King Edward the 2 surnamed Carnaruen was crouned att westminster at the 22 yere of his age the 24 of febru 1 [...]03 he Raigned 19 yere 6 monethes was deposed the 25 of Ianuvarius 1326 he was slayne in the Castle of barkley in the 43 yere of his age

THE DEPLORABLE LIFE AND DEATH▪ of EDWARD the Second, KING of ENGLAND.

Together with the Downefall of the two Vnfortunate Fauorits, GAVESTONE and SPENCER.

Storied in an Excellent Poëm.

LONDON: Printed for Roger Michell. 1628.

THE DEPLORABLE Life and Death, of Edward the Second, KING of ENGLAND.

1
I Sing thy sad disaster, (fatall King)
Carnarvan Edward, second of that name:
Thy Minions pride; thy State ill managing,
Thy Peeres reuolt, the sequell of the same:
Thy Life, thy Death I sing, thy sinne, thy shame;
And how thou were depriued of thy Crowne,
In highest Fortune, cast by Fortune downe.
2
Did I say Fortune? nay by Folly rather,
By vnrespect vnto the rules of State;
For let a Prince assure himselfe, to gather,
As he hath planted, either Loue, or Hate,
Contempt, or Duty; not the workes of Fate;
Much lesse of Fortune, but of due respects,
Two causes, which must needes produce effects.
3
As if a Prince doe lay his platforme right,
And then with courage prosecutes the same;
His ends proue happy; but, by ouer-sight,
He that is weake, wholy subuerts the frame
Of his owne building, and doth idly blame
Fortune, which wise men make to wait on them:
But for a way-ward Mistrisse, fooles condemne.
4
In which Discourse, if I shall hap to touch
Those faults; that in our time are frequent growne,
Let not the gauld offender, winch or grudge?
For I intend a priuate wrong to none:
Onely I would haue those same errours knowne;
By which the State, did then to ruine runne,
That (warn'd by theirs) our age like sins might shun.
5
Nor doe I meane to bound my selfe so much,
As onely for to tye me to those times:
The causes, courses, consequents i'le touch
Of latter ages, and of their designes;
And if detractions breath, doth blast my lines:
Be it, for me, I haue for my defence,
The priuy coate of harmlesse innocence.
6
And thou (great King) that now dost weild our State,
Building on that, which former times did square,
Oh let it not be thought to derogate
From thy perfections, (admirable rare)
If I some errors of these times declare:
Sure neuer State was so precisely good,
But faults haue scap'd, which could not be withstood.
7
For men are not like God, compleat Diuine,
Whom neither passions mooue, nor errors blinde;
Who is not limitted with any time,
Nor tyde to meanes, nor into place confinde;
But free in all, no counter-check doth finde,
But worketh all in all, and nothing ill
To contradict the least part of his will.
8
Whereas our humane actions are all mixt,
Men liue in motion, so do their designes,
Nothing is simply good, or firmely fixt;
All haue defects, nature it selfe declines:
Darknesse oft clouds the clearest Sunne that shines:
Our purest streames are not without their mud,
And we mistake what oft we take for good.
9
Besides, Kings needs must see with others eies,
From whence mistaking cannot choose but spring,
And when th'offence from errors doth arise;
Why should men cast the enuy on the King,
And not on those that mis-informe the thing?
This is the gall most banes the Kingly Throne,
That, of his faults, the least part is his owne.
10
For he himselfe is blamelesse oft, (God knowes)
Except it be, because he doth not know
The noted scandals, that arise from those,
On whom he doth his fauours most bestow,
Which they abusing, discontents may grow
Against the Prince, though not deseruing them:
So apr we are, euen goodnesse to condemne.
11
Nor must we with a coale, straight marke or brand
A Prince or State, because of some defect:
Who can be free from Sulley (if't so stand)
But that same Prince or State deserues respect,
Whose actions doth in generall effect,
And ayme at good; for in particulets,
None can be so compleate, but often erres.
12
And much are they deceiu'd that thinke to finde,
A State without a blemish, or a stayne,
Conceite may cast Ideas in the minde,
And forge strange formes (not practis'd in the braine,)
But States consist of men, and men retaine
This natiue badge, which vnto all doth cleaue,
That is, to be deceiu'd, and to deceiue.
13
The warlike Trumpet (sounding to the fight,)
Commands the hearing more, then doth the reed,
Each eye is fixed on the Eagles flight,
When little Wrens deserue not any heed;
The greatest men shall haue the greatest meed:
Marke who so list, and they shall finde it tride,
That all mens eares to Princes tongues are tide.
14
Then let the World attend King Edwards words;
The second Edward (matter fit for moane,)
Whose smiles gaue life, whose frownes did wound like swords
Whilst hee did sit vpon the Kingly Throne,
Not minded now nor mean'd by any one.
So time cuts downe (we see) with fatall blow,
Aswell proud Oakes, as humble shrubs below.
15
Imagine with your selues, you see him come,
From forth the deepe darke cauerns of the earth,
Starued and pin'd, nothing but skin and bone,
In Princely plenty, suffering want and dearth,
As naked as an infant at his birth:
So pinching need doth pluck, what pride doth plant,
And wastfull ryot, is repayd with want.
16
And thus poore Prince begins his Tragicke plaint,
Am I the same that was first Edwards sonne,
By nature borne to liue without restraint?
Were there for me so many Trophies won,
By Long-shankes? and such great atchiuements done:
I am the same, and he so great did leaue me,
As none (I thought) of greatnesse could bereaue me.
17
But now I finde by proofe, that one there is,
And well it is, that there is such a one,
Who is not hood-winckt vnto our amisse,
And he can pull vs from our Kingly Throne,
For all our Guards, our Forts, our Walls of Stone.
Know King, how great and powerfull thou be,
The King of Kings still ruleth ouer thee.
18
I know that nature, (apt to ouer-weene)
May easly straine a Princes thoughts too high▪
I know it is, and euermore hath beene,
A common course to flatter Maiesty,
Greatnesse is apt to swim in Surcudrie;
Yet though like hils we ouer-looke low grounds,
All vertuous Kings confesse they haue their bounds.
19
And therefore though we haue Prerogatiues,
Yet there are certaine limits to the same,
Which hinders Kings to be Superlatiues,
To sway (as Gods Lieutenants) this faire frame,
And those Aspirers merit Death and shame,
That do repine against those Supreame powers,
Whom God hath made his vnderlings, not ours.
20
And yet, although their State be free from force,
That giues not Lawlesse liberty in all:
Kings must obserue a iust and rightfull course:
God is their King, by whom they stand, or fall,
And euery Act, vnto account will call:
Their oath, their vertue, and their owne renowne,
Are Dyamantine chaines to tye a Crowne.
21
And such as are not moou'd with these respects,
But make their might, to serue their will in all:
Leaue them to God, who ruines and erects,
Sets vp a Dauid, and puls downe a Saul:
He prospers, Houses rise; he frownes, they fall:
'Tis not discents, nor swords, nor force, nor fate,
But God supports, and God supplants a State.
22
Nine Kings had ruled since the Conquest here,
Whom I succeeded in a rightfull line:
My father, (all domesticke tumults cleare)
Did Warre, and win in fruitfull Palestine,
This Northerne Sun euen to the East did shine:
The French were fearefull, hearing but his name,
French, Scots, and Turkes, eternised his fame,
23
No Realme but did resound first Edwards praise,
No praise was euer won with more deserts;
And no deserts (though great) could counter-paise,
Much lesse out Ballance, his Heroicke parts:
Mars taught him Armes, the Muses taught him Arts,
Whereby so great he grew, that might there be,
A Ioue on earth, that earthly Ioue was he.
24
A King may leaue his name vnto his Sonne,
But to his Sonne, no King can leaue his Nature:
In outward forme and shape, they may seeme one,
His Posture, Speech, both Countenance and Feature,
May make the Son be thought the selfe-same Creature,
I know in Face, Sonnes may be like the Sires,
But Faces like, haue oft vnlike desires.
25
For why? our bodies made of Humane seede,
Resemble them, whose matter was their making,
Yea so farre forth, as often times we read
Of many griefes hereditary, taking
First roote from Parents loynes, and not forsaking
Their issues issue, vntill many ages
To wofull masters, most vnwelcome Pages.
26
But minds, not cast in any mortall mould,
Infus'd from Heauen, not tide vnto succession,
Are freely left (for so the Maker would)
Vnto his wife, and prouident discretion,
Likesoftned waxe, apt to receiue impression:
But when the forme is once imprinted in,
'Tis hardly lost, what Nature first did win.
27
'Tis somewhat to be borne of Noble seede,
An honest belly beares a hopefull sonne;
But yet (we see) good Parents often breed
A wild and naked issue, which doe runne
Most thriftles courses, till their liues be done:
As was the Sire, the son himselfe will fashion,
Is probable, but yet no demonstration.
28
Which is but truely instanced in mee,
For I was farre vnlike my worthy Sire:
A sowre Crab from sweetest Apple-Tree:
A cloudy smoake, from Sun-bright shining fire,
And that small good, which nature did inspire
By soothing tongues, too soone was turn'd to ill;
So smallest Frost vntimely fruite doth kill.
29
For when men did perceiue my youthfull itch
To vaine delight, and saw my minde affected
But to the flight, where pleasure made the pitch,
How all my Noble studies were neglected,
My youth with ease, my ease with lust infected.
Straight some sow'd pillowes vnder-neath my sin,
And prais'd that most, that I delighted in.
30
Amongst the rest, one Pierce of Gauestone,
French by his Birth, and French by his behauiour,
(One that indeed was second vnto none,)
In winding in himselfe to great mens fauour,
That by their hazard, he might be the safer,
When he did spie the marke, whereat I meant,
Sraight found the meanes, to giue my bow more bent.
31
Wee liu'd together euen from prime of yeares,
Whereby our ioynt affections were combin'd,
The mutuall consort of our infant pheares,
Doth keepe a long possession of the minde,
And many deepe impressions leaues behind:
Wouldst thou haue loue last euen to the tombe,
Then let it take beginning at the Wombe.
32
So hunts the Hound, and so the Hawke doth flye,
As at first entrance they are made and man'd;
And so those springing humours seldome dye,
That in our first conceite ingraued stand,
Though childish loue seeme to be built on sand;
Yet euery one euen in himselfe may proue,
He likes it still, that he at first did loue.
33
Princes, that doe intend your Heires such good,
As shall inable them for to succeede,
And no way to disparrage[?] their high blood:
Oh, let it be your most respectiue heed,
To sow their tender yeares with vertues seede;
For so the well, or ill manured field
As it is til'd, doth Corne, or Cockle yeild.
34
In ure their youth vnto their Peeres commerce,
From whence some seeds of liking first will grow,
Which euen the soule it selfe in time will pierce,
And prooue a constant zeale, from whence will flow
All dutious offices, that men may shew.
And then designes of Princes happiest proue,
When their great Peeres do serue, because thay loue.
35
Besides, there is a secret trust repos'd
In those, whom long assurance hath combin'd,
And when we know how humours are dispos'd,
We frame our Counsells fitter to the minde,
Vnsounded natures sharpest iudgements blind;
And those, we intertaine with difference,
Of whom we haue but small experience.
36
So that to win a trust, to plant a loue,
To gaine a setled seruice of the Peeres:
This is the way which wisest Princes proue,
To glew them close euen in their infant yeares,
And here my Fathers error much appeares,
Who did ingraft mee into Gauestone,
By co-uniting both our loues in one,
37
Hee was in face a Cupid, or more faire;
A Mercury in speech, or else as much:
In Actiue vigor, he was Mars his heire:
In wit Ioue-bred; Minerua was not such;
But all those guilts will not abide the touch,
Except with inward vertues of the mind,
Beauty, and Speech, Strength, Wit, are all refin'd.
38
Why then should Nature set so faire a glosse
Vpon a minde, that sinne doth see deforme?
Why should she gild and polish such base drosse,
As if she did the Soules perfection scorne?
And onely would impiety adorne:
Or else seduce those mindes from iudging right,
Who doe conforme their censure to their sight.
39
But oft we see a sweete and milde aspect,
A comely presence pleasing vnto all;
A Face that seemes all vertue to affect,
Doth hide a heart of stone, a minde of gall,
A crabbed will, a soule to sinne most thrall;
And therefore, he in iudgement shoots awry,
That daily takes his leuell from the eye.
40
Because the glorious inside of the minde,
Hath no dependance on the outward forme:
In which, if erring nature proue vnkinde,
And disproportions do the shape deforme,
She commonly endeauours to reforme:
The bodies errors, with the minds supply,
So richest lems in earths base intrailes lye.
41
The face is false, the looke is but a lyer:
The habit and the heart doe much dissent,
For good pretences cloake a bad desire;
Faire complements do guide a false intent,
Who doth relye on them, may chance repent
Which was my case, and caus'd my ouer-throw.
And I did prize the substance, by the show.
42
If I may vse that word without controule,
If euer any Metempsuchosis was
I thinke, the last Assirian Monarchs soule,
By due discent to Gauestone did passe,
For he a right Sadanapalus was,
Drown'd in delights, if one may terme them so,
That hatch in lust, and breath their last in woe.
43
This highest Scholler in the Schoole of sinne,
This Centaur halfe a Man, and halfe a Beast;
This pleasing Syren, so my soule did winne,
That he was deere to me aboue the rest,
Looke what he sayd, was Gospell at the least:
Looke what he did, I made my President
So soone we learne, what we too late repent.
44
This Angel-Diuell, thus shrin'd in my heart:
This Dragon hauing got the golden Fruite;
My very Soule to him I did impart;
Nor was I euer deafe vnto his suite,
He acted all, I was a silent mute.
My being, seem'd to be in him alone,
Pluntaginet was turn'd to Gauestone.
45
And hauing seized me into his hands,
(For feare belike) that he should be disseaz'd;
He thought to tye me still in straighter bands,
By praysing that where-with my minde was pleas'd,
Affirming that our liues were to be eas'd
Of many cumbers, which the curious wise
Had layd on men, the more to Tyrannize.
46
For what are Lawes but seruile obseruations,
Of this, or that, what pleas'd the makers minde,
The selfe-conceited sowne imaginations,
Of working braines, which did in freedome finde
Our humane State, which they (forsooth) would binde▪
To what they like, what likes not was forbidden:
So Horse and Mule with hit and spur are ridden.
47
Which well inuented Scar-crowes though they serue,
For mud-borne men to keepe them in some awe;
Yet Princes are not borne, so to obserue,
The strickt precisenes of th'incombring Law,
Which their high State to base contempt doth draw:
Kings, made those Lawes, & Kings may break them now,
That pleas'd them then, and this now pleaseth you.
48
No, no (sweet Prince) saith he, there is no Law
Can bind a King, but onely his desire;
And that full well th' Assirian Monarch saw,
Who had, before them, borne consuming fire,
(Emblem of Regall power,) which all admire:
But none must touch for feare of following harmes,
For fire we know consumes as well as warmes.
49
The Spiders web holds fast the silly Flye,
The Hornet breakes it, (like a mighty Lord)
That King of Kings, when he could not vntye
The Gordian knot, deuides it with his Sword;
That act of his, fit matter doth afford
For President, were I, as thou shalt be,
I'de rule the Law, it should not gouerne me.
50
Except it were the golden Law of Nature,
Sweete Nature (sweetest mother of vs all,)
Which hath infus'd thus much to euery Creature,
To loue the Honey, and to loath the Gall:
To serue delight, not to be sorrowes thrall;
For pleasure doth with Nature so agree,
As Bees with Hiue, as Honey with the Bee.
51
For in the Prologue of our Infant play,
Euen in our Cradle, we do crie and yell
For Nurses brest: why so? for food (y'ould say,)
Tis true, and food (say I) doth please vs well,
As hunger seemes to be a second Hell:
So that in truth, the motiue of our crie
Is to be fed, and to be pleas'd thereby.
52
As in our Prologue, so in our next act,
(I meane in childish yeares) who doth not see,
That euery thought of ours, and word, and fact,
Do ayme at sport, at pastime, and at glee
VVhich daily cares, and mighty studies be:
Witnesse the checke, the rods, the blowes we take,
The many blowes, and all for pleasures sake.
53
But when our Youth doth step vpon the Stage,
The sweetest part that any man can play;
Then pleasing loue, and hope (loues pleasing pay)
And courage, hopes attendant night and day,
And Fortune, seldome saying courage may,
VVith full sail'd course doth carry vs amaine,
To seeke the course where full content doth raigne.
54
Not staying here still Nature driues vs on
To new delights, but of a diuets kind,
For middle age to armes will needes begon,
With honors sweet, to feed his hungry minde,
And what is honor but a pleasing winde:
Remember what the famous Grecian saies,
The sweetest musicke is a mans owne praise.
55
Next elder age, and filuer seeming haires,
By Nature run full chase, still after pleasure,
For (oh) the solace of the wayning yeares,
To view their ruddocks, and their heapes of treasure,
To weigh and tell their gold at euery leasure.
For great it is, speak they that rather choose,
Gold should loose them, then they their gold should loose.
56
The Epilogue of all our former time,
More hunts for ioy, then any of the rest,
Decrepite age doth pray before the prime,
VVith fearefull eies, and knockes vpon the brest,
And giues his Almes to them that are distrest:
And what's his end? that he might Heauen obtaine:
And what is Heauen? pleasure voide of paine.
57
And as the minde hath motions to effect,
So haue we meanes to satisfie the mind,
Our little world, is made with much respect,
Our mother Nature, hath beene wise and kind
By whom we haue apt Orgaines assign'd,
To execute what so our thoughts intend,
And all our thoughts, ayme at some pleasing end.
58
Is not the Head the Store-house of conceite,
Plotting the meanes to compasse our delight?
Our Eyes attendants that do daily waite
Vpon such obiects as may please our sight?
VVitnesse the Cherry-cheeke, and Brow milke-white:
Witnesse no other witnesse but my wish,
How Sight and Soule both like, and longs for this.
59
What minde, what man, what man of any minde
That is not touch'd and mou'd, with musickes sound?
Whose deepe impressions, worke in brutish kinde,
As Dolphins, else Arion had beene drown'd,
The sauage Beasts, that would not Orpheus wound,
The sencelesse stones, whom Phoebus Harp did moue,
Do witnesse all, how all doe Musicke loue.
60
The bubling murmur of a sliding Spring,
That seemes to runne with sweet, yet sullen mind
By which, the winged, Quiers in Consort sing
With faire fac't Eunuches, Cherpres of their kind,
Whose Notes are answered with a soft still wind;
Whilst some desired Dame, cheares all with kisses,
Who would not hold that place, a Heauen of blisses.
61
As Head, and Eyes, and eares, so are our Hands
Flesh hookes to draw, and gather all vnto vs,
That with our pleasure, and our profit stands,
Thrusting a side what euer may vndoe vs,
For which imployments are alotted to vs:
Two Hands, two Feete, the agents of our wills,
To follow, rest, and flye from restlesse ills.
62
So likewise, in the structure of this Frame,
VVhat is not made for pleasure, with much art?
So likewise in the guidance of the same,
VVhat is denide vs that may please the Heart?
Most sencelesse man, what man so ere thou art,
That in the very fulnesse of such store,
By wilfull wants, wilt make thy selfe most poore.
63
In heate of Summer, when the burning Sunne
Doth crust the earth, are there not shady bowers?
Are there not riuers that doe mildly runne;
And now and then some cooling dewie showers,
To keepe the beauty of the blooming flowers,
Wherewith our mother earth's so fairely delight,
That she allures her Children to delight.
64
I will not speake of euery dayes delight,
They are so various, full of rareties
But are there not sweet pleasures for the night?
Maskes, Reuels, Banquets, mirthfull Comedies,
Night Songs, eu'n Natures dearest prodigies,
Which worke in men with powerfull influence,
As hauing their first life, best motion thence.
65
If then the mouer of this glorious round,
Hath wisely fitted each thing so to pleasure:
May he not seeme his order to confound,
That barrs himselfe from this same earthlie treasure?
And to delight doth limit sparing measure?
Is't euer like, he would haue made things thus,
But that they should be fully vs'd by vs?
66
And that I may not run about the Field,
But keepe my selfe in compasse of the Ring,
I will omit the rich and fruitfull yeild,
Of pleasure, pointing onely at the Spring,
The tast whereof such perfect blisse doth bring,
As I doe thinke none other Heauen there is,
Heauen pardon me, if that I thinke amisse.
67
This is (sweete Ned) the Paradice of loue,
The ioy of life, and life of our conceite,
The Heauenly fire infused from aboue,
On which the Muses, and the Graces waite,
The bodies health, soules hope, and Natures baite,
The quintessence of pure essentiall sweete,
The point where all the lines of pleasure meete.
68
Sweete loue, that hast sweete beauty for thy obiect,
Wise loue, that dost conuert both soules and hearts:
Great loue, to whom the greatest King is subiect:
Pure loue, that sublimates our earthly parts,
And makes them ayery by ingenious arts:
Oh, let my Ned, my Prince, my Ioue possesse
The ioyes, I would, but cannot well expresse.
69
And thou[?], sweete Ned, experience but the pleasure,
Trye what it is to loue, and bee reputed,
And I will pawne my life (my greatest treasure)
With one sweete night, thou wilt be so delighted,
That thou wilt wish the world were still benighted:
Then say (deare Prince) when thou the same dost proue,
No Heauen but ioy, nor any ioy but loue.
