Henry the 2d. surnam'd Short mantle, King of England, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, Earle of Poicteres. and Anjou: Lord of Ireland. &c

THE REIGNE OF KING HENRY THE SECOND,

Written in Seaven Bookes.

By his Majesties Command.

Invalidas vires Rex excitat, & juvat idem Qui jubet; obsequium sufficit esse meum.
Auson.

LONDON,

Printed by A. M. for Benjamin Fisher, dwelling in Aldersgate-streete at the signe of the Talbot. 1633.

TO THE SACRED MAIESTIE OF CHARLES,

BY THE GRACE OF GOD, KING OF GREAT BRITTAINE, FRANCE, AND IRELAND, DEFEN­DER OF THE FAITH, &c.

THIS HISTORICALL POEM, BORNE BY HIS COMMAND, AND NOT TO LIVE BVT BY HIS GRATIOVS ACCEPTA­TION, IS HVMBLY DEDICATED BY THE AVTHOR,

His Majesties most obedient Subject and Servant

THO. MAY.

THE REIGNE OF King HENRY the Second.
The First Booke.

The Argument of the first Booke.
The happy part of Henry's reigne is showne.
His first Triumphant yeares and high renowne.
His peace and power Enyo grieves to see;
And to disturbe his long tranquillity
Descending downe to Lucifer below
She craves some Vices aide, to overthrow
The causes of it: there those tragike times
Of Stephens reigne, and Englands civill crimes
So lately past, Enyo does relate;
And shewes with griefe King Henry's present state▪
The Fiend foretells what suddaine change shall be
Of Englands peace, and his felicity.
THe Second Henry, first Plantagenet,
The first of Englands royall Kings, that set
Victorious footing on the Irish-shore,
And taught that warrelike nation to adore
[Page]A forreine Scepter, sound ye Muses foorth.
Declare how much his high Heroike worth
By stormes of spitefull fortune oft assail'd,
As oft'gainst fortunes spitefull stormes prevail'd.
His glorious reigne, but wrapt in various fate,
And, though triumphant, yet unfortunate.
How his great Vertues were too saddly try'de
By rebell Subjects, by the Papall pride,
And his owne Childrens strange impiety.
By opposition to ecclipse his high
And great Renowne, or higher to advance
The fame of his undaunted puissance.
Vouchsafe, dread Soveraigne Charles, with that most cleare
And gracious eye, with which you use to cheare
Poore suppliants, while destinyes attend
Your royall doome, to view these lines, and lend
Your favours influence, which can infuse
Vertue alone into an English Muse.
Shee else would tremble to approach too nigh
So pure a minde, so great a Majesty.
Vouchsafe to read the actions of a King
Your noble Ancestour; and what we sing
In Henry's reigne, that may be true renowne,
Accept it, Sr. as Prologue to your owne,
Vntill this Muse, or some more happy strayne
May sing your Vertues, and unaequall'd Reigne.
Those civill swords, that did so lately stayne
The land with slaughter, now were sheath'd againe.
The rents of State were clos'd, the wounds were cur'de,
Peace by victorious Henry was secur'de,
And justice waited on his awfull throne
Without controll; all feares, all faction,
That tooke beginning with King Stephen's reigne,
With him descended to the grave againe.
Stephen deceas'd, the Crowne of England now
Came by accord t'empale young Henry's brow,
Which was before by right of birth his due.
But he, least England too too long should rue
In blood and slaughter their ambitious strife,
Came to accords of peace, and during life
Of Stephen, respited his royall right.
Now like bright Phaebus to the longing sight
Of all the People did young Henry ri [...]e;
Before whose rayes all past calamities
Like mists did vanish: no sadd clouds accloy
The aire of England; with loud showtes of joy
The People flock, the Peeres their wealth display
To grace his wish'd-for Coronation day.
His brave atchievements, and that early fame
Which he in France had gain'd, had made his name
Already lov'd in England and admir'd.
Him all the people for their Lord desir'd,
[Page]And now possest of him, take faire presage
Such youth would end in a triumphant age.
Then, as when once the charriot of the Sunne
Had beene misguided by bold Phaëton,
Iove walk'd the round, and veiw'd with carefull eye
If heaven were safe; then from the starry sky
Descending downe, survey'd the scorched ground,
And there repair'd the ruines that he found;
To their dry channells he call'd backe the floods,
And with fresh verdure cloath'd the seindged woods,
Renew'd the herbage, and redresse ordain'd
For all that wronged Nature had sustein'd:
So Henry stablish'd in the Regall throne
Iove-like surveyes his large dominion,
To see what parts of state might be decay'd,
What rents so long a civill warre had made.
With physicke fit he purges from the State
Those humours, that did stirre, and swell so late,
Digests the reliques, and by Princely arts,
And policy, corroborates the parts.
And first of all, those troopes of forreiners,
That from all parts during the civill warres
Resorted hither to seeke spoyle and prey,
He banishes, that at th' appoynted day
Within the coasts no strangers did remaine,
Restoring England to it selfe againe.
[Page]And least the Crowne should want for that expence,
That must support the high magnificence
Of such a Monarchy, into his hands
He boldly seizes all the royall lands,
Which either greatest men did uncontroll'd
In those tumultuous times unjustly hold;
Or else King Stephen to support so badd
And weake a title, as (they knew) he had,
Had given freely, as rewards to tye
Their truth to him against their loyalty.
Nor did King Henry vindicate alone
The state and wealth of his Imperiall Crowne,
But the just power, and with a puissant hand
Setled that sure obedience through the land;
That to his awfull Scepter did belong.
The greatest Peeres, that were before too strong
To be commanded, he by force compell'd
To yeild to him the Castles that they held.
And all the midland forts he rased downe
(The strength of nothing but rebellion.)
Nor, though as yet presumptuous Mortimer
Had not forgot the late licentious warre,
But strove to guard against his Soveraigne
By lawlesse armes the strength that he had tane,
Could he resist the King, enforc'd to yeild
To him those three strong Castles that he held.
Well did this reformation suite the thought
Of such a great Heroike King, who brought
Besides his persons worth, and true esteeme,
So lov'de a title to the Crowne with him.
Not from the Norman Conquerour did he
Deduce alone his royall pedegree:
But from the ancient Saxon Kings beside,
As lineall heire to Edmund Ironside;
And in his happy birth did so conjoyne
The conquering Norman and old Saxon line.
Which hearty love and reverence to his throne
From all the English people justly wonne.
Who now forgate, pleas'd with his lawfull power,
That they were servants to a Conquerour▪
Great Grand-childe, by the Femall side, was he
To Margaret the Queene of Scotland; she
Daughter to Edward, sonne to Ironside;
Whose royall birth and blood was dignify'd
By twenty faire descents of Saxon Kings.
All which the happy birth of Henry brings
The more to England to endeare his reigne.
