KING IAMES HIS WELCOME TO LONDON. With Elizaes Tombe and Epitaph, And our Kings triumph and epitimie. Lamenting the ones decease, And reioycing at the others accesse. ‘Gaudia cum lachrymis iungamus, seria ludis.’ Written by I. F.
Imprinted at London for Thomas Pauier. 1603.
¶King Iames his welcome to London.
HAyle England? I salute thee with a toung,
By whom thy fortunes with applause are soūg,
I greete thee in the pride of all thy boast;
And in thy hope, whereof thou gloriest most.
Yet, am I not so pampered in my straines,
As to exclude all discontented vaines?
And yet not discontented but bewayling,
The losse of her, for whom my pen is fayling.
Let then Melpom [...]ne amongst the rest,
Tune models fitting for a greeued brest.
Some melancholly intermixt with ioy:
Hinders that too much mirth not ouercloy.
Sweete, sweetely mingled with some sharper tast:
Makes that the sweetenesse doth the longer last.
As pleasing onely fit's the present season;
So shall our notes complaine not beyond reason?
[Page] Onely we will remember our late Queene,
Whose like before was neuer heard not seene.
Least we forget whom many haue forgot,
Who while she liu'd we lou'd, but dead, recke not.
Such is our nature, we no longer care
For gems, then whiles they shew richly and rare.
Wee fancy straight forgoe within an houre.
Yet let vs not doe so by this faire floure?
Who was the very honour of true fame,
In hir did shine the light of vertues name,
Shee was the pride of matchlesse pietie;
For feruent zeale she was a dietie.
She was the hope, wherein true hope did trust,
She was the burnisht blade without all rust.
She was the ancour of firme setled peace,
She learnings stipend onely did increase,
She was the loue of these whom loue did loue,
In her the Planets of all grace did moue.
She was the wonder of all forraigne nations,
For louing truth and hating reprobations. She was,
Fames pride, hopes ancour, loues loue, wonders wonder,
From liuing fame, hope, loue, now put asunder.
What neede I speake in termes so knowne and plaine,
But in a word vertue did in her raigne;
In vertuous wedlocke she was true begot,
Borne, taught, brought vp in vertues throne she sat.
[Page] And while she liu'd she gaue God vertuous praise,
And vertuouslie she ended hath her dayes.
O happy Iewell whilst God lent her vs?
But happier we who haue inioy'd her thus.
Had we but thought vpon our happie state,
We would haue more accusd our haplesse fate.
'Tis not so great a pleasure once to choose,
As hauing chos'n againe his choice to loose.
I muse at those who with a double face,
Did honour past, but present times embrace?
I wonder how these Ianus-Scicophants,
Whose two toungd mouthes onely colloging haunts?
Can with such boldnesse, and such enuies store,
Seeke to disgrace her whom they did adore.
O those who haue an oare for euery boate,
Whose long hang'd toungs with euery thought doth float.
They which can change their tunes with euery winde,
And with each gull seeme to resolue their minde,
What pest's they are, how much to be reiected,
Let wisemen iudge, by whom they are detected.
These flattering Parasites, these fawning curs,
(Whose policie dishonest dealing blurs)
Could say in times past; then the golden time
Then, then, the golden age did onely shine:
And now can proudly speake, that Saturns prime,
Was neuer truely till this present time.
[Page] Peace buzzing drones? your humming is harsh musicke,
You minister dregg's, where is no neede of Phisicke.
Confesse with shame, Elizaes happy raigne
Will neuer ouer-matched be againe.
But yet farre be it from my erred scooling?
To make compare with high King Iames his ruling?
Whose wisedome well I vnderstand is such,
As at Elizaes prayse he will not grutch,
Whose peacefull regiment (as his owne booke sayes)
Was neuer matched since Augustus dayes.
What neede we seeke an author of more worth?
When by our King himselfe it is set foorth?
Sleepe then Elizabeth in peace and rest?
Sing loud amongst the Angels with the best?
For in his booke we now thy praise may reade,
Who doth thee in thy seate by right succeede.