70
Oh see the fruites of ill abused wits,
What hurt is wrought by arm'd impiety:
Thrice wretched soules, that ill with art commit,
And surfet with the sweete satiery
Of Graces, giuen them by the Deity:
Were all such mindes brought vp to Plough and Cart,
Learning should haue their due, they their desert.
71
I see the rule holds true, the best of all
Being corrupted, turnes vnto the worst;
And so those damned spirits, before their fall
Most blessed, (chang'd from what they were at first)
Are now most wretched, vile, and most accurst:
Looke what degree of goodnesse things retaine,
Whilst they are good, being ill, they so remaine.
72
With such and many more, more wanton gloses,
Whereat thy virgin Muse, will blush for shame;
VVith vnchast words, and Pander-like supposes,
This Gauestone so brought me out of frame,
That I neglected Father, Friends, and Fame:
And to those pleasures onely was respectiue,
That to my Fancy seemed most delectiue.
73
We see how soone our sweetest Buds are blasted:
How soone our fairest colours loose their flourish?
How easly are the seedes of virtue wasted,
And noysome weedes of vice how much we nourish,
VVhich doth the soule of her chiefe wealth impouerish:
Youth apt to stray, is easly led awry,
VVe fall by Nature, what needes flattery.
74
And yet it hath too much to worke vpon,
The vnexperience of our yonger yeares,
The heare of bloud, which easly drawes vs on;
Vngrounded hopes and fond surmised feares,
The courses intertain'd by like compeares:
Our owne desert, our Parents louing care;
This Diuell doth vse as traps vnto his snare.
75
And soone it will the least aduantage finde
Whereby it may creepe into mens conceite,
Obseruing first, to what they were inclinde,
Whi [...]h once perceiu'd it fits the humour straight,
Still keeping fashion, but still wanting weight,
In complements most seemingly precise,
And that faire Maske, blinds vnsuspecting eyes.
76
But like as those diseases faster grow,
VVhose mouing causes our complexions feede,
So farre more dangerous is this priuate Foe,
That doth attire himselfe in friendships weede,
Then he that shewes his hate by open deede,
For Armes, or Lawes, or Friends may fence the one,
Th'other, God himselfe must shield, or none.
77
So Synon did the Troian State confound:
So gilded Tombes are full of rotten earth:
So Crocadils, although they weepe, they wound:
So Panthers circumuent with their sweet breath:
Sy Syrens though they sing, their tunes are death;
And yet as Fish bite most at hony bates,
Euen so are men most caught with sweet deceites.
78
Therefore be pleas'd to heare a plaine Discourse,
Suspect the tongue that's still tun'd to the eare;
Faire Truth is not for nakednesse the worse;
But falshoods many ornaments must weare,
Least all her foule deformities appeare:
VVhich Art can flourish ouer fit for Court,
VVhile simple Truth to Deserts doth resort.
79
And this is that waste Sea of misery,
In which the greatest Monarchs most are drown'd,
That they are seldome free from flattery:
Pretences being colourably found,
To sooth that humor, that doth most abound;
And so the Prince runnes on from ill to worse,
And still's perswaded best of his bad course.
80
Whereby the danger on himselfe doth fall,
The gaine vnto the Fauorite accrewes;
For grieued Subiects being wrong'd withall
Forgetting Duty, impiously pursues
Meanes of reuenge, whence danger oft insues.
Meane while the man, that fed the humour so,
Fals off perhaps; and scapes the comming blow.
81
Therefore let Kings preferre them that are plaine,
Aud make such great, as do not greatnesse feare:
Such serue their Lords for loue, and not for gaine,
Th'are iewels of the heart not of the eare,
They will discouer dangers that are neere;
When oyled Tongues will still make all secure;
And carelesse greatnesse euer stands vnsure.
82
But why should I giue rules, sith I kept none,
Why should I teach, and neuer could obay?
Only for this, why, I was ouer-throwne,
Others may looke least they be cast away;
And they that make this vse, thrice happy they:
Because by others wrackes themselues may read,
How to preuent their owne mishaps with heed.
83
Sooth'd thus in sinne, all goodnesse was forgotten,
My Fathers words of no esteeme were growne:
And I that scarce seem'd ripe, was straight found rotten:
Like fruite that is from Tree vntimely blowne:
But that tooke roote, which Gauestone had sowne.
And sprouted so, that it did seed at last,
So worthlesse seedes we see do grow too fast.
84
For at the first I was asham'd of sinne;
But sinne did say, my greatest sinne was shame,
Then by degrees did I delight therein:
And from delight did I desire the same,
And my desires so prosp'rously did frame,
That now I could with Gauestone coniue,
So doth the Bramble with the Thistle thriue.
85
Which when mine aged Father did perceiue,
With many teares (the messengers of moane)
He did bewaile himselfe, that he should leaue
His Crowne to me, and me to Gauestone:
I in my Sonne (saith he) am ouerthrowne;
My blisse, my bane; my peace procures my strife,
First Edward dies, in Second Edwards life.
86
To bee a Father was mine onely ioy;
And now my griefe it is to be a Father,
Why should my solace turne to mine annoy:
Why planted I hearts-ease, and Rue must gather?
As I did sow, I should haue reaped rather,
My hopefull Haruest proues but Thistles weedes,
And for the bloud I gaue, my heart now bleeds.
87
For (oh) how neere a touch doth Nature giue?
How searching are the sufferings of our bloud:
How much the Fathers soule doth ioy or grieue,
When he doth see his issue bad or good?
It's hard of any to be vnderstood;
Except of those whose feelings bowels find,
What deepe impressions doe proceed from kind.
88
Wise was the Prince, who playing with his Sonne.
And teaching him to ride vpon a Reede:
To whom a great Ambassador did come,
And seem'd to blush at his so childish deede;
Doe not (quoth he) to iudgement yet proceed:
I onely craue a respit of thy doome,
Till thou thy selfe, art Father of a Sonne.
89
Inferring, that there is a secret loue,
Which vntouch't hearts can hardly comprehend,
Would God the same reciprocall might proue:
Oh that kinde Nature would sometimes ascend,
Fathers too oft in indulgence offend:
But Sonnes more oft in duty proue defectiue,
These way ward times are growne so vnrespectiue.
90
Nature so wrought, that Cressus sonne cried out,
Who from his birth before had not spoke word:
When he did see a Souldier goe about
To kill the King his Father with a sword:
Could Nature then such presidents[?] afford?
Was she so powerfull then, now weakned so,
That Sonnes themselues now work their Fathers woe.
91
But foolish man, why doe I blame my Sonne,
Whose yet vnknowing yeares, by ill aduise
Being led away, a dangerous course doth runne?
For youths hot bloud forgets cold ages yee,
And whilst his hand is in doth throw the Dice
At all, that pleasure sets, and thinkes to gaine,
If with the bye he can discharge the maine.
92
Sweete Ned, I blame not thee but Gauestone,
For he it is that sitteth at the Helme,
And steeres the Sterne at pleasure, thou art blowne:
Nor will he leaue, till he doth ouer-whelme
In deepest gulfe thy selfe, and all thy Realme,
For stirring spirits do troubl'd streames desire,
And then thriue best, when all are set on fire.
93
Obserue those wasted States that do decline,
How apt they are for innouation,
How much they doe 'gainst publick good repine,
And hopefully expect an alteration,
That whilst things are vnsetl'd out of fashion,
They may close vp the wounds they had before,
And by that meanes their priuate wants restore.
94
Therefore let those that haue a grounded State
And may liue well, ioyne close in any wise,
Against all such as seeke to innouate,
If not in duty, yet in good aduise
To keep such downe, as hope perhaps to rise
Vpon their ruines, whose reuenewes may
Cut short their liues, sure proue the spoilers pray.
95
And with these linkes such spirits as would rise,
But are by former great ones still supprest,
And such do dangerous Stratagems deuise,
Not will their egar hopes afford them rest,
But mount they must, who euer be deprest
And little do they force the States confusion,
May they thereby to greatnesse make intrusion.
96
And to this end they are obsequious still,
They sooth, they fawne, they seeme officious:
They fit themselues to their great mouers will
Be't good or bad, iust, or iniurious,
They serue euen turnes, base, and luxurious:
But I'le prouide a wholesome Methridate,
So to preuent these poisons of the State.
97
And firmely setled in this resolution
By strict command, was Gauestone exil'd
I begg'd of him to stop th'execution:
But then my Father shak'd his head, and smil'd,
Oh Ned, quoth he, how much art thou beguil'd,
To foster that, which will thy downefall be;
And warme the Snake that will inuenome thee.
98
I wish, my selfe an Eccho at that word,
That I might then haue boldly answer'd thee;
For neuer was there sharpest edged sword,
That wounded more, then that same wounded me;
But go he must, that was the Kings decree:
And when he went, then dy'd my bloudlesse heart,
So doth the body from my soule depart.
99
The former times haue held it good aduise,
That some offender should abiure the Land,
But 'tis a course both dangerous and vnwise,
And with no rules of Regiment can stand,
For if the matter be with iudgement scand,
It will appeare to men considerate,
That abiuration hurts both Prince and State.
100
I do not meane of men that are not mist,
For who respects the humming of a Gnat?
Such Attomes may wander where they list,
Their muddy pates can neither frame the plat,
Nor feeble hands worke danger to the State.
Let men of note be mark'd, and wary heed
Be had of them that may disturbance breed.
101
And 'tis not safe to banish such a one,
As may finde meanes to worke his owne returne:
So Bullingbrooke stept in to Richards throne,
And he had leasure afterwards to mourne
Henry 4.
His foolish fault, such Med'cines may adiourne
The present paine a while; but makes the sore
To raue more selly then it did before.
102
Mild drugs may stirre the humors that abound,
But will not quite expell the growing ill;
The roote and body both remaining sound:
Although the Tree be lopt, yet thriues it still,
But when thou hast the Axe to vse at will,
Strike at the roote, and fell it to the ground,
Rather then pare the boughes and branches round.
103
For 'tis lost labour to beginne with them,
They needes must wither, if the other die;
And do not feare, though vulgar breath condemne
Thy carriage, in such courses; whose weake eie
Lookes at the present only, and thereby
Values the rest; do thou make good thy end,
The common sort will euer be thy friend.
104
Wise Longshankes (yet in this thou wert vnwise)
If thou[?] hadst tooke the head of Gauestone:
Those subsequent disasters that did rise
From him, had beene preuented euery one:
Thy Sonne had not beene shouldred from his Throne;
Thy Peeres not slaine, nor Realmes to ruine brought
But so God workes, till all his will be wrought.
105
My Gauestone thus driuen into Exile,
My selfe committed like a Captiue thrall:
(For so my Father kept me short a while)
VVith bitter curses I did ban them all:
I dranke my teares, and fed vpon my gall:
I chaf'd and fround, yet could I not preuaile,
Needs must, wilbe, faine would, doth often faile.
106
Then were my colours turn'd to mournfull blacke,
I did put on the liuery then of care,
Like to the hopelesse Sea-man in a wracke,
That sees the greedy waues deuoure his share,
No otherwise did thoughtfull Edward fare;
When sad remembrance in my soule did plant
His lot, my losse, his woe, my pleasures want.
107
The chiefest Cordiall of my grieuedsoule,
The one and onely period of my paine,
Was this, that Death admitting no controule,
Would end my Fathers wrath, his Life, his Raigne,
And then (thought I) Ned will haue Pierce againe:
When Englands Crowne shall make a Ioue of me,
Then Gaueston my Ganimed shalbe.
108
As I did hope, so had my hopes successe,
For shortly after did my Noble Sire,
VVhilst he prepar'd the Scots for to suppresse:
Loe now (quoth I) I haue my hearts desire,
Longshankes is dead, his water, ayre, and fire,
Are turn'd to earth, and earthly might he be,
That on the earth did keepe the Crowne for me.
109
Yet in that sad dismaifull houre of dying
No griefe did him more feelingly distresse,
Then that his vicious Sonne, al vertue flying,
Should ruine that by ryot and excesse,
VVhich he had built with so great carefulnesse;
And therefore for to weane me from such sinnes,
These well tun'd Notes this dying Swan-beginnes:
110
My Sonne (quoth he) for in that name of zeale,
My words may proue of more effectuall power,
VVhy shouldst thou so, with thy sicke Father deale,
As to torment him in his parting houre,
VVhose life hath had his portion full of sowre?
And yet to make my measure fuller still,
My Sonne doth daily adde vnto my will.
111
I know what 'tis by many dire extreames,
To keepe the Crowne vpright vpon the head:
I know the troublous sleeps, and frightfull dreames
That houer still about a Princely bed;
The worme of greatnesse (iealousie) is bred
Out of it selfe, yet this I know withall,
Our powerfull sway doth sweeten all our gall.
112
But for thy selfe, and for my heart-breake griefe,
That out of thy sin-shipt-wracke youth doth grow,
No circumstance yeilds colour of reliefe;
The cause excuselesse, limitlesse the woe,
That doth from thy full sea of follies flowe:
For foulest faults proceede from powerfull ill,
And subiects sort themselues to Princes still.
113
Thou dost not onely by thy vicious liuing,
Bereaue thy soule of blisse, which virtue winnes,
But also by thy ill example giuing,
Thou dost attract weake mindes vnto like sinnes,
For certainly the Subiect euer swims,
Iust with the streame, so growing like to thee)
A generall deluge of all sinne will be.
114
Much better had it beene, thou hadst not beene,
Then that thy being, should so ruine all:
Oh wherefore was thy birth-day euer seene,
If by thy life, the State it selfe doth fall
To those soule sinnes, which wrath from Heauen do call,
By whose iust doome such States confounded are
By Forraine fury, or domesticke ware.
115
For when the seed of sinne to ripenesse growes,
Then Iustice with a Sithe doth mowe it downe:
This, that it is, that Kingdomes ouer-throwes,
Layes wast the field, vnpeoples euery towne:
Or if not so, disorders yet the Crowne,
Although it prooue no generall desolation,
Yet many dangers grow by innovation.
116
When my Heauen-seeking soule shall leaue her Inne,
And this my flesh clos'd in a house of clay,
Then will my shame suruiue me in thy sinne,
And Babes vnborne, will ban my births and say
His wretched life, gaue life to our decay;
And had no other ill by him bin done,
He sinn'd too much in getting such a sonne.
117
Did I for this indure the dust and Sunne,
Dis-lodg'd at mid-night, march in mid-day heate?
Where Turkish, French, and[?] Scottish trophies wonne
Was all my care imploy'd to make thee great,
That some might dispossesse thee of thy Seate?
Oh then I see that greatnesse soone is gone,
When God drawes not the plot men builds vpon.
118
And my diuining soule doth sadly see,
Thy ruine in thy riot (oh my Ned,)
When I am gone, a King then shalt thou be;
But if thou still beest with thy passions led,
Thou wilt not keep thy crown vpon thy head,
My soule now parting from the earthly cage,
Fore-tels thee so, in her propheticke rage.
119
Well Sonne, I feele my faltring tongue doth faile,
Therefore this short abridgement I doe make;
Feare God, loue virtue, let the right preuaile,
Shunne suddaine courses, Parasites forsake:
Dis-fauour not thy Peeres, their Counsels take
For thy designes, reuoke not Gàuestone,
For he will prooue the canker of thy throne.
120
Pursue those Scottish warres I haue in hand,
And for because my soule did make a vow
Vnto my God, to serue in holy Land,
From which this sicknes interdicts me now,
Though Death disable me, effect it thou:
Embowell me, and thither heare my heart,
That I therein at last, may haue some part.
121
And you my Lords, speaking vnto his Pe [...]res:
Whose wealth and greatnesse, I haue much increast,
Be Fathers to my sonnes vntuter'd yeares,
Loue him for me; though Longshankes be deceast,
Let not Gauestones exile be releast,
Least his repeale occasion ciuill strife,
And so first Edward ends both speech and life.
122
Thus Death that Herald that euen Kings doth summon;
The Purseuant that doth attach great Peeres:
The City Seriant, whose arrest is common:
The errant-bayliffe, that a Processe beares,
And no place bounds, but serues it in all Shieres:
The generall Surueior of each one,
Did bring my Father to his longest home.
123
The Obsequies and Ceremonies done,
Then I was Crown'd, me thought the Sun did dance;
And that the Thames with siluer stteames did runne;
Likewise the Starres did all applaud my chance,
That did my State vnto a Crowne aduance:
Smile Starres, dance Sunne, and Riuer run with mirth,
Carnarvan Edward is a god on earth.
124
But all the Starres to blazing Commets turn'd,
Whose sad vprise presag'd my dreiry fate;
The Riuers seem'd as if they wept and mourn'd;
The Sunne did neuer shine vpon my State,
Starres, Streames, and Sunne, saw me vnfortunate:
Disastrous man, so borne, to suffer wracke,
As is the Aethiop to be alwayes blacke.
125
Obserue the man whom Fates haue slau'd to griefe;
See how the wretch that's destin'd Fortunes foe,
Wilbe a rub to turne away reliefe
Euen from himselfe, and weaue his owne wrought woe,
Harme after him, he after harme shall goe:
(Forspoken man) & neuer but successelesse,
Himselfe, his hurt, and yet his hurt redresseksse.
126
Nay euen those very meanes which he shall vse
In good discretion to preuent the clap,
Shalbe returned vnto his abuse,
And serue for pullies of his owne mishap,
So though he see, he shall not shun the trap;
And if his ruine were not ripe before,
His owne designes shall hasten it the more.
127
Th [...] King of Epire fearing death: home,
Fore-warn'd thereof by formet Prophecie:
To Italy forth-with must needes begon,
So to preuent his fault by pollicy;
But still he's follow'd by his destiny.
In Italy, he findes an Acharon
The fatall floud from which he would be gon.
128
Fourth Henry was by some blinde Bard fore-told,
That he should neuer dye till he had seene
Ierusalem; fourth Henry wilbe old,
Ierusalem for him shalbe vnseene:
No he shal see it, when he least doth weene,
He sounds at prayers, and by religious men,
Is straight conuey'd vnto Ierusalem.
129
For so the place was call'd where he was lay'd,
And shortly after did the Noble King
In vaine men striue, the heauens wilbe obay'd,
We may fore-know, but not preuent a thing,
Our selues will neuer cease, till we do bring
Our fates to full effect, and all we do
Shalbe but lines to lead vs thereunto.
130
For first I doe those Councellors remoue,
That in my Fathers raigne had borne most sway,
Whereby I did disarme me of their loue,
To practizes and discontents made way,
Expose my selfe to enuy, open lay
To disaduantage, wanting their aduise
Whom long imployment had made deeply wise.
131
Besides, I did the publique State some wrong,
So to cast off those grounded Polliticians,
VVho knew to gouerne, by, commaunding long
Had seene, and well obseru'd mens dispositions,
And so could tell when, where, how impositions
Where to be rais'd, how to auoide offence,
How to gaine men and ends, with faire pretence.
132
VVho likewise knew how other Kingdomes stood,
The concordances of each Neighbouring state:
How Realmes best correspond for eithers good:
How to make Leagues, how to negotiate:
VVhen to breake off, and when to incorporate:
How farre remote, and neere confiners too,
Are to be weigh'd, as they haue meanes to doe.
133
Tis not the practice of a day or twaine:
Tis not the Schooles, or Sophisters debate:
Tis not the foame of euery working braine:
Tis not the start into a neighbouring state,
That workes men fit to beare a Kingdomes weight;
VVhen men are fully made, imploy them then,
For 'tis an arte of artes to gouerne men.
134
Therefore I hold it for a certaine ground,
VVhich new made Princes must not violate,
Except they will the Common-wealth confound:
Not to discard those men that knew the State,
VVhose long experience, ingenerate
A true and perfect method to commaund,
Both for the Princes good and for the Land.
135
Besides this fault, scaree setled in my State,
I straight recal'd exiled Gauestone,
VVho by my many fauours grew so great,
That I did seeme to him to liue alone:
I Alexander, hee Stephestion:
Oh no, I wrong them to vsurpe their names,
Our loues were like, but farre vnlike their fames.
136
Heere, I did violate my Fathers will,
And all respect of duty did despise
To wrong the dead, is sacriligious ill,
A clog which endlesse on the conscience lies,
And at the latest gaspe for vengance cries,
And lo the feares and doubts lurkes close within
That restlesse soule, that's guilty of such sinne.
137
VVhen all his ioynts are rack't with dying paine,
VVith cold dead sweat all couer'd ouer quite:
What thorney thoughts will then distract his braine?
How shall he dare t'approach his fathers fight?
Whose dying words he lately set so light,
He'le feare his friends, suspect his wife est-soone,
And sighing thinke, they'le do, as I haue done.
108
It is too common to betray the trust,
That by testators is in friends repos'd:
But marke Gods iudgement, how seuere, how iust,
How to the nature of the sinne dispos'd:
Euen I my selfe, was by my sonne depos'd;
I that infring'd my fathers dying hest,
Was in my life, by my owne sonne distrest.
139
Mee, that a Siere did wrong a sonne did wrong,
I that did shew my selfe degenerate,
As I had sowne, so did I reape ere long
Such sinne it is our faith to violate.
Oh deepest doome of all fore-seeing fate.
How wisely are thy fearefull iudgements fitted,
To punish sinne as snne was first committed.
140
The Giants heap'd vp Hils to climbe the Skie,
I honors heap'd, that Gauestone might clime,
They did contend with Ioue, and fell thereby,
He with my Peeres, and perish'd in his prime,
They thriu'd at first, but fell in after time;
His Prologue sweet, but sad was his last act,
So fairest glasse (men say) is soonest crackt.