And heere your selfe, most Gracious Soveraigne,
Your ancient right to Englands Crowne may see.
In Scotlands royall blood your pedegree
Is farther drawne; and no knowne king, as you,
So long a title to two Crownes can show.
Then to the North with puissant Armes he makes
A prudent Voyage, and by Conquests takes
(To keepe entire his kingdomes ancient bounds)
From Malcolme King of Scotland, all those grounds
That to the Crowne of England did belong.
No Cities could withstand, no forts so strong,
But yeild to Henryes force. there, with the rest
Newcastle, Carleill he againe possest.
But least injustice any staine should be
To his great deedes, in thankefull memory
Of what King Malcolme in the warres had done
For th' Empresse Mawde, he gives him Huntingdon
A midd-land County, rich, and fitter farre
For the b [...]hoofe of both; from whence no warre
Nor troubles could arise, and which before
Had beene possess'd by Malcolmes Ancestor.
Yet did one deed with sad injustice blot
The reputation he before had gott;
Whilest too must thirsting for encrease of lands,
He seiz'd out of his brothers Geoffrey's hands
The Earldome of Aniou; forgetting both
The sacred tyes of Nature and of Oath;
That Oath which once so solemnly he swore.
His Father Geoffry Anious Earle, before
Knowing that Henry was, by birth, to be
Both Englands King, and Duke of Normandy,
[Page]Had given that Earldome to his second sonne
Geoffrey, and put him in possession
Of three the strongest Castles in the Land.
But falling sicke, when deaths approching hand
He felt, mistrusting that hi [...] eldest Sonne
The potent Henry might, when he was gone,
Diss [...]ize young Geoffrey, made his Barons sweare
(For at his death Prince Henry was not there)
That his dead corps should not enterred be
Till Henry had beene sworne to ratify
His will; Prince Henry, though unwillingly,
Yet rather then his fathers hearse should lye
Vnbury'd still, that Oath b [...]fore them tooke.
Which afterward, when Englands King, he broke;
And, though possessed of so many lands
And large estates, out of his brother's hands
That Earledome tooke by force of armes away;
And did, in lieu, a yearely pension pay.
But though the King could for that oath obtaine
A dis [...]ensation from Pope Adrian,
A higher power (it seem'd) would not dispense;
But afterward in kinde did recompence
[...]hat foule misdeede. for when King Henry meant
To Iohn his yongest sonne the governement
Of those three Castles; thence his eldest sonne
Tooke first pretence for that rebellion
[Page]Against his father. so what injury
Impiety had wrought, Impiety
Reveng'd; and scourg'd by an unnaturall sonne
What was 'gainst nature by a br [...]ther done.
Yet could not Henry's deedes of highest fame
Teach stubborne Wales to tremble at his name,
Or feare t'offend him by rebellious warre,
Till she had felt him there a conquerer,
And beene herselfe enforced to implore
His grace and favour, with one triumph more
T'en [...]ich his conquering head; not all her great
Rough woods could yeild her souldiers safe retreat;
Nor could those high and craggy mountaines bee
Of proofe 'gainst Henry's magnanimity.
Although the Welsh rely'd not on the aide
Of hills and woods: their Prince was not afraide
To joyne in battell with the English strength;
Where though stout Owen and his powers at length
Subd [...]'de, did yeild themselves, yet so they fought,
That they true fame to Henry's conquest brought.
Who now triumphant backe to England goes,
And leaves strong forts to aw rebellious foes,
[...]o guard the coasts and marches, and appeare
[...]e lasting trophees of his conquests there.
Those large dominions which he held in France,
The fame alone of his great puissance
[Page]Preserv'd from tumults, from rebellions free,
Or feare of any forreine enemy.
King Lewis himselfe was there too weake a foe
To doe him damage, or his power orethrow
Beyond the seas; yet though each neighbouring state
With envy trembled at the prosperous fate
Of Englands King; such moderation hee
Had shew'd, so rul'd his power with equity,
Seeking no lawlesse and unjust encrease,
That Europe then possest a happy peace.
This peace when feirce Enyo had beheld,
And saw all seedes of warre and faction quel'd,
She sigh'd and wept; for nought could pleasing bee
To that dire mayde but warres calamity:
Nought but dissention did to her seeme good;
No sights but feilds and rivers stain'd with blood
Were her delightsome prospects. into aire
She mounts, and fill'd with fury and despaire
Shakes, as she flyes, her now-extinguish'd brand,
Which gives no blaze at all, then taking stand
Above the shore of fruitfull Normandy
Vpon a lofty cliffe, viewes from on high
Great Henry's large dominions, that extend
From Scotland Northward to the Southerne end
Of spatious rance, which those high mountaines bound
Nam'd from Pirenes death▪ ore all that ground
[Page]She sees, and gnashes for disdaine to see,
No streaming Ensignes, no hostility;
The murdrous swords to sythes were turn'd againe,
And cheerefull plowmen till the fertile plaine;
The heardsmen heare their bullocks gently lough,
And their owne folds the fearelesse shepheards know.
Am I then banish'd quite? shall Peace (quoth she)
Boast through these lands so great a victory
Over Enyo? will no power orethrow
These nations quiet rest! if heaven allow
This lethargy, and still would have it so:
I will descend, and see what hell can doo.
A spatious cave there was (not oft before
Descry'd by mortall eye) within that shore
Which wealthy France doth to the North display,
And Brittaines Ocean bounds. thither they say,
The wise Dulichyan Heroe, by advi [...]e
Of beautious Circe came to sacrifice,
And there restor'd, by blood of bullocks slaine,
To silent ghosts the use of speech againe.
Through that darke vault did Phoebus nere shoot ray,
Nor ever glided beame of cheerefull day.
The grove of Proserpine oreshadow'd quite
That dismall shore, and damps of drery night
Condens'd the aire; no birds those boughs did grace,
Nor with sweet musicke cheer'd the balefull place;
[Page]No Tritons play'd, nor did blew Proteus feede
His scaly [...]locke, nor faire Halcyon breede
Beneath the shelter of so sadd a shore:
But greisly fiends and furyes evermore
In hideous shapes did to the cave repaire,
And ghosts sad [...] murmurs did afright the aire,
Who in unnumber'd companies attend.
Thither the feirce Enyo did descend,
And all her strongest arts and charmings bring
To hold converse with Hells infernall king.
The Feind himselfe was busy farre below,
And ranne with gnashing envy too and fro
To finde out plotts of ruine, and survey
His Master-vices, who fast chained lay
In adamantine cavernes; and from thence
(So pleas'd the great Creators providence
To curbe their might for mankindes sake, least all
The world should in a quicke confusion fall)
With all their force at once, and licens'd power
They cannot goe; for soone they would devoure
All states, all lands, and worke more tragicke woe
Then earthquakes, fires, or pestilence can doe.
