vayne glory doth enflame
As wel the meaner sorte as men of greater name.

But as the sickely pacient, sometyme hath desyre
To taste the thinges that Phisicke hath denyed,
And hath both payne and sorowe for his hire,
The same to me ryght wel myght be applyed,
Whych while I raught for fame on shame did slyde.
And seeking Fame, brought forth my bitter bane,
As he that fyred the Temple of Diane.

I tel thée Baldwyn, I muse right ofte, to sée
Howe every man for wealth and honour gapeth,
Howe every man would clymbe above the skye,
Howe every man thassured meane so hateth,
How froward Fortune ofte their purpose mateth:
And if they happe theyr purpose to obtayne,
Theyr wealth is woe, their honour care and payne.

We sée the servaunt more happy than his lord,
We sée him live when that his lord is dead,
He slepeth sound, is mery at his borde,
No sorowe in his hart doth vexe his head:
Happy then is he that povertye can wed,
What gaine the mightye conquerours when they be dead
By all the spoyle and bloud that they have shedde?

The terrible tower where honour hath his seate,
Is hye on rockes more slypper then the yse,
Where styll the whorling wynde doth roare and beate,
Where sodayne qualmes and peries styl aryse,

418

And is beset wyth many sundry vice,
So straunge to men when fyrst they come thereat,
They be amased, and do they wote not what.

He that prevayles and to the Tower can clyme,
With trouble and care must nedes abrydge his dayes,
And he that slydes may curse the hower and tyme,
He did attempt to geve so fond assayes,
And al his life to sorrowe and shame obayes.
Thus slyde he downe or to the top ascend,
Assure him selfe repentaunce is the ende.

Wherfore good Baldwine do thou record my name,
To be ensample to such as credite lyes,
Or thyrst to sucke the sugred cup of Fame,
Or do attempt agaynst theyr prynce to ryse,
And charge them all to kepe wythin theyr syse:
Who doth assay to wrest beyond his strength,
Let him be sure he shal repent at length.

And at my request admonishe thou all men,
To spend well the talent which God to them hath lent,
And he that hath but one, let him not toyle for ten,
For one is to much, onles it be wel spent:
I have had the proofe, therfore I nowe repent,
And happy are those men, and blyst and blist is he,
As can be wel content to serve in his degree.

432

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN THE EDITION OF 1578

HOW DAME ELIANOR COBHAM Duchesse of Glocester for practising of witchcraft and Sorcery, suffred open penance, and after was banished the realme into the yle of Man.

If a poore lady damned in exyle
Amongst princes may bee allowed place
Then gentle Baldwin stay thy pen awhyle
And of pure pitty ponder wel my case,
How I a Duches, destitute of grace
Haue found by proofe, as many haue & shal
The prouerbe true, that pryde wil hauve a fall

A noble Prince extract of royal blood
Humfrey sometyme Protector of this land
Of Glocester Duke, for vertu cald (the good)
When I but base beneath his state did stande
Vouchsafte with me to ioyne in wedlockes bande
Hauing in Court no name of high degree
But Elinor Cobham as parents left to mee

And though by byrth of noble race I was,
Of Barons bloud, yet was I thought vnfitte,
So high to matche, yet so it came to passe,
Whyther by grace, good fortune, or by witte
Dame Venus lures so in myne eyes did sitte,
As this great Prince with out respect of state
Did worthy me to be his wedded mate

433

His wyfe I was, and he my true husband
Though for a whyle he had the company
Of lady Iaquet the Duchesse of holland
Beyng an heyre of ample patrimony
But that fel out, to be no matrimony
For after war, long sute in law and strife
She proued was the Duke of Brabants wife.

Thus of a Damsel a Duchesse I became,
My state and place aduanced next the Queene
Wherby me thought I felt no ground, but swam
For in the Court myne equall was not seene
And so possest with pleasure of the splene
The sparkes of pride so kyndled in my brest
As I in court, would shyne aboue the rest

Such gyftes of nature god in me hath graft
Of shape and stature, with other graces moo
That by the shot of Cupids fiery shafte
Which to the hart of this greate prince did goe
This mighty Duke, with loue was linked so
As he abasyng the height of his degree,
Sette his hole harte, to loue and honour mee

Grudge who so would, to him I was most deere
Aboue all Ladyes aduanced in degree
(The Quene except) no Princesse was my peere
But gaue me place, and lords with cap and knee
Dyd all honour and reuerence vnto me
Thus hoysted high vpon the rollinge wheele
I sate so sure, me thought I could not reele.

And weening least that fortune hath a turne,
I lookt aloft, and would not looke alow,

434

The brondes of pryde so in my breast did burne
As the hot sparkes, burst forth in open showe,
And more and more the fyre began to glowe,
Without quenching, and dayly did encrease,
Til fortunes blastes with shame did make it ceasse.

For (as tis sayde) Pryde passeth on afore,
And shame followes, for iust rewarde & meede
Wold god ladyes, both now and euermore
Of my hard hap, which shall the story reede
Wold beare in mynde, and trust it as their Crede:
That pryde of harte, is a most hateful vice,
And lowlines, a pearle of passing pryce.

Namely in Quenes, and Ladies of estate
Within whose myndes, all mekenes should abound
Since high disdayne, doth alwayes purchace hate.
Beyng a vyce, that most part doth redound
To their reproch, in whom the same is found.
And seeldome gets good fauour or good fame
But is at last, knit vp with worldly shame.

The proofe wherof I founde most true indede,
That pryde afore, hath shame to wayte behynde.
Let no man doubt, in whom this vice doth brede,
But shame for pryde by iustice is assynde,
Which I wel founde, for truely in my mynde
Was neuer none, whom pryde did more enflame,
Nor neuer none, receiued greatter shame.

For not content to be a Duchesse greate,
I longed sore to beare the name of Queene
Aspyring stil vnto an higher seate,
And with that hope my selfe did ouerweene

435

Sins there was none, which that tyme was betweene
Henry the king, and my good Duke his Eame
Heyre to the crowne and kingdome of this Realme.

So neare to be, was cause of my vayn hope
And long awayte when this fayre hap would fal.
My studies all were tending to that scope,
Alas, the whyle to councel I did call
Such as would seme, by skill coniectural
Of art Magicke and wicked Sorcery
To deeme and dyuine the princes desteny

Among which sort of those that bare most fame
There was a Beldame called the wytch of Ey,
Old mother Madge her neyghbours did hir name
Which wrought wonders in countryes by heresaye
Both feendes and fayries her charmyng would obay
And dead corpsis from graue she could vprere
Suche an Inchauntresse, as that tyme had no peere

Two pryestes also, the one hight Bolenbroke
The other Suthwell, great Clerkes in coniuration
These twoo Chapleins, were they that vndertooke
To cast and calke, the kinges constellation
And then to iudge by depe dyuination.
Of thinges to come, and who should next succede
To Englandes crowne, al this was true in deede.

And further sure they neuer did proceede
Though I confesse, that this attempt was ill,
But for my part, for any thing in dede
Wrought, or els thought, by any kynd of skill.
God is my iudge I neuer had the will
By any Inchauntment sorcery or charme
Or other wyse, to worke my princes harme.

436

Yet netheles, when this case came to light,
By secrete spyes to Cayphas our Cardinal
Who long in hart had borne a priuy spyght,
To my good Duke his nephew naturall
Glad of the chance, so fitly forth to fall
His long hid hate, with iustice to color
Used this case with most extream rigor.

And caused me with my complyces all,
To be cyted by processe peremptory,
Before Iudges, in place Iudiciall
Whereas Cayphas, sytting in his glory
Would not allow my answer dilatory
Ne Doctor or Proctor, to allege the lawes.
But forced me to pleade in myne owne cause.

The kynges councel were called to the case
My husband than shut out for the season
In whose absence I found but little grace
For Lawiers turned our offence to treason
And so with rigor, without ruth or reason
Sentence was gyuen that I for the same
Should do penance, and suffer open shame.

Nay the lyke shame had neuer wight I weene
Duchesse, Lady, ne Damsel of degree,
As I that was, a Princesse next the Quene,
Wyfe to a Prince, and none so great as hee,
A Kinges vncle, Protector of his countrey,
With Taper burning, shrouded in a sheete
Three dayes a row, to passe the open streate.

Barelegd, and bare foote, to al the worldes wonder
Ye, and as though such shame did not suffise

437

With more despyte, then to part a sunder,
Me and my Duke, which Traytors did deuyse
By Statute law, in most vnlawful wise,
Fyrst sending me, with shame into exile.
Then murdryng him, by trechery and gyle.

Ye and besydes, this cruel banishment
Far from al frendes, to comfort me in care
And husbandes death: there was by Parliment
Ordaynd for me, a messe of courser fare.
For they to bring me to beggers state most bare
By the same acte, from me did then withdraw.
Such right of dower, as widowes haue by law.

Death (as tis sayd) doth set al thinges at rest,
Which fel not so in myne vnhappy case,
For sins my death, myne enmies made a Iest
In minstrels ryme myne honour to deface.
And then to bring my name in more disgrace
A song was made in manner of a laye
Which old wyues sing of me vnto this day.

Yet with these spytes, theyr malice did not end
For shortly after, my sorrowes to renew
My Loyal Lord, which neuer did offende
Was cald in hast, the cause he little knew
To a Parliament, without Sommons due
Whereas his death, was cruelly contryued
And I his wyfe of earthly ioyes depryued.

438

For al the while my Duke had life & breath
So long I stoode, in hope of my restore
But when I hard of his most causeles death
Then the best salue for my recureles sore
Was to dispayre of cure for euermore,
And as I could, my careful hart to cure.
With pacience, most paynful to indure.

O Traitors fel, which in your hartes could fynde
Like feendes of hel, the guiltles to betraye
But ye chefely, his kinsemen moste vnkynde
Which gaue consent to make him so away,
That vnto God, with al my hart I pray,
Vengeance may light on him that caused all,
Beaufort I meane, that cursed Cardinall.

Which Bastard preest of the house of Lancaster
Sonne to Duke John, surnamed John of Gaunt
Was first create, Byshop of Winchester,
For no learning, wher of he myght wel vaunt
Ne for vertue, which he did neuer haunt
But for his gold & Summes that were not small
Payd to the pope, was made a Cardinall.

Proude Lucifer, which from the heauens on hye
Downe to the pit of Hel below was cast,
And beyng ons an Aungell bright in sky
For his high pryde, in Hel is chayned fast
In depe darknes, that euermore shall last
More hault of hart was not before his fal
Then was this proud and pompos Cardinall

Whose lyfe good Baldwine paint out in his pickle,
And blase this Baal & Belligod most blinde,
An Hipocryte, all faythles false and fickle,
A wicked wretch, a kinseman most vnkynde,

439

A Deuil incarnate, all deuilishly enclynde
And to discharge my conscience all at ones
The Deuil him gnaw both body, blood and bones

The spyteful Preest would needes make me a Witch,
As would to god I had bene for his sake,
I would haue clawd him where he did not itche,
I would haue played the Lady of the Lake
And as Merlin was, cloasde him in a Brake,
Ye a Meridian, to Lul him by daylight
And a night mare to ryde on him by night.

The fiery feends with feuers hot and frenzye
The Ayery hegges with stench and carren sauours
And watry ghostes with gowtes, and with dropsie
The earthy Goblins, with Aches at all houres
Furyes & Fairies, with al infernal powers
I would haue stird from the darke dongeon
Of hell Centre, as depe as Demagorgon.

Or had I now the skil of dame Erichto
Whose dreadful charmes, as Lucane doth expresse
All feendes did feare, so far forth as Prince Pluto
Was at her cal for dread of more distresse
Then would I send of helhounds more and lesse,
A legion at least, at him to crye and yel.
And with that chyrme, herrie him downe to hell

Which neede not, for sure I thinke that hee
Who here in earth leades Epicurus lyfe,
As farre from god as possible may be
With whom all sinne and vices are most ryfe
Using at wil both widow mayd and wyfe
But that some Deuil his body doth possesse
His life is such, as men can iudge no lesse

440

And god forgeue my wrath and wreakful mynde
Such is my hate to that most wicked wretch
Dye when he shal, in hart I could wel fynd
Out of the graue his corps againe to fetch
And racke his lymmes as long as they would stretch
And take delyte to listen euery daye
How he could sing a masse of welawaye

The yle of Man was the appointed place
To penance mee for euer in exile
Thither in hast they poasted me apace,
And doubtinge skape, they pind me in a Pyle
Close by my selfe in care, alas the whyle
There felt I fyrst pore prisoners hungry fare,
Much want, thinges skant, and stone walls hard and bare

The change was strange, from silke and cloth of Gold
To rugged fryze my carcas for to cloathe,
From princes fare, and dayntyes hot and cold,
To rotten fish, and meates that one would loathe
The dyet and dressing were mutch a lyke boath
Bedding and lodging were all alike fyne,
Such Down it was, as serued wel for swyne.

Neither do I myne owne case thus complayne
Which I confesse came partly by deserte
The onely cause which doubleth al my payne
And which most nere goeth now vnto my harte.
Is that my fault, dyd finally reuerte
To him that was least gilty of the same
Whose death it was, though I abode the shame.