141
These were the honors that he did attaine,
The Earle of Cornwell, and the Lord of Man,
Chiefe Secretary, Lord great Chamberlaine;
And for his wife, the Glousters sister wan:
Aspiring men see how great Monarchs can,
Aduance their States, whom they do please to afauour[?],
Who serues the King doth seldome leese his labour.
142
Though Poëts fictions seeme to sauour much
Of idle errors, yet they haue their sence;
King Midas turn'd to gold all he did touch:
The Morrall thus, the fauour of the Prince,
His gracious touch, may guild without offence
His greatest wants, and make him for to sore
A lofty pitch, that did but creepe before.
143
Not all the painefull passages one spends,
In serious contemplation of deepe artes,
Nor any one imployment so commends
The Agent, (though a man of rarest parts;)
As when the Prince but one sweete smile imparts,
One looke of loue, one eye-glance of delight,
Hath power to change dark clouds to Suns most bright.
144
The eyes of Kings are more then simple eies,
They are the Starres that do predominate
Th'affaires of men, and in their influence lies
The good or bad of euery ones estate,
Th'are the primum-mobile of fate:
They whirle about their fortunes as they list,
And as they fauour, we are curst or blest.
145
A Kings smooth brow, is the true dwelling place
Of honour, weakh, dependancy, respect,
And in this wrinckled fore-head liues disgrace;
Death, exile, want, a generall neglect,
A world of ills let that poore wretch expect:
Be it, all Riuers to the Sea must runne,
And euery light receiue light from the Sunne.
146
Let them be great whom Kings resolue to grace,
It is a priuiledge that is their owne,
To raise such as they please to wealth or place,
Is truely proper to the Princely throwne,
And hath not beene denide to any one:
Lewes of France, did say he spent his Raigne,
In making and in marring men againe.
147
Some by the Schoole, some by the Lawes do mount:
Some by the Sword, and some by Nauigation,
As streames haue had, though not the selfe same fount,
Shali only Kings admit a limitation;
How high, for what desert, or of what Nation
They shall aduance? it were a wretched thing,
On this condition to become a King.
148
To make new Creatures, is the Princes due,
And without murmur let him haue his owne:
The danger only is to him that's new;
For enuy euer waites on such a one,
Both from those men, that are not so well growne;
And from great Houses to, who straight will feare,
Least such new stars should thrust him from the sphaere.
149
For those which once haue got the highest staire,
Will keep them downe that mount with too much hast,
Tis best (some say) to rise, but soft and faire:
If thou wilt gaine thy iournies end at last,
Tire not thy meanes by posting ouer-fast;
Stirre like a Diall vnperceiu'd to mooue,
So shalt thou gather strength and purchase loue.
150
And therefore they that sound a family,
Must gather wealth, and vnder their estates,
Make great[?] pretences of humility:
Allie themselues with strong confederates,
Serue great mens turnes, so to auoide their hates:
For Cerberus[?] with hony sops was pleas'd,
And malice must with mildnesse[?] be appeas'd.
151
Then let it be his work that next succeeds,
To raise himselfe vnto a greater height,
Who by imployments, or by Martiall deeds:
Or by vnlading some of that rich fraight:
Which he hath stor'd, perhaps with the conceipt,
Which he much better, then the first may do,
Whose meanes he hath, and adds his owne thereto.
152
Nor shall he finde such eager opposition:
Time hauing worne out all his fathers foes
Or els perhaps alter'd their disposition
By gifts, by fauours, by obsequious shewes
Or els perchaunce for feare of future blowes:
And so some few discents, from higher to higher
The newnesse of the house will varnish faire.
153
Where sodaine greatnesse ruin'd Gaueston
Whom I too much prefer'd before my Peeres,
Who did possesse me more then any one:
From whence grew many jelousies and feares:
Close discontentments which at first appeares:
Of little moment, worthlesse of respect;
But prov'd such skars as we did least expect.
154
It is the praise, and blessing of the sonne
To make his heate and light both generall:
Princes are sonnes, and both must freely runne
In open course, and be not seuerall
Vnto some few, but common vnto all:
The poorest he that breaths, this song may sing:
Wee all haue interest in the Aire and King.
155
And this too much did spread abroad my passion,
Who like pure water should haue had no taste,
This error did my gouernment dis-fashion,
That Gaueston vnworthily was grac't,
And made too great a monster, huge and vaste,
Who in his growth was vnproportionall
Became offensiue to himselfe, and all:
156
My Seale, my Court, my Realme, was rul'd by him
That neither knew to rule, nor to obay,
I car'd not though my Peeres did sinke or swim,
Nor what my other Counsellors did say,
For he did stearne my compasse night and day,
Whilst I being sunke in sinne and drown'd in lust
Had almost wrack't, the Realme with such a gust.
157
The Court, which in my Fathers life time seem'd
A Senate house of siluer-headed Sages,
Might now a pompous Theater be deem'd
Pester'd with Panders, Players, and with Pages.
Of my ensuing fall too true presages.
And yet in shew it seemed fairer farre
So Comets glifter more then any starre.
158
But oh the quiet of that happy land,
Where aged Nestors beare the chiefest sway,
Where strength of mind, rules more then force of hand:
Where old men bid, and yong men doe abey.
Where Ages winter, guideth youths sweete May,
But when the foote or hand commands the head,
The body then is many wayes misled.
159
Let siluer haires, and long experienc'd age,
Be sole directors of each enterprise,
Let youth be as an Actor on the Stage,
To execute what staider heads deuise,
For youth is actiue, age discreete and wise,
Youth is more daring, but precipitate,
Age more judiciall, and considerate.
160
Yet should not States-men be too aged men,
Fer euery yeare their spirits much decay,
They earthy grow, and melancholy then
Heauy and dull, their edge being worne away:
Wayward and teachy wrangling all the day.
Full of Morosity, and which is worse,
Extremely giuen to gripe, and fill the purse.
161
Besides, we see some men are ripe betimes,
Like sommer fruit, some pleasing to the tast,
And if those spirits in whom such vertue shines,
May be with greatnesse, and imployments grac't,
They come to full maturity at last:
Men of exceeding worth, they being growne,
Both for their countries good, and for their owne.
162
But to my selfe, who did neglect my Peeres,
And onely did deuote my selfe to pleasure,
Lou'd I? why, loue it selfe, loues youthful yeares,
Spent I? why, Kings should not be slaues to treasure:
Heard I not Subjects suits? I had no leysure.
Did I forbeare my Peeres conuerse. What then?
loue is not tide to sort himselfe with men.
163
When they did say, that Scottish Bruce did burne
My Northerne borders, and did wast the same,
Then sighing[?] I, to Gauestone would turne,
And say (sweet Peeres) my selfe feeles fancies flame,
I saw, I loue, I dye for such a dame:
Cupid I feare a Bruce to me will proue,
My hold's by him, my heart is fier'd with loue.
164
With thsee, and many more fantasticke toyes,
I shifted off my Councell when they came:
I haue not time enough to spend in ioyes;
Why should I spare one minute from the same?
Let them that list, by wars go hunt for same;
I force it not, giue me these pleasing warres,
Where blowes are giu'n, but neuer cause no skarrer.
165
But when the field, is to a field-bed turn'd,
When eyes like sharpest Launces pierce, yet please;
When amorous hearts with equall flames are burn'd,
When Foes sinke downe, our furies to appease;
And lips on lips, redouble blowes of ease,
When braue assaults are not by Death contrould,
In such a band, who would not be inroul'd
166
The Roman monster Heliogabilus;
And Persian Xerxes, neuer fortunate,
Might well be thought to liue againe with vs;
We priz'd our pleasures at so high a rate,
Which was our sad, and still successelesse fate;
In peace, our fault procured our d [...]caies,
In warres our Fortunes made vs run-awayes[?].
167
The lucklesse battailes fought whilst I did Raigne,
With Robert Bruce, that Noble English Scot,
Sad monuments vnto the World remaine,
That vicious life with Monarchies thriue not,
For sinne and shame, are ti'd with Gordians knot,
And those designes do proue successelesse quite,
That are contriu'd by men, drown'd in delight.
168
Marke but the Maps of all antiquity,
True Registers vnfalsefi'd records,
The race of time which we call History;
And 'twill be found, that euery age affords
Plenty of proofe to fortifie my words
Each leafe, each time, do pregnant witnesse beare,
Who riot most, to ruine are most neere.
169
When sinne did ouer-flow, the Deluge came,
Th' Assirians then did loose their Monarchy,
When their last king did liue most out offrame
And was ore-whelm'd with sensuality:
The Persians then did wrecke their Empery,
When wealth, and ease, and lust did most abound,
Which also did the Romaine State confound.
170
The Danes did first set footing in this Land,
Because Lord Buer [...] wife was rauish't here;
The Saxons forces got the vpper hand,
When Vortiger[?] held Hengests daughter deere,
And still our Realme to ruine hath bin neere,
When ripned sin hath gather'd strongest head,
So stalled Steeres, are to the Shambels led.
171
Thus Edward sayd, and this our age hath seene,
Like instance of a neere confining State:
Neuer was France more deadly sicke of sinne:
Neuer was goodnesse growne more our of date,
Neuer did Princes more preposterate
Their priuate liues, and publique regiment,
And as they liu'd, so died impenitent.
172
Neuer Religion seru'd for more pretences:
Neuer were Nobles more ambitious:
Neuer like inundations of offences;
Neuer were Church-men lesse religious:
Neuer were Commons more seditious:
Such plotting counter-plotting pollicies,
Such Massacres, such Barbarous cruelties.
173
Such impious courses, such impunity
Neuer was seene, lesse blushing, and more shame:
Neuer had sinne so great imunity:
Neuer was euer all so out of frame,
As in these latter times, till the fiery flame
Of ciuill fury, and of Forraine foe,
Did make poore France the Stage of tragicke woe.
174
And without doubt, had not the Man of men,
The mighty Atlas of that sinking State
Bin rais'd by God, to giue new life; euen then,
Hen. 4.
That famous Kingdome of so ancient date,
By home ambition, and by Forraine hate,
Had breath'd her last, being sin-sicke vnto death,
And much a doe there was to giue her breath.
175
For still the eye of wrath doth ouer-looke,
The wicked actions of obdurate men:
The Court of Heauen doth keepe a tallying booke,
VVherein is enter'd all our sinnes; and when
Our score is full; let's looke for payment then:
And (oh) what Prince, what Common-wealth can stand,
When God doth scourge it with a rigorous hand.
176
And let vs make this vse of their new wracke,
Forbeare to sinne for feare of punishment:
God is not sencelesse, though he seeme to slacke,
He respits vs, in hope we will repent;
But vse growes more, the longer debts are lent,
And God forbeares, and winkes at our abuse[?],
That we might haue lesse colour for excuse.
177
I could not choose, when I had yoak't my Teame,
But make this Furrow to inrich my field:
And now returne to my intended Theame;
And Edward wishes that his Raigne might yeild
Fit presidents, for Princes, how to weild
That weighty Prouince which they do sustaine,
And thus continues his Discourse againe.
178
When my chiefe friends did see how things mischanced,
And those mischances did impute to sinne;
My sinne to him, whom I had so aduanced:
To banish him, they then againe beginne,
And made my selfe to haue a hand therein;
Their force, my feare, compeld me thereunto,
Tis hard when Princes are inforst to doe.
179
It is the chiefest good of Kingly raigne,
That it is free from base compelling feare,
And tis againe the Kingdomes chiefest baine
Not to admit wise Counsell to the eare,
Away with aw, hold Admonition deere,
Feares ne're should meete with Kingly eyes
But one the backs of flying enemyes.
180
But the faier liuely picture of aduice,
should still be placed ny the Princes sight,
Thrice happy Kings, that are both stout and wise,
Your scorne controwle, but set not counsell light
No feare, but vertue, moues you to doe right,
Y'are Kings indeed, and may securely rest
Whilst feares are pitch't within a weaker brest.
181
Te solum Vereor[?] is a Princely word
Speaking to him that is Lord Parramount;
And supreame Princes, so should beare the sword,
As but to him, they neede giue no account;
Which they shall doe, if as they do surmount
In greatnesse, so in goodnesse they excell.
Tis certaine, he rules all, that gouerns well.
182
And none doth so, but the selfe gouernor
That his owne priuat passion can command
Which makes a slaue euen of an Emperor
If once they growe to get the vpper hand
And soone deepe searching spirits will vnderstand
And finde a Prince thats weake, and ride him soe[?]
That he must pace, as they will haue him goe.
183
Whereof my selfe may be a president
Who was soeuer aw'd by my great Peeres,
That Gaueston was doom'd to banishment
And now my soule full fraight with greefes and feares,
Was in her motion restles with these pheres
But not so fixed; now goe he should, now should not
So woman-like, I would, and straight I would not.
184
Yet ere he went, (as goe he must, and did)
Deere Prince, saith he, wherein haue I misdone
That I am banished thus? doth Edward bid
His poore (but yet his owne poore Pierce,) to shunne
His gratious fight, must I from England runne?
He bidds, I must, farewell, yet thinke of mee,
my body goes, my soule doth stay with thee.
185
What were theis words, but each to mee a wound
Whereat my very life-blood, gushed out,
I would haue spoke, but words with teares were drownd
While giddy passion hurld by braine about,
Confusedly I spake, oh do not doubt,
Theis damned Peeres, it is not long on mee.
though body stayes, yet goes my soule with thee.
156
Mourne not sweete Prince, said hee, oh doe not mourne.
Let neuer teares disgrace those gracefull eyes.
Is't not enough that I am thus forelorne,
Must cares from mee, as clowdes from sea arise?
My deere deere Liege, let it at least suffice.
That still you haue the better part of mee
My body they command, my soule is free.
187
Cease, cease, my Pierce, thy tong doth wound my hart,
I grieue to see, because I see thy griefe:
Farewell, and yet me thinkes, we should not part;
And yet we must, well, this be thy reliefe,
Thou bear'st a field of gold▪ a King in chiefe:
But be thou Irelands Gouernor then for me,
Would thou mightst stay, or I might go with thee.
188
At parting thus, with wanton griefe we playd,
He went to Sea, and I to sorrow went;
And yet my lustfull heat was not allay'd;
My treasure, that to Gauestone was sent,
And was in triumphs, mongst the Irish spent:
Who seem'd now greater then he did before,
So Vines being cut, increase, and thriue the more.
189
And here my Peeres did in true iudgment faile,
So to remoue, not take[?] him quite away:
Who once returning, needes must seeke to quaile,
The aduerse part that labour'd his decay;
Dead dogs can neither barke nor bite (men say)
But anger'd[?] curres more fiercely still returne,
And wronged minds with greater fire burne.
190
Better it is, still to dissemble hate
Then first to enter into discontent,
And leaue him great, whom thou hast edg'd of late,
VVho hauing meanes, and sharpned in intent,
May easily worke some dangerous euent:
Either strike not, or else be sure strike so,
That thou thy selfe need feare no future blow.
191
Besides they did the more exasperate,
By opposition my enraged Ire.
And for my Gaueston, whom they did hate,
they did inflame mee with a greater fire,
His absence setting edge one my desire
For Princes kept from what they doe affect
do hurrey to their ends without respect.
192
What euer stops the currant of the streame,
Is swept away with furious violence;
Force being effectlesse 'gainst a stronger meane,
But if one will with labour and expence
Diuert the course, and turne the Channell thence,
'Tis possible, that he in time preuailes,
For Arte doth compasse, when resistance failes.
193
Philosophers doe hold (and truely too)
That lightning oft, (the sheath vntouch'd, the blade)
Consumes, the reason, why it doth so do
Is, by the one there's small resistance made
Being full of pores[?]; th'other hard t'inuade,
Doth set it selfe against that heauenly shot,
Which quite consumes, because it pierceth not.
194
I cannot fit the awfull wrath of Kings,
More properly then to this wondrous fire,
Which once inflames, consumes resisting things,
Breakes vp the bounds that limits their desire;
And by depressing downe still mounts vp higher,
VVhereas strong passion borne with patience,
Spends on it selfe, and dies without offence,
195
My peeres soone saw which way the hare did run
And therefore gaue consent to his repeale.
Not Caesar, when Phasalia field he wonn
Did triumph more, then I, when they did seale.
And did subscribe, the ruine of our weale,
Then all was well, whilst all did well agree
But all prou'd Ill, for all, and worst for mee.
196
For Gaueston after hee did returne,
Of all my former fauours once possest,
His full filld fortunes held my peeres in scorne.
Nor could he any equall well disgest
Oh foolish man to swell aboue the rest
When bubbles fullest blowne doe soonest breake
And trees are euer at the top most weake.
197
Content doth seate it selfe in lowest dales
Out of the dint of winde and stormie showres.
These sitts and sings Melodious Nightingales
There runes fresh cooling streames, there spring sweete flowres
There heat and could are fenc'd by shady bowres
There hath he wealth at will, but this wee knowe
the grasse is short, that one the hill doth grow.
198
Oh Gaueston whie dost thou then aspire
To be so great, when greatnesse stands one yee,
If thou shouldst slip, as now thy place is hier
Then will thy fall be greater in a trice
Hee's downe that stands on Pynacles, be wise,
Stand low, Stand fast, but oh I speake in vaine,
For men will mount, though suer to stoope againe,
199
How Gauestone the third time Banished,
Did liue in Duch-land where he found no rest:
How he return'd, how I was famished
Did feede on him, as on some dainty Feast:
How ill my Peeres, his presence did disgest,
I doe but touch at: now my Muse vnfold,
How till his fall, he bare him proud and bold
200
Suppose him spleene-full melancholly sad:
And me in mine affections passionate:
Thinke him reuenge-full, thinke me doting mad:
Thinke, how I lou'd; and thinke how he did hate:
And thinke him then thus [...]o expostulate:
Grieu'd with precedent, fear'd with future wrong;
Thus did this Syren tune his balefull song.
201
Oh King (no King) but shaddow of a King:
Nay doe not frowne, but heare me what I say,
I speake in zeale, though fatally I sing;
Thou op'st a gap vnto thine owne decay,
By suffering thy proud Peeres to beare the sway,
For looke how much the shadowes heigth doth grow,
So much the Sunne declines, and goes more low.
202
Thy waxing is their waine, thy ebbe their tyde,
When they are strongest, thou art weake and faint,
Turne euery stone, to quell their growing pride;
It fits not Kings, to brooke the least restraint,
Disgrace, exile, streight durance, or attaint,
Close practises, to bring them into hate:
These are the meanes to re-assure thy State.]
203
Now thou art King in shewe, but not in deede,
These petty pawnes doe checke, and mate thee to:
All is reuers'd that is by thee decreed,
They doe inioyne thee, what thou hast to doe,
And what they will thou art compeld vnto;
But though thy pleasure bend another way,
Yet things must passe, as they are pleas'd to sway.
204
They haue allies, to strengthen their designes,
They backe themselues with their Confederates,
Their seeming zeale, the vulgar vndermines,
The wiser sort, for feare insinuates,
And so they gaine assurance of all states:
Some by the glosse of faire deportment; and
Some by a hard; and ouer-awing hand.
205
Besides, they raise men that are popular,
And by their meanes, the peoples hearts they steale,
Themselues seemes iust, their courses regular,
They make pretences for a Common-weale,
Of reformation, of religious zeale;
And by these colours which they do pretend,
They bring their complots to a sinfull end.
206
But more then this, the wealth of all thy Land
Is in their hand, or else at their dispose,
VVhereby they haue an absolute command
Of many liues, which are maintain'd by those
Great bounties, that from their aboundance flowes:
For they must needes remaine at their deuotion,
VVho haue from them their being, and their motion.
207
These are the close consumptions of thy State,
VVhich by these antidots, thou must restore:
Be seru'd by such as thou hast rais'd of late,
Aduance new Creatures of no note before,
And such will still depend on thee therefore,
For wanting meanes, except thou grace them still,
They must remaine obliged to thy will.
208
Let them be staring spirits of aire and fire,
Apt but to make, and to maintaine a faction:
Ambitious, actiue, hungry to aspire;
Not foil'd with feare, but apt for actiue action,
True to their ends, but false in faith and faction:
And such being grac'd, and fauour'd by the time,
VVill in despite of spightfull enuy clime.
209
VVhose growth thy Peeres will malice and detest,
And seeke to stop, which they not brooking well,
VVill nourish mutuall hatred in their brest,
And rankrous enuy in their soules will swell;
From whence reuenge, and greedy thrift to quell:
The aduerse party, cannot but proceede,
And so confusion to them all indeede.
210
Meane while thou vnder-hand must feede the flame,
And secretly giue heart to either side,
And which is weakest, leaue them to the same,
VVhereby, thou shalt confound the aduerse pride,
And if they doubting chance to be espide,
Make it an open quarrell, and be sure
To cut them off, that may most hurt procure.
211
This lecture was by Tarquin well exprest,
When with his wand, he did behead those flowers,
That any way did ouer-grow the rest:
As who should say, be jealous of great powers,
And cut them downe, whose State neere equals ours
For that same Throne is but a slippery seare,
That suffers any to be ouer-great.
212
Make paenall Lawes, to cut off their retainers;
Wrest from their hands, all publique great command,
Grace them in shew, but not to make them gainers:
Keepe them aloofe, let them not vnderstand,
The passages of State, at any hand:
Doe not commit thy forces to their trust,
Least hauing mindes, th'aue meanes to be vniust.