Within their severall denns the Vices lay;
And ore the doores proud pictures did display
What severall feates and conquests they had wrought,
What States, what kingdomes they to ruine brought.
[Page]For of destroying housholds, or the fall
Of private men they made no boast at all.
And as sterne Aeolus is forc'd to locke
The boistrous winds in caves of strongest rocke
By Ioves command, lest, if they wholly goe,
They should all woods, all cities ouerthrow,
And beare downe all that did before them stand,
Confounding Neptunes kingdome with the land.
Yet have those windes still leave in some degree
(Though they disdaine such petty liberty)
To range abroade, to make their natures knowne,
To shake some weakely [...]ounded houses downe,
Oreturne some aged Oakes, and now and than
To cause a shipwracke on the Ocean.
Even so these hellish monsters, though great Iove
Permit them not in their full strength to move,
Are acting mischei [...]e every day, and goe
Contriving here and there designes of woe,
And worke (though they almost such worke despise)
The wracke of private men and families;
But to effect a great and publike woe
Without a speciall license cannot goe:
Hither, while Lucifer did thus survey
His Master-Vices, as they chained lay,
He bad them bring Enyo downe below,
For then to th'upper cave he would not goe.
[Page]What would'st thou crave (quoth he) what blacke de­signe
What stratagem t'enlarge thy power or mine
Hath made Enyo hither take her flight?
The furious Maide replyes; great Prince of night,
Tis not my cause alone that makes me come
(As fearing generall peace in Christendome)
Thy cause is joyn'd; I feare if that peace be,
Such warres as more will hurt thy Monarchy.
Then briefly thus; full fifteene yeares are gone
Since potent Henry wore the English crowne,
Possest besides, in wealthy France of more
Strong lands, then doe the crowne of France adore,
Blest with a numerous issue, and by none
Annoy'd, disturb'd by no rebellion,
Nor forreine foes; and lest French Lewis should be
His foe (though too too weake;) a [...]inity
Ioines them; faire Margaret is by wedlocke ty'd
To young Prince Henry; Brittaines heire's affy'd
To Geoffrey his third sonne, who comes to adde
That Dutchy too, to what before he had
In France; it did not seeme enough that he
Before possest Maine, Aniou, Normandy,
Nor that he did by Eleanor obtaine
Poi [...]tou besides, and fertile Aquitaine.
What warre dares menace such strong power as he
Possesses now? what fortune (woe is me)
[Page]Ha's chang'de the times? with what delight could I
(If now not crost by this tranquillity)
Remember Stephen's raigne, and tragicke times?
Oh heavens what slaughters, then, what civill crimes
Did England see, when on her frighted Coast
The Empresse Maude was landed with her hoast,
And came by armes to claime her royall right?
What suddain tumults rose, and did afright
The wretched people? different passions then
Made sad divisions in the hearts of men.
Some wept, some fear'd, some sadly tooke their armes,
And with intent to cure their countryes harmes
Prepar'd to wound her more; some did not know
What side to take, or where they might bestow
Their rage or love, before each mourning eye
Did formes of fire, of blood, and slaughter flye.
Within themselves their passions made arise
Such things as they imagin'd prodigies;
With thoughts confus'd the people rush'd to armes;
No noise in England but my loud alarmes
Was heard; the warre long carryed to and fro
At Lincolne wholly met at last, and now
All hop'd one battell would the right decide.
No feild was ever with more fury try'd,
Nor rage ere met more aequall rage, as they
That saw the slaughters of that dismall day,
[Page]Could justly tell; till great Augustaes right,
Whose powers renowned Gloster led in fight,
Prevail'd at last; there after he in vaine
Had shew'd rare valour, was king Stephen tane,
And to the conquering Empresse captive brought.
Then turn'd the State. who would not then have thought
All civill warres had ended quite, when she
Had on her side both right and victory?
The people all congratulate her state;
But soone beginne to pity St [...]phens fa [...]e,
And too hard durance. who a king had beene,
Then pinch'd in irons lay. his weeping Queene
For her deare Lord did to the Empresse sue,
But all in vaine. the warres from thence renew;
Againe the discontented people rise
In aide of Stephens faction, and surprise
Glosters brave Earle, Augustaes Generall
Then seem'd the like calamities to fall
On both the parties, and in aequall paine
Of durance did the king and Earle remaine
Accord was made, but not an end to make
Of civill warre, nor for their countries sake,
But to release their owne captivity,
And in exchange they set each other free.
From this accord with greater fury farre
Through all the kingdome rose the civill warre.
[Page]For those sad changes had not pacify'd
But more incens'd the chiefes of either side.
Whose wrath the people felt; all kindes of woe
The wretched Realme was forc'd to undergoe.
The countryes pillag'd, castles lost and wonne,
Rich cloysters robb'd, the fairest cities downe
Or ras'd or burned, in [...]ude heapes did ly;
As Wiltons pittyed sacke could testify
By Glosters furious army burn'd with fire.
Nor thee faire Worster, in king Stephens ire
Could all thy beauteous structure save from wracke;
In fatall flames thy walls and houses cracke.
Through what great hazards did both Princes runne?
How hardly oft escape destru [...]tion!
What neede I tell how Stephen forc'd to fly
From Gloster's powers, forfooke his treasury
At Wilton Abbey? how the Empresse fled
When least she seem'd to fly (supposed dead)
And like a coarse was carryed through her [...]
So to escape? what need I now disclose
How after she, when she i [...] Oxford lay
Straightly beseig'd by Stephen, got away?
No strength of friends at all, no parleys there
Could free her person; Winter rescu'd her,
And the cold season strove to mocke the foe.
December rag'd, the Northerne windes did blow,
[Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page] And by their power had glaz'd the silver flood
Of neere-adjoyning Thames, whose waters stood
Congealed still; ore which the snow around
Had fall'n, and with white fleeces cloath'd the ground;
When the wise Empresse cloath'd alike in white
Forsooke the towne, and past along by night,
Deluding so the watches carefull eyes.
They thought the snow had moov'd, or did surmise
Their opticke spirits had disturbed beene,
Not cleare, and they tumultuously had seene.
Fixt objects oft doe seeme in motions so.
Thus then securely did the Empresse goe,
And was receiv'd with joy to Walingford.
Nor then did England bleed alone; her Lord
Anious great Earle by feirce and bloody warre
Was winning Normandy in right of her.
Those, those were times; but now, (ah woe is me)
Great Lucifer, if this tranquillity
Without disturbance hold in Christendome,
I feare for thee a farre worse warre will come.