Whose fatal fall, when I do call to mynde,
And how by me his mischiefe fyrst began
So oft I cry on fortune most vnkinde
And my mishap most bitterly do banne,

441

That euer I to such a noble man,
Who from my cryme was innocent and cleare,
Shoulde be a cause to buy his loue so deare

Oh to my hart how greuous is the wounde
Calling to mynd this dismal deadly case
I would I had bene doluen vnder ground.
When he first saw, or loked on my face,
Or tooke delight in any kynd of grace
Seming in mee, that him did stirre or moue
To fancy me, or set his hart to loue.

Farewel Grenewych my Palace of delyght,
Where I was wont to see the Cristal streames,
Of royall Thames most pleasant to my syght
And farewel Kent, right famous in all realmes
A thousand tymes I mynd you in my dreames
And when I wake most grefe it is to me
That neuer more agayne I shall, see you

In the night tyme when I should take my rest
I weepe, I wayle, I weat my bed with teares
And when dead sleape my spirites hath opprest
Troubled with dreames, I fantazy vayne feares
Myne husbands voyce then ringeth at myne eares
Crying for help, O saue me from the death
These villaynes here do seeke to stop my breath.

Ye and somtymes me thinkes his drery ghost
Appeares in sight, and shewes me in what wyse,
Those fel tyrantes, with tormentes had emboost
His wynd and breath, to abuse peoples eyes

442

So as no doubt or question should aryse
Amonges rude folke which little vnderstande,
But that his death came onely by gods hand

I playne in vayne, where eares be none to heare
But roaring Seas, & blustring of the wynd
And of redresse am near a whit the neere
But with wast woordes to feede my mournful mynde,
Wishing ful oft, the Parcas had vntwynde
My vital stringes, or Atropos with knife,
Had cut the lyne of my most wretched lyfe.

Oh that Neptune, and Eolus also,
Thone God of Seas, the other of weather
Ere myne Arriual, into that yle of woe
Had suncke the ship wherin I sayled thether
(The shipmen saued) so as I togeather
With my good Duke, mought haue bene dead afore
Fortune had wroken her wrath on vs so sore.

Or els that God when my first passage was
Into exile along Saynt Albanes towne
Had neuer let me further for to passe,
But in the Streat with death had strucke me downe
Then had I sped of my desyred bowne
That my pore corps mought there haue lien with his
Both in one graue, & so haue gone to blysse.

But I alas, the greatter is my greefe
Am past that hope to haue my sepulture
Nere vnto hym, which was to me most leefe
But in an yle, and country most obscure,
To pyne in payne, whilst my poore life will dure
And beyng dead, all honorles to lye
In simple graue, as other poore that dye.

443

My tale is tolde, and tyme it is to ceasse
Of troubles past, al which haue had their ende
My graue I trust, shal purchasse me good peace
In such a world, where no wight doth contend
For highest place, whereto all flesh shal wend
And so I end, vsyng on word for all,
As I Began, that pryde wil haue a fall

445

HOW HVMFREY PLANTAGENET Duke of Glocester Protector of England, during the minoritie of his Nephue kinge Henrye the sixt, (commonlye called the good Duke) by practise of enemies was brought to confusion.

As highest hilles with tempestes bene most touched
And tops of trees, most subiect vnto wynde,
And as great towers with stone strongly cowched,
Haue heauy falles when they be vnderminde,
Euen so by proofe, in worldly thinges we fynde,
That such as clyme the top of high degree
From perril of falling neuer can be free.

To proue this true (good Baldwin) harken hyther,
See and behold me vnhappie Humfrey,
Englands Protector and Duke of Glocester
Who in the time of the sixt king Henrie,
Ruled this Realme yeares mo then twentie:
Note wel the cause of my decay and fall,
And make a mirrour for Magistrates all.

446

In their most weale, to beware of vnhap,
And not to sleepe in slombring sickernesse,
Whilst Fortune false doth lul them in her lap
Drowned in dreames of brittle blessednesse,
But then to feare her freakes and ficklenesse,
Accompting stil the higher they ascend:
More nigh to be to Daunger in the end.

And that vayne trust in bloud or royall race.
Abuse them not with carelesse assuraunce
To trust Fortune, but waying wel my case,
When she most smyleth to haue in remembraunce
my soden fall, who in al apparaunce:
Hauing most stayes, which man in state mainteine,
Haue found the same vntrustie and most vayne.

Better then I, none may the same affirme,
Who trusting all in height of high estate,
Led by the eares with false flatteries chyrme,
Which neuer Prince could banishe from his gate,
Did little thinke on such a sodein mate,
Not heeding, lesse dreeding, al vnaware,
By foes least feared, was trapt into a snare.

If noble byrth or high authoritie
Nomber of Frendes, kindred, or alliaunce,
If wisedome, learning, or worldly pollicye
Mought haue beene stayers to Fortunes variaunce,
None stoode more strong, in worldly countenaunce,
For al these helpes had I to auayle mee,
And yet in fyne, al the same did fayle mee.

Of King Henry the fourth, fourth sonne I was
Brother to Henry, the fyft of that name,
And vncle to Henry the sixt, but alas,

447

What cause had I to presume on the same?
Or for vayne glorye, aduauncing my fame
My selfe to cal in recordes, and wrytinges,
The sonne, brother, and vncle vnto kinges.

This was my boast, which lastly was my bane,
Yet not this boast, was it that brought mee downe
The very cause, which made my weale to wane
So neere of Kin that I was to the Crowne,
That was the Rocke that made my Ship to drowne.
A rule there is not faylinge, but most sure
Kingdome, no kyn doth know, ne can indure.

For after my Brother the fyft Henry
Wan by Conquest the Royall Realme of Fraunce,
And of two Kingdomes made one Monarchy
Before his death, for better obeysaunce.
To his younge Sonne, not ripe to gouernaunce
Protector of England I was by Testament,
And Ihon my Brother, in Fraunce made Regent.

To whom if God had lent a longer life,
Our house to haue kept from stormes of inward strife
Or it had beene the Lorde Almighties will
Plantagenettes name in State had standen still
But deadly discord which Kingdomes great doth spill
Bred by desire of high Dominacion,
Brought our whole house to playne desolation.

It is for trowth in an History Founde
That Henry Plantagenet fyrst of our name
Who called was, Kinge Henry the seconde
Sonne of Dame Mawde, the Empresse of High Fame
Would oft report, that his Auncient Grandame
Though seeminge in Shape, a Woman naturall,
Was a Feende of the Kinde that (Succubae) some call.

448

Which olde fable, so longe time tolde before
When this Kinges sonnes against him did rebell:
Hee cald to minde, and beinge greeued sore.
Loe! now (quoth hee) I see and proue full well
The Story true, which folke of old did tell
That from the deuill descended all our race,
And now my children, do verefy the case.

Whereof to leaue a longe memoriall,
In minde of man euermore to rest
A Picture hee made and hong it in his Hall,
Of a Pellicane sittinge on his Nest,
Wyth foure yonge Byrdes, three peckinge at his brest
Wyth bloudy Beakes, and further did deuise
The yongest Byrde, to pecke the fathers eyes.

Meaninge hereby, his rebell children three
Henry, and Richard who bet him on the brest:
Ieffrey only, from that offence was free)
Henry died of Englandes, Crowne possest:
Richard liued his father to molest,
Iohn the yongest peckt still his fathers eye
Whose deedes vnkinde, the sooner made hym dye.

This kinge (some wryte) in his sicknesse last
Sayde, as it were by way of Prophecy
How that the Deuill, a Darnell grayne had cast
Amonge his Kin to encrease enmity,
Which should remayne in their Posterity,
Till mischiefe, and murder had spent them all
Not leauinge one to pisse agaynst the wall.

And yet from him in order did succede
In England here, of crowned kinges fourtene
Of that surname, and of that lyne and seede,

449

With Dukes and Earles, and many a noble Queene,
The number such as al the world would weene
So many ympes could neuer so be spent,
But some heire Male, should be of that discent.

Which to be true if any stand in doubt,
Because I meane not further to digresse,
Let him peruse the stories throughout
Of English kinges, whom practise did oppresse,
And he shal fynde the cause of their distresse
From first to last, vnkindly to beginne,
Alwayes by those that next were of the kynne.

Was not Richard, of whom I spake before,
A rebel playne vntil his father dyed,
And Iohn likewise an Enmie euermore
To Richard againe, and for a rebel tryed?
After whose death, it cannot be denyed,
Against all right this Iohn most cruellye
His brothers children caused for to dye.

Arthur and Isabell (I meane) that were
Geffreyes children, then Duke of Britaine
Henries third sonne, by one degree more neere,
Then was this Iohn, as stories shew most playne,
Which two children were famisht or els slayne,
By Iohn their Eame cald Saunzterre by name,
Of whose fowle act, al countries speake great shame.

Edward, and Richard, second both by name
Kinges of this land, fel downe by fatall fate
What was the cause, that princes of such fame,
Did leese at last their honour, life, and state?
Nothing at all, but discord and debate,
Which when it haps in kindred or in bloud,
Erynnis rage was neuer halfe so wood.

450

Be sure therfore ye kinges and princes all
That concorde in kingdomes is chiefe assuraunce,
And that your families do neuer fall,
But where discord doth leade the doubtful daunce
With busie brawles and turnes of variaunce,
Where mallice is Minstrel, the pype ill report,
The Maske mischiefe, and so endes the sport,

But now to come to my purpose againe,
Whilst I my charge applied in England,
My brother in Fraunce long time did remaine,
Cardinal Beauford tooke proudly in hand,
In causes publique against me to stand,
Who of great mallice so much as he might
Sought in al thinges to do mee dispight.

Which proude prelate to me was bastard Eame,
Sonne to Duke Iohn of Gaunt as they did fayne,
Who beeing made high Chauncellour of the Realme,
Not like a Priest, but like a prince did reigne,
Nothing wanting which might his pride mainteine,
Bishop besides of Winchester he was,
And Cardinall of Rome which Angels brought to passe.

Not Gods Aungels, but Angels of old Gold,
Lyft him aloft in whom no cause there was
By iust desert, so high to be extold,
(Ryches except) where by this Golden asse,
At home and abroade al matters brought to passe,
Namely at Rome, hauing no meane but that
To purchase there his crimzin Cardinal hat.

Which thing the king my father him forbad
Playnly saying, that he could not abide,
Within his realme a subiect to be had

451

His Princes peere, yet such was this mans pride,
That he forthwith after my father dyed,
(The King then young) obteyned of the Pope,
That honour high, which erst he could not hope.

Whose proude attemptes because that I withstoode,
My bounden dutie the better to acquite,
This holy father waxed welnere wood,
Of meere malice deuising day and night,
To worke to me dishonour and dispite,
Whereby there fel betweene vs such a Iarre,
As in this land was like a ciuil warre.

My brother Iohn which lay this while in Fraunce,
Heard of this hurle, and past the seas in hast,
By whose traueil this troublesome distaunce,
Ceassed a while, but nethelesse in wast:
For rooted hate wil hardly be displast
Out of hyghe hartes, and namely where debate,
Happeneth amongst great persons of estate.

For like as a match doth lye and smolder,
Long time before it commeth to the trayne.
But yet when fyre hath caught in the poulder,
No arte is able, the flames to restrayne:
Euen so the sparkes of enuye and disdayne,
Out of the smoke burst foorth in such a flame,
That Fraunce and England yet may rue the same.

So when of two realmes the regiment royal,
Betwene brothers was parted equallye,
One placed in Fraunce for affayres Martiall,
And I at home for ciuil pollicie:
To serue the state, we both did so applie,
As honour and fame to both did encrease,
To him for the warre, to me for the peace.

452

Whence enuye sprang, and specially because
This proude prelate could not abyde a Peere,
Within the land to rule the state by lawes,
Wherfore sifting my lyfe and actes most neere,
He neuer ceast, vntil as you shal heare,
By practise foule of him and his allies,
My death was wrought in most vnworthy wise.

And fyrst he sought my doinges to defame,
By rumours false, which hee and his did sowe
Letters and bylles to my reproch and shame
He did deuise, and al about bestow,
Whereby my troth in doubt should dayly grow,
In England fyrst and afterward in Fraunce,
Mouing al meanes to bring me to mischaunce.

One quarel was, that where by common law
Murder and theft beene punisht all alike,
So as manslears, which bloudy blades do drawe,
Suffer no more, then he that doth but pike,
Me thought the same no order politike,
In setting paynes to make no difference,
Betweene the lesser and greater offence.

I beeing seene somwhat in ciuil law,
The rules thereof reputed muche better,
Wherfore to keepe, offenders more in awe,
Like as the fault was smaller or greater,
So set I paynes more easier or bitter,
Waying the qualitie of euerye offence,
And so according pronounced sentence.

Amongst my other Delicta Iuuentutis,
Whilst rage of youth my reason did subdue,
I must confesse as the very truth is,
Driuen by desire, fond fancies to ensue,

453

A thing I did, whereof great trouble grew,
Abusing one to my no small rebuke,
Which wife was than to Iohn of Brabant Duke.

Called she was Lady Iaquet the fayre,
Delightful in loue like Helene of Troye:
To the Duke of Bauier sole daughter and heire,
Her did I marrye to my great annoy
Yet for a tyme, this dame I did enioye,
With her whole landes, witholding them by force,
Til Martin the Pope, betwene vs made diuorce.