Now rise my muse sing with a louder voyce?
And let thy song make a more ioyfull noyse?
HAile then King Iames? I greete thee with a toung?
Euen that whose meaning is from duty sproung,
Nor can my muse doe mee a greater pleasure?
Rather then sing thy welcomes without measure
I will by that shew how my minde is loyall,
Else should I much forget a Prince so royall.
[Page] Thee to salute with clap's of hands, my quill
Hath now extended euen her vtmost skill.
O that I had but Homer's ancient vaine?
Making my verses prayse my labours gaine?
And had I else but Horace his wits springs?
Singing Maecenas borne of ancient kings?
Excuse me yet great prince? Ile reape a gleaning,
Deuising artlesse welcomes with true meaning.
Willing to shew my willingnesse of minde,
Although ability small meanes can finde,
Ritch is our hope, and our assurance great,
Doubt is expul'st, giuing resolue the seate.
Ignoble breach of promise fit's with clownes?
And kingly promises kings and kingly crownes,
Nor should a Prince harbour a base intent,
Excepting not his speech but what he meant,
Elizabeth? now I remember thee?
Richard the third and thou did disagree?
She what she promis'd she perform'd, but he
Vsed naught but breach of word and treachery.
She? ô me thinkes my pen could neuer slide:
And in her praises euer could abide,
Nor could I euer any other sing,
Nor thinke on ought but her, except our king,
I am surprised with her Idea still,
Oft studying how I might augment my skill.
[Page] Husht? I am silent? I will speake no more?
Adding no Razors to a new cut soare.
Nor neede I a Phisition, all prooues ease:
Nought ministreth occasion to displease.
Except much rest, much peace, much good, much quiet,
Security and safety growes a riot.
For all the hopes which Papistry expected,
Or else the triumphs to reuenge erected,
Roisters and murtherers, are cleane put downe:
Dispayring, when they heare Iames weares the Crowne.
Enmity, vproares, hope of ciuill broyles,
Sedition, mutiny, domesticke coyles.
Are now made voide; they haue tooke needelesse paine,
Lurking conspirators conspir'd in vaine.
Least then constraint should praises due importune,
Loe thus great King I doe applaude thy fortune.
IN ancient times, Kings that possest this throane,
First fought to get, then to defend the Crowne.
Richard the second, that vnhappy Prince,
By Henry Bullinbrooke was driuen thence.
But in the third degree, Bullinbrookes race,
From out the throne the Duke of Yorke did chase.
Great were the troubles, bloody the debate,
Twixt Lancaster and Yorke, but more the hate.
[Page] The Duke himselfe was slaine, but then his sonne,
Edward the Earle of March new wars begunne.
Soone he attain'd his hope, when most vneuen,
Crooke-backe gaue Henries soule apasse to heauen.
So dyed the Prophet by the fatall hand:
Of the remorselesse butcher of this land.
After whom, Yorkes heire, Edward was proclaimed,
And by the fourth of that name he raigned.
But yet in trouble, hazard, doubt, and feare,
For mocking VVarwick, that first brought him there.
Whom when he had o'rethrowne, and liu'd in peace:
Yet could not priuate grudge, and enuie cease.
His brothers scorn'd his marriage, scoft his Queene,
For that of higher bloud she had not beene.
Enuying his issue after him should sway:
But Richard Gloster made them sure away.
And for an easier passe his will to further,
His elder brother Clarence first did murther.
And after Edwards death (the King his brother)
The two young Princes he in the Tower did smoother.
When loe he got the crowne: but with what feare?
When he had got it he the same did weare?
And with what tyrannie? well it is knowne,
And in the Chronicles most plainly showne.
Till worthy Richmond, pittying Englands state,
Sued for his owne, resolu'd to trie his fate.
[Page] When he in battayle ouerthrew this deuill,
And loosed England from a peerlesse euill.
Hee married Edwards daughter, ioyn'd in one
Lancaster and Yorke, the houses of renowne.
Th [...]n was all peace concluded, all stu [...]s ceased,
Contention grew faint, onely truce increased:
In time of which, this worthy Richmonds Earle,
Had two young Princes, and one Princely gerle.