213
Where ere they liue, though they be farre remou'd,
Yet let them be suruei'd with carefull eye,
Such as are neere to them, and deerely lou'd,
To whom their inward thoughts most open lye,
Winne them by gifts, and by close pollicy
To serue thy turne with true intelligence,
Of any thing that may procure offence,
214
If they command, doe thou not fauour then,
Let all aduancements be deriu'd from thee:
So shalt thou weane from them, the hearts of men,
And they will onely, thy dependants be:
For there men serue, while they preferment see:
Lastly, what Stratagem thou dost intend,
Let shewes of vertue colour still thy end.
215
These are the baites to fish for wisest Peeres,
The longlings may be caught with easier meanes:
Let Syren pleasures bane their youthfull yeares:
Let lust, expence, and riotous extreames,
To which their age by course of nature leanes,
Let followers, change of beauties pompous pride
Infect their mindes, and racke their States beside.
216
Yet if thou see a likely growing plant,
Whose spreading branches may in time proue great:
Lodge him at home, let him imployment want,
And fruitlesse wither in his natiue seate,
For ease and rest, will chill his actiue heate,
And lull'd in pleasure of a safe delight,
Relinquish mounting thoughts of honors quite.
217
But if his temper fore so high a pitch,
And that his working vertues must haue vent,
Ingage him in some action, by the which
His Haruest may be Death, or discontent;
Yet make a shew to grace his hardiment,
And thrust him so (with highest honor) on
To such attempts, as Death still waite vpon.
218
Which if he misse, as Heauen may blesse him so;
Yet will the managing of such designes,
Afford fit matter for his ouer throw.
If that his Fortune any way declines,
For commonly the vulgar sort repines,
Against all actions that do want successe,
And in their humors weigh the agents lesse.
219
And so they lye more open to their wracke,
VVhen they haue once manur'd a common hate,
And then some faire occasion cannot lacke,
Either by death to cancell their liues hate,
Or at the least to weaken so their State,
As that the Prince need feare no future harme,
That may proceed from their vnioynced arme.
220
And hauing cleer'd thy selfe of such, yet then
That thou might'st keep thy Maiesty and State:
Thou needes must intertaine some Noble men,
But frothy bubbles, full of idle prate,
Who study fashions, know their place (scarce that)
Al whose sweet worth, is fetch'd from bad mens toombe,
And they themselues lesse worthy then their Groomes.
221
Let them discourse of Kindred and Allies:
My vnckle Earle, my cousen Duke, or so;
Who liuing, did this or that interprise:
And tell how his great Grand-fires house did go,
VVhen he in France incountred with his foe:
Grace these (sweet Prince) these thy Courts Comets be
And pray for them, the'ile neuer pray for thee.
222
Thus must thy twigs be lim'd, thy nets display'd,
To catch these birds that sore vp to the Sunne;
And when these wise foundations once are layd,
Tis almost ended that is well begunne,
Then art thou King indeede, then hast thou wonne
Vnto thy selfe an absolute estate;
Meane while thou liu'st but in a golden grace.
223
Thus did this hellish Ate cast the ball
Of discontent, betwixt me and my Peeres;
Whose damned Counsels flowing from the gall,
Fill'd them with fury, me with needlesse feare,
And set vs all together by the eares:
For straight to armes they get, to venge the wrong,
And vow'd his head should answere for his tongue.
224
I wish'd the trees were turn'd to armed troopes,
And all the boughes were pikes, their hearts to wound;
All other birds; the Princely Eagle stoopes:
The Lyon roares, the beasts shake at the sound,
Why should not I, their daring pride confound,
That saucily vsurp vppon my right;
But Lyons, are no Lyons wanting might.
225
But they did strike whilst that the Steele was hot,
And still came on, to seize vpon their pray:
VVhat should we do, complaine it booted not:
Go leauy men, our men did dis-obay:
Sue for a Truce, they would not grant a day:
Submit ourselues, and so some pitty craue,
Me hurt they would not, him they would not saue.
226
That Prince indeede is to be held most wise,
VVho by his virtues doth his slate secure:
But he's a foole that meanes to tyrannise,
And doth not seeke by forces to assure
His owne designes, for let him be most sure,
A Prince that's weake, and yet doth gouerne ill,
Is subiect to a thousand dangers still
227
Nothing remain'd but flight, and flye we did;
So silly Doues before proud Falcons flye,
Till Gauestone in Scarborow Castle hid:
My Peeres surpris'd whom Warwicke Earle Sir Guy[?]
Beauchamp beheaded, so my Pierce did dye:
A gloomy night concluded this faire morne,
And Fortunes Minion, ended Fortunes scorne.
228
Oh what is honor but an exhalation:
A fierye Meteor soone extinct and gone:
A breach of people, and the tongues relation,
That straight is ended when the voice is done:
A morning dew dri'd vp with mid-day sunne;
A ceasing sweete like Danaës golden shower,
Which both began, and ended in an houre.
229
There breeds a little Beast by Nilus streames,
Which being borne when Phoebus first doth rise;
Growes old, when he reflects his hottest beames;
And when at night to Westerne Seas he hies;
Then life begins to faile, and straight it dyes:
Borne, old, and dead, and all but in a day,
Such honor is, so soone it weares away.
230
How much more happy is that sweete estate
That neyther creepes to low, nor soares too high,
Which yeelds no matter to content or hate,
Which others not disdaine, nor yet enuy,
Which neither does, nor takes an iniury,
But liuing to it seke, in sweete content
Is neither fordide, nor yet insolent[?].
231
Hee liues indeede, and spends his course of time,
In truest pleasure that this life can yeald,
He hath set houres to pray at euen and prime:
He walkes abroad into his quiet field,
And studies how his home affaires to weild:
His soule and body make one Common-wealth;
His Counsels care to keepe them both in health.
232
He feares no poysons in his meates nor drinkes:
He needes no Guard to watch about his bed:
No treacher vndermines him what he thinkes:
No dangerous proiects hammer in his head,
He sits and sees, how things are mannaged;
And by obseruing what hath erst beene done,
He leuels oft, how future things will runne.
233
If he would deale with Kings, and mighty men,
He doth conuerse with them in History:
If he would know the Heauenly motions, then
He takes his Globe, he reads Astronomy:
His Maps and Charts doe teach Cosmography;
And whilst in his safe Cell he studying stands,
In one short houre, he sailes both Sea and Lands.
234
And tir'd perhaps with the Discouery
Of Forraine things, he comes more neerer home,
He lookes into himselfe, with curious eye
That little World, that is indeede his owne
He trauels in, which being truely knowne
Affords enough for wonder and delight,
When he hath learn'd to know himselfe aright.
235
The Earle of Cornwall, causer of the warre
Thus being dead, they layd their weapons downe,
Protesting all, they would not goe so farre
As to be thought disloyall to the Crowne,
But they did seeke the Realmes and my renowne,
Which was eclipst in him which they had slaine,
But Englands Sphaere would not grow cleare againe.
236
Oh still darke clouds doth shaddow Englands sphaere,
And bitter stormes on gloomy clouds dependant,
Vnfortunate, and fatall euery yeare,
Whilst haplesse Edward was chiefe Lord ascendant;
Malignant starres were still on me attendant,
Though at my birth, loue smil'd with sweere aspect,
Yet froward nature did my life direct.
237
For though disasted Gauestone was dead;
Yet Edward liu'd, and liu'd to farther ill:
For still I was by my [...]ffections led;
I will'd no Law, yet had no Law but will:
My Peeres disgrac'd, my Councell grieued still.
The Spencers, they succeeded Gauestone,
He chang'd for worse and worse; two ills for one.
238
These Spencers now the subiect of my Song,
Discended of a race of good esteeme:
The elder Hugh (the father) liued long
In great accompt, and happy daies had seene,
Till his ambitious sonne did ouer-weene,
VVhose greatnesse caus'd the Father to aspire,
And at the last did wracke both Sonne[?] and Syre.
239
Oh what hast thou, old man to do with Court?
Thy bookes and beads had better beene for thee▪
Liue still retir'd and do not now resort,
To stormie tempest, age doth ill agree
With great concourse and vulgar mutinie,
It rather craues immunity and rest,
And powerfull case, with tumult not distrest.
240
Whose ioynts being wrack't & torturd with the gowte[?]
Can scarce endure the stirring of a straw,
Who being vn-wildie must be borne about,
Whose golden Ewer is crack't with many a flaw,
Who hath no grinders left in either iawe.
Whose strong men bowe, whose keepers shake and tremble,
Whose meager lookes pale death doth most resemble.
241
But this ambition is a boyling ill,
Honor doth make dead Cinders grow againe,
What aged one so great, but by his will
Would faine grow greater, age doth still retaine
Two humors, hope of life, desire of gaine,
And this was that which made old Spencer clime,
When he had past the Autumne of his time.
242
The younger Hugh, the sonne of this old man,
Was of an actiue spirit, and able Braine:
Who with the Barons at the first began
To side himselfe, they fauouring him againe,
For Gauestone made him Lord Chamberlaine,
That he in place so neere about the king
Might alwaies serue their turnes in euery thing.
243
Thinking because he was by them preferr'd,
He still would cleaue to them in their designes,
But (ill aduised men) herein they err'd.
A swelling spirit hates him, by whom he climes,
As yute[?] kills the Tree wherein it Proines,
So rising men when they are seated high
Spurne at the meanes, that first they mounted by.
244
Because they thinke, such fauors challenge still,
An equall correspondencie of loue,
Which ties them to be pliant to their will;
And as the lower spheres, by those aboue,
Are whirl'd about, so, they by these must moue,
In all attempts still swaid by their direction,
And for no end, nor measure of subiection.
245
And such well-mettled men cannot digest,
To be obsequious to an others minde:
Their working spirits will not let them rest,
Till those precedent bands, which did them bind,
By opposition, are againe vntwin'd,
And such an open rupture doth restore
Their libertie, which was ingag'd before.
246
And greatnesse houlds it needfull pollicie,
To rid his hands of them, that did it raise,
By entring into open enmitie.
And so to cut them off without delayes,
These were, and are the courses of our daies,
Who list obserue both old and modern times,
Shall finde, I wright no fables though some times.
247
I will not touch particulars at all;
I play the ball, let others marke the chase;
The Spencers do my wandring muserecall,
Who being neere the king in chiefest place,
Did heape vp much, and that in litle space,
For all things hid he from their passage then,
Who turn'd to gold, all matters, and all men.
248
The chiefest Peeres were vnderhand kept downe,
The Mynions of the King got euery place,
Though Edward had, yet Spencers rul'd the Crowne;
And being both made Earles in highest grace,
They built, they bought, they rais'd, they did deface,
Whom, what they would, such was their powerfull lust,
And sodaine greatnesse growes to some vniust.
249
Especially, if like a Mole it workes,
Only in earth: how greedy's such a man?
How closely he in Couert, silent works,
To Compasse a whole Countrie, if he can;
Still griping all; that comes within his span,
What wealth, wit, friends, force can do, good or ill,
Shall, must be practis'd, for to please his will.
250
The Princes fauours do for Pullies serue,
To draw on men, to be at his command,
Eu'n seats of Iudgement shall from iustice swerue,
If they may bring a title to his hand:
And if some reuerend fathers shall withstand.
Then weed them out, they will not serue our turne,
Such men are fit for Martits[?], let them burne.
251
His Agents must be of another mould,
Sharp-sighted into other mens estate,
Pliant to do, what their great Masters would,
Close, cunning to dissemble loue, or hate,
Well spoken, powerfull to insinuate,
Seemingly honest, outwardly precise,
By which they may their close complots disguise.
252
These are like pipes of Lead that do conuay
Those practises, that from their head do spring;
And let these seconds come to beare greatsway,
Are legg'd and crouch'd vnto, for feare they sting,
These buy and build, and beg, and raise, and wring,
Farmer, Esquier, Kinght and Baron too,
And Prince and all, with whom they haue to doe.
253
And this indeed was the most dangerous rocke,
Whereon I split, and so at last did drowne:
This was mine Error, this the stumbling block,
At which I fell, and cast my fortunes downe:
This lost my peoples hearts, and that my Crowne.
My Minions rapine, and vniust oppression,
And my too much indulgent indiscretion.
254
My Peeres were male content, being vnrespected,
My Captaines mutinous for want of pay,
My Court with all incestuousnes infected,
My people poore, with taxes par'd away,
And apt for innouation euery day.
All out of ioynt, dejected, and dismai'd,
Onely the Spencers, and their Consorts swai'd.
255
I sould, they bought, I wasted, they did thriue,
They had aboundance I was indigent,
They suck'd the honey, Ithe ransack't hiue:
Which made them grow, bould, tart and insolent,
And therby caus'd a common discontent,
Of all those crimes, I did in curre the blame,
Because my heate gaue life vnto the same.
256
Princes attend, for I do speake in zeale
'Tis not enough that you your selues are iust,
But you must looke into the common weale,
And see that those, whom you doe put in trust,
Do gouerne by the law not by their lust.
For he indeed the wrong doth perpetrate,
That may redresse, yet it doth tolerate.
257
And so you make their wickednesse, your owne,
By suffering them to sinne, without controule,
But let no Widowes teares bedew your throne,
Nor poore mens sighes, sent from a greeued soule,
Nor Orphans prayers, which heauen doth still inrolle
Nor common curses, caus'd by publike greeuance.
Draw iudgment down on you for their mischieuance.
258
Kings must vse some, and may choose of the best,
But let them still remember what they are,
Let not all lawes be lock't vp in one brest,
Let no one only censure make or marre,
For men haue passions, which oft straines them far:
The most sees least, few best, but none fees all,
Who hath not, doth; who doth not, yet may fall.
259
I do not barke against authoritie,
My heart did neuer lodge vnreuerend thought,
Heauen knowes, how I adore iust Soueraigntie,
How oft my soule, with vpheau'd hands hath sought,
Vnto that God whose precious blood vs bought,
For our right vertuous king, this peacefull state,
And all those powers, he doth subordinate.
260
Oh if one beame of thy resplendent light,
Most faire all guiding Sun chance to descend
Vpon this short abridgement which I write.
Let no conceipt thy sacred selfe offend,
For they were chiefly moulded to this end:
To shew how much our selues obliged stand,
For these good times as now do blesse our land.
261
Which by collation of these wretched daies,
Appeare more full of comfort and content:
But I goe on, Muse, keepe the beaten wayes;
Whilst Spencers rul'd with common discontent,
Eu'n God himselfe inflicted punishment
Vpon the Prince, the people, and the land,
Who felt the weight of his afflicting hand.
262
The king himselfe was full of diffidence,
And thought to strengthen his partialitie;
The Lords not brooking Spencers insolence,
Did league themselues with strong formalitie,
The best were guiltie of neutralitie.
The vulgar sort was tided vp and downe,
As fortune list, to fauour or to frowne.
263
The earth her selfe as sorrowing for her sonnes,
Or wearie of their foule misgouernment,
Grieue out of heart, and barren straight becomes,
Not yeelding men sufficient to be spent,
But seem'd to drop away with languishment:
So may we see how God vnfructifies,
A fruitfull land for mens impieties.
264
The lowring Heauens did seeme to drop down teares,
As if they wept, to wash the sinfull earth,
Infectious foggs, and gloomie clouds appeares,
Which choke the growth of all things in their birth,
Heauen, earth, and all conspir'd to make a dearth,
Oh see when God takes armes against a land,
He can Inroll all creatures in his band.
265
Great was the want of that vnhappie time,
The Earth not yeelding her accustom'd store:
And that which was, whilst greedy men purloyne,
And hord it vp, they make the famine more,
Grinding thereby the faces of the poore.
As if Gods heauie hand were too too light,
Vnlesse eu'n man should studie mans despight.
266
Such men are traitors euen to natures Law,
And do conspire against the common good:
They wring the bread out of the poore mans iawe,
Whose verie soule doth starue for want of foode,
But without doubt, God will require their blood.
Their guiltlesse blood which from the earth shall cry
And beg reuenge of him that is most high.
267
If but one sparke of grace in them did dwell,
Did they respect humane societie;
Had they a hope of Heauen, a feare of hell;
Or anie litle sence of pietie;
Did they in heart conceiue a Deitie;
And that most iust, most wise, most powerfull too;
They would forbeare, what God forbids to doe.
268
But neither feare of God, nor loue of men,
Nor iust compassion of a publique ill
Can worke vpon their brawnie hearts, and then,
Coerciue meanes best fites a stubborne will,
Else they'le be hardned in their malice still,
For oftentimes we see where nature failes,
Law interposes, and indeed preuailes.
269
The ancient Roman state in its chiefe pride,
When it was gouern'd with most sound aduise,
Had Leges frumentarias[?] to prouide
That graine should not grow to too high a price,
Our times such lawes, our Lawes need such aduise,
Some men are growne so monstrous in their kinde,
We must like monsters, them inclose and binde.
270
Me thinks this sinne hath in't some tast of bloud,
And what if Dracoes lawes did match this sinne:
Which is not onely opposite to good,
And all good offices what soeuer beene:
But doth also infringe the common kinne[?],
Whereby one soule is linck'd vnto another,
As seuerall sonnes descending from one mother.
271
But oh what times are these wherein we liue,
In which we neither can indure the sore,
Nor yet the salue, the causes why we grieue,
Nor yet the meanes, which should our state restore,
Once Pharoes kyne, which were but leane and poore,
Deuour'd the fat; those times are alter'd cleane,
For now we see the fat deuoures the leane.
272
But whilst impatient hunger did constraine,
The vulgar sort, to eat vnhealthy foode,
A great mortalitie began to reigne,
Spilling too much (but most plebeian) blood,
And after death came war with angrie moode.
Loe wretched man, how woe still comes in grosse,
And after one succeeds a second crosse.
273
When God seuerely scourgeth any land,
He seconds plagues, with plagues, and woes with woes
He taketh his three stringed whip in hand,
Of dearth, of death, of home, of farraigne foes,
And from these three, all desolation growes,
What true Content, what rest to men remaines:
When ills, by ounces; Good scarce comes by graines.
274
And to encrease the current of my eare,
A slauish Groome Iohn Pordras was his name,
Borne in the west, at Exeter did dare,
To bruit abroad, that he from Longshanks came,
And I a Changling, but suppos'd the same,
That he in truth was Edwards lawfull sonne,
And by a nurse this trecherie was done.
275
But afterwards of his vntruth conuicted,
He did confesse that he was mou'd vnto it,
By those foule Arts that God had interdicted
And by a spirit in likenesse of a Cat;
Who did assure him by this damned plot,
He should vnto the Soueraigntie attaine,
But hanging did indeede preuent his reigne.
276
Heere giue me leaue a litle while to dwell,
Vpon the nature of this accident:
First I obserue the Diu'll cannot foretell,
Before things come what will be their euent,
If that they be not properly contingent:
This is, that may be, and not be as well,
And such no Deuill, nor spirit can foretell.
277
All future things, that haue or may be tould,
Are in themselues, or by their causes knowne,
Things in themselues, God only can vnfould,
And yet sometimes, he doth impart his owne,
And proper knowledge of such things to come,
Vnto such Agents, as he lift inspire,
With some small sparkles of his heauenly fire.
278
Such were the holy Prophets in their daies,
Who only by th'infusion of his grace,
Foretold strange things, such likewise did he raise
At seu'rall times, euen from the gentle race.
And in that ranck, some do the Sybills place,
Who by the glimmering of his glorious light,
Of things to come, did oft diuine aright.
279
Those things that by their causes are concein'd
Do either follow of necessitie,
Therefore in them eu'n men are not deceiu'd
Or grounded else on probabilitie.
Or they do hit by meere contingencie,
The first the Diu'l must certenly conceaue,
Ones at the second, in the least deceaue.
280
And yet because of long experience,
And by their wondrous knowledge in all Arts,
And for no earthie substance dimmes their sence,
And by their speedy motion which imparts
A present knowledge from the farthest parts:
I grant they fully comprehend those things,
Which vnto vs great admiration brings.
281
But when in truth, the things are so conceal'd
That neither causes nor th'effects appeare
Then those occurrents are by them reueal'd,
In such a sort, as double sence may beare,
Alwaies ambiguous, cloudy, neuer cleare:
And such were those same Oracles of old,
Which were by Phoebus, or by Haman told.
282
I will be no Retailor of such wares,
For they are cheape, and common vnto all,
But I obserue what comes to such mens shares,
I note the fearefull Iudgements that doe fall
Vpon such Artists as do vse to call
Which both the ancient Annalls do record
And modern stories of our time afford.
283
Some burnt with fire as Zoroastes[?] was,
And some, the earth did swallow vp aliue,
As Amphoraus[?] when that he did passe.
To Thebes, some did their owne spirits depriue,
Of breath, And so Pope Benedict did thriue,
The ninth of that same name, whose vitall sine
The deuill himselfe by strangling did vntwine,
284
Nicephorus and so Abbidoes tells,
How Simon Magus flying in the Airē
By Magick Art, and by inchanting spells,
Fell downe and brake his bones at Peters prayer,
And so he di'd in horror and despaire.
Oh God, how far thy hand is stretched out
To powre downe vengance on this damned rout.
285
But to reuert from whence I did digresse,
Besides this common confluence of ill.
Those warres I vndertooke, God did not blesse,
But euermore they were successlesse still,
Because I fail'd, both in aduise and skill.