Yet all these blastes not hable were to moue
The anchor strong, whereby my ship did stay,
Some other shift to seeke him did behoue,
Whereto ere long il fortune made the way,
Which fynally was cause of my decay
And cruel death, contriued by my foes,
Which fel out thus, as now I shal disclose.

Elianor my wife, my Dutches only deare,
I know not how but as the nature is
Of women al, aye curious to enquiere
Of thinges to come (though I confesse in this
Her fault not small) and that shee did amisse,
By wytches skill, which sorcery some call,
Would know of thinges which after should befall.

And for that cause made her selfe acquainted
With mother Madge, called the wytch of Eye,
And with a Clerke that after was attainted,
Bolenbroke he hight, that learned was that way,
With other moe, which famous were that daye,
Aswel in Science, called Mathematicall,
As also in magicke and skil supernatural

454

These cunning folkes she set on worke to know,
The time how long the king should liue and raigne,
Some by the Starres, and some by deuils below,
Some by witchcraft sought knowledge to attayne,
With like fancies, friuolous fond and vayne,
Whereof though I knew least of any man,
Yet by that meane my mischiefe first began.

Yet besides this there was a greater thing,
How she in waxe by counsel of the witch,
An Image made, crowned like a king,
With sword in hand, in shape and likenesse syche
As was the kinge, which dayly they did pytch
Against a fyre, that as the waxe did melt,
So should his lyfe consume away vnfelt.

My Dutchesse thus, accused of this cryme,
As she that should such practise first beginne,
My part was then to yeld vnto the time,
Geeuing her leaue, to deale alone therein
And since the cause concerned deadly synne,
Which to the clergie onely doth perteine,
To deale therein I plainly did refrayne.

And suffered them her person to ascite
Into their Courtes, to aunswere and appeare,
Which to my hart was sure the greatest spight,
That could be wrought, and touched me most neare,
To see my wife, and lady leefe and deare,
To my reproche, and plaine before my face,
Entreated so, as one of sorte most base.

The clergie then examining her cause,
Conuinced her, as guiltie in the same,
And sentence gaue according to their lawes,
That she and they whom I before did name

455

Should suffer death, or els some open shame:
Of which penaunce my wife by sentence had
To suffer shame of both the two, more bad.

And fyrst she must by dayes together three,
Through London streetes passe al along in sight
Bare legde and barefoote, that al the world might see,
Bearing in hand a burning taper bright,
And not content, with this extreeme despight,
To worke mee wo, in al they may or can,
Exilde she was into the Ile of Man.

This haynous crime and open worldly shame,
With such rigour shewed vnto my wife,
Was a fyne fetch further thinges to frame,
And nothing els, but a preparatiue
First from office, and fynally from lyfe,
Me to depriue, and so passing further,
What law could not, to execute by murther.

Which by slye driftes, and wyndlaces aloofe,
They brought about, perswading first the Queene,
That in effect it was the kinges reproofe,
And hers also, to be exempted cleane,
From princely rule, or that it should be seene
A king of yeares, stil gouerned to bee
Lyke a Pupil, that nothing could forsee,

The daunger more considering the king
Was without childe, I being his next heire,
To rule the realme, as Prince in euery thing
Without restraint, and al the sway to beare
With Peoples loue, whereby it was to feare
That my hault hart, vnbrideled in desire,
Time would preuent, and to the crowne aspire.

456

These with such like, were put into her head,
Who of her selfe, was thereto sone enclinde,
Other there were, that this il humour fed,
To neither part, which had good wil or minde,
The Duke of Yorke, our cousin most vnkinde,
Who keeping close a tytle to the crowne,
Lancasters house did labour to pul downe.

The stay whereof he tooke to stand in mee,
Seeing the king of courage nothing stout,
Neither of wit great peril to foresee,
So for purpose, if he could bring about
Mee to displace, then did he little doubt
To gayne the Goale, for which he droue the ball,
The crowne I meane to catch ere it should fall

This hope made him against me to conspyre
With those which foes were to ech other late,
The Queene did weene, to win her whole desire
Which was to rule, the king and al the state
If I were ryd, whom therfore shee did hate:
Forecasting not, when that was brought to passe,
How weake of frendes, the King her husband was.

The Dukes two, of Excester, and Buckingham,
With the Marquise Dorset therein did agree,
But namely the Marquise of Suffolke William,
Contriuer chiefe of this conspiracie,
With other mo, that sate stil and did see,
Their mortal foes on me to whet their kniues,
Which turnde at last to losse of all their lyues.

But vayne desire of soueraintie and rule,
Which otherwise (Ambition) hath to name,
So stirde the Queene that wilful as a Mule,
Headlong she runnes, from smoke into the flame,

457

Driuing a drift, which after did so frame,
As shee, the King, with all their lyne and race,
Depriued were of honour, lyfe, and place.

So for purpose she thought it very good,
With former foes, in frendship to confeder,
The Duke of Yorke, and other of his bloud,
With Neuils all, knyt were then together,
And Delapoole, frend afore to neither:
The Cardinal also, came within this list,
As Herode and Pylate, to iudge Iesu Christ.

This cursed league, to late discouered was
By Bayardes blinde, that lincked in the line,
The Queene and Cardinal brought it so to passe,
With Marquise Suffolke maister of this myne,
Whose il aduise, was counted very fyne,
With other moe which fynely could disguise,
With false visours my mischiefe to deuise.

Concluding thus they point without delay
Parliament to hold, in some vnhaunted place,
Far from London, out of the common way,
Where few or none should vnderstand the case,
But whom the Queene and Cardinal did embrace,
And so for place they chose Saint Edmondesburye
Synce when (some say) England was neuer merye.

Somens was sent, this companie to call,
Which made me muse, that in so great a case,
I should no whyt of counsel be at all,
Who yet had rule, and next the king in place,
Me thought nothing, my state could more disgrace,
Then to beare name, and in effect to bee,
A Cypher in Algrim, as al men mought see.

458

And though iust cause I had for to suspect,
The tyme and place appointed by my foes,
And that my frendes most plainlye did detect,
The subtil traine, and practise of al those,
Which against mee, great treasons did suppose,
Yet trust of truth with a conscience cleare,
Gaue me good hart, in that place to appeare.

Vpon which trust with more hast then good speede,
Forward I went to that vnluckye place,
Dutie to show, and no whit was in dreade
Of any trayne, but bold to shew my face,
As a true man yet so fel out the case,
That after traueyle, seeking for repose,
An armed band, my lodging did enclose.

The Vicount Beaumount, who for the time supplied,
The office of high Conestable of the Land
Was with the Queene and Cardinall allied,
By whose support, he stoutlye tooke in hand,
My lodginge to enter with an armed band
And for high treason, my person did arest,
And layed me that night, where him seemed best

Then shaking and quaking, for dread of a Dreame,
Halfe waked al naked in bed as I lay,
What tyme strake the chime of mine hower extreame,
Opprest was my rest with mortal affray,
My foes did vnclose, I know not which way
My chamber dores, and boldly they in brake,
And had me fast before I could awake.

Thou lookest now, that of my secret murther,
I should at large the maner how declare,
I pray thee Baldwin, aske of me no further,
For speaking playne, it came so at vnware,

459

As I my selfe, which caught was in the snare,
Scarcely am able the circumstaunce to shew,
Which was kept close, and knowen but vnto few.

But be thou sure by violence it was,
And no whit bred by sickenesse or disease,
That felt it well before my life did passe,
For when these wolues, my bodie once did cease,
Vsed I was, but smally to myne ease:
With tormentes strong, which went so nere the quicke,
As made me dye before that I was sicke.

A Palsey (they sayd) my vital sprites opprest,
Bred by excesse of melancholie blacke,
This for excuse to lay, them seemed best,
Least my true frendes the cause might further racke,
And so perhaps discouer the whoole packe,
Of the conspyrers, whom they might wel suspect,
For causes great, which after tooke effect.

Dead was I found, by such as best did know,
The maner how the same was brought to passe.
And than my corps, was set out for a show,
By view whereof, nothing perceiued was:
Whereby the world may see as in a glasse,
The vnsure state, of them that stand most hye,
Which than dread least, when daunger is most nye.

And also see, what daunger they lyue in,
Which next their king are to succede in place:
Since kinges most parte, be Ielous of their kynne,
Whom I aduise, forewarned by my case,
To beare low sayle, and not to much embrace,
The peoples loue: for as Senec sayth trulye:
O quam funestus est fauor populi.

461

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN IN THE EDITION OF 1587

463

HOW THE VALIANT KNIGHT Sir Nicholas Burdet, Chiefe Butler of Normandy, was slayne at Pontoise, Anno 1441.

Yf erst at Prince affayres wee counted were of truste,
To fight in waeged warres, as Captayne gainst the foes,
And might therefore aliue receiue the guerdon iuste,
Which ay his maiesty employde on those:
Why should wee so keepe silence now, and not disclose
Our noble acts to those remayne aliue,
T'encourage them the like exployts t'achiue?

For if when as wee werde, for Prince and publique weale,
We might to ech for both haue time and place to speake,
Then why not now, yf wee to both appeale?
Sith both well knowe our dealeings were not weake.
Wee clayme as ryghte, in trueth our myndes to breake,
The rather eke wee thinke to speake wee franchizde ar,
Because wee serude for peace and dyde in Prince his war.

464

Which graunted so, and held deserued due,
I may full well on stage supply the place a while,
Till I haue playnly layde before your vew
That I haue cause, as these, to playne of Fortunes guyle,
Which smirking though at first, she seeme to smoothe and smyle,
(If Fortune bee) who deemde themselues in skyes to dwell,
She thirleth downe to dreade the gulfes of ghastly hell.

But here I let a while the Lady Fortune stay,
To tell what time I liu'd, & what our warres were then,
The great exployts wee did, and where our armies laye,
Eke of the prayse of some right honourable men,
Which things with eyes I saw, calde now to minde agen.
What I performed present in the fight,
I will in order and my fall resite.

In youth I seru'd that royall Henry fifte the King,
Whose prayse for martiall feats eternall fame retaynes,
When hee the Normanes stout did in subiection bring,
My selfe was vnder then his ensignes taking paynes.
With loyall hart I faught, pursude my Prince his gaines.
There dealt I so that time my fame to rayse,
French wryters yet my name and manhoode prayse.

And erste as Burdets diuers warlike wights,
(In Warwicke shire theyr lands in Arrow ar)
Were for good seruice done made worthy Knights,
Whose noble acts be yet recounted far:
Euen so my selfe well framde to peace or war,
Of these the heyre by due discent I came,
Sir Nicholas Burdet Knight, which had to name.

That time the noble Iohn of Bedford Duke bare sway,
And feared was in Fraunce for courage stout and fell,
Hee lou'de mee for my fight and person, (though I say)
And with revenues mee rewarded yearely well.

465

I playde the faythfull subiects parte, the truth to tell,
And was accounted loyall, constant still,
Of stomake, worship great, and warlike scill.

But then (O greefe to tell) ere long this pearelesse King,
When hee restored had his right vnto the Crowne
The Duchye all of Normandy, eke subiect bring
The Frenchemen all, and set Lieutenants in eache towne
High Regent made of Fraunce, then Fortune gan to frowne,
Hee then departed life, too soone alas:
Som men suppose his grace empoysonde was.

Thou Fortune slye, what meanste thou thus, these prancks to play?
False Fortune blereyde blinde, vnsteady startling still,
What meanste thou turning thus thy flattering face away,
Inconstant where thou bearest most good will?
Is it thy nature then? or iste thy wonted scill?
It cost thee naught, they say it commes by kinde,
As thou art bisme, so are thine actions blinde.

I nothing doubte then thou thy selfe shalt fall.
I trust to see the time when thou shalt bee forgot.
For why thy pride, and pompe and powre must vanish all,
Thy name shall dye for aye, and perish quite I wot.
And when thou shalt bee counted but a sot,
The noble wights which liude and dyde in worthy fame,
In heauen and earth shall finde an euerlasting name.

But words of course are these of Fortune had,
When vnto Princes haps chaunce good or ill.
God sends to euery sorte these tempests sad,
When from his worde they swarue and heauenly will.
Men must endeuour then to please his goodnesse still,
And then come life or death, come ioy, come smarte:
No Fortunes frowne can daunte the doughty harte.

466

The famous King so dead, his son but nyne months olde
Henry the sixt, of England was proclaymed King:
And then the Frenchmen wexte more stoute and bolde,
His youth occasion gaue them to conspire the thing,
Which might them all from due subiection bring.
On which the Councell calde a Parliament:
Of French that might the treasons high preuent.

Wherein the Duke of Bedford my good Lorde and frend
Was Regent made the Prince his deputy in Fraunce:
The Duke of Glocester Protectour was, to th'end
To rule in cases such at home might hap to chaunce:
They chose to garde the Prince, in honour to aduaunce
Henry Beuforde Byshop of Winchester,
And Thomas the noble Duke of Excester.