Margret by name, from out whose lineall race
Thou didst discend, and iustly claim'st thy place.
Enioy it to thy ioy: gladly confesse:
How from thy Font run streames of happinesse?
For Kings which I haue named, first attain'd
Their seats with blood, and still in feare they raign'd.
Yea Richmonds worthy selfe sate not so sure:
But traytors still rebellion did procure.
And Henry his successor (though renown'd)
Sought how to make his weake religion sound.
When with much toyle he did from England banish,
The Popish crew, whose fraud like smoake did vanish,
Leauing his heire in Protestancie learned:
Who after his decease the same confirmed.
But soone was he cropt off, such was his course,
Death had on peerelesse Edward no remorse.
When after him, came Mary to the crowne,
Religion then, and former rites went downe.
[Page] Sword, death, blood, fire, ruled then this Ile,
No gracious fortune lent a gracious smile.
Trouble on trouble, griefe did weigh downe griefe,
In vaine the guiltlesse cride, without reliefe.
Till God our former libertie did inlarge:
Yeelding the Scepter to Elizaes charge,
Who whiles she sway'd it sway'd it with like hand,
As did Titania sway the Fairie land.
Whome Poets faine a Virgin pure and chast,
As by the name of Goddesse she was grast.
Then faire Eliza, as bound by dutie,
Receiue this latest farewell to thy beautie.
A sorrowfull Epitaph on the death of Queene ELIZABETH.
HEere lyesELIZAdead, who liu'd in fame,
Consum'd in body, but refresht in name.
Shee liu'd to age a glasse, to youth a mirror;
Vnto her friends a ioy; to foes a terror.
Shee was the Souldiers captaine, the law's life,
The Churches deerest spouse, the Churchmans wife,
Learnings greene Lawrell, vertues chiefe refector:
Peaces maintainer, onely Truths protector.
The Orphants parents, and the ritchmans stay:
The poore mans comfort, and the nights cleere day.
[Page] The tradsman fauorer, and the marchants gaine;
The sea mans night starre, and the lyers staine,
The pride of all her sex, all womens boast:
The worlds wonder, that they wondred most;
The Courtiers glory, entertaining all
Louers of truth young, old, in generall.
She dy'de bewayld, she iustly liu'd admir'd,
Her body sunke her spotlesse soule aspir'd.
THus (King) the troubles haue I open layde,
Which in the times of former Princes swayde:
How happy then art thou? who with such peace
Hast entered Englands front? whiles turmoyles cease.
Thou art applauded by the vulgar route:
Who put to flight the thoughts of former doubt.
Loe London hath held ope her willing armes:
To shadow thee from false conspired harmes,
What they indeuour, onely is to finde,
How they with Pageants may content thy minde.
The Northren gates fly ope to entertaine
A happy guider to a happy raigne.
The busie scholler throwes aside his booke.
Glutting his halfe suncke eyes at thee to looke.
The Marchant lets his getting gaines goe by:
Finding more hope of gaine within thine eye.
[Page] The souldier lets his weapons now to rust:
Nor to the spilling of more blood dooth trust,
But pleaseth most in peace, and craues a place
Whereas he may behold thy princely face.
The plowman leaues his oxe to grasse, whiles he
Thy countenance indeuoureth to see.
The poore artificer now growes so bolde
To slacke his worke, thy presence to be hold.
The Gentleman, the matron, maide, and wife,
The aged man, and youth, prayes for thy life,
The nobleman, the comminalty, and all
Reioyce at sight of thee in generall.
The Phonix that of late fled to the skies
Hath left her ashes, from whence doth arise
Another Phoenix, rare, vnmatcht, vnpeered,
Vnto whose loue, loue is it selfe indeered.
Then welcome (noble Iames) with my owne voyce:
Thinke thy whole monarchy ioyntly reioyce.
More welcome neuer Sylla triumph't Rome,
Then (mighty King) thou doost to London come.