Thy Saracens shall rue the Christians peace,
And feele their conquering swords. what large increase
Of territories, honour, and of fame
Through farthest Asia will the Christian name
Acquire? what bounds, alas, would Salem know
If potent Henry to this warre should goe?
[Page]If he should there the English crosse advance?
His aide they all will seeke; his puissance
Will Salems feeble king implore to joyne
Against those foes that threaten Palaestine.
Therefore in time this peacefull knot divide.
Enyo ceas'd; when Lucifer reply'de;
Thy just complaint, heroike Maide, I heare;
But doe not doubt the power of Lucifer.
Those instruments, that I from hence shal bring,
Will soone divert it all, and make this king,
Whose strength the world so much admires, and fea [...]
Whom now they deeme so blest, ere many yeares
Into themselves revolve againe, to be
The pity of his foes; nature for me
Against herselfe is working. come and veiw
My champions here that shall with speed pursue
What I designe. with that he leades her by
The denns, where all along his Vi [...]es ly.
There in her den [...] lay pompous Luxury
Stretch'd out at length; no Vice could boast such hi [...]h
And generall victories as she had wonne.
Of which proud trophees there at large were showne.
Besides small States and kingdomes ruined,
Those mighty Monarchies, that had orespread
The spatious earth, and stretch'd their conquering arme▪
From Pole to Pole, by her [...]nsuaring charmes
[Page]Were quite consum'd. there lay imperiall Rome,
That vanquish [...] all the worl'd, by her orecome.
Fetter'd was th'old Assyrian Lion there,
The Graecian Leopard, and the Persian Beare,
With others numberlesse lamenting by,
Examples of the power of luxury.
Next with erected lookes Ambition stood,
Whose trophees all were pourtray'd forth in blood.
Vnder his feet Law and religion
He trampled downe; sack'd cities there were showne,
Rivers and feilds with slaughter overspread,
And stain'd with blood which his wild sons had shed.
There Ninus image stood, who first of all
By lawlesse armes and slaughter did enthrall
The quiet nations, that liv'd free till then,
And first tooke pride to triumph over men.
There was Sesostres figur'd; there the sonne
Of Philip lay, whose dire ambition
Not all the spatious earth could satisfy.
Swift as the lightning did his conquests fly
[...]rom Greece to farthest Easterne lands, and like
Some dire contagion, through the world did strike
Death and destruction; purple were the floods
Of every region with their natives bloods.
Next him tha [...] Roman lay, who first of all
Captiv'd his countrey; there were figur'd all
[Page]His warres and mischiefes, and what ever woes
Through all the world by dire ambition rose.
Next to that Fiend lay pale Revenge; with gore
His ghastly visage was all sprinckled ore.
The hate he bore to others, had quite reft
Him of all love unto himselfe, and left
No place for nature. ore his den were showne
Such tragedies and sad destruction
As would dissolve true humane hearts to heare,
And from the furies selves inforce a teare.
Those bloody slaughters there to veiw were brought,
Which Iacobs cruell sonnes in Shechem wrought,
When all the Males but newly circumcis'd
To their revengfull rage were sacrific'd.
There the slaine youth of Alexandrialy
By Caracalla's vengefull butchery,
The captiv'd fate of Spaine was there display'd,
Which wrathfull [...]ulian in revenge betray'd
To Pagan Moores, and ruin'd so his owne
Sad house, his country and religion.
Not all these sacred bonds with him prevaile,
When he beholds his ravish'd daughter waile,
Wring her white hands, and that faire bosome strike,
That too much pleas'd the lustfull Rhoderike.
The next Sedition lay, not like the rest
Was he attir'd, nor in his lookes exprest
[Page]Hatred to heaven and vertues lawes; but he
Pretends religion, law, or liberty,
Seeming t'adore what he did most orethrow,
And would perswade vertue to be a foe
To peace and lawfull power. above his den
For boasting trophees hung su [...]h robes, as when
Old Sparta stood, her Ephori did weare,
And Romes bold Tribunes. Stories carved there
Of his atcheivements numberlesse were s [...]ene,
S [...]ch as the Gracch [...]s fact [...]ous stirres had beene
In ancient Rome, and such as were the crimes,
[...]hat oft wrack'd Greece in her most potent times,
S [...]ch as learn'd Athens, and bold Sparta knew,
And from their ablest souldiers oft did rue.
Next to that Vice lay foule Impiety
At large display'd, the cursed enemy
Of natures best and holyest lawes; through all
Her loathsome denne unthankfull vipers crawle.
Above those stories were display'd, which show
How much the Monarchy of Hell did owe
[...]or peoples wracke to that abhorred Vice.
There were Mycenae's balefull tragedies,
And all the woes that fatall The [...]es had wrought.
There false Medea, when away she brought
Her owne betrayed countries spoiles, before
Her weeping father Aeta peicemeale tore
[Page]Her brother's limbes, and strew'd them ore the feild.
There with the same impiety she kill'd
Her owne two sonnes, and through the aire apace
By draggons drawne, she fled from Iason's face.
There strong Alcathoë king Nisus towne
By S [...]yllaes impious treason was orethrowne,
And sack'd with fire and sword; the wretched maide
Had from her lofty sounding tower survey'd
King Minos hoast, and doating on her faire
Foes face, cut off her fathers purple haire.
This, this is she, this is the Vice must goe
(Quoth Lu [...]ifer) to worke the overthrow
Of Englands peace; Impiety shall doe
What ever thy designes can reach unto.
She shall ascend to England, and possesse
The breasts of Henri's sonnes; with what success [...]
Enyo feare not; I have seene the boyes.
Though yet but young; I marke, to swell my joyes,
Such forward signes of their ambition,
They soone will by Impiety be blowne
Vp into such attempts, as that thy brand
Shall quickly blaze againe through every land
That Henry rules. this is the cause that hee
Continues yet in his prosperity,
His sonnes are not of age. they, they must grow
Their fathers onely ruine, th'overthrow
[Page]Of all his weale. besides to further our
De [...]gue in this; and lend us present power,
[...] king himselfe consents; who govern'd by
[...] dotage and disastrous policy
Does now entend to crowne his eldest sonne.
Soone as his feasts at Windsore shall be done,
Where now, with William Scotland's king, he lyes,
Shall Westminst [...]r see these solemnityes.
The [...]e see how soone [...]mpiety shall fire
The young kings brest, and make him more aspire
The more his father gives, and though of late
Sedition well have wrought upon the State
By Becket, who these five yeares ha's beene fled,
And yet that strife is not extinguished;
No warres from thence grow, nor has thy desire
Enyo, beene fulfill'd; that fa [...]tious fire
Has burnt no cities, nor has blood at all
Beene drawne in that; be sure in this there shall.
Impiety shall doe't▪ the Feind here ends,
And pleas'd Enyo from the cave ascends.