But here before those things coulde well be setled sure,
(As great affayres of Kingdomes longer time do take)
The Frenchmen did by treason, force, and coyne procure
Some townes which English were in Fraunce theyr fayth forsake.
A long discourse it were of all recitall make:
But of my chaunce that time, resite will I,
Which seru'd in warres my Prince in Normandy.

Before the Mount S. Michaell as in seige I lay,
In confines of the Normanes and the Bretons land,
From townsemen famisht nigh we vitailes kept away,
And made them oft in daunger of dis-Mounteing stand:
But it being strong and also stoutly mand,
Euen by our losses they gate harte of grasse,
And wee declineing saw what Fortune was.

Yet nathelesse wee thought by famine make them yeelde,
Eke they by fight or succours hoapt the seige to rayse,
T'accomplish which they rusht on sodayne out to feelde,
As bent to dy or win the wanted foode with prayse:

467

And wee as ready were for them at all assayes.
These eager impes whome foodewant feazde to fight amayne,
Wee forc'd them dye, fall, fly, to take theyr forte agayne.

Where I in chase pursude them euen to the towne,
Tane prisner was, a while for ransom lay:
But then the worthy duke the Regent of renowne,
Did for mee quite disburse the price requirde to pay.
The seige wee raysde, from thence wee went our way,
And I redeemed bare this blanke in minde,
Till of requite I might occasion finde.

Which thus ere long befell, to this a while giue eare:
When Arthur Earle of Richmond to S. Iaques came
De Beuuron where my selfe and other captaynes were,
Which had repared well and fortefide the same,
Wee made him flye, to his immortall shame:
Euen thus to him and forty thousand moe,
Fiue hundreth English gaue the ouerthroe.

Long while hee battery layde agaynst the wall,
Thereby to make a breatche for them to enter in.
But well perceiuing still his shot to profite small,
And that wee weyde not of his powre a pinne,
On euery side afreshe hee did th'assault begin:
Yet wee so bare them off and beate them downe,
They durst not seaze or enter on the towne.

But wearied with the seige and sault they pausde a while,
Consulting what were best, and so did wee likewise:
They founde the feate, they thought should surely vs beguile,
And in an euening came t'accomplish th'enterprise.
A sharp assaulte they gaue. Alarme my mates wee rise:
On both the sides they scalde, the forte to gayne.
But from the scales and walles wee flang them downe amayne.

468

It was my charge that time to keepe a bulwarke bace,
Where Bretons came along to enter by a streit:
Twas in a botome lowe, a pond was by the place,
By which they needes must passe vp to a posterne gate.
I meant to make them fishe the poole without a bayt,
Protesting ere they there should get the wall
Wee would as English dye, or gieue our foes the fall.

The trompets sound tan tara, tan tan tara right,
The guns were shot founce-founce-founce, fomp-fum, fow-powthow,
The dromze went downe-dun downe, the fluits fyt-fyte-fyt, fyte,
The weapons clish-clash and the captaynes nowe-now nowe.
With billes wee beat them downe, with shafts wee shot them throw.
The gory ground did groane, the smoky shot and cryes
Dimd all the ayre, and thundred through the scyes.

S. Denise cryde the French, and Bretons glahe-lahee,
S. George the English cryde, fight-fight-fight, kill-kill-kill:
Fight-fight (quoth I) come on, they flee, they flee, they flee.
And there withall wee vsde a poynt of warlike scill,
Wee causde the men within to crye vnto vs still
Fight Suffolke now, fight-fight and Salsbury:
Fight fight you noble Earles, the Bretons flee they flee.

With that amazed all the Bretons gan recoyle,
Some drowned in the pond, wherin they ran for feare,
And I pursude the flight, to wrecke my captiue foyle,
Wee payde them in the chase disordred as they were,
Seuen hundred slew, tooke fifty prisners there,
Gaynde eyghteene standerds, and one banner more:
Yet I and mine not fully were fowrescore.

469

Of this exployt when th'Earle of Richmond herde,
Which gaue an hoate assault on th'other side the towne,
No lesse was hee displeasde, amazed, than afferde,
To heare the names of those two Earles of high renowne,
His guilty courage quaylde, his heart was daunted downe,
Hee causde the trompets sounde retrayte away:
To scale our walles hee durst no longer stay.

At midnight hee dislodgde, from seige hee made departe
The Constable of Fraunce (late Earle of Richemond) fled,
And coward Fougiers sped, with such as tooke his parte,
For haste perhaps with feare lest hee should lose his heade.
They left two hundred pypes of flowre and bisket bread,
Greate gunnes foureteene, three hundred pypes of wine,
Two hundred frailes of figs and raysons fine.

Fiue hundred barels they of hering left beside,
Of pouder for our gunnes full forty barels more,
They fled without theyr tents, the dasterds durst not byde,
For feare they could not stay, to take away theyr store.
Haue you oft hearde the like, of cowards such before?
Those forty thousand, Bretons, Frenche, and Scots,
Fowre score them foyled, made them flee like sots.

When this, that noble man, the Duke of Bedford hearde,
How I did quite my selfe, and seru'd my Prince so well,
Hee mee procured of the King as great rewarde
As my deserts coulde wish, and more the truth to tell,
Chiefe butlership of Normandy vnto me fell,
Reuenues eke in Normandy of lands,
A thousand crownes came yearely to my hands.

I after this was sent to make inroade
Upon the coaste of Bretaine, for to bate theyr pride,
A band of horsemen tooke without aboade,
The duke of Somerset made me theyr guide,

470

To many townes about theyr bounds wee ride:
Set them on fire, or made them ransom pay,
Tooke store of prisners, wrought them much decay.

Retourned victours safe to Normandy,
With good successe, for why the cause was good:
And of our Prince were guerdonde gratefully
With laude and gifts, as for our seruice stoode.
This makes the Captaynes venture life and bloode,
And souldiers serue with heart in what they may,
Which are assurde of honour, prayse, and pay.

Yee worthy wights aliue, which loue your Countreys weale,
And for your Princes porte such warres doe vndertake,
Learne so for Countrey yours with forayne foes to deale,
See that of manhood good, so great accompts yee make.
It nothing vayles in peace, to sweare, stur, face or crake:
In werres hee winnes the fame of noble wight
Who warlike deales, for Prince and publique right.

Yf you so poynted bee, to serue your Prince in war,
As erste was I, and muste before the muster take,
Retayne such souldiers as well made, strong, seemely ar,
Brought vp to labour harde, of such accompt doe make:
These able are at neede to stand and keepe the stake,
When facing foysters fit for Tiburne frayes
Are foodesicke faynt, or hartsicke run theyr wayes.

At home a man may finde a nomber euery day,
Which weare theyr weapons still, as all the worlde were war,
And keepe a coyle to beare the best of blades away,
With buclers braue at backs, to shew what men they are.
In peace at home they sweare, stare, foyste, royst, fight, and iar:
But when abroade they feare of warres the smarte,
Some better souldiers yede from driueing cart.

471

In warres to serue (as wee) and weapons haue
When warlike stormes do rage, beseemes a warlike man:
In pleasaunt peace who sets him selfe to bandeing braue,
And faceing fares at home, abroade doe nothing can,
(Though nere so much hee boaste) fie on him cowerd than:
For not in gauntlet, sworde, targ, oathes, hayre, staring eyes:
But in the breast, good courage, vertue lyes.

But here perhaps (you say) I fall a noate too lowe,
Beneath the persons of these worthy Peeres and mee.
Tis true indeede, and yet such fruite hereof may growe:
As eke the Meane hereby, his iarring out may see.
Without good meane, the song can neuer sweetly gree.
Leaue out the meane, or let him keepe no tune:
And you shall sing when Easter falles in Iune.

Euen so, if meaner sorts doe iangle here and iar
To languish vnder Mars, but fill good peace with fight,
As discorde foule in musike, fit they for the war:
They neuer can atchiue the victory aright.
Leade such as square or feare, then farewell all, good night.
A sheepe is euen as good to starteing stand and beae:
As hee that iangles, wrangles, rangles, runnes aweae.

Then who so deales for warre, must wisely make his marte,
And choose such souldiers stout will stiffe in warfare stande.
Yf hee not recke what ruffian roysters take his parte,
Hee weeldes vnwisely then the mace of Mars in hande.
He must be able eke, to deeme for sea and lande
What men may serue, to best aduauntage make,
And them enstruct fine warlike poynts to take.

With scilfull knowledge fraight hee muste be voyde of feare,
Of wisedom so discrete, so sober, graue and sage,
To deeme, perceiue, abyde, aduentures both to beare
As may in all exployts of fight with Fortune wage:

472

Hee must haue art in vre, and vse not rule by rage:
Wise dealing sets the souldiers sure in ray,
Wilde ouer rashnesse casteth all away.

The cause, grounde, place and time, the order of theyr fights,
The valure of his foes, and what is theyr intent,
The weather fayre or foule, occasion of the nights,
What witty wyles and pollicies may them preuent,
And how the time or store of th'enmies hath beene spent.
All these (I say) must well be weyde before,
By him that sets in warres of credit store.

In all which poynts that noble Duke his grace did passe,
I meane the Regent good, for chuseing, vseing men,
By nature framde thereto, hee wonders scilfull was,
And frendly vsed all, instructing now and then
Not only Captaynes stout, that were his countrey men,
But also sondry souldiers as occasion came,
And taught them how to warres themselues to frame.

His princely grace and gesture yet mee thinks I see,
And how hee bare himselfe, to deale for warre or peace:
In warre full Mars-like, hardy, sterne, and bolde was hee:
And meeke and prudent mercifull, when stormes of warres did cease:
Whom pity mou'd as much inflicted paynes to releace,
As euer wight in whom the broyles of war
Or force of fights, had entred in so far.

Which if agayne to rue the losse of such a frend,
In sight with playnts, of teares the fountaynes out might flow:
So all lamenting Muses would mee waylings lend,
The dolours of my heart in sight agayne to show:
I would deplore his death, and Englands cause of woe,
With such sad mourning tunes, and such sobs, sighes, and teares
As were not seene for one, this ten times twenty yeares.

473

For why this noble Prince, when wee had needed moste,
To set the states of Fraunce and England in a stay,
That feared was of foes in euery forayne coaste,
To soone (alas) this Duke was taken hence away.
In Fraunce hee dyde helasse lament his losse wee may,
That Regent regall, rule of publique right.
Loe howe my hurtes afreshe beweepe this wanted wight.

“With that his woundes (mee thought) gan freshly bleede,
“And hee waxte faynt and fell, and my salte teares
“Ran downe my rufull cheekes, with trickling speede,
“(For who coulde chuse that such cause sees and heares.)
“O worthy Knight (quod I) whose loyall faith appeares:
“Cease wayles, rise vp, instruct my quiuering pen,
“To tell the rest of Fortunes dublings then.

I haue (quoth he) not Fortunes flatterie to accuse,
Nor Fate nor Destenie, nor any fancie fainde:
I haue no cause t'affirme that these coulde ought misuse
This noble Prince, whose life & acts such fame and honour gaynde,
But our deserts, our sinnes, and our offences staynde
This noble Ile and vs, our sinnes (I say)
Offending God, hee tooke this Prince away.

Helasse how loath can I retourne, and leaue this pearle in Roane
My Lorde Ihon Duke of Bedford, there his corps yet lyes
Enclosde with costly tombe, wrought curiously of stone,
By North the altar high (delighting many Martiall eyes)
Within our Ladie churche, where fame him lifts to skies,
By dayly vew his name renoumbde exalted is,
And soule, I trust, full sweetly sweames in blisse.

Needes must I enterline my talke a while with this:
And then I will retourne to tell you how I sped.

474

When once the French men sawe this noble Duke to misse,
Which English armyes all gaynste foes with fortunes led
They liude at large, rebeld against their soueraygne head,
Forsooke their oathes, alleageaunce all denyde,
And English men with all their force defyde.

While hee did liue, they durst not so to deale,
They durst not dare, with th'English oft to fraye,
They found it was not for theire owne or publique weale,
To rise againste theire Lorde the Regent in araye.
Soone after hee was deade, departed hence away,
Both French and Normanes close to win did cloaze,
And wee deuided were, our rightes abroade to loaze.

The feende (I thinke) deuisde a way to make the breatche,
By enuye bred in breastes of two right noble Peeres,
Which mischiefe hatcht in England, then may teache
All noble men that liue, hence many hundreth yeares,
Beware of Enuye blacke, how far shee deares.
Euen their examples tell, how true our Christe doth say:
Each realme, towne, house, in ciuile strife, shall desolate decay.

Perdie the Duke of Yorke was Regent made of Fraunce,
At which the Duke of Somerset did much repine,
Hee thought they rather ought him so t'aduaunce
King Henries kin, for honour of his Princely lyne:
But marke the grape which grew on this vngracious vine,
I will not say it after stroyde their lynes and houses nye,
But this I say, wee dayely sawe dishonour came thereby.

For though the hauty Duke were worthy it to haue,
As well for courage good, as vertues honour due:
Yet sith to'th Duke of Yorke th'election first it gaue,
And hee the sadle mist, what neded hee to rue?
When tumultes great and sturres in Fraunce yet daylye grew,

475

Hee nilde the Regent hence dispatche in many dayes:
That losse might win him hurte, or long disprayse.