O now such Prophets as in ancient times,
Foretolde of things to come (in broken rimes)
Me thinkes such south-sayers should againe reuiue,
Telling how happily Englands choyce should thriue.
O would my toung auguriously could speake?
Or into fortunate predictions breake?
[Page] That I might Merlin like foretell such things,
Whose issue truth to follow ages brings.
Yet rightly this I boldly dare avow:
England was neare established till now.
Now may we proudly boast we neede not feare,
We haue a King, and this same King an heire
A toward Prince (if fame be true) or rather
A vertuous sonne sprung from from a vertuous father.
Long may he liue, a furtherer of our ioy,
And when he raignes, raigne still without annoy.
Blest be his match, his issue so increase,
As we may still inioy an endlesse peace.
By which we may tryumph thou tookest in hand,
The gouernement of this our English land.
So as the Romanes Romulus did call,
The first foundator of their City wall.
Or as Aeneas Latines term'd to be,
The chiefest father of their progeny:
And first found Captaine of their Italy:
Or Bruite the Patron of our Brittany:
So after ages may in time to come,
Call thee the Romulus of their English Rome,
Thou shalt be our Aeneas the first grounder,
Of all our setled stay, our hopes first founder.
We thinke nor Samothes, nor on Bruits name:
But attribute their entrance to thy fame.
[Page] For as some worthy man which hath effected,
Some worke of charity, or a house erected.
To loue imploy'd in some religious vse:
Where vertue may be paiz'd without abuse.
As he (I say) is highly to be praised,
And haue his worth with glorious trumpet raised.
Yet if the same decay and with much charge,
Another do the same againe inlarge.
Then is the benefactor onely thought,
The onely sole foundator and as oft.
As it decayes and is repai'd, by lot,
The last is praised, the former is forgot.
Yet sure 'tis better surely once to found it,
Then many times vncertainely to ground it.
Euen so (great prince) it doth befall with thee:
For well we now coniecture thou art he.
Who art the benefactor to our land,
Who when it would haue fallen thou mad'st it stand.
For as for Samothes, we let him passe,
Nor doe we call to minde what Bruite once was:
But thee we thinke to be the very same,
That didst not onely chase but kildst the game.
We thinke thee mortall, subiect to the stroake,
Of sure vnpartiall death, and to his yoake.
But yet we hope thy issue will so stretch,
As that it will euen to the worlds end reach.
[Page] For we haue neither cause to doubt or moane,
But now may build our house of lime and stone.
Fulfild the Prophecie is now at last,
The fleete of Norway is both come and past.
Then frolicke England, sport in lawfull games,
Make roome to entertaine matchlesse king Iames,
Shine bright with bonfires: let Bels ring aloude,
And of our fortunes let vs all be proude?
Trumpets fill all the ayre with your high voyce,
And let the Cornets make a sweet shrill noyse.
Mourners put hence your weeds of black: put on
Garments of Red and Yellow your backs vpon.
Let vs no more despaire? lets seeke to please,
Our fate is firmer then chaunce can disease.
I must confesse that in Elizaes prime,
We neuer did enioy a happier time.
But yet we were vncertaine, how our state
Might after her discease be wrongd by fate.
Shee was a Maiden Princes, and her life
Was neuer fashion'd to be christned wife:
But now (O blessed now) we haue a King:
From whom both grace, peace, hope, and heires doe spring.
A King like to the Sunne, whose course doth stay,
Darkned to night, but shines againe next day.
Or for his issues certaintie, I dare
His off-springs firmnesse to the Moone compare.
[Page] Who hauing long time gloriouslie aduaunst,
Hir choisest brightnesse, and a great while daunst,
Within the spherie circle of the skie,
Doth mildly at the last decrease and dye.
Yet not so vtterly extinguished,
As that she is for euer dim'd and dead,
But she at length at euery open view,
Doth rise againe, and former light renew.
So may thy heires continue, though by course
Death crops them one by one, without remorse,
Yet the one dead, the other shall succeed,
And as the old doth die, the young shall breed.
Whose race (if like to thee) may ne're be done,
Before there be an end of Moone and Sunne.