THE REIGNE OF King HENRY the Second.
The Second Booke.

The Argument of the second Booke.
King H [...]nry Crownes at Westminster, his sonne:
But soone beginns to feare what he had done.
He feasts the King of Scotland at his Court.
Among the tempting beauties that resort
To that great festivall, he falls in Love
With Rosamond, arm'd Pallas from above
Appeares to Henry's sleepe: chides him, as slow
In his affaires of Ireland; and does show
What lasting honour that great Ile shall be
To him, and his victorious progeny.
NOw had great Henry his designe declar'd
To crowne his Sonne, and all that state prepard
That might befit the great solemnity,
The Peeres and people all approove what he
Rashly decrees, and in the triumph joyne.
Withglittering pompe the streetes of London shine.
[Page]Their wealth the greatest Citizens display
To grace young Henry's Coronation day.
But most of all, though least discerning why,
Vnusuall joy the Vulgar testify.
Not good but new things please the peoples eyes.
Nor dooes King Henry in his love surmise
That all the face of England, all the state
Were witnesses enow to celebrate
His sonnes high honour; but King William too
Arriv'd from Scotland, must be brought to doo
His homage to him as to Englands King,
And with him must his brother David bring.
The sacred oile, in banish'd Becket's stead,
Is by Yorkes Prelate powr'd upon his head;
The Diadem, which was possess'd before,
Empales his brow; whilest all the Peeres adore
Two Sunnes at once, and, ill presaging, see
(What a [...]ter proov'd) a fatall prodigy.
How ill Imperiall Majesty can brooke
A sharer, seeke not farre; nor neede you looke
S [...]oryes, whose credit time has ruin'd quite;
Nor neede you read what old Tragaedians write
Of this [...]add Theame, or east your pitying eyes
V [...]on the Theban brothers tragoedyes,
O [...] brothers blood, that Romes first walls did stayne.
The s [...]arious heavens (as Poets wisely faine)
[Page]Brook'd not old Saturne and his Iupiter.
By every age, and dire examples neere
To us, how oft has this sadd truth been proov'd?
How many sonnes and fathers have been moov'd
To parricide, to set themselues but free
From that, which Henry makes himselfe to be,
Rivall'd in reigne? but if he still retayne
Full Regall power, what more dost thou obtaine
By this thy father's kinde donation,
Young King, then title and a fruitlesse throne?
How vaine thy Scepter is, when thou shalt see
The power divided from the dignity?
Yet doe not so mistake thy fate; no lesse,
Nay greater farre esteeme thy happinesse
Then if thou now wert seiz'd of all alone.
The [...]ares and dangers waiting on a Crowne
Have made some feare the burden, or despise
That sacred jewell of unvalewed price.
A prudent King, when he awhile survey'd
The glittering splendour, that his Crowne display'd,
Was sighing heard to say, if those that view
Farre off thy flattering gloryes only, knew
How many cares and g [...]efes in thee are found,
They would be loath to take thee upp from ground.
This wisest Monarch, if he now should see
Thy royall State, young King, would envy thee,
[Page]And count thee happy sure, that doost alone
Weare, without cares, the glories of a Crowne,
That from the burden of a King art free,
Invested only with the dignity.
Yet this prerogative b [...]ings no content
To thee, that seem'st to want th' accomplishment
Of royalty, the power and Regall s [...]ay.
Nothing (alas) this Coronation day
Has brought thee to, but to a nearer sight
Of what thou hast not, nor is yet thy right.
Thy stirring minde meetes torture with a throne,
But Tantalized in dominion.
The cause (alas) of woes that must ensue,
And thy great father too too soone shal rue.
That dayes solemnity in truest state
The Court of England strove to celebrate,
And with such great magnificence as might
The Majesty of that high presence fitt;
Where all at once three Kings, two Queenes were mett,
Besides so many high borne Princes, great
In same and wealth. the feasting boords were fill'd
With what this Iland or [...]ich France could yeild.
S [...]ch cates as those, with which old Poets fain'd
In Thessaly the Gods were entertain'd
At s [...]lver-footed Thetis bridall feast,
Where [...]ove himselfe vouchsaf'd to be a guest.
[Page]Where aged Chiron waited at the boord,
And brought what aire, earth, waters could af [...]ord,
When all rich Tempe, and th' adjoyning seas
Were search'd, besides what then the Najades,
What young Palaemon, Glaucus, and the greene
Sea-nymphs had brought to grace their beautious queen.
The choisest Wines that France or Spaine could yeild
In cupps of gold, studded with gemms were fill'd,
And antique Gobletts, where the Carver strove
To aequall natures skill; beasts seem'd to moove,
And pretious birds their glistering wings display'd.
The faire and m [...]ssy vessels that convey [...]d
The feast to them, did far in their high rates
Exceede the valew of those sumptuous cates.
King Henry wanton with excesse of joy,
Which now he thought no fortune could destroy
(How soone deceiv'd! how soone enforc'de to finde
The errour in his ill-presaging minde)
To testifie a great affection,
And grace the state of his young-crowned Sonne,
Himselfe, as sewer, will vouchsafe to waite
Vpon his sonne; who sitts in Regall state,
And to his table the first dish present.
The Lords and Princes all with one c [...]nsent
Applaud the King's great love, but secretly
Are stroke with wonder these strange rites to see.
[Page]Some seeke examples for it; some within
Themselues, doe sadly from that sight divine;
When Yorkes Arch-Bishop the young King bespake;
Rejoyce, my Princely sonne, and freely take
The comfort of your state; no Monarch (know)
On Earth has such a servitour as you.
With that the Prelate gently smil'd; but he
* With a proud looke replyes; why wonder yee?
Or thinke these rites so strange my Father [...]ooes?
My birth is farre more Royall (well he knowes)
Then his. he only by the Mothers side
With high Imperiall blood was dignify'de;
His father was but Anjous Earle; but I
Derive from both my Parents royalty,
A King and Queene. th [...]y all with wonder heare;
King Henry sigh'd, and gan even then to [...]eare
What after might ensue from such a pride.
But at that triumph he resolv'd to hide
His feares or griefes. instead of which, the Court
Was fill'd with Revells, with all Royall sport,
All showes that high magnificence could give▪
There art in strange varietyes did strive
Both to perplexe and please the eyes of all,
[...]ut nature more. for to the festivall
[Page]From every part the choisest beauties came.
There, like a fire aetheriall, every Dame
Did blaze, more bright then Elements could make▪
While from the Countreys they all flock'd to take
Survey of Kingly gloryes, while they sought
To view the lustre of a Court, they brought
The lustre with them, and might seeme to be
Themselues that splendour, that they came to see▪
Amidd'st those sparkling beauties Cupid sate
Loves powerfull God, and rul'd in highest state,