Wylde wengand on such ire, wherby the realme doth lose,
What gayne haue they, which heaue at honour soe?
At home disdayne and greefe, abroade they frend their foes.
I must bee playne in that which wrought my webs of woe,
My webs (quod I?) would God they had wrought no moe.
It was the cause of many a bleeding English breaste,
And to the French, their end of woefull warres addresse.

I dare aduouche yf they had firme in frendship boade,
And southly as beseemde ioynde frendly hand with hands,
They had not felt defame in any foraine roade,
Nor had not so beene sent, with losse from Gallia strands:
They might possession kept, still of their conquerde lands,
And able beene to tryde them selues so true,
As myght haue made their enmyes still to rue.

For while the Duke of Somerset made here so greate delayes,
That into Fraunce the succours smale and slackly came,
Not only Paris than was loste, within few dayes,
That famous flowre of Fraunce, of far renowmed fame,
The Frenche (I say) not only gate and kept the same,
But by this meanes, in Fraunce we dayly felt such smarte,
As might with pitie perst an adamantine harte.

O greate mishap, the noble Duke of Bedford once being dead,
Our welch went backe, by discords foule dispite wee loste
Not only townes in Fraunce, and captaines armyes led,
But many soldiers eke with labour, spence and cost:
And though full oft wee made the Frenche men smell of the rost,
Yet in the end wee gayne of fyght the fame,
And they by crafte and treason gate the game.

476

What resteth more, it were, perdie, to long to tell,
Of batayles great and broiles which happened dayly still,
The stories eke declare aduentures which befell:
Although (God wot) the writers wanted poyntes of scill,
Of whom to speake a while, degresse agayne I will,
And partely shewe what one hee oughte to bee,
Which takes on him to write an Historie.

A chronicler should well in diuers tongues bee seene,
And eke in all the artes hee oughte to haue a sighte,
Whereby hee myght the truth of diuers actions deeme,
And both supply the wantes, correct that is not righte:
Hee should haue eloquence, and full and fitly write,
Not mangle stories, snatching here and there:
Nor gloaze to make a volume greate appeare.

Hee should bee of such countenaunce and wit,
As should giue witnes to the Histories hee writes,
Hee should bee able well his reasons so to knit,
As should continue well the matter hee resytes:
Hee should not prayse, disprayse, for fauour or dispytes,
But should so place each thing in order due,
As myght approue the stories to bee true.

But this may haps the time may seeke at length redresse,
And then such stories nowe and noble acts as dye,
May come agayne to lighte (at least defaced lesse)
Yf from the Britaynes first antiquities they try.
In greate defects yf they the trueth supply:
Then shall the readers fuller stories finde,
And haue wherby to recreate the minde.

But now retourne I must, and breifly heare declare
Before my death, what sundry happes wee had.
In warres right variousely the states of Captaynes fare,
Now weale, now woe, now ioyfull, now right sad.

477

But who well ends, though all his haps were bad,
Let him earst sinke or swim, lose, wyn, bee slayne, die, fall,
Yf hee dye well, h'is thrise and fower tymes blest of all.

In Fraunce eyght leagues from Paris, Pontoise stands,
(Tweene that and Roane) which wee had wonne before:
And so wee held it English safely in our handes.
For to our Prince the men allegeaunce swore,
And they remaynd obedient euermore,
Tyll from their necks to reaue the English yoke,
They might finde meanes by whom to stricke the stroke.

When these sawe Paris loste, and cities moe beside,
And what in Fraunce and Normandie reuoltes had done,
They thought no longer subiect to abyde,
But sought occasion how they mighte by Frenche be won.
As of our losse reports did dayly to them run,
So with King Charles th'agreede when to betray the towne,
And force the English flee, or yeelde, or beate them downe.

For why, the powre of Fraunce coulde not with mighty hoste
Performe to wyn by force from vs th'assaulted towne,
Them scaleing often from the walles wee toste,
On euery syde full fast wee flang the French men downe.
Our noble actes before had gotten such renowne,
And Fortune erste had past with vs so farre,
They had small hope to wyn our fortes by warre.

Wherefore King Charles assayde the secrete saute,
Not by his force of French, but by his golden fee,
Corrupting diuers Burgeses to make the faute,
Whereby an entry shoulde to his oppugning bee:
And they (as erste is sayde) were willing to agree,
Like periurde theeues conspirde by secrete fyne deuice,
Gaue Pontoise vp, and tooke the promiste price.

478

But in November next when it was sharpe and colde,
And dayly froste had dryde and parched hard the grounde,
Wee were in hope agayne to get of Pontoise holde,
Which erste the Townesmen solde, for gayne of many a pound.
The snow fell fast, lay thick, and couered well the ground,
And ditches were so harde about the towne befrore,
That on the Ise by euery syde wee safely might get ore.

The Lorde Ihon Clifforde was cheife captayne then,
Which with vs captaynes did this pollicie deuise,
That wee in clothing white and soldiers euery man,
Should in our armoure finelye vs disguyse.
The nexte nyght so wee should to the assaute aryse,
And passe the frozen ditche vnto the wall,
With laders scale, and kill the watchmen all.

Wee so preparde our selues as time occasion gaue,
And drest in white coates trim, it ioyde our hartes to see
How fine wee paste the ditch, what good successe we haue:
How on the walles we fynde the watch nigh frozen bee:
As noble Greekes on Troie, on Pontoise seasonde wee,
Wee slewe the watch, wee beate the soldiers downe,
Some prisners tooke, and tooke withall the Towne.

Of stately captaynes french, was Iohn de Villers one
Within the taken towne, and Narrabon a Knight
Burgunion: yet they fled, away they gate them gone:
They durst not bide againste the blanched boyes to fight.
Wee paide the periurde knaues the Burgesses that night,
And gate as much of honour and renowne
As they gate shame and losse, which bought and solde the towne.

Marke well the frenchmens foyles in all our worthy war
In these two regall Henryes times, and you shall see
How wee surpast the french in valure farre:

479

And bend for Prince and realme so valiaunt for to bee:
Which if yee shall, and deale in seruice as did wee,
I nothing doubt renowne and fame shall say,
That noble England beares for warres the palme away.

But when King Charles had heard how Pontoise men had sped,
His army strayght assembled hee therefore agayne,
Wherewith to win this towne afresh th'assaute hee led,
Hee pyners set to trenche and vnder mine amayne,
Made bastiles for defence, yet all this toyle was vayne.
For battery of our walles hee spent his pouder still,
Made freshly frenche assaults, but did no ill.

The noble Duke of Yorke discharged late before,
When now the Earle of Warwicke chaunst at Roane to dye,
Being Regent chosen once agayne of Fraunce, as yore,
(Th'Earle of Warwicke Regent was two yeares perdy)
Arryude in Fraunce, to rowse the frenche King he did hye,
(Which lay beseigeing Pontoise, as I sayde)
With him to fight, and eke to bring vs ayde.

The frenche King fled, for haste he left his store behinde:
When hee was once assurde the Duke of Yorke drue nere,
Hee durst not stay to bide the time or place assinde
To fight our Regent with, but fled away for feare.
By these assayes you see what men in Fraunce they were,
Discouradgde oft, slayne, put to flight and fall:
By sight, force, fight, and names of nombers small.

There when the Duke had fortefyde our Pontoise towne,
Then he pursude the frenche King erst that fled,
To Poyssy, where hee laye with Lords of frenche renowne.
Before which Towne, the Duke his noble army led:
The frenche King durste not out of Poyssy put his head:
And yet there came to skirmish out frenche gentilmen,
Of which some slayne, fowre tane, the reste retyrde agen.

480

The Duke to bid him batayle did pretend,
Yf hee coulde there encounter with him thoe:
But forth agayne hee durste not come nor send,
For feare hee should receiue the foyle and ouerthroe.
On which the Duke dislodgde, departeing Poyssy froe,
To Maunte, and Roane, from thence his grace did hye,
T'appease the broyles of strife in Normandy.

But then the frenche King calling vnto mynde his losse,
His charges in the seige, his bastiles trenches made,
How erste wee did them thence, sans bag and bagage tosse,
Eke how from seige hee durste not staye the store to lade,
And how their Fortunes ofte, in fighte went retrograde,
How neighboures ill to Paris, wee of Pontoise were:
Hee cast asyde his frenche and faynteing feare.

The rather yet, for why, Parisiens ay did rayle,
They sayde hee wanted courage good, hee durst not fight,
Hee lackte no soldiers good, his feeble heart did fayle:
Le Roy (quoth they) du France, les Anglois point ne nuit:
Le Roy ne ose pas pour Pontoise faire poursuit:
Le Roy est Lourd, sans cueur: car peu de gens,
Fait nostre Roy & pais faire grande dispens.

On this King Charles retournde with mighty hoste,
To vindicate this great reproche and shame:
And vnto Pontoise gaue assaulte in poste
Full hotly, when wee feared leaste the same.
Whereon, to fight agaynst him all our force wee frame,
But number great at th'entry gote such hand,
Wee coulde not forth agayne their force aband.

With trompets sounding, tan tan-tar'aloude
The larum bell wee rong, our selues to try dispose,
To make them pay the price of our distresse wee vowde,
Before wee would possession got, of Pontoise loze:

481

In euery street wee met the strength of all our foes,
And made them passe by deadly dint away,
Which ventured first our English mates to slay.

Why now my frends, for England fighte, I cryde:
Yf euer English hearts your noble breasts posseste,
I promise you to make them flinche, yf I may byde:
Mates follow me. Amongst my foes I rusht before the rest:
O here come on (quoth I) now fighte wee for the beste.
And therewithall I vsde such courage, force and myghte:
As made my foes to fall, and soldiers fitly fighte.

Yf we doe leese (quoth I) the frenche men shall not gayne:
So if wee wyn, tis worth the while to keepe arraye.
Yf yee stand stiflye toet, wele make them peaze the paine,
And leade with losse of lyuely lymmes the lande awaye.
Although they fearcely fighte, in hope vs all to slaye:
Lo sixe to one they fall, and deade they lye:
Wee English men, in triomphe fight, and honour dye.

With bloody broiles of war the haplesse towne did smoke,
The children sawe theire fathers deare, to bleede their last:
The wyues bewayled muche the fatall stroke,
Which forste their husbands bleede, fall, dye so fast:
Helas the weemen cryde, the woefull streets that past:
(When soe they sawe the channels bloody streame)
What plague is this, that pesters so our Reame?

Is no remorce of lyfe, but kill, kill, kill? (helasse)
Kill, kill the English cry, and valiantly they fighte:
What hap had wee to see these mischiues com to passe?
Helas le sang de nous amis, la mort helas:
The maydens cry, the widowes wayle, and aged mourne,
With wringing hands vplift, & wish them selues vnborne.

Of vs one thousand Englishmen within the Towne,
Sustaynde the force, the powre and puissaunce of their King:

482

And of the French that faught, wee beate three thousand downe,
Wee slew no lesse, for all the nomber hee did bring.
Yf this vntrue shall seeme, discredite myne to ring,
A french Historian writeing for them selues shall say:
Three thousand Frenchmen there, were slayne that day.

Four hundreth Englishmen that tyme were slayne in fighte,
My selfe was one, with losse they wan the towne perdie:
But if I might haue liude t'aue tride our righte,
With one for euery seuen, by ods as wee did dye:
I doubte not (so the rest, would done their partes as I.)
But that King Charles, his Lords, nor all his men,
Should scarce haue tane the towne of Pontoise then.

What neade I more debate of these thinges here:
In England was the faulte, though we did feele the smarte.
While they at home, at bate and strife for honours were,
They lost abroade of Normandy the greater parte.
To thinke on this torments agayne my wounded harte,
That Lords at home, should striue about the name,
And loose abroade their Countries weale and fame.

Let English Peeres abandon such contentious strife,
It hurtes the Publique weale, decayes the state:
It reaues the yeares too soone of longer lyfe:
It freates the breste with ruste of baend debate:
It giues the checke to him that giues the mate:
Then thus I ende, that wight of all is bleste
Which liues in loue with God, his prince and country best.

So Higins yf thou write, how this my fall befell;
Place it in Baldwines Miroir with the reste.
From crazed scull sith here my mynde I tell:
Sith bleedeing hart these ruefull rymes expreste:
This mangled tale beseemes my person beste.
Do so (quoth hee) and let it passe euen thus:
Viuit (quoth I) post funera virtus.

483

THE LAMENTATION OF KING IAMES the fourth, King of Scots, slayne at Brampton, in the fiuthe yeare of King Henry the eight, Anno Christi, 1513.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

As I lay musing, my selfe alone,
In minde not stable, but wauering here & there,
Morpheus my frend espyed mee anone,
And as hee was wont, whistered in mine eare.
Shortly conuyede I was, I wist not where:
Mine eyes were closed fast, I could not see.
I hearde a man crying sore, trembling for feare:
Miserere mei Deus et salua mee.