Thus much (high Prince) I doe prognosticate,
As one fore-tolde by an assured fate.
The first beginning, likewise waranst the ending,
Thy fortunes will be happily extending-
Eliza died in Winter, left the Spring,
To entertaine (with greater ioy) a King.
At whose arriuall, loe the trees do bud,
Saying our fruites in haruest will prooue good:
The Nightingale doth sing, so chirps the Larke,
The aged Oakes put on a fresher barke,
The day growes longer-ag'd, the night growes old,
Withering by flourishing is now contrould.
[Page] Looke how the Vine who hath a great while droopt,
Looke how the Grasse who hath a great while stoopt:
Looke how each flower long time withered?
And looke how all these haue fresh colours gathered?
Who onely doe reioyce to this intent,
That they might gratulate thy late aduent.
If therefore Plants and birds haue watcht their season:
Far much more cause haue men which haue more reason.
If God to sencelesse things such turnes appointed?
Shall not we greete him whom God hath annointed?
O yes, come let vs ring a peale of thankes?
Setting aside all toyish minicke prankes?
And let vs seriouslie imploy our toungs
With crying welcoms, singing ioyfull songs.
That euery sillable may distinctly sound:
And like an Ecchoes voyce againe rebound.
No doubt it is a pleasure to a King:
To see his subiects welcoms to him sing.
So (mightie Iames) do thine, as doth appeare
By all the troopes which are assembled heere.
See how in clusters they march through the streets,
To welcome (louing) thee with loyall greets.
London growes proude this wise to entertaine,
And thee within her maiden walls containe.
Looke how the English nation thether swarme?
As like a Hiue to keepe the Bee from harme.
[Page] The Bee, the matchlesse Bee, that brings such hony,
Whose like can ne're be found for gem nor mony.
He that brings honie to the emptie hiue:
By whose whole industrie slothfull we thriue.
Which to requite, thy rewarde is the hearts,
Of all thy subiects, which their loue imparts:
The aged matron, and the ancient men,
Doe as it were assume their youth agen.
Onely to welcome thee, and with one voyce
In loue and zeale all ioyntly to reioyce.
Yea which is more, the babes by tokens greete thee:
And as by signes of loue in loue doe meete thee.
Giuing to Maiestie his lawfull dew:
As prophesing of gladnesse to ensue.
Wherefore haile (worthy King) the end shall proue,
How much our dutie will display our loue.
And for thy care, onely our obedience
Shall be a meanes to make thee recompence.
Our tender of thy health, our loyaltie,
Shall shew how we adore thy royaltie.
Our long and tedious streets, shall seeme but short:
The length of way shall be beguild by sport.
The day in pleasure shall be spent, the night
In pleasing slumbers summon shall the light.
So shall thy long breath'd iorney be repaide
With sweete delights, and wearinesse allaide.
[Page] Kinde wholesome ayres shall wihsper in thine eare,
And wary guard chase all suspect of feare.
As sleepes the Larke safe in the hollow ground:
Voyd of suspition euer to be found.
So shall thy guarders thee from harme protect,
Vaine shall they striue who giue cause of suspect.
The greedy Dogge in Aesop vainely snatch't at,
When as the seeming piece of flesh he catcht at.
The foolish cur that at the Moone did lurke:
Or he that tooke the sky as a faire marke.
To shoote at, was deceiu'd, so both in vaine,
Did take an idle and a thankelesse paine.
So (honour'd Maiesty) I thinke twill be,
With those that aime at such a marke as thee.
I meane those traitors, who through enuies spight,
When most they fawne, doe chiefely fawne to bite.
And yet when all is done, their owne intent,
Still proues vnto their owne destruction bent.
I speake not that I iudge or know of any:
Although the like haue hapned oft with many.
But what I speake my duty doth me mooue,
And I am linked with a bond of loue.
Who seemed to Darius more amorous,
Then Bessus? yet who proou'd more trecherous?
Whose loue to Caesar euer seem'd more sound,
Then Brutus? yet who gaue a deeper wound?