Arm'd with his fires and shafts, resolv'd to be
In Henry's Court a greater King then he,
Whose yoake the King must suffer. On the state
Of Cupid there the little Loves did waite.
Throughout the Court they tooke their wanton flight
With wings unseene, and, when they list, would light
Vpon the Ladyes shoulders, or their breasts,
Their Ruffes, or tires; they feele not those light guests
Which they give harbour to; Bold Lycence there,
Sweete reconciled Anger, blushing Feare▪
Vnsafe Delight, did with pale Watching fly,
Desiring teares with Wanton perjury,
And all the rest. They say the beauteous Queene
Of Love her selfe upon that day was seene
Approching London; up cleare Thames his streame
Borne on a sounding Triton's backe she came.
[Page]The River smooth'd his face to entertaine
The Queene of Love with her lig [...]t footed traine.
The silver Swans ador'de her all [...] way,
And churking did their snow-white wings display.
The river-nymphes, that saw her comming, thought
Some sweete atchievement now was to be wrought,
That Cupid sure had promis'd her to see
Some high exploit, some royall victory,
As that, when once he made imperiall Iove
Lough like a Bull for faire Europaes Love,
Or when he made rough Neptune [...]eele his fire,
Or warm'd chast Cynthiaes bosome with desire,
And made her court the Shepheard. su [...]h a one
Loves Queene now look'd for from her conquering sonne▪
Nor was her expectation voyd; she found
As much as she could hope, a royall wound.
No lesse then Henry's noble breast must be
The trophee of her Cupids victory.
Henry's pleas'd eyes now wander'd every where
Among those Starres, that made his Court their Sphaere,
(For such they seem'd, and no lesse bright they shew'd,
Although of different light and magnitude▪)
Oft could he change the o [...]jects of his eye
With fresh delight, praise the v [...]riety
Without distracted thoughts, till like the Queene
Of light, faire Cinthia, Rosamund was seene.
[Page]There did he fixe; there his amazed eye
Forgot all pleasure of variety,
And gaz'd alone upon her matchlesse hew.
False Cupid laugh'd, and thence in triumph slew.
Too much (alas) found Henry's wounded brest
How much her beauty did outshine the rest.
So golden Venus 'mongst the Sea-nymphs, so
Did Deidamia 'mongst her sisters show,
When she inflam'd the young Achilles heart,
As Rosamund appear'd. each single pa [...]t
Of Loves rich dower, which she alone possest,
Had beene enough to fire a vulgar brest,
And in another raise high beauties fame.
Into her forme all severall Cupids came,
And all the Graces their perfection show'd.
Nature confest she had too much bestow'd
On one rich mixture, which alone must weare
All her faire liveries; pure whitenesse there
Nor red alone must beauties colours show.
Blew pleads a title, since her veines are so;
Even blacke it selfe plac'd in her eye is bright,
And seemes to be the colour of the light.
As they are hers, all [...]ormes, all colours please.
Henry, the more he lookes, does more encrease
His flame; and whether he should checke desire,
And goe about to quench so sweet a fire;
[Page]Or feede the flame, he cannot yet resolve.
A thousand thoughts does his sicke breast revolve,
Sometimes he seekes to cure the wound, and cast
Out Cupids [...]atall shaft; but still more fast
The arrow stickes, and goes more deepe into
His wounded heart; ensnared fishes so
When they have once receiv'd the baited hooke,
The more they plunge, the deeper still are strooke.
So when by chance the stately Stag is shot,
In vaine he strives 'gainst fate; it bootes him not
Through all the [...]orrests, lawnes, and feilds to take
His speedy course; no force, no flight can shake
The mortall shaft out of his wounded side.
It bootes not Henry to survey the pride
Of other beauties now; conve [...]se with all
The Princes met at his great festivall,
Or fixe himselfe on the solemnities,
The sports and revells of his court. His eyes
Can recompense him with no sight at all,
Nor yeild him pleasure aequall to the thrall
They brought him to, by sight of Rosamund.
No thoughts of state have power t'allay his wound.
Sometimes he yeilds to Loves imperiall flame;
Resolves to cou [...]t her favour straight; but shame
Restraines that thought. His servants all discerne
A change; but are afraide the cause to learne.
Tis not the crowning (Henry) of thy sonne
(Though that shall breed [...] sad confusion)
Can make thee lesse then king, or dis-inthrone
Thee halfe so much, as love of her has don [...].
That makes thee humbly sue: makes thee become
Thy selfe a subject, forc'd t'abide the doome
That soveraigne beauty shall be pleas'd to give.
Thou, mighty Prince, whose high Prerogative
Aequall to fate it [...]elfe, us'd to bestow
Or death or life on suppliants, art now
Thy selfe an humble suppliant, and bound
To sue for health to beautious Rosamund.
While thus the Princes met doe celebra [...]e
In feasts and revells young king Henry's sta [...]e,
And London's fill'd with severall jollityes,
Swift-winged fame from thence to Paris flies,
Where then the French king Lewis kept his [...]
And fill's his jealous eares with this repo [...];
Young Henry on the royall throne is set
Without his wife the Princes [...]e [...]
(Though Lewis his daughter.) je [...]lousy can [...]
A reason quickly to torment his mind.
That reason flattering Cou [...]tiers aggravate,
And those that love the troubles of a State
The factious spirits, that seeke from thence [...]
What other reason can there be (say they)
[...] [...]
Vnlesse contemptuous scorne of thee and France,
That Henry singly should his sonne advance
Without his wife, nor let young Margaret be
A sharer in her husbands dignity?
What end of his, or what designe had beene
Made frustrate else, had she beene crowned Queene?
These slight surmi [...]es are too soone approv'd,
And for just reasons tane; the King is mov'd
To g [...]ound a warre on these, resolv'd (although
No hopes invite him) to be Henry's foe;
Forc'd by miscalled honour to pursue
What most of all he would himselfe eschew.
Honour is to a man a tyrant then,
When honours lawes he seekes from other men,
Not findes them in himselfe; when he attends
Not reall truth, but fame, which still depends
On others breaths; yet makes a man to goe
' [...]ainst his owne passions, and his reason too.
Nor must king Lewis his fury stay so long,
As fairely to expostulate the wrong,
To send his grievance first, then to defy,
And be a just and royall enemy.
Those fiery spirits, that too much feare a peace,
That discontents betwixt the Kings would cease,
And no swords drawne at all, if that were done,
Still urge king Lewis; with speed, say they, goe on.
[Page]There's no advantage in a course so slow;
Tis best to be, before you seeme, a foe.
Before the newes to Henry's eare can fly,
With fire and sword invade his Normandy.
Meane time king Henry fearelesse of the blow
Of warre, was master'd by a greater foe,
Enforc'd to yeild to Cupids powerfull bow.
The triumphs all were done; king William now
Had with Prince David tane their leaves, and from