484

Miserere mei Deus, oft hee did reporte,
With sorowfull sighes, as euer man herde.
For sorowe and pity, I gan nere to resorte:
His sore exclamations made mee afferde.
Mine eyes opened, I sawe his grim bearde:
I knewe not verely, who it should bee:
Hee cryde, as hee had beene stickt with a swerde:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

Of Scotland (hee sayde) late I was King,
With Crowne on my head, and scepter in hand:
In wealth and honour, I wanted nothing:
In peaceable maner I ruled my land.
Full frendly and faythfull my subiects I fand.
Now am I exiled from life, land, and liberty:
King without realme, loe now where I stand:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

Thus for my folly, I feele I doe smart,
Both law, and nature doth me accuse
Of great vnkindnes: that I should take part
Against my brother, and his liege refuse.
I purposed war, yet I fayned truce.
This did I, frenche King, for the loue of thee,
Inordinate affection so did mee abuse:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

All this, King Lewis, I suffred for thy sake,
Wo be to the time that euer I thee knewe:
For thee am I put in a sorowfull brake,
Thy wilfull appetite, doth mee sore rewe.
This worlde is not stable, it chaungeth a newe.
Now am I bond, some time I was free:
Exiled from liberty, I am kept in a mewe:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

485

Moreouer for thee, and thy realme of Fraunce,
(Contrary to mine othe solemnly made)
Vnto King Henry I made defiaunce,
To follow thine appetite was all the grace I hade.
In most cruell wise, I did his realme inuade:
I troubled his subiects, by land and by sea:
My rewarde is no more, but the showle and spade:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

For my wilfull periury, thus am I brought
From high degree, to the lowest of all.
Whom should I blame? I found that I sought,
By mine owne foly, I had a great fall.
Wherefore I feare mee, that now I shall
Haue payne long lasting, for mine iniquity:
Lord full of mercy yet to thee I call,
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

Vanquished in fielde I was to the rebuke
Of mee and all my realme: to our immortall shame.
There faught agaynst mee neyther King, nor Duke,
Prince, ne Marquise, ne many Lords of name.
One valiaunt Earle, our power ouercame:
Yet were wee in nomber, to his one, three:
Lord whom thou fauourest, winneth the game:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

I was th'only author, of myne owne woe;
But yet I began it by wicked counsell,
Of my Lords spirituall and temporall also:
Which for their merits in fielde with mee fell.
I was curst (in deede) the truth for to tell,
And could not (by falshoode) eyther thriue or thie;
To assist my brothers foe I did not well,
Miserere mei Deus et salua mee.

486

Christes commaundements, I did all refuse:
The breatch of myne oathe, I did not regarde:
Therfore I am domed as faythlesse as the Iewes.
Sore is the sentence, and cruell is the swerde:
Excepte thy mercy helpe, O Lord, I am marde:
Saue mee; for whom thou suffredst on a tree,
To thy mercye I appeale for my sauegarde:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

Herafter (by mee) my successours may beware,
An ensample take by my wretched ruyne:
Lest in lykewyse they bee taken with the snare,
As I am nowe: and pay the lyke fyne.
Vanquished wee were, by power devyne:
For by mannes power it seemed not to bee.
Here now I ly, in an homely shrine,
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

I am a spectacle also in lyke case,
To the frenche King, yf hee list to take heede,
I feare that hee cannot for lacke of grace,
The King and hee, bee not yet agreede.
Therefore let him looke, for a lyke speede,
As wee had that were of his leage and vnity,
I trow hee doth neither God loue, nor dreede,
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

Who euer knew Christian King in such a case,
As I wretched creature that cannot haue
In Churche or in Churchyard any maner place,
Emong Christen people to lye in a graue:
The earth mee abhorreth, all men mee depraue,
My frends forsake mee, and haue no pity,
The worlde taketh from mee all that hee mee gaue:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

487

There is no more now, I must take my leaue,
In this wretched worlde I may no longer dwell:
But one thing there is doth mee sore greaue,
I not where to rest, in heauen or in hell,
None else thereof but only God can tell:
Adieu, this worlde is full of vanity,
I may no longer be with thee, farewell:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

Farewell my Queene, sweete lady Margaret:
Farewell my Prince, with whom I vsde to play:
I wot not where wee shall together meete:
Farewell my Lords, and Commons eke for aye:
Adieu, ye shall no ransom for mee pay:
Yet I beseeche you of your charity,
To the high lorde mercifull that yee pray:
Miserere mei Deus & salua mee.

489

The bataile of Brampton, or Floddon fielde, faught in the yeare of our Redeemer 1513. and in the fiuth yeare of the raygne of that victorious prince, King Henry the eyght.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

O Rex regum in thy realme celestiall,
Glorified with ioyes of Gabriells company,
King Iames is dead, haue mercy on vs all:
For thou haste him prostrate so sodaynly,
Which was our noble Prince his enemy)
That vs to withstand hee had no might:
So thy helpe O Lord preserude King Henryes right.

Into England this Prince prowdly did come,
With fourscore thousand in goodly aray:
And the Castle of Norham first hee had won,
Prospering victoriously from day to day.
But agaynst him is gone the Earle of Surrey,
With him manfully for to fight,
By the helpe of God and in his Princes right.

This noble Earle full wisely hath wrought,
And with thirty thousand forwarde is gone:
After wisedom and pollicy wondrously hee sought,
How by the Scottish ordinaunce hee might well come.
Thereto helped well Basterd Heron,
On the Scots hee did harme both day and night,
So thy helpe O Lord preserude our Princes right.

Our Herald of Armes to King Iemy did say:
My Lord of Surrey greetes you well by mee,

490

Maruayling greatly of this your array,
And what you make here in this countrey.
Peace you haue broken, and olde amity:
Wherefore if yee abide hee will with you fight,
By the helpe of God and in his Princes right.

Abide? (hee sayde) els were it great dishonour hye,
That a King crowned an Earle durst not abide:
Yf Surrey bee so bolde to gieue battayle to mee,
I shall him tarry on Floddon hill side.
Open warre then soone was there cryde,
And our doughty men were redily dight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

S. Cutberds banner with the Byshops men bolde,
In the Vaunt garde forward fast did hye,
That royall relike more precious than golde,
And sir William Bowmer nere stoode it by.
Adiuua pater then fast did they cry,
Pray wee that God will graunt vs his might,
That wee may haue the powre to saue our Princes right.

The Lord Clifford and the Lord Latimer also,
With the Lord Couiers of the North countrey,
And the Lord Scrope of Vpsalle forwarde did goe,
With the Lorde Howarde Admirall of the see,
Of noble hearte and courage good was hee,
As any went that time agaynst the Scots to fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

Sir William Percy and Lorde Ogle both same,
And Sir William Gascoyne, theyr cosin nere was hee:
The Shryue of Yorkeshyre Sir Iohn Eueringame,
And the Nobles at Chesshyre in theyr degree.
The Lord Dacres, and Basterd Heyron with heart free,
Which did harme the Scots by day and by night,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

491

Sir Edmond Haward of lusty franke courage
Boldly aduaunced himselfe eke in that stounde,
To the Scots our enemies he did greate hurte and domage,
Which were right greedy him and his bloud to confound:
But theyr mischieuous intent on themselues did rebound,
And many a deadly stroke on them there did light,
So the helpe of God preserude our Princes right.

The Baron of Killerton, and both Astones were there,
With Sir Iohn Bouthe, and many Knightes moe:
Sir Iohn Gower and Sir Walter Griffin drewe nere,
With Sir Thomas Butler and Maister Warcoppe also,
Sir Christopher Warde, & Sir William Midylton both two,
And Sir William Maliuer, all did manly fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

In the mydle warde was the Earle of Surrey,
That noble man stoute, bolde, and hardy,
The father of wit wee call him may,
The Deputy of England most trusty was hee.
With him Lorde Scrope of Bolton, and Sir George Darcye,
And Sir Richard Maliuer with Bucks heades bright,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

Sir Phillip Tilney was there ready and prest,
In the same warde, with all his mighty powre,
And Sir Iohn Willowghby as ready as the best,
With Sir Nicholas Aplyard his helpe, ayde, and succour.
O what ioy was it to see that same howre,
How valiauntly our noble men with the Scots did fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

Yong Sir William Gascoyne was there indeede,
With Sir Richard Aldburgh, and Sir Christofer Danebe,
Sir William Scarkell, and M. Frosts help at neede,
With Sir Raphe Ellarkar and M. Thomas Lee.

492

M. Raphe Beeston, and M. Hopton men might see
Full well, perdy, they quite themselues in that fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

Sir Edward Stanley in the reare warde was hee,
A noble Knight both wise and hardy,
With many a noble man of the West countrey,
And the whole powre of the Earle of Darby,
With a right retinue of the Byshop Elye,
And of Lankeshyre men manly did fight,
By the helpe of God, and in theyr Princes right.

Soone then the gunnes began a new play,
And the Vaunt garde together are gone:
But our gunnes disseuered them out of aray,
And our bolde bilmen of them slewe many one.
So that of them scarce retourned none.
Thus were they punished by help of God almight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preseru'd our Prince his right.

Then they sought embushments, but with small chere,
And in fowle maner brake theyr aray:
Yet some of our men by policy fled were,
That sawe King Iemy on the hill where he lay.
They flee (hee sayes) folow fast I you pray.
But by that fit of flying wee wan the fight:
So the helpe of God preserude our Princes right.

To the Earle of Surrey King Iemy is gone,
With as comly company as euer man did see:
Full boldly theyr big men agaynst vs did come
Downe the hill, with great myrth and melody:
And our men marked them to the Trinity,
Beseeching him there to shew his might,
In theyr whole defence, and in theyr Prince his right.

493

The red Lyon with his owne fathers bloud inclynate,
Came towards the white Lyon both meeke and mylde,
And there by the hand of God he was prostrate,
By the helpe of th'Eagle with her swadled chylde.
The Buckesheads also the Scots has beguilde,
And with theyr grey goose wings doulfully them dight,
By the helpe of God, and in our Prince his right.

The Moone that day did shine full bright,
And the Luce head that day was full bent:
The red Cressent did blinde the Scots sight,
And the Ship with her Ancre many Scots spent.
But (alas) the good white Griffin was felde on Floddon hil,
Yet escape hee did, not vanquisht in the fight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preserude our Prince his right.

The Treyfell was true, and that did well appeare,
And boldly the great Griffin vp the hill is gone:
The Antlet did lace them with arrowes so nere,
That buffits the Scots bare, they lacked none.
The Cinquefoile also was stedfast as the stone,
And slewe of the Scots like a worthy wight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preserude our Prince his right.

The yong white Lyon was angry in that stounde,
And with his merry mariners the myrth him made,
His bells rang lay couched in the grounde,
Whereof the Scots were right sore affrayde.
And round about rydeing euermore he sayde
Go to my fellowes, all shalbe all or night,
By the helpe of God, wee saue our Prince his right.

The Cornish Choughe did picke them in the face,
And the Crab them blinded that they might not see:
They flewe and fell, they had none other grace,
With theyr new conquerour: but where now is hee,

494

Caryed in a cart, to his rebuke and his posterity,
And his Bullies so bonnye are put all to flight:
So thy helpe O Lord, preserude our Prince his right.

Of Scots lay slayne full xii. thousande,
And xi. Earles, the sooth for to say,
Xiii. Lords, and three Byshops as I vnderstande,
With two Abbots, which haue learnde a new play,
They should haue bene at home for peace to pray:
Wherefore they were thus wise punished by right:
So thy helpe O Lord preserude our Prince his right.

Theyr ordinaunce is lost, and theyr royalty,
Wee haue theyr riches, God haue the prayseing:
What ech man would take, hee had his liberty.
Wherefore laude and honour to such a King,
From dolefull daunger vs so defending:
Hee has graunted vnto vs now his might,
And by his only ayde preserude our Princes right.

O rex regum, ruler of vs all,
As thou for vs sufferedst thy passion,
Gieue the Scots grace, by King Iemyes fall,
For to eschue for euer like transgression,
Preserue the red rose, and be his protection.
Laude, honour, prayse be vnto God almight,
Who thus suppreste our foes, preserud our Princes right.

O yee noble Lordes and Knights victorius,
I you beseech to haue mee excused,
Your noble acts no better that I discusse,
And that my simple saying be not refused.
Where in any thing I haue mee misused,
I mee submit to your charitable correction:
And in this maner shall be my conclusion.

495

HOW THOMAS WOLSEY did arise vnto great authority and gouernment, his maner of life, pompe, and dignity, and how hee fell downe into great disgrace, and was arested of high treason.

Shall I looke on, when states step on the stage,
And play theyr parts, before the peoples face?
Some men liue now, scarce four score yeares of age,
Who in time past, did know the Cardnalls grace.

496

A gamesom worlde, when Byshops run at bace,
Yea, get a fall, in striuing for the gole,
And body loase, and hazarde seely sole.

Ambitious minde, a world of wealth would haue,
So scrats and scrapes, for scorfe, and scoruy drosse:
And till the flesh, and bones, be layde in graue,
Wit neuer rests, to grope for mucke and mosse.
Fye on prowde pompe, and gilted bridels bosse:
O glorious golde, the gaping after thee,
So blindes mens eyes, they can no daunger see.

Now note my byrth, and marke how I began,
Beholde from whence, rose all this pryde of mine.
My father but, a playne poore honest man,
And I his son, of wit and iudgement fine,
Brought vp at schoole, and prou'd a good diuine:
For which great gifts, degree of schoole I had,
And Batchler was, and I a litle lad.