Which being manag'd without due respect
How could their ends but sort to such effect.
286
Most true it is a power of fearefull Harts,
That by a Princely Lyon is but led,
Shall in the field exploit more glorious parts,
Then armed Lions with a Hart their head
For wars do thriue as they are mannaged,
And in the streame of Action sound aduise
Preuailes as much as doth bold enterprise.
287
A Ship well mann'd, well victual'd, tackled well,
Without a skilfull pilot steere the same,
Doth in that warrie world in danger dwell.
Looke what the Pilot is to that huge frame
To armed troopes, the Chiefetaine is the same,
Who wanting either courage or foresight,
Ruines himselfe, and all his Armie quite.
288
In managing of Ciuill home designes,
If any Councell be not wisely fitted:
There yet remaines some space in after-times,
To execute what was before omitted.
Or to correct what was before committed,
But in the fields, when Armies ioyne in shocke,
One only error brings all to the block.
289
And hence, as I conceiue, it doth proceede,
That excellent Commanders are so rare.
Because they must be very wise indeede,
To take the least aduantages that are,
And very valiant to attempt and dare,
And oh how seldome meere in one these twaine,
A Lions heart ioyn'd with a foxes braine.
290
Troy only stories forth one Hectors fame
One Alexander, name of great did merit.
One Hanniball from Carthage onely came,
And but one Pirrhus[?] Empire did inherit,
So sauing are the Heauens of such a spirit,
That no one climate hath produced many,
And many one hath scarce been blest of any.
291
The Theban state no greatnesse did attaine,
But only in Epaminondas time:
Who being dead, it did grow weake againe,
He was the sunne that lightned all the clime.
His setting was their fall, his rise their prime,
Before most glorious, after of no fame,
Such powerfull vertue from their Chiefetaine came.
292
Therefore let Princes labour to attaine,
The art of warre, by all the meanes they can;
Because it doth inable him to reigne,
And makes him greater then a priuate man
That often hath the Supreme title wan
Of sole Commander which who doth possesse,
Is scarce a Prince, and yet but litle lesse.
293
To haue such troopes of Souldiers at command,
To haue such store of wealth as men affect,
To haue such potent meanes by sea and land,
To execute what er'e they would affect,
To be obseru'd with dutie and respect.
By forren States, and haue dependancie
Are shadowes at the least of Soueraigntie.
294
And he that oft hath tasted that delight,
Wherewith such powerfull greatnesse doth bewitch,
Me thinks can hardlie humble so his spight,
As not to thinke himselfe aboue the pitch,
Of common men: more eager is the itch
To mount the top, of one that's vp halfe way,
Then his, that still at lowest step doth stay.
295
Therefore in truth, I do not Iump with those,
Who thinke the Prince a conduct in the field
Should both himselfe, and common wealth repose
Vpon some Chiefetaine, whilst himselfe doth wield,
The home affaires which more assurance yeeld.
In shew I grant, but weighing euerything,
Such seeming safeties certaine danger bring.
296
For if ambition seize vpon the soule,
As 'tis a passion apt to entertaine,
And once possest no iust respects controule,
I would aduise the Prince that then doth raigne,
To doubte th'euent, 'tis worser, to complaine
Then be complain'd of: And who doth not know,
How many Kings haue been vncrownedse.
297
This was the Rocke that wrack't great Olerones line,
And brought the Crowne of France to Martells care.
For Childerick was forced to resigne,
To Pepin (Martells sonne) his kingly place,
And so likewise Hugh Capet did displace
The line of Pepin, and aduanc't his owne,
Because in warre, his worth was greater growne.
298
A Subiect may in shape a Prince excell,
A Subiect may more then his Soueraigne know,
Either in arts or in discoursing well,
He may be stronger to vnhorse his foe,
And it no danger to the Scepter so,
But if in armes the subiect growes too great
The Prince may chaunce be set besides his seat.
299
Therfore the Prince, whose forces and whose armes,
By other then himselfe commanded bin,
Must for preuention of ambitious harmes,
Haue many chiefetaines to imploy therein,
So shall no one be able for to win
So strong a partie, but another may,
Serue for a helpe to be crost in his way.
300
But is there then no Ciment for to ioyne
The Prince and powerfull Peere, so close, so fast,
As th'one shall not suspect, nor th'other clime?
Or is the state of things so strangly past,
That men cannot be good with greatnesse grac'd?
Must Princes feare the noblest virtues still?
Or must a Subiect vse such virtue ill?
301
Oh no, such minds the glosse of virtue beares,
But no essentiall part of her pertake[?]?
A kingly nature cannot nourish feares,
And virtuous soules loue good for goodnes sake,
And only that their actionsayme do make,
Where such as borrow virtues for a time,
Are dangerous men, and verie apt to clime.
303
Especially if their designements bend,
To compasse that which we dependance call,
If all their actions Ieuell at this end,
Tender themselues vnto the Generall,
Oh the'yle be easl'y drawne to throw at all,
When they haue got the day into their hand
By hauing often conduct and command.
303
The Antidote for Princes to preserue
Their State vndanger'd from such poysonous pares,
Is onely Iustice, which, who doth obserue,
In all designes to men of all estates
And is not swai'd with feares, loue, hopes, or hates,
Or any passion, but goes clearely on:
That Prince is wise, and doth secure his Throne.
304
Let all the politicks that breath this day,
Rack their conceipts vntill they breake their braine,
They neuer shall inuent a better way
Whereby a Prince may with assurance raigne;
Than to be truely iust, and to retaine
An euen proportion Arithmeticall,
Which giueth equall iustice vnto all.
305
This is the mother both of loue and feare,
This doth ingender dutie and desire,
This doth the Prince from all suspition cleare,
Because it doth cut off the meanes t'aspire;
This distributes to all, deserued hire.
Whereby the Subiect (hauing his iust due)
Remaines contented, and contented true▪
306
And you great Starres whose power is influence
May worke so much be not irregular
Moue fairely in your orbs without offence
Be Nobles truely, and not titular,
But soft my muse, how apt art thou to erre
From thy first path, returne and make it plaine
That armes are safest for a soueraigne.
307
Not onely to preuent aspiring harmes
Would I haue Kings Comanders of their owne,
But chiefely would I haue them practise Armes,
That their braue spirits might be the better knowne,
And haue more vent, to make their vertues showne;
For greatnesse doth much in opinion rest,
And that's maintain'd by being in action best.
308
Besides, 'tis certaine all men wish to serue
Rather in Princes eye, then by the eare,
Nothing inflames the soule more to deserue;
More quickens honour, more abandons feare
Then when the Prince in presence doth appeare
To check the coward, and with praise and merit
To grace the actions of a gallant spirit.
309
This of all causes, that I can conceiue
Made Alexander Monarch of the East,
It is a mighty motiue not to leaue
Their soueraigne Prince in danger or distrest,
Ill thriue they here on earth, in heauen vnblest
That wish not so, and grant oh dearest Lord
That men and Angels to my prayers accord.
310
Wise was the State, and very well aduis'd,
Wise forces being often put to flight,
Still finding bad successe, at last deuis'd
To bring their infant Prince into the fight
Eu'n in his cradle, that his very sight
Might giue them better which prou'd most true
For they did fight, and fighting did subdue.
311
Besides, those vnder officers that are
Imployd according to each seuerall place
Will with more faith, and more respectiue care,
Intend their charge before the Princes face,
So to auoyd both danger and disgrace,
And then the common souldier serueth best
When he's respected most, and fleeced least.
312
And though I know examples doe not proue,
Yet is the state of things not so confounded
But that those selfe-same motiues still may moue
On which their resolutions then were grounded,
Therefore since Norman William first was crowned
Who list suruey our Kings cannot but yeeld
Their States thriu'd best, who most did keepe the field.
313
Yet if the Prince by age disabled be
Or otherwise by any like defect
Or if the sexe with armes doe not agree
The let them make fit choice with much respect
Of men of greatest vertues, to direct
Their martiall forces and the more they traine
In such designes, the surer is their raigne.
314
Because the Prince with more assurance liues
That doth relie on many then on one,
For nothing sooner apt occasion giues
To swelling spirits for to liue vpon
Then if they often haue command alone
Especially if men doe hold them such
As without them the State cannot be much.
315
Besides it causes enuie on all parts,
Many malignant humours will be bred,
If that the Prince all powerfulnesse imparts,
Solie to one, which ev'nlyquartered
Sets many spirits on worke and all are fed;
At least with hopes, which else perhaps might fall
To practise, if one hand ingrossed all.
316
Nor would I haue the Prince to nourish feares
Or iealousies[?], of such as well deserue;
But let them make, and keepe great spirits theirs;
And let their fauours and their bounties serue
As chaines to binde them, that they doe not swerue;
From loyall dutie: stronger is that tye
Then cunning practise of soule cruelty.
317
And since they must haue Agents of their will
For execution of their enterprizes,
Or be themselues ingag'd in action still,
Let not vngrounded feares and false surmises
vnapt their meanes, and crosse their owne deuises;
For who suspects when no cause doth appeare,
Doth giue a cause to that which he doth feare.
318
So Commodus[?] and Bassianus so
Two Princes of a most distrustfull braine
Did spinne the thread of their owne ouerthrow
By difference which they did entertaine,
And were the meanes that they themselues were slaine
By their most deare Pirmadus[?], their false feare
Making them guiley that before were cleare.
319
For where's the man that may in peace possesse,
The happie blessings of a priuat state,
Yet prostituts himselfe to wretchednes,
To care of minde, to bodies toile, to hate,
Of envie, to the violence of Fate,
To techie times to dangers ymminent.
Yf vertue finds no grace but discontente.
320
Therfore let Princes weigh their seruants merrits,
And grace them most that have deserved best,
So shall respected vertues raise new spirits
And euery noble heart, and gentle brest,
Will boyle with zeale, which will not let them rest;
Till they haue rob'd of bloud, each seuerall veine,
To doe due seruice to their souereigne.
321
But if the Prince too much distastfull be
Sad, sower, and of a melancholy minde,
Hard of accesse, close handed, nothing free
To best deseruers, euer most vnkind,
Let such a one assure himselfe to find
False hearts and feeble hands, but certaine hate,
If any danger threatens his estate.
322
Besides the soule defacing of his glory,
And the remembrance of his liuing shame,
Which will recorded be in euery story
And euery Annall will report the same,
And tax with hatefull tyranny his fame,
And why should Kings be so ill gouerned
That their black deeds should liue when they are dead,
323
A thousand yeares and more are gone and past
Since that Iustinian did the Empire sway,
And yet his foule dishonour still doth last
And will doe still while there is night and day
Because, he did vnworthily repay
Thy seruices braue Bellisarius[?]
To whom he was vniustly tyrannous.
324
Why though he did pluck forth those eyes of thine
Thy cheerefull lamps that lightned those darke daies,
Yet thy great acts, mauger his malice shine
As bright and glorious as the Sunny raies
And time both sees, and speakes thy lasting praise
And what though thou dost beg from dore to dore
Thou shalt be rich in honour, he but poore.
325
Besides God doth ingratitude detest
But loues kinde offices from man to man,
For sweetnesse, goodnesse, priuate States are blest,
And much more Kings, because indeed they can
Doe much more good, they measure not byth'span,
But by the ell, and as their meanes are more
With abler wings, so must they higher seare.
326
And oh deare God, the fountaine of all good,
How much obliged are these times to thee
For one most blessed Prince of greatest bloud,
And yet of greater vertue, happy we
Yea, ten times happy that haue liu'd to see
So many rare perfections ioyn'd in one
And that some one to fit vpon our throne.
327
I [...]oe not purpose to perfume my rimes
With the false breath of seruile flattery,
I rather am to bold with these our times,
But I apeale to Gods al-seeing eye,
To which our closest drifts doe open lye,
How my true pen writes from my feeling heart,
When I great King but shadow what thou art.
328
And oh how blest, how deare the heauens doe loue
That common wealth where vertuous Princes sway,
Oh sweet experience, now by thee we proue,
We tast, we touch that blessing euery day;
And grant (all guiding God) that long we may
Long in himselfe, and so long in his race
Till there be neither roome for time nor place.
329
But whether hath my zeale my soules desire
With seruent passion, led my pen astray;
To my first subiect now I will retire,
And bring my Muse into the beaten way,
And sing of thy disaster and decay
Oh fatall Edward, whose ill gouern'd Crowne
Both ruin'd others, and thy selfe cast downe.
330
But yet of all thy multiplicitie
Of seuerall ills that doe vnhappy life,
There was no greater infelicitie
Then was the falsehood of his faulty wife,
That bosome wound, that deadly poyson'd knife
That stabs the soule, and neuer finds reliefe
But kills with outward shame, or inward griefe.
331.
Oh what a Chaos of confused ill,
Is in the Compasse of this one Contain'd▪
First violation of Gods secret will,
Next parents, brother, Cozens are defam'd,
The Common-wealth by basterdy is stain'd,
Inheritances wrongfully possest,
The husband scorn'd wife loath'd, & babes vnblest.
332.
The festerous sore growes to a dangerous head
Now Mortimer begins to play his prize,
A brauer Spirit, nature neuer bred,
Of goodly presence to attract the eyes,
Of sweet discourse, wherein great influence lies,
Of high resolue, and of a noble heart
No want of nature, and all aid of art.
333.
This was the Paris[?], which my Hellen wonne
And this Prometheus stole my heauenly fire,
This was the Eagle airing in the Sunne.
Hee's more then man that can restraine desire,
Especially being wag'd by such a hire.
A Queene, and young, and faier, shees halfe a Ioue,
Whom honour, youth, & beauty cannot moue.
334.
And though there be no iust excuse for sinne,
Yet Isabell, this will I say for thee,
Tis[?] hardly kept, what many seekes to winne,
The finest cloth doth soonest staine we see.
Perhaps thou hadst these presidents from me,
Twas like forlike, though wrong in thee it were.
Yet was it right and iust for, me to beare.
335
Besides he did imploy all potent meanes,
To vndermine the Bulwark of her brest,
And oh that Sex too much by nature leanes
To Change of loues, what need it be opprest
With powerfull Art, but men will do their best
To scale the fort, and tillthe same be vvon
It is vndone desir'd, repented done.
336
And after many sweet inticing baits,
When he had somthing diu'd into her heart,
He then fit oportunitie awaits
To act the last, and best of all his part,
Wherein he was to shew his master Art,
Which hauing got; thus he begins the field,
To conquer her, that of her selfe did yeeld.
337
Faire Queene (quoth he) may I behold thy beautie,
Why not (quoth shee) the Sunne is seene of all,
And shall speake respecting still my dutie
Why not (quoth shee) Ioue heares the Captiue thrall;
Shall not disdaine on my endeuors fall.
Feare not (quoth she) great minds take all in worth
Tis flint (no pearle) sends sparks of fire forth,
338
Then beautious Queene my words, shall vent my woe
I loue, how sweet were that same sound from thee.
For once (quoth shee) I will be sure thine Ecchoe,
I loue, it is no perfect poynt (quoth he)
The sentence wants, except your Grace adds me,
You said not so, I made but repetition,
To greatest sums (faire Queen) needs no addition.
339
Why then (quoth she) what ist that I should adde,
Adde fancie to affection (gracious Queene)
Let not desire in tawny weeds be clad,
No sute becomes sweet loue, so well as greene
Add loue to loue, loue will more louely seeme,
Beleeue me (faire) stolne fruite contenteth most,
Then spare not that which being spar'd is lost.
340
Ah Mortimer[?] thou know'st (quoth shee) I may not,
Maddam (quoth he) I know you may, but will not,
What if I will, why then sweet Queene delay not,
Edward will know, why say he should, it skills not,
Fame will defame; Fame well may hurt but kills not
Danger may grow, that will indure delight,
As darkest grounds make wheat to seeme more white,
341
Thou wilt be false, then Sunne leese thou the light,
Why being eclipsd thou knowest, it oft doth so:
Let water burne, I now thou hitt'st it right,
Euen from our bathes such boyling waters flow.
Be constant Moone when I vnconstant grow,
That fitteth Iust, shee changing you vntrue,
Nay, you the Moone, and I the Man in you.
342
Ile cry, doe Madame, shed some teares for ioy,
You wrong me much, yet wrong'd you will not tell,
I pray thee leaue, tis but an Idle toy.
Tis true, and toyes, please Ladies very well.
I cannot yeeld, no women must but spell,
Men put together, that's my part to play,
Ile fight, ile kisse, and so begin the fray.
343
You will, nay then I must, because you will
Women (poore soules) are weake and dare not fight
Who euer rises we go downward still,
And yet fond men will say that we are light
Well tis our fortunes, and the destines spight,
I am content because I cannot choose,
Tis best to take what boots not to refuse.
344
Thus Mortimer, this golden fleece did steale,

Desunt Nonnulla.

goe to thy loomes againe
Vnwearied Muse, till thou hast wou'ne at will
The wofull storie of poore Edwards ill.
347
Tis out of Ayre whereby we liue and breath,
Tis not the Earth the mother of vs all,
Nor Starres aboue, nor is it Hell beneath,
Nor those same spirits which men their Daemons call
Nor chance which seemes to sway things casuall
That are the sole procurers of our euils,
We to our selues are either Gods or Deuils.
348
But I was still the later of the twaine,
My selfe-wrought wrack, beares witnesse of the same,
And you great Lords that liu'd whilest I did raigne,
And were consumed with the furious flame
Of my enraged wrath, I will not blame
Your wayward pride, nor yet my wiues vntruth,
My seed was sinne, my crop was shame and ruth.
349
And when did euer the accursed field
Beare other haruest, then such thistles weed;
Can poysoned Fountaines wholesome waters yeeld,
Or doe not wormes out of corruption breed,
Mischiefe the damme pregnant with sinfull seed,
Brings forth her daughter Misery at last
And they are alwayes glew'd together fast.
350
There can be no diuorce betwixt those twaine
They mixe, or rather they incorporate,
Like to the Poles of Heauen it doth remaine;
Constant and fixt, sinne is vnfortunate
Still drawing iudgements downe vpon each state
Which sometimes are deferr'd not following straight
But what time looseth is repaired with weight.
351
How many houses haue beene rais'd by sinne,
And flourish'd faire for one or two descents
But still the third vnprosperous hath beene,
And God hath crost them with some strange euents,
Whereof these times yeeld many presidents:
But stay my Muse, if thou wilt shunne offence
Thou must not meddle with the present tense.
352
Speake of the Spencers mighty in their dayes,
Let Edward be the subiect of thy pen,
Who did his Minions to such greatnesse raise,
That the whole State was by them manag'd then,
As men with counters, so do Kings with men,
Sometimes they stand for halfe pence, and anon
What was but so, becomes a Million.
353
But when my Peeres did see how I was bent,
To make base waxen wings to mount the Skie,
whilst their faire plumes were pluckt with vile con­tempt
And they opprest with scorne and iniurie
To last-left armes they got them by and by,
They moued warre, the Spencers to remoue;
Hate armed them, and I was arm'd by loue.
354
They leui'd men, I likewise men did leuie,
Both raised all the forces we could make;
A tyrants hand, they say was too too heuy
A traytors head I said became a stake:
They vow'd redresse, I vow'd reuenge to take,
We met, and meeting fought, and fighting found
No hurt more grieues than doth a selfe-wrought wound
355
Oh English Peeres relinquish impious Armes,
Build not your weightiest actions vpon Sand,
Tis not the collout of-pretended harmes,
Nor seeming zeale vnto your natiue land.
Nor reformation though you beare in hand,
The people so of some abuse of lawes,
That can make lawfull, your vnlawfull cause.
356
These haue, and euer haue bin those smoth oyles,
With which foule treason seekes to paint her face.
That shee might seeme faire, pleasing, full of similes,
So to win loue, and gaine the peoples grace.
Who sillie Gudgions euer bite apace,
Vntill the fatall hooke be swallow'd downe,
Which by ambition Angles for a Crowne.
357
Who euer practiz'd against Prince or State,
But alwayes did pretend the common good.
Therby to draw into Contempt or hate,
The course of gouernment as then it stood,
This hath bin still the marrow life and bloud,
Of such attempts, but heare the rule stands fast
Whats thought on first, is executed last.
358
For when that once their priuat turne is seru'd
The cares of common wealth is lai'd a side:
That did but whet the knife with which they caru'd,
For their owne[?] good: that Vizor did but hide.
Some secret ends not fit to be descride,
Vntill accomplish'd which once brought to passe,
The publicke state stands as before it was.
359
And for to Angle men, crimes must be made,
Against the Prince, if he be without touch,
If that no iust exceptions can be had,
Then must the imputation rest on such
As being neere the Prince are vsed much;
For this is certaine they that stand on hie
Are fairest marks for fowlest obloquie.
360
But though the Arrow seemeth at them aym'd
Yet through their sides, it wounds the Princes brest
Whose reputation cannot be but maym'd.
By their reproach whom they do fauour best,
And they that kill, the birds would spoyle the nest,
But what's intended must be closely wrought
And that pretended which was neuer thought.
361
Why should vaine man still doubt his actions thus,
With outward whitelime, which are pitch'd within,
Eu'n wicked kings must be endur'd by vs.
What ere the cause be, Treason is a sinne:
Rebellious armes cannot true honour win.
The Sword is not the Subiects: his defence,
In all extreames, is prayer and patience.