[Page] So often fal's it out that deerest friends,
Be they that most malicious hate pretends.
AEgiptian theeues are said for to imbrace men,
That they with lesse suspition might downe race them.
So Philist's low in hope at length to strangle,
And they who seeme most spruce oft times most wrangle.
But why stand I vpon such points precise,
When (King) I know thy selfe art far more wise.
Experienced how to auoyd allures:
Whose hony curtesie but gall procures.
I am to fond: yet King suppose my loue,
And inward duty doth these passions mooue.
No passions, but integrity, and zeale,
Tendering by thy welfare the common weale.
For why? vpon thy safty doth depend,
The publicke losse, thy losse, thy health our friend.
Thou art the Sunne that melt's our Winter shewers,
The pleasure that mak'st short the tedious houres
The hope of all our spring, our Authums crop:
Our faulters crutch: our onely stay and prop.
Thy gladnesse is our ioy, thy ioy our gladnesse,
Thy sorrow is our griefe, thy griefe our sadnesse.
And if thou shouldst miscary (which far be it,
That euer any subiect liue to see it.)
We likewise then are frustrated, and lost:
And like a mastlesse ship amid'st waues tost.
[Page] Thou must be our ships mast, our sun-shines day,
Our Spring, our authum, and our pleasing May.
What we delight in, must be to behold,
The blossom's of thy vertue vncontrould,
Thy peacefull gouernement must our chiefe hopes nourish,
And like to watred plants vnder thee flourish.
Much like to wandring sheepe which ran astray,
From out their limits of their wonted way.
Or like to souldiers that haue marcht headlong:
And in disordered troupes togeather throng.
The first because a shepheard they did lacke,
The last for wanting Captaines went to wracke.
Euen so in very like same case should we,
Runne without order, were it not for thee.
Thou art our kingdomes shepheard, and our guide,
A brest plate and a captaine to our side.
Now as for Rome, or proud insulting Spaine,
We holde contemptible in high disdaine.
We feare no threatning of our forraine foes,
But are most ready prest to worke their woes.
Then let vs all reioyce, and once againe,
And euer bid Iames welcome to his raigne.
Then welcome (map of worth) behold my pen,
Is armed with the greeting tongues of men.
Who with a liuely noyse throw vp their caps:
Filling their harts with ioy their hands with claps.
[Page] All crie God saue thee. Poets with their quil's,
To welcome thee, haue showne their chiefest skils.
An on heroyicke art man, more to grace thee,
Drawing thy discent, with former Kings doth place thee.
Another with Encomius doth praise thee,
And with a Princes meriting trumpe doth raise thee,
Another in a souldiers wish doth greete thee.
Another sends his welcomming looke to meete thee.
Another weeping, yet in teares reioyced,
Others in Eligyes laugh when thou art noysed,
Another bids thee welcome in Englands name,
In thy ariuall another tells the same.
Another with great ioy doth gladly sing,
His aue Caesar: or God saue the King,
Another in Melpomenes weeping teares,
Euen at thy name abandons former feares.
Another cries out against Atropos,
For sweete Elizaes death, and Delias losse.
Yet ioying in thee, another all to torne,
Greets thee'n a garment thats by shepheards worne.
A proper worke of learned Poetry?
Of Oratory: Proase? and Heraldry?
A rare conceited piece of worke no doubt?
Whose sharpe conceite younger conceites doth flout,
Well he is learned, and were I but able,
He should eate bread from out Augustus stable.
[Page] But many worthier Poets more beside,
With health and happinesse may thee betide.
And limping I come last: amongst the rest,
Wishing like welcoms to thee with the best.
Though I vnable yet this giues reliefe,
To welcome thee asswageth former griefe:
I must confesse, my Pen hath tooke a nap,
But newly in the Muses sugred lap.
The first it dropt was teares, but my reflection,
Soone gaue her weeping notes, a sweete refection.
Which to regreet, the last and least it kept
To salutations, and no more it wept.
But being almost dull, amaine it cride:
Haile Kingly Iames, foes terror, Englands pride.
FINIS.