So, tasting some, of Fortunes sweete consayts,
I clapt the hoode, on shoulder, braue as Son,
And hopt at length, to bite at better bayts,
And fill my mouth, ere banket halfe were don.
Thus holding on, the course I thought to ron:
By many a feast, my belly grue so big,
That Wolsey streight, became a wanton twig.

Lo what it is, to feede on daynty meate,
And pamper vp, the gorge, with suger plate:
Nay, see how lads, in hope of higher seate
Rise early vp, and study learning late.
But hee thriues best, that hath a blessed fate,
And hee speeds worst, that worlde will nere aduaunce,
Nor neuer knowes, what meanes good lucke nor chaunce.

497

My chaunce was great, for from a poore mans son,
I rose aloft, and chopt and chaungde degree:
In Oxford first, my famous name begon,
Where many a day, the scholers honourd mee.
Then thought I how, I might a courtier bee:
So came to Court, and fethred there my wing,
With Henry th'eight, who was a worthy King.

Hee did with words, assay mee once or twice,
To see what wit, and ready sprite I had:
And when hee saw, I was both graue and wice,
For some good cause, the King was wondrous glad.
Than downe I lookt, with sober countnaunce sad,
But heart was vp, as high as hope could go,
That suttell fox, might win some fauour so.

Wee worke with wiles, the mindes of men like wax,
The fawning whelp, gets many a peece of bred:
Wee follow Kings, with many coning knacks,
By searching out, how are theyr humours fed.
Hee haunts no Court, that hath a doltish hed:
For as in golde, the pretious stone is set,
So finest wits, in Court the credit get.

I quickely learnde, to kneele and kysse the hand,
To waite at heele, and turne like top about,
To stretch out necke, and lyke an Image stand,
To taunt, to skoffe, and face the matter out,
To preace in place, among the greatest rout:
Yet like a priest, my selfe did well behaue,
In fayre long gowne, and goodly garments graue.

Where Wolsey went, the world like Bees would swarme,
To heare my speach, and note my nature well.
I coulde with tongue, vse such a kinde of charme,
That voyce full cleare, should sounde like siluer bell.

498

When head deuisde, a long discours to tell,
With stories straunge, my speach should spised bee,
To make the worlde, to muse the more on mee.

Each tale was sweete, each worde a sentence wayde,
Each eare I pleasde, each eye gaue mee the vewe,
Each Iudgment markt, and paysed what I sayde,
Each minde I fed, with matter rare and newe,
Each day and howre, my grace and credit grewe:
So that the King, in hearing of this newes,
Deuysed howe, hee might my seruice vse.

Hee made mee then, his Chaplayne, to say masse
Before his grace, yea twise or thrise a weeke:
Now had I time, to trym my selfe by glasse,
Now founde I meane, some liuing for to seeke,
Now I became, both humble, mylde, and meeke,
Now I applyde, my wyts and sences throwe,
To reape some corne, if God would speede the plowe.

Whom most I sawe, in fauour with the King,
I followde fast, to get some hap thereby:
But I obserude, a nother fyner thing,
That was, to keepe, mee styll in Princes eye.
As vnder wyng, the hawke in winde doth lye,
So for a pray, I prowlled here and there,
And tryed frendes, and Fortune euery where.

The King at length, sent mee beyonde the seas,
Embastour then, with message good and greate:
And in that time, I did the King so pleas,
By short dispatch, and wrought so fine a feate,
That did aduaunce my selfe to higher seate,
The deanrie then, of Lincolne hee mee gaue:
And bownty shewde, before I gan to craue.

499

His Amner to, hee made mee all in haste,
And threefolde gyftes, hee threwe vpon mee still:
His counslour straight, listewise was Wolsey plaste,
Thus in shorte time, I had the world at will:
Which passed far, mans reason, wit, and skill.
O hap, thou haste, great secrets in thy might,
Which long lye hyd, from wily worldlyngs sight.

As shures of raine, fall quickly on the grasse,
That fading flowres, are soone refresht thereby:
Or as with Sun, the morning dewe doth passe,
And quiet calme, makes cleare a troubled skye:
So Princes powre, at twinkling of an eye
Sets vp a lofte, a favret on the wheele,
When giddy braynes, about the streetes doe reele.

They are but blinde, that wake where Fortune sleepes,
They worke in vayne, that striue with streame and tyde:
In double garde, they dwell, that destnye keepes,
In simple sorte, they liue that lacke a gyde:
They misse the marke, that shoote theyr arrowes wide,
They hit the pricke, that make theyr flight to glaunce
So nere the white, that shafte may light on chaunce.

Such was my lucke, I shot no shafte in vayne,
My bow stoode bent, and brased all the yeere:
I wayted harde, but neuer lost my payne:
Such wealth came in, to beare the charges cleere.
And in the end, I was the greatest peere
Among them all, for I so rulde the land,
By Kings consent, that all was in my hand.

Within on yeare, three Bishoprickes I had,
And in small space, a Cardnall I was made:
With long red robes, rich Wolsey then was clad,
I walkte in Sun, when others sate in shade:

500

I went abroade, with such a trayne and trade,
With crosses borne, before mee where I past,
That man was thought, to bee some God at last.

With sonnes of Earles, and Lordes I serued was,
An hundreth chaynes, at leaste were in my trayne:
I dayly dranke, in gold, but not in glas,
My bread was made, of fynest flowre and grayne:
My daynty mouth, did common meates disdayne,
I fed like Prince, on fowles most deare and straunge,
And bankets made, of fine conceites for chaunge.

My hall was full, of Knightes, and Squires of name,
And gentlemen, two hundreth tolde by powle:
Tale yeomen to, did howrely serue the same,
Whose names each weeke, I saw within checke rowle.
All went to church, when seruis bell did knowle,
All dinde and supte, and slepte at Cardnalls charge,
And all would wayte, when Wolsey tooke his barge.

My householde stuffe, my wealth and siluer plate,
Mighte well suffice, a Monarke at this day:
I neuer fed, but vnder cloth of state,
Nor walkt abroade, till Vshars clearde the way.
In house I had, musitions for to play,
In open streete, my trompets lowde did sownde,
Which pearst the skies, and seemde to shake the grownde.

My men most braue, martcht two and two in ranke,
Who helde in length, much more then half a mile:
Not one of these, but gaue his maister thanke,
For some good turne, or pleasure got some while.
I did not feede, my seruantes with a smile,
Or glosing wordes, that neuer bring forth frute,
But gaue them golde, or els preferde theyr sute.

501

In surety so, whiles God was pleasde, I stoode,
I knewe I must, leaue all my wealth behinde:
I sawe they lou'd, mee not for byrth or bloode,
But serude a space, to try my noble minde.
The more men gieue, the more in deede they finde
Of loue, and troth, and seruice, euery way:
The more they spare, the more doth loue decay.

I ioyde to see, my seruantes thriue so well,
And go so gay, with little that they gote:
For as I did, in honour still excell,
So would I oft, the wante of seruantes note:
Which made my men, on maister so to dote,
That when I sayde, let such a thing bee donne,
They woulde in deede, through fyre and water ronne.

I had in house, so many ofsars still,
Which were obayde, and honourde for their place,
That carelesse I, might sleepe or walke at will,
Saue that sometyme, I wayde a poore mans case,
And salude such sores, whose griefe might breede disgrace.
Thus men did wayte, and wicked world did gaze,
On mee and them, that brought vs all in maze.

For worlde was whist, and durst not speake a woorde
Of that they sawe, my credite curbde them so:
I waded far, and passed ore the foorde,
And mynded not, for to returne I troe.
The worlde was wise, yet scarce it selfe did knoe,
When wonder made, of men that rose by hap:
For Fortune rare, falls not in each mans lap.

I climde the clouds, by knowledge and good wit,
My men sought chaunce, by seruice or good lucke:
The worlde walkte lowe, when I aboue did sit,
Or downe did come, to trample on this mucke:

502

And I did swim, as dainty as a ducke,
When water serues, to keepe the body braue,
And to enioy, the gyftes that Fortune gaue.

And though my pompe, surpast all Prelates nowe,
And like a Prince, I liu'd and pleasure tooke:
That was not sure, so great a blur in browe,
If on my workes, indiffrent eyes doe looke.
I thought great scorne, such liuings heare to brooke,
Except I built, some howses for the poore,
And order tooke, to gieue great almes at doore.

A Colledge fayre, in Oxford I did make,
A sumptuous house, a stately worke in deede.
I gaue great lands, to that, for learning sake,
To bring vp youth, and succour scholers neede.
That charge of myne, full many a mouth did feede,
When I in Courte, was seeking some good turne,
To mend my torch, or make my candell burne.

More houses gay, I builte, then thowsands do
That haue enough, yet will no goodnes shoe:
And where I built, I did mayntayne it to,
With such great cost, as few bestowes I troe.
Of buildings large, I could reherse a roe,
That by mischaunce, this day haue lost my name,
Whereof I do, deserue the only fame.

And as for sutes, about the King was none
So apte as I, to speake and purchase grace.
Though long before, some say Shores wife was one,
That oft kneelde downe, before the Princes face
For poore mens sutes, and holpe theire woefull case,
Yet shee had not, such credite as I gate,
Although a King, would heare the parret prate.

503

My wordes were graue, and bore an equall poyes,
In ballaunce iust, for many a weighty cause:
Shee pleasde a Prince, with pretty merry toyes,
And had no sight, in state, nor course of lawes.
I coulde perswade, and make a Prince to pawes,
And take a breath, before hee drew the sworde,
And spy the time, to rule him with a worde.

I will not say, but fancy may do much,
Yet worlde will graunt, that wisdom may do more:
To wanton gyrls, affection is not such,
That Princes wise, will bee abusde therefore:
One sute of mine, was surely worth a score
Of hers indeede, for shee her time must watch,
And at all howres, I durst go draw the latch.

My voyce but heard, the dore was open streyght,
Shee might not come, till shee were calde or brought:
I rulde the King, by custom, arte, and sleight,
And knew full well, the secrets of his thought.
Without my minde, all that was done was nought,
In wars or peace, my counsayle swayed all,
For still the King, would for the Cardnall call.

I kept a court, my selfe, as great as his,
(I not compare, vnto my maister heere)
But looke my Lords, what liuely worlde was this,
That one poore man, became so great a peere?
Yet though this tale, be very straunge to heere,
Wit wins a worlde: and who hath hap and wit,
With triumph long, in Princely throne may sit.

What man like mee, bare rule in any age,
I shone like Sun, more cleare then morning star:
Was neuer parte, so playde in open stage
As mine, nor fame, of man flewe halfe so far.

504

I sate on bench, when thowsands at the bar
Did pleade for right: for I in publique weale
Lorde Chaunclour was, and had the great broad seale,

Now haue I tolde, how I did rise aloft,
And sate with pride, and pomp, in golden hall,
And set my feete, on costly carpets soft,
And playde at goale, with goodly golden ball:
But after, Lord, I must rehearse my fall.
O trembling heart, thou canst not now for teares
Present that tale, vnto the hearers eares.

Best weepe it out, and sodayne silence keepe,
Till priuy pangs, make pinched heart complayne:
Or cast thy selfe, into some slumbring sleepe,
Till wakened wits, remembraunce bring agayne.
When heauy tears, do hollow cheekes distayne,
The world will thinke, thy sprits are growne so weake,
The feeble tongue, hath sure no powre to speake.

A tale by signes, with sighes and sobs set out,
Moues peoples mindes, to pity plaged men:
With howling voyce, do rather cry and showt,
And so by arte, shew forth thy sorrow then.
For if thou speake, some man will note with pen
What Wolsey sayde, and what thrue Wolsey downe,
And vnder foote, flings Wolseys great renowne.

What force of that, my fall must needs be herd,
Before I fell, I had a time to rise:
As fatall chaunce, and Fortune mee preferd,
So mischiefe came, and did my state despise.
Yf I might pleade, my case among the wise,
I could excuse, right much of mine offence:
But leaue a while, such matter in suspence.

505

The Pope, or pride, or peeuish parts of mine,
Made King to frowne, and take the seale from mee:
Now seru'd no words, nor plesaunt speeches fine,
Now Wolsey, lo, must needs disgraced bee.
Yet had I leaue (as dolefull prisner free)
To keepe a house (God wot) with heauy cheere,
Where that I founde, no wine, ne bread, nor beere.

My time was come, I coulde no longer liue,
What should I make, my sorrow further knowne?
Vpon some cause, that King that all did giue
Tooke all agayne, and so possest his owne.
My goods, my plate, and all was ouerthrowne,
And looke what I, had gathred many a day,
Within one howre, was cleanly swept away.

But harken now, how that my Fortune fell,
To Yorke I must, where I the Bishop was:
Where I by right, in grace a while did dwell,
And was in stawle, with honour great to pas.
The Priors then, and Abbots gan to smell,
Howe Cardnall must, bee honourd as hee ought,
And for that day, was great prouision brought.

At Cawood then, where I great buildings made,
And did through cause, exspect my stawling day,
The King deuisde, a secrete vnder shade,
Howe Cardnall shoulde, bee reste and brought away.
One Wealsh a Knight, came downe in good aray,
And seasned sure, because from Courte hee cam,
On Wolsey wolfe, that spoyled many a lam.