362
Therefore deere spirits, die not your siluer armes,
Into a Sanguine with your mothers blood,
Let not vnciuell hands, cause ciuill harmes:
For priuat greefe, confound no publicke good,
Not all the water in the Ocean flood
Can wash the sinne from you and your allies,
For treason liues although the traitor dies.
363
Sweet Trent, how were thy Christ all waters stain'd
With English blood, that was at Burton shed
Let Burrow-bridge a Golgotha be nam'd,
A field of Death, wherein lay buried
So many people, and all natiues bred,
Had those deere liues gainst Frenchmen beene imployed
We had not greeu'd, though they had liu'd or di'de.
364
At last the doubtfull victorie prou'd mine,
The Barons lost the day, and lost their liues
Their heads went off, whose hearts did so repine
Against their Prince, for Treason seldome thriues.
That great all-seeing God, whose knowledge Diues[?]
Into the deepest secret of the soule;
Vniust contempts in Iustice doth controle.
365
Great Lancaster, then whom no greater Earle,
This greatest Ile of Europe had before,
Good Lancaster, in goodnesse such a pearle;
That him the vulgar sort did long adore.
Had then his head strooke off, and many more
Euen of the greatest felt the selfe same stroke;
So lightning spares the shrub, and teares the Oake.
366
The sword was sharpe, and wounded euery where;
Many great men of noble qualitie
In seuerall Cities were beheaded there,
For beinst Actors in that trecherie,
Which alwaies proues a mournfull Tragedy.
For though I know the sword is due to such,
Yet should a Prince forbeare to strike too much.
367
For often executions in a state,
(especiallie of men of fashion).
First stir vp pitie, then dislike, then hate,
Then close Complaint, then Combination,
Then followes practise for some alteration.
And that indangers all, if not withstood,
Although vnprosperous, yet it spills much blood.
368.
And the same Throne that's often wet with blood,
Is very slippry, apt to catch a fall.
Yeelding no howres rest, nor pleasures good,
Sleeping on thornes, and feeding vpon gall.
Still thinking, meditating ill of all.
Haunted with restles feares, whilst day doth last,
And then at night with fearfull dreamesagast.
369
Our Stories do report third Richard so
(And without doubt he did too much let blood)
Alwaies mistrustfull both of friend and foe.
Readie to strike them that but neere him stood.
Fearfull to all, such was his furious moode,
And fearing all, as one that knew too well
How manie soules did wish his soule in hell.
370
Oh that a Prince might see a Tyrants minde,
What Monsters, what Chimeraes therein are
What horrors in his soule, he still doth finde,
How much himselfe, is with himselfe at war.
Euer diuided full of thought and Care
With Pistolls, Poniards, poysons he conceipts,
And thinks each one for his destruction waits.
371
Besides indeed, it is no policie,
Except it be in a meere Turkish state,
To make the Crowne a Common butcherie
To gouern all by feare which breedeth hate
In noble minds; and doth exasperate
A freeborne people; where the Turkish race
Feare best commands; being seruile poore & base;
372
Princes rewards should fall like gentle raine,
Which coming softly doth the longer last;
That their sweet relish might still fresh remaine.
Their executions should be done in hast,
Like sudden furious stormes that soone are past,
Because when once the violence is done,
Th'offence thereof may be forgot and gone.
373
One limbe of the great bodie that did band,
It selfe against me in these factious fraies.
Was Mortimer, who yet vpon command,
Came in before the fight, & then straight waies,
Sent to the Tower to spend his wearie dayes:
In wretched bands restrain'd from libertie,
But walls of stone kept not out destinie.
374
Which either finds or maks it selfe away;
For Mortimer thus sent vnto the Tower,
To free himselfe still labors night and day:
And by a sleepy potion which had power
To make men slumber till a certaine howre,
He found the meanes (his keeper being fast)
To make escape, and got to France at last.
375
This was not done without my Queenes consent,
Whose head and hand were working in the same,
Litle thought I that that way the hare went,
But Steeuen Segraue only I did blame.
Wretched mankind how bould we are to frame,
Hopes to our selues, how blind to see our ill,
That least wee feare, what most doth hurt vs still.
376
Do but obserue, how much we straine at Gnats,
And swallow Camells downe without respect,
And Hudwinkt are we to discerne those platts
That hurt vs most, how readie to suspect,
Our friends, for foes, how apt and prest t'effect,
Our owne disaster, Mortimer getts free,
And others die, that lesse had, wronged me.
377
And now I thought my selfe and State as sure,
As if great Atlas did vphold the same:
The drosse being purg'd my gold must needs be pure,
The smoke once gon my fire must brightly flame,
Their eyes were out, that mark'd & marr'd my game,
They haue no heart to dare, or tongues to peach,
Or hand to fight, or restles heads to reach.
378
But hartlesse, haplesse, yea and headlesse to;
Are these disturbers of our awfull raigne
Who would prescribe their Prince what he should do,
And when and where, and why, and whom refraine.
Like Pupils whom their Tutors do restraine,
To trie with edge-tooles is a dangerous thing,
And no way gainfull to controll a king.
379
Thus in a Calme, I fear'd no storme at all,
But yet to soone a sudden Clowde did rise:
From whencesuch store of wintrie stormes did fall
As for my shrowde, no shelter could suffice.
Vntill pale death[?], had closd my teare-full eies.
Oh bring with you what [...]er reads my fall,
Sad thoughts, wet eies, and wayling woes withall.
380.
And thus it was; I sent my Queene to France,
And after her, the Prince my Sonne I sent
to treate a peace, but see the fatall chance,
They brought home war, although for peace they went,
Th'ambitious woman, shee was fully bent,
To haue sole rule, and meant to put me downe,
So Ninus once did loose both life and Crowne.
381
There is more mercie in the Tigers Clawe,
Lesse venome in the Scorpions sting doth lie
More pittie in the hungrie Lions pawe,
Lesse danger in the Basiliske his eye,
Hyaena[?] that doth call the goers by
The Panthers breath, and Crocodiles false teares,
Haue truer hearts then faithlesse women beares.
382
Let loosers speake, for they will not be let,
I lost my Crowne, my life I also lost,
My glorious rising, had a gloomie sets
My wife the Sea, wherein my Barke was tost,
The wrack wherein I suffer'd shipwracke most,
Shee Clytemnestra, Agamemnon I,
Whom false Aegistus fouly caus'd to dye.
383
His part, my Riuall Mortimer did play,
Whom Isabell my Queene so well did loue,
That still in France, with him she ment to stay
As one that would the selfe same fortunes proue,
And moue no otherwise then he did moue,
Meane while the Cuckoe hatch'd in Edwards nest,
And in my Boat, his Oare was liked best.
384
They that enioy, and ioy in their owne loue,
Whose vertuous soules, no secret sinnes doe staine,
Who neuer did vnlawfull pleasures proue,
But trulie liuing are so lou'd againe,
Thrice happy they, and more contentments gaine,
Then those that haue the change, & choise of many
And vsing all, are neuer lou'd of any.
385
For streames diuided, run a shallower course,
Then they, that in one Channell only run,
A minde vnchast doth euer like them worse,
That are obtain'd, then those that are vnwon
Because it thinks some pleasure is to come.
Which yet it hath not found, end neuer ill,
Did seeme so sweet, but somthing wanting still.
386
For how can sin afford a full delight,
When as it is indeed a meere priuation:
As well may darknes be the cause of light,
And Heau'n to Hell be turn'd by transformation
As wickednes yeeld perfect contentation
The virtuous pleasures are compleat and sound
And lawfull is at last delightfull found.
387
But lust is deafe, and hath no art to heare
The cunning Charmer, charme he ne're so well
Which did too much in Isabell appeare.
Who did resolue with Mortimer to dwell,
And both of them did labour to expell
Me from my kingdome, and to please the time,
They made my sonne the collour of their crime.
388
And heere obserue the foule effects of lust,
What treasons, murthers, outrage from it springs,
How both to God and Man it is vniust,
How it defiles all States, confounds all things,
And at the last to vtter ruine brings.
How much more pure is that most holy fire,
Which God doth blesse, and men themselues desire.
389
As Mortimer and Isabell my Queene,
Practis'd in France, so heere they had their factions
Of Earles and Barons, men of great esteeme,
Both wise and stout to manage any actions,
And the poore Commons grinded with exactions,
To Innouation were most easily led,
And nothing wanting but an able head.
390
But he that was chiefe workman of the frame,
Which drew the plot at home for all the rest,
Who afterwards did build vpon the same,
A Bishop was, yet Churchmen should be best,
But oftentimes, sinne lurks within their brest,
When sacred titles, and religious names,
Are but the Couerers of vncomly shames.
391
'Twas Tarlton whose great spleene and working braine
Was the productor of this monster first,
Who for some priuat wrong he did sustaine,
An inward hate, and bosome treason nurst,
Against his Prince, which afterwards did burst
Into these open flames from whence did grow,
As hatefull Ills as euer age could show.
392
May then religion be a cloake for sinne,
Can holiest functions serue but for pretences,
Are Churchmen Saints without, and Deuils within
Dare men make good a Collour for offences:
Oh know with what fierce wrath he recompences,
Eu'n simple sinners that scarce know his will,
Then much more those, whose knowledge serues but ill,
393
Most reuerend Priest-hood thou art now prophand,
How comes thy glorious luster so obscure
That eu'n thy very title is defam'd?
The cause is plaine Professors are impure;
Their liues do hurt, more then their tongues doe, cure,
For laymen thinke all lawfull which they doe
And on that thought are easily drawne thereto.
394
And so there growes a confluence of all sinne,
For sheepe will wander, if the shepheard stray,
Small boats must drowne when great ships cannot swim,
If Doctors faile, what shall poore pupils say.
God helpe the blind, if cleere eyes misse the way,
Though sinne doth euer draw with it a curse
Yet doth the Author make the sinne the worse
395
But to my selfe I doubted what to doe,
For weightie causes challenge heedfull care,
I fear'd the French, I fear'd my subiects too
I wanted Crownes the sinnewes of the war
Those that I had I thought not good to spare.
But freely sent them to the king of France,
For feare he should his sisters part aduance.
396
Whereby from thence she had no aide at all,
Oh what a pleasing Orator is gold,
How well he speakes that tells a golden tale,
How sweetly sounds it both to young and old,
And yet it loues not to be heard but told.
Orpheus did make the stones strange wonders doe,
But this can moue both stones and Orpheus too.
397
Which when my Queene and Mortimer[?] perceiu'd
They leauing France, to Henault went for aid,
And there with honor they were well receiu'd
Forces prepar'd, and Ensignes were displaid.
And ships were Rigd, and nothing was delaid,
That might aduance their enterprise begun:
So deepest sea's with smoothest silence run
398.
They tooke the Sea, and landed at the last
At Orwell Hauen, a deadly gulfe to me,
And thither their Confederats did hast,
Both Lords and Commons seemed to agree.
As winds and waues consent when wracks shall be,
All turne their faces to the rising sunne,
Because my date was out and I vndone.
399
But when the voyce of Eagle-winged fame
Had spread abroad the cause of their repayre;
And seemed still to iustifie the same
By due succession of my sonne and heire;
My hope to feare, my feare turn'd to despaire
And my despaire on these two grounds was laid,
My Peeres werefalse, my Partizans dismaid.
400
Then did I flee from London where I lay,
Because they seemed partially affected;
And in my flight did often weepe and say,
To what hard haps (poore Prince) art thou subiected
What gloomy starres haue thus thy state infected.
That they should hate, who ought to loue theerather
A haplesse King, a husband and a father.
401
Most mighty Monarchs haue beene oft distrest,
Whom yet their wiues haue lou'd with tender care;
And many in their matches curst, are blest
Yet in their issue, but my cause is rare;
In all of them, my fortunes fatall are,
They wrong me most that should protect me rather,
A haplesse King a husband and a father.
402
Some say that Kings are Gods vpon the earth
And marriage, quasi merry-age some surmise.
God giue vs ioy they say at childrens birth:
What God am I, whom traitrous men despise,
And marre-age from my marriage doth arise,
There reape I care where most content should gather
A haplesse King, a husband and a father.
403
And thus I fled, my Queene pursu's a [...]aine,
So runnes the hare for life, the hound for prey;
Few follow'd me, but thousands were her traine;
So flies swarme thickest in the Sunne-shine day:
At last at Oxford did she make some stay
With all her troopes, and did deliberate,
What course to take with me, and with the State.
404
There did her Tutor Tarleton thinke it fit,
Of their chiefe drift remonstrance for to make,
Who being of good discourse and pregnant wit,
To broach the matter, first did vndertake,
He preach'd, his text was this, My head doth ake;
Whereon dilating, he did seeme to proue
That Subiects might a King their head remoue.
405
And in that compasse he concluded me,
And so concluded I should be depos'd,
A dangerous and detested heresie
By some infernall fury first compos'd
In hell, where long the Monster lay inclos'd
Till impious spirits, swolne with insolence
To curbe all christian Princes brought it thence
406
Why should such diu'lish principles be broach'd,
By them that seenme to bring Gods Embassie?
Why should the Pulpit be so much reproach'd
As to be made a place to tell a lie?
To serue a turne to such impietie;
But they that onely their owne ends affect
Nor God, nor man, nor heauen, nor hell respect.
407
No worthy minde will charge me to diselose
With cursed Cham my fathers secret shame,
Though my free muse doe somewhat touch at those
Of holy Church, whose actions full of blame
Haue sold themselues (not function) with defame,
Not ist a wonder, though these blinded times
Did hatch both monstrous men, & monstrous crimes
408
William whose sword did seat him in his throne
Brought with him Odo Bishop of Bayone,
Whose pride, whose lust, whose irreligion,
Whose symmonie to buy the See of Rome,
Incenst his brother to iust wrath, by whome
Th'aspring Priest in prison was restrain'd
And not releas'd as long as William raign'd.
409
And had the head-strong man beene still held in,
(Rufus) thy raigne had beene more easie farre,
For hauing head, he labour'd still to win,
All discontented spirits, that alwaies are
Apt to take fire vnto a ciuill warre;
And the corrupted humours drawne to head[?]
In Prince and State great inflammations bred,
410
When second Henry wore the Diadem
How did ambitious Becket toyle the State?
Who made the Pope to interdict the Realme?
Who with the French King did confederate?
who vnder hand nurst man and wiues debate?
Who drew the sonne to armes against the sire?
'Twas Becket that most kindled all the fire.
411
What bitter storme had almost wrackt the State
By Clergies practise whilst King Iohn did raigne;
Six yeares the Realme stood excommunicate,
And vnder interdiction did remaine,
People and Peeres drawne from their soueraigne,
Lewis of France broughtin to weare the Crowne
If by his forces Iohn were shoulder'd downe.
412
Who almost sinking with so rough a blast
Finding himselfe vnable to withstand
To saue his Crowne, was forced at the last
For to resigne vnto the Pope this Land,
And by a rent to farme it at his hand,
Then all was well, the Clergies turne was seru'd
Lewis was curst, and Iohn had well deseru'd.
413
Doe Kingdomes then serue but for tennis-bals
For holy Church to racket vp and downe,
Must Scepters be dispos'd by Bishops Pulls,
Or shall a Prince make forfeit of his Crowne
If a poore Prelate chance to fret and frowne,
If they can carry it so, I like their wit,
But sure I am, 'tis not by holy writ.
414
When Strawe his base rebellious troopes did gather
And drew the Commons to a dangerous head:
One Ball a Priest, or one of Baals Priests rather;
By close seditious Libels which they spred,
By times, and old said sawes he much misled
The vulgar sort, and made their madnesse more
Which in it selfe did rage too much before
415
When Lancaster King Richard did depose
His chiefe Assistant, Thomas Arundell
Primate of England did absolue all those
That ioyn'd in that foule action, to expell
Their rightfull King and did in substance tell
The very tale that Tarleton earst had tould,
So oft this Realme by them was bought and sold.
416
Whilst Humfrey[?] Duke of Gloucester rul'd the Sate,
Henry the sixt then being vnder age,
What bloudy tumults with intestine hate,
Were here vntimely rais'd by Beawfords rage
Which was so fell that nothing could asswage
His rank'rous spleene, nor would he stint the strife,
Till by foule practise Gloucester lost his life.
417
Richard the third that did vsurpe the Crowne,
And swomme through bloud to get the kingly place;
Had he not Shaw a Clerke of great renoune:
Before that time he in the peoples Grace
Who at Paules Crosse did bastard Edwards race,
Defam'd the dead, forg'd, wrested, soothed sinne,
Ventur'd his soule, a tyrants loue to win.
418
But stay, I handle with too hard a touch,
The Churches wounds, that now are fairely heal'd,
then were the hudwinckt times, then were they such
In those darke dayes, now is the truth reueal'd,
Now are those former errors all repeal'd,
And now the Sunne illumines all our clyme
Most learned Fathers, answere ye the time.
419
Be (as you should be) Lamps to giue vs light,
And shining Starres to grace the Firmament,
Though you doe teach, and we beleiue aright,
Yet mindes vnsetled sooner will be bent
When they shall see your words and workes consent,
And therefore let your liues, your faith expresse,
And preone by practise what you doe professe.
420
Whilst I, and my Queene and Tarleton plaild
The Pageant thus, the Current went so swift,
That I thought fit, vntill the fury stai'd
In some close priuate place a while to shift:
And, for the Land seem'd crosse vnto my drift,
I did resolue by sea to seeke some clime
Where I might harbour till some happier time.
421
And so I left the land, and tooke the seas,
But sea and land conspir'd vnto my taking,
For neither plaints nor prayers could appease
The windes and waues which far'd as they were ma­king
Sharpe war betwixt themselues whilst I stood quaking
For feare least I the subiect of their strife
Should end their warre by ending of my life.
422
And yet thrice happy had poore Edward beene
If death had ended then his wearie dayes;
But cast on shoare in Wales, I liu'd vnseene
In pathes, in woods, in vnfrequented waies
With those few friends which whilom I did raise,
Balduck and Redding. young Spencer and no more
Who in my fall their ruine did deplore.
423
Of all the swarmes that follow'd kingly raigne,
Of all the friends that fawn'd on awfull pride,
Loe only this poore remnant did remaine:
A true loue knot with sad affliction tide:
Who suffering, and who sorrowes were t' abide,
For wretched men compassionate each other,
And kinde compassion is afflictions mother.
424
Oh see what quick sands honour treads vpon,
How Icie is the way that greatnes goes.
A mightie Monarch late attended on,
With supple hammes, smooth browes, submissiue shewes
For many followers, he hath many foes.
False fawning friends from falling fortunes runne,
As Persians vse to curse the setting Sunne.
425
When Ioue had made the chiefe of all his Creatures,
Whom we call man (a litle world indeede)
The gods did praise his well proportiond features,
Each in their functions seruing others neede.
But prying Momus (taking better heed)
Obseru'd at last one error in his Art
Because he made no windowes in his heart.
426
Oh that the glorious Architect of man,
Had made transparent glasses in the brest,
What place should be for Politicians then,
How should dissembling growe in such request,
And Matchiauillian Atheisme prosper best,
But temporising is the way to clime,
There is no musick without keeping time
427
I shall not doe amisse, if I do sing,
Those heauy Anthemes our sad consort made
Whilst they did warble with their wretched king,
As we did sorrowing sit in silent shade,
The sudden downfall reeling greatnes had
Balducke quoth I out of Philosophie,
Extract some medicine for our miserie.
428
Deere Prince (quoth he) whom late our eies beheld,
In greatest glorie that the world could see.
Whilst thou with awfull maiestie didst wield,
The publicke State, let it no wonder be
If some few Stars proue opposite to thee.
Since in their fauour none so firmly stood,
But they haue giuen griefe as well as good.
429
Do but obserue the fauorite of Chance,
Her chiefest Mynion[?] highest in her Grace,
Philips great sonne, whom shee did so aduance,
Who did subdue the East in litle space,
Vnto whose Armes th'amazed world gaue place.
Whose actions are the subi [...]ct of all stories,
He poyson'd dies amids the world of Glories.
330
I list not wade in telling tragick tales,
Sufficeth this, all greatnes is vnsure:
Stormes rage more fiercely on the hills then dales,
Shrubs better then high Cedars winds indure
Those Collours soonest staine that are most pure,
Oh let him graspe the Clouds and span the skies,
That can assure himselfe felicities.
431
In all that this same massie world doth hold,
There is a certaine mixture to be found,
Either of drie, or moist, or hot, or cold,
Of which, if any one too much abound,
The bodie oft afflicted proues vnsound,
But being kept in iust proportion,
They do maintaine a happy vnion.
432
So fares it in our fortune and our State,
Nothing is simply sweet, or simply sower.
Our wealth is mixt with woe, our loue with hare,
Our hope with feare, and weaknes with our power
Bright moones breed mists, the fairest morne a showre,
And as there is an Autumne and a spring,
So change by course is seene in euerie thing.
433
The winde that's now at South, will change to Nore,
The greenest Groues will turne to witherd hay,
The Seas both ebbe and flow at euery shore;
The Moone doth wax and waine, yet not decay,
Day drawes on night, and night drawes on the day:
Our selues once babes, now men, then old, straight none,
Do plainly proue a change in euery one.
434
Wise Politicians, and deepe sighted sages,
That haue discourst of Common wealths with care,
Both of our time, and of precedent ages,
Obserue in them a birth when first they are,
A grouth which oft extendeth verie far,
A state wherein they stand (so change withall)
And then at last a dismall fatall fall.