The court of England were returning home,
By English Lords attended on their way.
The court seem'd nak'd, robb'd of that bright array,
And beautious splendour it so lately wore:
How much unlike the place it was before!
How solitary now! but Henry's minde
That change, which others thinke of, cannot finde,
No other absence can he feele but one:
His dearest life faire Rosamund was gone
To grace the countrey with her presence now.
The wounded lover did by this time know
Her birth and countrey. thither flyes his heart,
And from his palace, nay himselfe, would part.
Or else contrives to bring a gemme so bright
To court, and place her neerer to his sight.
No kingly pleasures, no magnificence
Can tast; no musicke's sweete while she is thence.
[Page]So when the faire Calisto did remaine
In woods a huntresse of Dianaes traine,
And wore her quiver, when enamour'd Iove
Beheld her matchlesse beauty from above,
[...]he woods before heavens palace please his eye;
Before the starry regions of the sky
He loves th'Arcadian forrests to survay.
Not those bright houses, nor the milky way
All pav'd with silver Starres doe seeme so cleare.
The woods are heaven while faire Cali [...]to's there.
[...]une then beganne; and roses grac'd the Spring.
Into his garden walkes the Love-sicke King
To seeke a sweet retreat, with her alone
[...]o feast his pleas'd imagination.
There while he view'd the Queen of flowers, his flame
Encreas'd, and tooke fresh fuell from the name;
For her the blushing rose must praised bee,
And scorn'd againe, because it is not shee.
No roses can (quoth he) be fragrant else;
Th [...]re is no spring but where Lord Clifford dwells.
[...]hus vainely runne his thoughts upon the flower,
While gentle birds about his [...]hady bower
Tune their soft notes, and by degrees sweet sleepe
Through all his wearyed senses gan to creepe,
As if faire Venus pittying his sad plight,
Would send him now by dreame some short delight,
[Page]And, what his waking eye could not have found,
Present in sleepe, the shape of Rosamund.
But Heaven was more propitious to his fame,
And for Love-dreames, a Nobler vision came.
Honours bright Goddesse, that heroike maide
That issu'de from the braine of Iove, array'de
In all her radiant gloryes came, before
Whose face the Cupids fledd; her right hand bore
The warlike Lance, her left Medusaes head;
Her golden plumed Helme, both full of dread
And Majesty, such rayes of splendour yeilds
As rising Phaebus, when farre off he guilds
The Easterne Cloudes; her eyes wore Starry light,
But fixt, not twinckling, like weake humane [...]ight,
Nor did she seeme by stepps at all to goe,
Or stirring severall Limmes, as mortalls doe,
But one sole motion through the ayre to make.
Thus she appear'd, and thus the King bespake:
Forgetfull Henry wake; the Fates provide
While thou art sleeping, Fame for thee, and chide
Thy dull delayes. how long to thee in vaine
Shall Ireland yeld her selfe, and court thy raigne?
Ireland, that must hereafter bring a style
So great to thy posterity, that Ile,
The most enduring part of thy renowne,
And best addition to faire Englands Crowne?
[Page]Ten yeares have turn'd into themselues againe
Since that late Pope deceased Adrian
Did freely send by Iohn of [...]alisbury
The grant of Irelands soveraignty to thee,
And with it sent that ring, to be a sure
And lasting signe of thy investiture
Into that sacred honour. canst thou weare
The pretious Emrauld on thy finger there,
And yet so long forget with what entent
Thou then didst take that royall ornament,
That mariage token? wi [...]t thou now refuse
The spouse, thou did'st with such affection chuse?
Let not the thoughts of fa [...]tious Becket now,
Nor what Church-threats, or censures thence may grow
Divert thee from this happy enterprise.
Thinke not that troubles may in France arise
Through thy short absence; since no stirres at home,
No losse that to those provinces can come,
Can countervaile such great and lasting gayne.
That Westerne Ila [...]d, as the [...]ates ordayne,
To thy Victorious seede, through every age,
Shall be, a great and constant heritage,
An I flourish then, when all those Provinces,
All those ri [...]h lands thou doost in France possesse,
[...] from the English Crowne divided be.
When thy most ancient right, faire Normandy
[Page]It selfe is gone, together with rich Maine,
With Brettaine, Aniou, Poictou, Aquitane;
Although how oft shall France, before those dayes,
Be scourg'd? What trophes shall the English raise
In every part and province, which no power
Shall ere extinguish, nor strong time devoure?
When all amazed Christendome shall see
The Armes of England twice with victory
To graspe great France, and once to seize her Crowne,
And wear't in uncontroll'd possession;
When Caesar's deeds against the ancient Gaules
Shall be out done by English Generalls;
And three fam'd battells shall exceede what he
Atchiev'd against his strongest enemy
Stout Vercingentorix; that Prince his fall,
Arvaricum's [...]am'd sacke, and th' end of all
Alexia taken, to each severall feild
Of Cressy, Poictiers, Agincourt shall yeild.
But Ireland, which by easy victory
Without a warre almost shall yeild to thee,
Shall to thy royall heires remayne; although
B [...]fore that Kingdome to perfection grow,
And be establish'd in a quiet Reigne,
[...]ft horrid warres, and bloody fields shall stayne
[...]er face in future times, and loud alarmes
[...]ft to the world shall fame the English armes,
[Page]And raise the glory of Elisaes name.
A virgin Queene shall all rebellion tame,
And to her rule in spight of Spaines proud fate,
That spatious [...]and wholly vindicate.
There wise King Iames shall spread the English Law,
And by divinest skill (like Orpheus) draw
Those ruder people to a civile life,
And well establish'd Peace; all jarres and stri [...]e
Shall fly before his most auspicious reigne.
This is that Prince, by whom high heavens ordeine
The long wish'd marriage of two royall lands.
Bri [...]aines united Ile to his commands
And sacred Scepter shall obedient be.
Who after long and blest tranquillity
Shall leave those States to his heroik sonne
Renowned Charles; in whose pure breast alone
All regall vertues shall inhabite, join'd
With those that make a spotlesse priva [...]e mynde,
Who shall refraine, pleas'd with just power alone,
All the licentious pleasures of a throne,
And by example governe, pleas'd to be
A King in vertue as in Royalty.
The troubles now, tha [...] threaten Normandy,
[...] sent to wake thee from this Lethargy,
And bring thee Nobler thoughts; and now was rest
Q [...]ite banished from waken'd Henry's breast.
[Page]He with amazed thoughts look'd up and [...];
But when his eyes were ope, the sight was gone;
And yet on Ireland wholly ranne his thought.
When suddaine tidings to his eare were brought
Of what King Lewis of France, beyond the Seas
Had then attempted 'gainst his Provinces;
At which moov'd Henry armes; and crosses ore
As swift as thought, unto the Norman-shore.