Then was I led, toward Courte, like dog in string,
And brought as biefe, that Butcherrowe must see:
But still I hoapt, to come before the King,
And that repayre, was not denyde to mee.

506

But hee that kept, the Towre, my guide must bee.
Ah there I saw, what King thereby did meane,
And so I searcht, yf conscience now were cleane.

Some spots I founde, of pryde and popishe partes,
That might accuse, a better man then I:
Now Oxford came, to minde, with all theire artes,
And Cambridge to, but all not worth a flye:
For schoolemen can, no fowle defects supplye.
My sauce was sowre, though meate before was sweete,
Nowe Wolsey lackte, both conning, wit, and spreete.

A deepe conceyte, of that, possest my heade,
So fell I sicke, consumde as some did thinke.
So tooke in haste, my chamber and my bed,
On which deuise, perhaps the worlde might winke.
But in the heart, sharpe sorrow so did sinke,
That gladnes sweete, (forsooke my senses all)
In those extremes, did yeelde vnto my fall.

O let mee curse, the popish Cardnall hat,
Those myters big, beset with pearle and stones,
And all the rest, of trash I know not what,
The saints in shrine, theyr flesh and rotten bones,
The maske of Monkes, deuised for the nones,
And all the flocke, of Freers, what ere they are,
That brought mee vp, and left mee there so bare.

O cursed priestes, that prate for profits sake,
And follow floud, and tyde, where ere it floes:
O marchaunts fine, that do aduauntage take
Of euery grayne, how euer market goes.
O fie on wolues, that march in masking cloes,
For to deuoure, the lambs, when shepperd sleepes,
And woe to you, that promise neuer keepes.

507

You sayd I should, be reskude if I neede,
And you would curse, with candell, booke, and bell:
But when yee should, now serue my turne indeede,
Yee haue no house, I know not where yee dwell.
O Freers and Monkes, your harbour is in hell,
For in this world, yee haue no rightfull place,
Nor dare not once, in heauen shew your face.

Your fault not halfe, so great as was my pryde,
For which offence, fell Lucifer from skyes:
Although I would, that wilfull folly hyde,
The thing lyes playne, before the peoples eyes,
On which hye heart, a hatefull name doth ryes.
It hath beene sayde, of olde, and dayly will,
Pryde goes before, and shame comes after still.

Pryde is a thing, that God and man abores,
A swelling tode, that poysons euery place,
A stinking wounde, that breedeth many sores,
A priuy plague, found out in stately face,
A paynted byrd, that keepes a pecocks pace,
A lothsome lowt, that lookes like tinkers dog,
A hellish hownd, a swinish hatefull hog

That grunts and groanes, at euery thing it sees,
And holds vp snowt, like pig that coms from draffe.
Why should I make, of pride all these degrees,
That first tooke roote, from filthy drosse and chaffe,
And makes men stay, vpon a broken staffe?
No weakenes more, than thinke to stand vpright,
When stumbling blocke, makes men to fall downe right.

Hee needes must fall, that looks not where hee goes,
And on the starrs, walkes staring goezling like:
On sodayne oft, a blostring tempest bloes,
Than downe great trees, are tumbled in the dike.

508

Who knowes the time, and howre when God will strike?
Then looke about, and marke what steps yee take,
Before you pace, the pilgrimage yee make.

Run not on head, as all the worlde were youres,
Nor thrust them backe, that cannot bide a shocke:
Who striues for place, his owne decay procures:
Who alway brawles, is sure to catch a knocke:
Who beards a King, his head is neere the blocke:
But who doth stand, in feare, and worldly dreede,
Ere mischiefe coms, had neede to take good heede.

I hauing hap, did make account of none,
But such as fed, my humour good or bad.
To fawning doggs, sometimes I gaue a bone,
And flong some scrapps, to such as nothing had:
But in my hands, still kept the golden gad,
That seru'd my turne, and laught the rest to skorne,
As for himselfe, was Cardnall Wolsey borne.

No, no, good men, wee liue not for our selues,
Though each one catch, as mutch as hee may get:
Wee ought to looke, to those that diggs and delues,
That alwayes dwell, and liue in endles det.
Yf in such sort, wee would our compas set,
Wee should haue loue, where now but hate wee finde,
And hedstrong will, with cruell hollow minde.

I thought nothing, of duty, loue, or feare,
I snatcht vp all, and alwayes sought to clime:
I punisht all, and would with no man beare,
I sought for all, and so could take the time.
I plide the Prince, whiles Fortune was in prime,
I fild the bags, and gold in hoorde I heapt,
Thought not on those, that thresht the corne I reapt.

509

So all I lost, and all I gat was nought,
And all by pride, and pompe lay in the dust:
I aske you all, what man aliue had thought,
That in this world, had beene so litle trust?
Why, all thinges heare, with time decline they must.
Than all is vaine, so all not worth a flye,
Yf all shall thinke, that all are borne to dye.

Yf all bee bace, and of so small a count,
Why doe wee all, in folly so abound?
Why doe the meane, and mighty seeke to mount,
Beyonde all hope, where is no surety found,
And where the wheele, is alwayes turning round?
The case is plaine, if all bee vnderstood,
Wee are so vaine, wee knowe not what is good.

Yet some will say, when they haue heapes of golde,
With flocks of friends, and seruaunts at theyr call,
They liue like Gods, in pleasure treble folde,
And haue no cause, to finde no fault at all.
O blinde conceite, these gloryes are but small,
And as for friends, they change their mindes so mych,
They stay not long, with neither poore nor rich.

With hope of friends, our selues wee do deceaue,
With feare of foes, we threatned are in sleepe:
But friends speake fayre, yet men alone they leaue
To sinke or swim, to mourne, to laugh, or weepe.
Yet whan foe smiles, the snake begins to creepe,
As world falles out, these dayes in compasse iust,
Wee knowe not howe, the friend or foe to trust.

Both can betray, the truest man aliue,
Both are to doubt, in matters of greate weight,
Both will somtime, for goodes and honour striue,
Both seemeth playne, yet both can shewe great sleight,

510

Both stoups full lowe, yet both can looke on height,
And best of both, not worth a cracked crowne:
Yet least of both, may loase a walled towne.

Talke not of frends, the name thereof is nought,
Then trust no foes, if frendes theire credit loes:
If foes and frendes, of on bare earth were wrought,
Blame nere of both, though both one nature shoes,
Grace passeth kinde, where grace and vertue floes,
But where grace wantes, make foes and frends alike,
The on drawes sworde, the other sure will strike.

I prou'd that true, by tryall twenty times,
When Wolsey stoode, on top of Fortunes wheele:
But such as to, the height of ladder climes,
Knowe not what led, lies hanging on theire heele,
Tell mee my mates, that heauy Fortune feele,
Yf rising vp, breede not a gyddy brayne,
And faling downe, bee not a greuous payne.

I tolde you how, from Cawood I was led,
And so fell sicke, when I arested was:
What needeth nowe, more wordes heere in bee sed?
I knewe full well, I must to pryson passe,
And sawe my state, as brittell as a glasse:
So gaue vp ghost, and bad the worlde farewell,
Where in, God wot, I could no longer dwell.

Thus vnto dust, and ashes I returnde,
When blase of life, and vitall breath went out,
Like glowing cole, that is to sinders burnde:
All fleshe and bloud, so ende, you neede not dout.
But when the bruite, of this was blowne aboute,
The worlde was glad, the Cardnall was in graue,
This is of worlde, lo all the hope wee haue.

511

Full many a yeare, the world lookt for my fall,
And whan I fell, I made as great a cracke,
As doth an oake, or mighty tottring wall,
That whirling winde, doth bring to ruin and wracke.
Now babling world, wil talke behinde my backe
A thousand things, to my reproache and shame:
So will it to, of others do the same.

But what of that? the best is wee are gone,
And worst of all, when wee our tales haue tolde,
Our open plagues, will warning bee to none,
Men are by hap, and courage made so bolde:
They thinke all is, theyr owne, they haue in holde.
Well, let them say, and thinke what thing they please,
This weltring world, both flowes and ebs like seas.

University of Virginia Library

TRAGEDIES OF THE 1559 EDITION

The fall of Robert Tresilian chiefe Iustice of Englande, and other his felowes, for misconstruyng the lawes, and expounding them to serue the Princes affections.

Howe the two Rogers, surnamed Mortimers, for theyr sundry vices ended theyr lyues vnfortunatelye.

Howe syr Thomas of Wudstocke Duke of Glocester, vncle to king Richarde the seconde, was vnlawfully murdred.

Howe the Lorde Mowbray promoted by Kyng Richarde the seconde, was by hym banyshed the Realme, and dyed miserably in exyle.

Howe kyng Richarde the seconde was for his euyll gouernaunce deposed from his seat, and miserably murdred in prison.

Howe Owen Glendour seduced by false prophesies tooke vpon him to be prince of Wales, and was by Henry then prince therof, chased to the mountaynes, where he miserably dyed for lacke of foode.

How Henry Percy Earle of Northhumberland, was for his couetous and trayterous attempt put to death at Yorke.

How Richard erle of Cambridge entending the kinges destruction was put to death at Southhampton.

How Thomas Montague the earle of Salysbury in the middes of his glory, was chaunceably slayne with a piece of ordinaunce.

How king Iames the first for breaking his othes and bondes, was by gods suffrauns miserably murdred of his owne subiectes.

How Lorde William Delapole Duke of Suffolke was worthily punyshed for abusing his Kyng and causing the destruction of good Duke Humfrey.

How Iacke Cade traiterously rebelling agaynst his Kyng, was for his treasons and cruell doinges wurthely punyshed.

How Richard Plantagenet duke of York was slayne through his over rash boldnes, and his sonne the earle of Rutland for his lack of valiauns.

How the lord Clyfford for his straunge and abhominable cruelty, came to as straunge and sodayne a death.

The infamous ende of Lord Iohn Tiptoft Earle of Wurcester, for cruelly executing his princes butcherly commaundementes.

How sir Richard Nevell Earle of Warwike, and his brother Iohn Lord Marquise Mountacute through their to-much boldnes wer slayne at Barnet field.

How king Henry the syxt a vertuous prince, was after many other miseries cruelly murdered in the Tower of London.

How George Plantagenet third sonne of the Duke of Yorke, was by his brother King Edward wrongfully imprisoned, and by his brother Richard miserably murdered.

How king Edward through his surfeting and vntemperate life, sodainly died in the mids of his prosperity.

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN THE EDITION OF 1563

How Sir Anthony Wudvile Lorde Rivers and Skales, Gouernour of prince Edward, was with his Neuew Lord Richard Gray and other causeles imprisoned, and cruelly murdered.

Howe the Lord Hastynges was betrayed by trustyng to much to his evyl counsayler Catesby, and vilanously murdered in the tower of London by Richarde Duke of Glocestre.

The Induction.

The complaynt of Henrye duke of Buckingham.

Howe Collingbourne was cruelly executed for making a foolishe rime.

How Richard Plantagenet duke of Glocester, murdered his brothers children vsurping the crowne, and in the third yeare of his raygne was most worthely deprived of life and kingdome in Bosworth playne by Henry Earle of Richemond after called king Henry the .vii.

Howe Shores wife, Edwarde the fowerthes concubine, was by king Richarde despoyled of all her goodes, and forced to do open penance.

The tragedie of Edmund duke of Somerset, slayne at the first battayle at Saynct Albanes, in the tyme of Henrye the sixte.

The wilfull fall of Blacke Smyth, and the foolishe ende of the Lord Awdeley.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN THE EDITION OF 1578

HOW DAME ELIANOR COBHAM Duchesse of Glocester for practising of witchcraft and Sorcery, suffred open penance, and after was banished the realme into the yle of Man.

HOW HVMFREY PLANTAGENET Duke of Glocester Protector of England, during the minoritie of his Nephue kinge Henrye the sixt, (commonlye called the good Duke) by practise of enemies was brought to confusion.

TRAGEDIES ADDED IN IN THE EDITION OF 1587

HOW THE VALIANT KNIGHT Sir Nicholas Burdet, Chiefe Butler of Normandy, was slayne at Pontoise, Anno 1441.

THE LAMENTATION OF KING IAMES the fourth, King of Scots, slayne at Brampton, in the fiuthe yeare of King Henry the eight, Anno Christi, 1513.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The bataile of Brampton, or Floddon fielde, faught in the yeare of our Redeemer 1513. and in the fiuth yeare of the raygne of that victorious prince, King Henry the eyght.[_] The attribution of this poem is questionable.

HOW THOMAS WOLSEY did arise vnto great authority and gouernment, his maner of life, pompe, and dignity, and how hee fell downe into great disgrace, and was arested of high treason.

The wilfull fall of Blacke Smyth, and the foolishe ende of the Lord Awdeley.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

THE LAMENTATION OF KING IAMES the fourth, King of Scots, slayne at Brampton, in the fiuthe yeare of King Henry the eight, Anno Christi, 1513.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.

The bataile of Brampton, or Floddon fielde, faught in the yeare of our Redeemer 1513. and in the fiuth yeare of the raygne of that victorious prince, King Henry the eyght.
[_]

The attribution of this poem is questionable.