435
Rome had her being first from Romulus,
Her growth from Consulls that were Annuall
Her State most flourish'd in Octauius,
Many conuersions, these most principall,
From kings to Consulls, last Emperiall,
And who sees not she is novv ruined
And in her Ruines now lies buried.
436
The greatest and best grounded Monarchie,
Hath had a period, and an ouer throw;
There is no constant perpetuitie,
The streame of things is carried to and fro,
And doth in euer-running Channells goe.
If then great Empires are to changes bending
We weaker States are warned from their ending.
437
Ruines of kingdomes, and their fatall harmes,
From one of these same causes do arise,
From Ciuill furie, and from sorren Armes
Or from some plague doom'd from the angrie skies,
Or worne by wasting time, dissolued dies,
For as the fruit once ripe, falls from the tree,
So common wealths by age subuerted be.
438
If these be rocks that shipwrack Monarchies,
Are priuate States exempted from the same?
Where liues the man hath such immunities?
'Tis hard to scape vnscorch'd in common flame,
Or parts to stand when ruin'd is the frame.
Those publike harmes, that Empires do decay,
In priuate states do beare a greater sway.
439
Fiue, hundred yeeres some that are curious wise
Would haue the period of a publike State,
And they appoint for priuat families.
Some six or seauen discents the vtmost date,
I dare not so precisely calculate;
But without doubt there is a fixed time,
In which all states haue both their set and prime.
440
Let these be motiues (oh deiected great one)
To calme the tempest of thy stormie care,
And though I must confesse, it well may fret one▪
The past and present fortunes to compare,
Yet since in all things changes common are,
Think eb'd estats may grow, and thinke withall,
What happs to one to euerie one may fall.
441
Thus Baldocke chas'd, and Reading thus began,
But first his eyes dewd downe a weeping raine,
Oh thou (once glorious) now eclipsed sunne.
Now thou art clouded, yet must cleere againe,
With courage therefore hopefull thoughts retaine.
For oft those winds that drawes the clouds together
By their disperse occasioneth faire weather.
442
But I intend no comment on this text
Nor will I harrow that which he did sowe,
What I applie to thy sad soule perplext
With those dismaies, that from thy fortunes flow,
Out of th'assured grounds of truth doth grow,
Then make good vse therof, and learne thereby,
This soueraigne salue for thy sad mallady.
443
All things that boundlesse thought can once conceiue
Sacred, prophane, of Elements compos'd
Vnbodied spirits, or what else doth receiue
A being, when or where, or how dispos'd
Within one triple Circle, are inclos'd.
Being eternall or perpetuall,
Or els indeed, but meerlie temporall.
444
That is eternall which did not begin
Nor euer ends, And only God is so
Who hath for euer, and for euer bin,
Whom no place circumscribes nor times forgoe,
Nor limits bound, nor thoughts can fully know:
Whom we so much the more ought to admire,
How much the lesse to knowledge we aspire.
445
That is perpetuall which in time began,
But neuer any time shall end againe,
Such are the Angels, such the soule of man,
Such are those sprits that liue in restles paine,
(Rebellious spirits against their Soueraigne,)
All these were made as pleas'd the makers will,
Once to begin, but to continue still.
446
Lastly, those things are counted temporall,
Which had beginnings, and shall haue their ends,
And in that ranck the world it selfe doth fall,
So honor, riches, strength, allies and friends:
All which by nature to corruption bends,
And in this sence tis true Philosophie,
What doth begin shall end most certainly.
447
And therefore make not things so weake and vaine,
To be thy God, as if they were eternall:
Nay do not prize them as an equall gaine,
Vnto thy soule, which is perpetuall.
But hould them, as they are, but temporall,
And since their nature is, to cease to be,
Thinke they obserue but their due course with thee.
448
The spacious world is fortunes Tennis Court,
Men are the balls, which with her Racket (Time)
Shee tosses to and fro, for her disport,
Somtimes aboue, sometimes beneath the line,
Now bounding, straight strooke dead, but yet in fine
All goe into the hazard that's the Graue,
And they once gone, shee other balls must haue.
449
So silent he, and then spake Spencer so,
To my discourse, (deere Prince) vouchsafe thine eares
And since we all do share alike in woe,
Let me haue leaue to tune my voyce like theirs,
Vnited forces, greater virtue beares,
And all of vs, leuell our aimes at this,
To make thee thinke the world but as it is.
450
Which (oh) that our experience prou'd not true,
Would we did sit vpon the quiet Strand,
And thence behould the Rack that should ensue,
And pittie others, we secure on land,
But our estates in doubtfull hazard stand,
Succeeding ages in our fall may read
How all things hang but by a slenderthred.
451
Such is the sad condition of each State,
Annexed to it, by eternall doome,
Which is enrolled in the booke of fate.
From whence the least occurrents heere do come,
That happen from the Cradle to the Toombe.
For though our fortunes seeme but casuall,
The finger of the highest is in all.
452
And 'tis a worke of his all guiding will,
Whose boundlesse knowledge sees which is the best
In our whole life, to mingle good with ill.
Contents with crosses, quiet with vnrest,
Least we should hould the world in such request,
That for the same we should abandon heau'n,
And sower our selues with too much earthly leau'n.
453
For who sees not how much the world bewitches
Who feeles not how the flesh is apt to yeeld,
Especially made insolent with riches.
How hard it is prosperitie to wield,
How proudly sitteth sinne with such a shield
When lustfull ease, and full satietie,
And pleasing tongues still draw on vanitie.
454
We may euen of our selues an instance make,
When did we entertaine such thoughts as these,
Or when did we this theame for Subiect take.
Whilst sinne (begot with greatnesse, nurst with ease,
Confirm'd with vice) did seeke all meanes to please,
The pleasant humor, that did most delight,
And fram'd our wills, according to our might.
455
But now afflicting sorrow doth assaile vs,
We tune our Consort to another key,
We change our minds because our meanes do faile vs
And those Lew'd motiues being remou'd away,
Which did induce vs so to run astray,
We now recall our wandring thoughts againe,
And from our troubles take our truest ayme.
456
Oh sad affliction though thou seeme seuere,
Yet oftentimes thou draw'st vs vnto God,
Who strikes for to instruct, and clouds to cleere.
So doth the tender father vse the Rod,
So bitterst herbs in medicin, oft are sod,
Of eàsie Raines who doth no reck'ning make,
Must needs be ridden with a rougher brake.
457
If thus thou dost account thou reck'nest euen
And thou shalt summe thy sorrowes with delight,
God strikes on earth, that he may stroake in heauen,
He giues a Talent, when he takes a mite,
And least thy soule should liue in endlesse night,
He sends his Herauld only to this end,
That thou mightst be his follower by thy friend.
458
He ceast, I said Spencer I find it true,
Eu'n from my selfe I can the proofe deriue,
Calamitie doth fashion vs anew.
Remorsefull griefe into the soule doth diue,
And sorrow makes repentant thoughts to thriue,
But full sad soules and fortunes soaring hie
Thinke neither how to liue nor how to diē.
459
I must confesse the truth, the time hath bin
Whilst my sweet canded fortune lasted still,
I neuer thought on things that were vnseene;
I only was obsequious to my will.
My sence my god, whose hests I did fulfill.
And my deluded soule did place her good,
Only in that, that pleas'd my wanton blood.
460
How often did I plot impietie,
And fashion it vpon my sinfull bed,
Still hunting after fresh varietie,
Longing to act, what was in fancie bred,
How much were all occasions wellcomed
By which I might adde heat vnto my fire,
And still new formes were fram'd by my desire.
461
And that I might do ill without controule,
Without all Check or touch of conscience;
How often did I say vnto my soule,
Inioy a present good be rul'd by sence.
Not by opinion or conceipt, from whence
Some curious braines haue forg'd strange nouelties,
But be thou wise, and follow realties.
462
But Spencer, now I finde, I was a foole,
And like Ixion did a Cloude imbrace,
Calamitie hath set me now to schoole,
Where though I feele more griefe, I find more grace,
And now I see, how wretched was my case
Whilst being bewitch't with false felicitie,
I thought religion but meere policie.
463
But now my soule grieues with the weight of sinne,
And I ly prostrate at my makers feet,
I do confesse, how sottish I haue beene,
How my distast hath taken sower for sweet
I find a God whose iudgements now I meet:
Dam'd Atheist thou, that saiest there is no God,
Thou wilt confesse one, when thou feel'st his rod.
464
Let Pharoe liue at rest, and he will wage
War against Heauen, and aske who is the Lord
Nay more and more, the Tyrant still shall rage
Till God draw forth his sharpe auenging sword,
Till his iust plagues no breathing time afford.
Then I haue sinn'd pray for me, let them goe,
And then who goe's as Pharoe, learnes to know.
465
So doth the sharpest bryer beare sweetest rose,
And bitterst medicines, purge the bodie best,
How wondrously doth God his works dispose.
That eu'n by crosses he can make vs blest
And hath our chiefest ioy in sorrowes nest,
Then let vs not repine against his doome
But weaue our web, as we haue warp'dour loome.
466
And Reading of the world thou readest right
It is indeed but meerly temporall
Eu'n those deare pleasures, wherein men delight,
Friends, honours, riches, all are casuall,
And as they haue their honey, so their gall:
Ther's[?] nothing certaine in the world, but this
That euery worldly thing vncertaine is.
467
These were our parlies as we sat alone,
These tearfull tributes daily were defrayd,
Now did we walke and weepe, now sit and groane,
Till faithlesse Walsh[?], me (friendly wretch) betraid
Into their hands, who straight waies me conuaid
To Kenelworth, where I imprison'd lay
And neuer after saw one blisfull day.
468
For first I was depos'd by Parliament
From Princely rule, as one not fit to raigne,
Both Peeres and people all did giue consent,
That I vnking'd in durance should remaine,
And sent their agents to me to explaine
That if I would not to the same resigne
Thai'd choose a Prince out of some other line.
469
Oh English Peeres weigh what you take in hand
Looke but with iudgement into your designe,
That which you now attempt will wrack the land
The wounds whereof will bleed in after-time,
And babes vnborne, will curse your hatefull crime,
For what so doth peruert the course of things
Wrath, enuy, death and desolation brings,
470
There is a lawfull and a certaine right,
Which alwaies must be kept inviolate,
And being infring'd by practise or by might,
Drawes fearefull iudgements downe vpon the Stare,
Then you or yours will wish, although too late
That I had kept my rightfull intrest still
And you had not beene agents in this ill.
471
When your owne children shall each other wound
And with accursed hands gore others brest,
When ciuill fury shall your State confound,
Then will you say his ghost is not at rest
He 'tis whom vainely we haue dispossest
The second Edward for whose sacrifice
Your nephewes then shall play a bloudy prize.
472
Neuer, oh neuer was the rightfull course
Of this our Crowno perverted or supprest,
But still the same hath beene a fatall source
Of many mischiefs, and of much vnrest:
And as the land hath beene therewith opprest,
So the Vsurper neuer kept it long,
In any quiet, what he got with wrong.
473
William who with his sword did win the Crowne
Getting by conquest, what he kept with care,
The true and lawfull heire being shoulderd downe
Like a wood Lion (his owne word) did fare
Against the English whom he did not spare
Or young or old, that were of worth or place,
And for the rest, he yoak'd with bondage base.
474
And as he toild the land with his vnrest
So tasted he his share of miserie
Robert rebels, a bird of his owne nest
The Normans brake forth into iniury
The oppressed English hatcht conspiracie,
Alwaies inforreine brawles or ciuill strife,
Aud so wasts forth a wretched weary life.
475
Nay death the period-maker of all moane,
Eu'n against nature followes him with spight,
The mightie Prince by thousands waited on,
Being dead is left alone forsaken quite,
No sonne, no friend to doe him his last right,
None that vouchsaf'de to giue him buriall;
But vnregarded lay despis'd of all.
476
Nay more the ground where he should be inten'd
Anselme fitz Arthur, his dead bones to spight,
Claim'd as his owne, a thing scarce euer heard,
And, for the Prince there dead by lawlesse might,
Had worm'd him out of that which was his right,
On Gods behalfe, he did forbid them all,
Within his earth to giue him buriall.
477
Nor would he cease the challenge he had made,
Nor yet durst they inter his corps therein
Vntill a summe of money was defraid
With which they paid the ransome for his sinne,
So much adoe had this great Prince to win,
That which none doth the poorest wretch deny,
A bed of peace, where his dead bones might be.
478
Nor was the streame of miserie thus staied,
The date of our affliction lasted still:
There is not yet sufficient ransome paied,
The ill got Scepter must be swaid as ill.
Rufus succeeds, and still more blood doth spill.
Still hauecks more, and still doth tyrannize,
Vntill by sudden violence he dies.
479
Nor did the Crowne stand well on any head,
Till Beuclark got the Scepter in his hand
Who to the Saxon Maude being married,
Some beames of comfort cheer'd the drooping land,
And then our State in peacefull tearmes did stand
Till Henry di'd and Stephen vniustly got
The Crowne, and set new troubles here on foot.
480
Then burst there forth an all consuming flame,
The Empresse Maude sought to acquire her right
Stephen had the Crowne, and he would keepe the same
Vntill she could recouer it by fight,
Then follow'd all the hostile Acts of might
Sword, fire, rapes, murthers, leagers, wast and wrack,
And nothing of extreamest ills did lack.
481
So hath iniust succession scourg'd this Realme
At length Stephen dies after a wretched raigne,
Then second Henry weares the Diadem
In whom the rightfull title did remaine
And then our State did happy fortunes gaine,
Then did our strength encrease, our bands extend,
And many Nations to our yoake did bend.
482
Then Richard his braue sonne did next succeed,
In a iust course of all things prosper'd well,
In Syria he did many a worthy deed
The Easterne world of his exploits can tell,
And many thousand miscreants sent to hell
By those vnconquer'd armes haue prou'd long since
That Cordelion was a Peerelesse Prince.
483
He dead, young Arthur should haue had the Crowne,
The sonne of Ieffrey, who was Henries sonne,
Had not King Iohn his vncle put him downe,
Who being hal'don by ambition
Diuerts the course of true succession,
Makes himselfe King, vsurps the Princes name,
And murthers Arthur to secure the same.
484
And now, (oh) now begins our Tragedie,
where death and horror onely actors are;
Iohn gouerns, as he got prepostrously[?],
And doth both with his Peeres and Clergie iarre[?]:
Then Ianus sets wide ope the gates of warre
And then the land with bloud was ouerflowne
And none could safely call his owne his owne.
485
Then were the Cities sackt the fields laid waste,
The virgins forc'd, the marriage bed defil'd,
Then were the ancient Monuments defac'd
The Ports vntraffick'd, landed vp and spoil'd,
Eu'n God himselfe seem'd heere to bee exil'd:
The land was curs'd, all sacred rights were bar'd:
And six yeares space no publick prayers were heard.
486
Then did the King lease forth the Realme to Rome,
Then did the Peeres of France betray the Crowne;
Oh Heauens great King, how fearefull is thy doome,
How many mighty plagues canst thou poure downe,
Vpon a Nation, when thou please to frowne.
Arthur, it was the wrong done thee of late
That made the Heauen so to afflict our State.
487
Oh no,although[?] third Henry was the man
In whom the lawfull title was inuested,
For Arthur dead, the right was then in Iohn;
And Iohn deceast, the same in Henry rested,
Yet that the world should see how God detested
Such wrongfull meanes, acts so vniustly done
The fathers whip is made to scourge the sonne.
488
For still the ciuill fury wound the State
During the time of Henryes pupil age,
And still the Peereswolne with intestine hate
Against their harmelesse Prince being vnder age
Combine themselues with France, and when that rage
Was spent, the Barons warre broke forth againe▪
So full of tumults was third Henryes raigne.
489
He dead, my father Longshanks then did raigne,
And in due course succeeded next his sire;
Then all afflictions did begin to wayne
And England did to peace and wealth aspire,
Nor did the streame of blisse flow euer higher;
Then when first Edward mannaged the State
Prudent in peace, in warres most fortunate.
490
That noble Prince to me my breath did giue
Whom I succeeded in a rightfull liue,
You all haue sworne alleagiance whilst I liue
And will you now enforce me to resigne,
Will you againe with wicked hands vntwyne,
That sacred chaine whereon depends our good
And drowne this Island once againe in bloud.
491
Oh if you doe[?] disorder thus the Crowne
And turne the lawfull course anotherr way,
If you vniustly wring from me my owne,
You spinne a thread to worke your owne decay,
And my Prophetick soule doth truely say
The time will come when this vniust designe
Shall draw downe wrath on this vnhappy clyme.
492
And from my flock two branches shall arise,
From whom shall grow such great disunion,
As many thousand liues shall not suffice
To reunite them both againe in one.
England shall waste more deare bloud of her owne
Against her selfe, then would suffice t'obtaine
All France, and conquer Germany and Spaine.
493
But when that men are bent to do amisse,
Then all perswasions are but spent in vaine,
The Parliament was resolute in this
That I their King no longer should remaine;
Whereto, if I opppos'd my selfe 'twas vaine,
They were resolu'd, and my peruersnesse might
Make them perhaps to doe my sonne lesse right.
494
Which when I heard, thinke how my soule did warre
Within it selfe, which way I should decline;
Deare was my sonne, my selfe was dearer farre;
Through my eclipse, must I procure his shine?
Cannot he raigne, vnlesse I now resigne?
My father di'de ere I could get the Crowne,
I liue, and now my sonne must put me downe.
495
My sonne? alas poore Prince it is not he,
For many wolues maske in that Lambes attire;
Proud Mortimer 'tis thou vncrownest me,
Luxurious Queene this is thy foule desire,
And moody Tarleton bellowes of this fire,
'Tis thou that art the marrow of this sinne,
My sonne doth serue but for the outward skin.
496
You are the wheeles that make this clock to strike
My fatall houre, the last of all my good;
For this is not the hight of your dislike,
Death is the fruit, when treason is the bud;
Such practises doe alwaies end in blood,
When others stumble, Kings fall headlong downe,
There is no meane betwixt a graue and Crowne.
497
For this is certaine, sinne doth alwaies finde
Within it selfe sufficient cause to feare,
'Tis dangerous to trust a guilty minde
The Creditor remou'd, the debt's thought cleare,
Men hate whom they haue wrong'd, and hating feare,
And fearing will not cease till they haue prou'd
All meanes by which the cause may be remou'd.
498
Therefore would I might leade a priuate life
In some sequestred place which none might see,
Where I might see to reconcile the strife
That sinne hath made betwixt my God and me,
Or if the ransome of my Crowne were free,
My life from slaughter, little would I grieue,
For none so wretched, but desires to liue.
499
And yet why should I lose or life or Crowne,
Are liues, or Crownes so light and easie losses?
'Tis vaine to aske why fortune lists to frowne,
Or to enquire the causes of our crosses,
When ships on sea, stormes, winds, and billowes tosses;
It boots not aske why winds and stormes should rise
For powerful heauens respects not humane whies.
500
The stately Steed that champs the steelie bit,
And proudly seemes to menace friend and foe,
Doth sling and some, and boundeth oft, and yet
Poore beast perforce, he is inforc't to goe,
Euen so far'd I, and since it must be so;
As good the same should seeme to come from me
'Twas best to will, what' gainst my will must be.
501
And so I made a solemne resignation
Of all my right and title to me sonne,
And herewithall an earnest protestation,
Which was with sighes and weeping teares begun
How much I grieu'd that I had so misdone
As to procure thereby my peoples hate
And so be thought vnworthy of the state.
502
Which since I was, I willingly would giue
Vnto my sonne, my State and Maiesttie,
Desiring them to giue me leaue to liue,
And not too much tread on my miserie:
For I had once their faith and fealtie,
Which though I now discharg'd and set them free,
Though not obey, yet should they pittie me.
503
The Crowne had often made my head to ake,
And I prai'd God my sonne felt not the same,
Whom they should no lesse value for my sake;
Since by his virtue he might salue my shame,
And well I hop'd my president would tame
All youthfull humours which are easily led
Vnto those courses which confusion bred.
504
And heere though griefe my sences did orewhelme
And I seem'd dead, yet that no barre might be;
Sir Thomas Trussell Knight for all the Realme,
Did then renonce obedience vnto me,
And of all faith and seruice set them free,
My Steward brake his staffe, my stare before
Was now discharg'd, and I was King no more.
505
Marke what pretences wrong can make of right,
How loath men seeme 'gainst iustice to offend,
Oh sacred virtue thou art full of might,
When eu'n thy foes, thy title will pretend,
As if thy onely shadow could amend
All wrongfull acts, but now it's growne a vse
Thou must be made a cloake to hide abuse
506
But when I had thus parted with my Crowne,
I did bewaile the waining of my State,
Poore Prince said I, how low art thou cast downe
From that high heau'n which thou enioyd'st of late,
Thou hast no prospect but an iron grate,
Thy costly hangings, ragged walles of stone,
And all thy solace, solitarie moane.
507
Now of a Cushion thou must make a Crowne,
And play the mock-king with it on thy head,
And on the earth thy Chaire of State sit downe.
And why not so since thou art earthly bred?
But for a Septer how wilt thou be sped?
Why take a brand, and shake it in thy hand,
And now thou art a king of high command.
508
All guiding heauen[?] what change do I indure!
I'had wealth at will, but wealthy now in want,
Then men my pleasure, now my griefe procure,
Then change of houses, now in Chamber scant:
Then thoughts of rest, now restles thought doth plant[?]
The sad remembrance of my wretched fate:
What now I am, and what I was of late.
509
Me thinks the Birds vpbrayd me in their songs
And early sing my shame in euery place,
Me thinks the waters murmer sorth my wrongs,
And in their Course, discourse of my disgrace,
Me thinks, the Snne doth blush to see my face,
The whistling winds me thinks do witnesse this,
No griefe, so great as to haue liu'd in blisse.
510
When I complaine to Echo of head-aking,
The sound's a King, and yet no King am I
In silent night, when I my rest am taking,
I dreame[?] of Kings, yet I vnking'd do lie,
And still sweet sleepe seales vp my weary eye,
I cannot fixe my thought on any thing,
But tells me straight that once I was a king.
511
That once I was(aye me) that now I am not,
And now I am not, would I had been neuer,
Lesse feeles he want, that yet to plentie came not,
To haue bin happie, is vnhappy euer.
But to forget my selfe, I will endeuour,
And only this poore plain-song will I sing
I was not borne nor shall I die a king.
512
In such Complaints▪ I spent my wearie time,
My Cousen Leicester well respecting me,
Which to my foes did seeme a heynous crime.
Who after consultation did agree,
Some more obdurate should my keepers bee:
And Gurney and Matreuers Cosens were,
To rid me of my life, them of their feare.
513
They that haue eares to heare of my extreames,
And feeling hearts to comprehend my woes,
And yet haue eies as drie as sunny beames,
Where no moist teares(poore pittles tribute) flowes
Within such mines, whole mines of marble growes,
Flint-hearted men that pittie not my moane,
Some Gorgons head hath turn'd your hearts to stone.
514
And what haue I to do with stonie hearts,
With men of Marble what haue I to doe,
I take no pleasure in Pigmalions arts.
I would not worke on stone, or marble woe.
He lou'd his stonie maid, and Ioy'd her too,
Shee was transform'd at his incessant moane,
So were my foes, but chang'd from men to stone.
515
And would to God I had bin chang'd like them
Then without sence, I should haue borne my paine,
And senselesse, haplesse, and halfe happie men
Who feele no griefe what needs they much complain,
But I was touch'd being strooke in euerie vaine,
That my dispares to their desires might bring
The fatall period whence their feares did spring.
516
And first, they hurried me from place to place,
That none might haue intelligence of me.
They clothed me with garments vile and base,
Vnlike my selfe, that I vnknowne might be.
And least I should the cheerefull daylight see,
I still remou'd, when Soll his course had run
My day was night, and Mooneshine was my sunne.
517
I did lament, that woes to words might yeeld,
And said faire Cynthia with whose bright Sunshine,
This sable night doth beare a siluer shield,
Yet thou art gracious to these griefes of mine,
That with thy light dost cleere my drooping eine,
Thou borrowest light to lend the same to me,
I lightned those that my Eclipses be.
518
The glorious Sunne thy brother lends thee light,
My sonne makes me obscure vnlike to thee,
Endymions loue, thou did'st with loue requite:
My loue distresseth and disdaineth me.
Yet both too like in often changing be,
Oh no for thou being wain'd dost wax againe,
But still her loue continues to her waine.
519
Some do ascribe the Oceans ebbes and flowes,
Vnto thy influence working in the same,
I wot not that, but this poore Edward knowes,
Men ebbe and flow as fortune list to frame,
Whose smiles or frownes, do make or war or gaine,
Then sure we all must stoope vnto herlure:
When shee is false, how may our States be sure.
520
But cease faire Phoebus, cease thy beutious shine,
Spend not thy raies on such a wretch as I,
'Gainst whom, the very heauens themselues repine
Whose presence, all good-boading starres do flie,
Then giue me leaue that I obscur'd may die,
And suffer me (vnsought, vnseene) to goe,
Some case it is not to be knowne in woe.
521
And that the hony'd vapors of the night
Might be of force to make weake nature faile
They made me ride cold, and bare-headed quite
To whom both hats and heads were wont to vaile,
Whilst I with prosprous winde at will did saile.
But now I was reproach'd with hatefull crimes,
Oh times, oh men, oh change of men and times.
522
Thinke not that I was marble, not to haue
A sence of ill, after a feeling fashion
Which made me somtimes for to fret and raue,
Somtimes to weepe, and humbly beg compassion,
As I was swaid, by variable passion.
Remembring what I was some stormes did passe,
And straight a Calme remembring what I was.
523
Traitors (quoth he) why doe you vse me thus,
Know you not me, forget you who I am?
Was not great Longshanks[?] father vnto vs?
I Kingly Edward[?], second of that name?
Why kneele ye not, oft haue ye done the same?
Why should you not, since you are sworne to do it,
And by our birthight, we are borne vnto it?
524
From forth the loynes of many Kings came I,
This head hath beene impaled with a Crowne;
And will you now a simple hat deny,
I'le be reueng'd: they doe not feare my frowne,
Too well, too well, they know my sunne is downe,
My day is done, now doth my night begin,
And Owles, not Eagles vse to flee therein.
525
I haue beene grac't, let me be gratious now,
I haue commanded, let me now request,
Your sometimes King, hath humble knees to how,
And weeping eyes to craue some little rest,
Mans heart is flesh, he hath no flinty brest,
One Ari [...]ines had a hairie heart,
But you are stones, else would you rue my smart.
526
And that I might be wretched euery way
That euery sence might haue his proper paine,
The bird to whom Prometheus[?] was a prey
The waking serpent that doth rest restraine
Hunger I meane, did gnaw on me amaine,
Hunger, fell hunger forced me to eat
Such food as nature neuer made for meat.
527
I that Lucullus like was seru'd at will
With whatsoeuer sea or land affords,
Would now be glad of crummes to feed my fill,
Such want doth often follow wastfull boards,
Better the frugall fare of roots and goards
That keepes the soule and body both in health
And God doth blesse with grace encrease of wealth.
528
Camelions feed vpon the piercing ayre,
I wish that nature had but made me such;
The Salamander doth it's strength repaire,
Amidst the fire, when it the flame doth touch
Against whose happy state I did not grudge
But onely wisht my selfe to haue such meanes,
For hunger is extreamest of Extreames.
529
I thought sometimes to eat my very flesh
My brawnelesse armes would doe some little good
But still my stomack loathes so vild a messe;
And would not serue me to digest my blood,
My teeth should rather teare the stones for food,
I'le soften them with teares and ceaselesse mones,
But stones were hard, and men more hard then stones.
530
And for to make me fret my selfe to death
They crost and thwarted me in euery thing,
Sweet sugar words like to the Panthers breath;
You pleasing tongues whose chimes so sweetly ring
Where are you now, why sooth you not your King?
Yea so you will, but that is not my case:
And flatterers time not to the meane or base.
531
How deadly is the venome of faire tongues
Whose Nectar-tearmes doe seeme more smooth then oyle;
And all the breath that commeth from their longs[?]
Is sweet in shew, but full of gall and guile,
Beleeue me, there's more danger in their smile
Then in their frowne, for seene is soone detected,
But they hurt most that are the least suspected.
532
Oh why are Princes like to brasen pots
Which being great are lifted by the eares;
Little see they their reaches, and their plots,
Whose tongues are turn'd to sooth them many yeeres;
Till turnes be seru'd, and then it straight appeares,
That hony gone, the combes are soone reiected
And wanting meanes, the man is lesse respected.
533
May it please your highnesse, was my wonted stile,
Whose pleasure now is valued lesse than mine?
Did I looke cloudy who durst seeme to smile?
Or was I pleasant, who durst then re pine?
Speake I; Apolloes words were lesse diuine,
What ere I did, applause grac'd euery thing,
And this the cause, because I was a King.
534
But now the spring time of my blisse is done,
Those Nightingales that did so sweetly sing,
In this my winter all are fled and gone,
Nay turn'd to serpenrs that both hisse and sting,
Thus bels to mariage feasts and burials ring,
And this the cause, because I am no King,
A King, no King, hap and mishap doth bring.
535
And that my words might vnrespected be,
And neither they nor I regarded ought,
They gaue it out my sences failed me,
And I was madde, and helpleslie distraught,
Tis true, I, haue beene madde and deerlie bought,
My madnesse, I was madde, when I did blot,
My soule with sinne, when I my God forgot.
536
But now my sences are restor'd againe,
And I begin to see how madde I was,
To put my trust in things that are so vaine.
To change my heauenly gould for earthly glasse,
To dote on shadowes, letting substance passe,
And now my God hath purg'd that lunacie,
With bitter potions of Calamitie.
537
And oh this sicknesse is too generall,
The world doth labour of this madde disease,
This frantick humor doth distract vs all,
We onely seeke the present sence to please,
And whilst we liue so we may floate at ease,
We quite forget the place where we must land,
The throne of iudgement where we all shall stand.
538
Why should mankind be so extremly madde,
As for the short fruition of vaine pleasure
Which often is reported when tis had,
To loose a soule more worth then worlds of treasure,
This is indeed a maddnesse aboue measure:
Thus once I fawn'd, and therefore now I rue,
Thus reigne I now, and therefore so shall you.
539
And least my torments should but seeme to cease,
Or breath a while, they would not let me rest.
Of quiet sleepe, (the Harbinger of peace,
The common Inne both vnto man and beast)
My wearie eyes could neuer be possest,
My head waxtlight, yet heauie was my heart
Two contraries[?], one cause, but no desert.
540
I that had once, so many princely bowers,
And in the same so many beds of state.
With sweete perfumes and beutious Parramonres,
And melodie, such as at Plutoes gate,
Once Orpheus plaid, and all, most delicate,
To charme the sences & bewitch the soule,
Must not now sleepe one howre without coutroule.
541
Oh Iustice what a tallie dost thou keepe
Of all our finnes, & how thou pai'st them right,
Though God doth winke, yet doth he neuer sleepe,
The eye of Heau'n sees in the darkest night,
My sinfull wast of time, (then thought but light)
Was chaulked vp, and now he payes the skore,
With want of that, which I abus'd before.
542
Fond men quoth I you haue in all beene cruell,
But yet in this, you are too much vnwise,
If to my torments you will adde more fuell,
You should permit some slomber to mine eies.
That being wak'd fresh sorrowe might arise
Nor can I last, my strength with waking spent,
For Bowes grow weake that neuer stand vnbent.
543
Besides continuall thinking of my woe,
So dulls my sences that I feele the lesse;
As pathes grow plaine whereon we alwaies goe,
So hearts grow hard that neuer find redresse.
And you will make me sencelesse by excesse,
I know you hate me, shew your hate therfore,
And let me slumber for to vexe me more.
544
And that my greife might worke on me the more,
By apprehension of my present fall;
And sad remembrance of my state before,
They wreath a Crowne of hay and there withall
They Crowned me, and king eft[?] soones did call,
And said in scorne, God saue this Iolly king,
Oh saue me God, whom deuills to death would bring.
545
And thou meeke Lambe that by thy precious blood,
Didst make attonement twixt my God and mee,
Which was more soueriagne for a sinners good
Then sweetest mirrh, or purest balme could be,
See how these wicked men dishonor thee:
The Sponge, the Speare, the Crosse, the Crowne of thorne
Thine ensignes are, and may not else be borne.
546
Thy head was Crown'd with thorne mine but with hay,
Thou knewst no sinne, my sinnes the sand exceede,
Well may I follow when thou leadst the way.
And (oh) that I might follow thee indeed.
Then of the Tree of life my soule should feed.
My soule that hath none[?] other hope but this,
Who will be thine, thou alwaies wilt be his.
547
Sweet Sauiour Christ, these are the hopes I haue,
Though they afflict me, yet my soule is thine
A tyrant cannot reach beyond the Graue,
These fierie trialls make me brighter shine,
Thou canst relieue me when thou seest thy time,
Or I shall end, or they at last will cease,
Thou wilt giue patience, till thou giu'st release.
548
And that I might euen of my selfe be hated,
They shan'd of all my beard in my disgrace;
Their instrument, a Razer blunt, rebated.
And from a filthy ditch neere to that place,
They fetch'r could muddy water for my face:
To whom I said, that eu'n in their dispight,
I would haue warme, my teares should do that right.
549
These drops of brine that powre down from mine eies
Mine eyes cast vp to heauens high glorious frame;
That frame whence God all earthly deeds descries,
That God that guerdons sin with death and shame,
Shall witnesse, yea and will reuenge the same,
That you haue bin most cruell to your king,
Whose death his doome, his doome your deaths will bring
550
Vnmanly men remember what I was,
And thinke withall what you your selues might be.
I was a king, a powerfull king I was,
You see my fall, and can your selues be free?
But you haue friends, why you were friends to me:
And yet you see how much your loue is chang'd,
So others loues from you may be estrang'd.
551
But you are young, and full of able strength,
And am not I, what boots my strength or youth,
Both now seeme firme, but both shall faile at length,
Old age, cold ache and both sad griefe ensueth,
But you are wise, the more should be your ruth,
Of mine estate, whose rack may teach you this
That hateful chance may clowde your greatest blisse.
552
You are not, no you are not beasts by birth,
Nor yet am I made of a sencelesse stone:
We all were fram'd, and all shall turne to earth
You should haue feeling soules for I haue one;
Then seeme at least relenting to my moane,
I pittie craue, and crauing let me haue it,
Because one day your selues may need to craue it
553
But these dead motiues could not worke at all
In their sad steely hearts the least remorse,
They rather added wormwood to my gall,
And exercise of ills did make them worse
So violent streames hold on their wonted course,
And being flesh't in crueltie before,
Vse made the habit perfect more and more.
554
And least one torment should be left vntri'de
They shut me in a vault, and laid by me,
Dead carkasses of men that lately died,
That their foule stinck my fatall bane might be;
These were the obiects that mine eyes did see,
These smells I smelt, with these I did conuerse,
And vnto these, these words I did rehearse.
555
Oh happy soules, whose bodies here I see,
For you haue plaid your parts, and are at rest,
Yet some way haplesse, ye may seeme to be,
That with your bodyes, I am thus distrest,
Perhaps you'd grieue, if that you knew at least,
That by your meanes your King is thus tormented,
Grieue not deare soules for I am well contented.
556
'Tis not your bodies senselesse as they are
That doe inflictt these torments on your King,
But the fierce agents of proud Mortimer[?],
From them my plagues proceed; as from their spring,
And (oh) iust heauen let them their tribute bring
Backe to the Ocean whence they first did flow
And in their passage still more greater grow.
557
But what poore soule haue you deseru'd so ill,
That being dead you must want buriall;
Nothing but this, I must my fates fulfill,
And still be plagu'd with woes vnnaturall,
My wretchednesse must still transcend in all,
The liuing and the dead must doe me spight
And you poore soules for me must want your right.
558
But you are happy free from sense of wrong,
Here be your bodies, but your soules are well,
Death doe not you forbeare your stroke too long
That with these happy soules, my soule may dwell,
And soule be glad to goe, here is thy hell,
And eu'n in this th'art happy that tis heere,
Oh better so, then it should be else where.
559
What seest thou now but obiects of disgrace?
What dost thou heare, but scornes and termes of spight?
What dost thou touch, that is not vile and base?
What dost thou smell, but stench both day and night?
What dost thou tast, that may procure delight?
Thy sight, thy hearing, touching, tast and smell,
All crie for heauen for here is now their hell.
560
This darksome vault, the house of Acheron[?],
These wicked men like friends do torture me,
These verie Snakes resemble Phlegeion[?]
Mine acted sinnes like fearefull Iuries be.
And he that would a whole infernall see
Let him obserue those torments I indure,
And he shall finde them hells true portraiture.
561
The earthit selfe is wearie of my paine,
And like a tender mother moanes for me,
From me thou cam'st, returne to me againe,
Within my wombe, ile keepe thee safe, quoth shee,
And from these vile abusers set thee free:
Neuer shall these fell Tyrants wrong thee more,
He that paies death dischargeth euerie score.
562
These bodies that thou seest, thy brothers were,
Subiect to many wants, and thousands woes.
They now are clear'd from care, and free'd from feare,
And from the pressing of insulting foes,
And now they liue in loue, and sweet repose:
Thy selfe canst witnesse, that they feele no woe,
And as they rest, eu'n thou shalt rest thee so.
563
Their eies, that whilst they liu'd oft tided teares
Thou seest, how sweetly they enioy their rest,
Those harsh vnpleasing sounds that deaft their eares:
Are turn'd to Angels tunes amongst the blest.
Their soules that were with pensiue thoughts possest,
Now in their makers bosome without end,
Enioy that peace whereto thy soule doth bend.
564
And thou hadst need of peace, poore wretched soule.
If euer any soule had neede of peace,
God being in armes against thee doth inrowle
All nature in his list which doth not cease
To fight against thee, and doth still encrease
Thy wretchednesse, forbeare rebellious dust,
To war with him who is both great and iust.
565
Oh would to God, that I had di'de ere this,
Then had my sinnes bin fewer then they are,
Then had my soule, long since repos'd in blisse,
Which now is wandring still in wayes of care,
Lifes griefe exceeds lifes good without compare.
Each day doth bring a fresh supply of sorrow,
Most wretched now, yet shall be more to morrow.
566
My carefull mother might haue helped me,
When I lay sprawling in her tender wombe,
If she had made her burdened belly be
My fruitlesse birth-bed, and my fatall tombe,
Sure had she knowne her sonnes accursed doome,
Shee neuer would haue wrong'd her selfe so much
To beare a wretch, saue whom was neuer such.
567
My tender nurse is guiltie of these paines,
Shee might haue put some poyson in my pappe,
Or let me fall, and so dasht out my braines,
When she full oft did daunce me on her lap,
A thousand waies had freed me from mishap.
But he, whom heauen ordaines to liue distrest,
Death will delay to set that wretch at rest.
568
For Death's the wearie Pilgrims rest and Ioy,
This world of woes, a hard and flintie way.
Our birth the path that leads to our annoy,
Our friends are fellow passengers to day,
And gone to morrow, honor is a stay,
That either stopps, or leads vs all amisse
Pleasures are theeues, that interrupt our blisse.
569
And in our passage as the way doth lie,
We meete with seuerall Inns wherein we rest,
Some at the Crowne were lodg'd and so was I
Some at the Castle, that is now my nest,
Some at the horne there married folks do feast,
Though men haue diuerse Inns, yet all men haue,
One home to which they goe, and that's the graue.
570
Yet whilst we trauell, fortune like the weather,
Doth alter faire or foule, so doth our way:
If faire, then friends like foules do flocke together
If fowle, each man doth shift a seuerall way,
Only our virtues, or our vices stay,
And goe with vs, whose endlesse memorie,
Doth make vs liue, or die eternally.
571
This is the fraight that men cannot vnload,
No not by death, therefore mortalitie
Worke for thy selfe, whilst heere thou mak'st abode,
For on the present hath dependencie
Thy fortunes endlesse blisse or miserie.
And death's the Conuoy to conduct vs home,
Come death to me, that I to rest may come.
572
Perhaps thou fear'st me being great and high,
Oh death, man were a thing intollerable,
Were he not mortall, but eu'n kings must die.
No priuiledge doth against death enable,
Both fat and leane are dishes for his table,
The difference this, the poore one hath his graue,
The great one he his Monument must haue.
573
Our fates may be conceiu'd, but not controul'd.
Before our dated time we cannot die,
Our daies are numbred, and our minuts tould.
But life and death are destin'd from on high.
And when that God that rules th'imperiall skie
Shall find it fit, then thou shalt goe in peace.
Meane while with patience looke for thy release.
574
Thus vnto care I pay his due complaint,
And ioyn'd with all my tributarie teares
Such my lament, for griefe finds no restraint,
As they at last did come vnto their eares,
That by the Castle past which caus'd such feares
In their selfe guiltie soules that vs'd me so,
As they resolu'd by death to end my woe.
575
To which effect came letters from the Court,
Written by Tarlton at the Queenes command,
In such a Clowdie, and ambiguous sort,
That diuerse waies one might them vnderstand.
By pointing them, that if they should be scand,
He and his Letters might be free from blame,
And they delinquent that abus'd the same.
576
The words were these (kill Edward doe not feare,
Tis good) which being comma'd diuerslie
As please the reader double since may beare,
Oh Art, thou art the worlds chiefe treasurie
But being imploy'd to practise villanie,
What Monstrous births from thy fowle wombe do spring,
So Grammar heere is made to kill a king.
577
Which to effect, they first remoued me,
From forth the Vault, where I before did lie,
And made a shew as if they seem'd to be,
Compassionated, for my misery.
And would hereafter grant immunitie
For such vnworthy vsage, so we see,
The Sun shines hot before the shower will be.
578
But being ouerwatch'd, and wearied too
Nature was much desirous of some rest,
Which gaue them oportunitie to do
What they desir'd, for being with sleepe opprest,
They Clapt a massie table on my brest.
And with great weight so kept me downe withall,
That breath I could not, much lesse crie and call.
579
And then into my fundament they thrust,
A litle horne, as I did groueling lie.
And that my violent death might shun mistrust,
Through the same horne a red hot Spit, whereby,
They made my gutts and bowells for to frie,
And so continu'd, till at last they found,
That I was dead, yet seem'd to haue no wound.
580
And heere I pitch the pillars of my paine,
Now, Ne plus ultra shall my posie be.
And thou which hast discrib'd my tragick raigne,
Let this at least giue some content to thee,
That from disastrous fortunes none are free.
Now take the worke out of the Loomes againe,
And tell the world, that all the world is vaine.
FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.