THE REIGNE OF King HENRY the Second.
The Third Booke.

The Argument of the third Booke.
The Kings of France and England at Vendome
Without a battell, to agreement come.
Henry return'd to England, meetes againe
With beautious Rosamund, and dooes obtaine
His wanton suit. he builds for her a rare,
And sumptuous bower. stout Becket's famous jarre
This booke declares, and dooes at large relate
By what degrees it had disturb'd the state.
His Soveraignes pardon Becket dooes obtaine,
And to his See returnes in peace agayne.
SOone were those stormes, that threatn'd Nor­mandy,
Blowne ore againe; and that hostility
That Lewis of France in unadvised ire
Had rashly harbour'd, did as soone expire
Before that any dire effects it wrought.
A peace King Henry's armed presence brought,
[Page]Who now in France arrived. at Vendosme
To enterview the two great Kings doe come.
There Lewis decla [...]es his cause; that wrong was done
To him and France, when Henry crown'd his sonne,
And with like state (befitting) had not set
That Crowne upon the head of Margaret
His Princely spouse. but this, which first did seeme
A cause of just hostility to him,
Was there controll'd by all, and judg'd to be
On sound advise, a lighter injury
Then that the hand of Warre should it decide.
For such a wrong a promise satisfy'de;
Which Henry freely gaue, and did maintaine;
That he, ere long would crowne his sonne againe;
And then young Margaret should full sharer be
In all her Husbands state and dignity.
Then to performe what he had promis'd there,
Since these late-raised stormes allayed were,
Back into England Henry crost againe;
And in his noble breast 'gann entertaine
The thought of Ireland's conquest now; although
He yet in person did not meane to goe;
But unto Dermot th' Irish Prince he gave
Free leave from any of his Realmes to have
What Voluntaryes he could carry ore,
That might hereafter to the Irish sho [...]e
[Page]Prepare his passage, and begin the warres
On fitter tearmes, but not those high affaires
Of Warre and Fame could keepe imperious Love
From tyrannizing, nor much lesse remoove
His force, that had before found entrance ther [...].
Againe to him did Rosamund appeare.
And what ensu'd, declare my Muse, resound
The love of Henry and faire Rosamund;
Thou knowest it Erato, thou, that to give
My pen a true intelligence, did'st dive
So lately downe into th' Elysian groves,
And there beheld'st the seat of tragicke Loves,
That farre renowned shade of Mirtles, where
The beautious troope of Love-slaine dames appeare,
And weare the markes of their sad ruines yet.
Vpon those gloomy grounds no flowers are set
But such alone, which (as old Poets sing)
Did from wail'd deaths, and tragike changes spring.
Such as the pale-fac'd Daffadill, that from
That too too beautious boy's selfe-love did come,
And purple Hyacinth, that first tooke growth
From that so much lamented Spartan youth;
Adonis short-liv'd flower of crimson hew,
That from faire Venus sprinckled Nectar grew
Dooes there appeare, by whom is sadly set
The pining Clyties pale-leav'd Violet.
[Page]Thou Erato, within that Mirtle grove
Saw'st those fam'd Ladyes, whom their owne sad love
Or others love had ruin'd, wandring there;
Thou saw'st the Theban Semele appeare,
W [...]o too too late complain'd of amorous Iove,
And now condemn'd her owne ambitious Love.
There with the fatall shaft did Procris stand,
Who yet forgave her Lord's mistaking hand;
Faire Dido too, of life and crowne bereft,
B [...] whom the perjur'd Trojan's sword was left;
And there by Aspes destroy'd, sent from above
In all her gloryes to th' Elysian grove
[...]at Cleopatra walk'd; there thou did'st see
The Lesbian Sappho, sadd Eryphile,
Th [...] wa [...]ling Phaedra, sham'd Pasiphaë,
C [...]st [...]hisbe, and incestuous Canace;
Wit [...] them the much lamented Sestian Maide,
And thousands moe; whom whilest thine eyes survey'd
Thou saw'st the second Henry's Paramour
Faire Rosamund within that gloomy bower
Among the rest, and, now return'd relate
The circumstances of her love and fate.
While those late stirres detain'd the King in France,
By power of Cupid's godhead, or by chance
To Court the beautious Rosamund had beene
Brought up, to waite on Elianor the Queene.
[Page]There did the longing eyes of Henry finde
Their brightest blisse; the wishes of his mind
There met their bound, and her at court, to whom
He had resolv'd the Court it selfe should come.
Twas then too late for him to checke desire,
Or to suppresse so strong and sweet a fire
When he had seene his love againe so soone.
A longer absence might perchance have done
That cure on him; short absence hurt him more,
And made his wound farre greater then before,
Absence not long enough to root out quite
All love, encreases love at second sight.
So fares it now with Henry, who pursues
His amorous wishes, taught by Love to use
All those rich aides that Nature could allow,
That birth and hight of fortune could bestow.
For him his persons worth, his deedes of glory,
His royall gifts the strongest oratory
Doe proudly pleade. all subject-wits must move
(As second causes serve the will of love)
For him, that he may his desires enjoy;
And great enough are his desires t'employ
All aides. in this faire suite you might descry
The charmes of beauty, power of majesty,
And all that ancient Poëts sung of Love,
When they ascrib'd it to Imperiall Iove.
[Page]When he a bull would for Europa be,
A shower of gold for beautious Danae,
A Swanne for Leda, with a thousand moe
Such shapes, to woe and winne faire Dames. why so
Could he change shapes, and gaine in them so much?
Because he was great Iove, his power was such.
But why should Iove himselfe vouchsafe to take
Such humble formes as these? why should he make
Himselfe a bull, a swanne, a golden shower?
Because so great was Loves commanding power.
And nothing else was shadow'd in those things,
But power of beauty, and the power of Kings.
How oft in Court the royall Henry strove
By secret favours to endeare his love
To Rosamund, yet to delude the eyes
Of Elianor, and her officious spies!
How many spyes a jealous Queene may finde!
Some bounty makes: some Dames an envious minde
Workes to that cruell office, to betray
And ruine her, that is more grac'd then they.
Faire Rosamund so young and inocent,
She could not fully sound the kings intent,
Yet loves the grace he does her, loves the thought
Of that effect which her owne beauty wrought;
And though she feele no flames reciprocall,
Nor Cupid's golden shaft 'gainst her at all
[Page]Had beene discharg'd, she loves king Henry's flame
As her owne trophee. there's no beautious Dame
But in that kind's unjust. they often strive
To gaine love there, where they refuse to give;
And spread their proudly charming nets, t'enthrall
All hearts, but cherish few or none at all.
They joy that men are forc'd to make the suite,
Yet too much grudge that men should reape the fruite
Of their desires; and wish those hearts to have,
Which they resolve to ruine, not to save.
But Cupid oft is just, and by degrees
(while they foresee not) workes his servants ease,
Making those beauties, while they boast the fame
Of firing hearts, approach too neere the flame,
And be themselves at last, the selfe-same way,
By which they meant to triumph, made a prey.
The open Court, in Henry's owne surmise
Was thought a place too full of eares and eyes,
Too full of eminence to woo and winne
A maid so coy, so young and bashfull, in.
That love, that he to her had then declar'd
By graces at the Court, had but prepar'd
Her mind, and taught her how to entertaine
That parley that must his full suite obtaine.
A faire retreat of greater privacy
Remov'd from London, then was sought, where he
[Page]Might lodge that jewell which he meant t'enjoy,
With other agents fitting to employ.
An ancient Dame skill'd in those arts was found
To aide the kings desires; of most profound
And subtle wit, of winning speech was she;
And such in all, [...]he might be thought to bee
No Beldame, but wise Venus lurking in
A Beldames shape, faire Rosamund to winne.
False Venus for her ends, has oft done so;
And once, as Homer's wisest Muse did show,
She tooke the shape of an old Spartan Dame,
In Hellens brest to blow Loves powerfull flame,
And subtly winne her to the Trojan's bed.
Perchance this Dame was Venus, or else bred
In all her arts, and subtle sure as she;
Who now by Henry was employ'd to be
The chiefest Agent in his amorous ends;
Vpon whose skill his sweetest hope depends.
No farther distance then, at ease, a day
Might reach from London, stood the place, which they
Had chose for beautious Rosamund to bide,
Within a forrest, rarely beautify'd
Without, by all that nature could afford;
Within the house it selfe was richly stor'd
(As guesse you may) with what a bounteous King
To please his dearest Mistres eye would bring.
[Page]The place it selfe did seeme his sute to move,
And intimate a silent plea for love.
Such was that bower, where oft the Paphian Queene
With young Anchises was on Ida seene.
About this house such groves, springs, gardens were,
As Poëts placed in Loves region, where
The Westwinds ever blow, faire youth doth stay,
And keepes from thence old age and care away.
To this delicious countrey house is she
Conducted by a trusty company
Appointed by the King on her to waite,
And doe her service in the higest state;
While Henry's love is in such gifts exprest
As might have power to tempt the chastest brest.
And each day courts her with a richer shower
Then rain'd on Danae in the brazen tower.
The subtle Dame that waited on her there,
On all occasions fill'd her tender eare
With Henry's praise and fame, striving t'endeare
His bounty and unaequall'd love to her.
Into a spatious gallery they went,
Where well-wrought pictures did to life present
Those things, which ancient tales or stories told;
Which whilest faire Rosamund did pleas'd behold,
And, entertain'd with fresh variety,
To severall pictures oft remov'd her eye,
[Page]The cunning Dame pick'd some; nor would she name
Those beauties, that had beene of loosest fame:
But chose the coyest out; behold (quoth she)
My noble daughter, the severity
Of Dian' there, by which Actaeon dy'd,
Cause unawares her naked limbs he spy'd.
Yet this (forsooth) soure Goddesse (turne your eye
The tother way) by Pan of Arcady
Is caught, and with a toy of no esteeme
A white-fleec'd Ramme. see how she followes him
Into the grove, and does not there disdaine
In kindest sort to ease a Lovers paine.
See Atalanta the swift running maide,
Whose cruell beauty to sad death betray'd
So many noble youths, at last by one
For three gold apples willingly is wonne,
And yeilds her beauty to Hippomenes.
Oh Gods▪ what pretious gifts indeed are these.
What is a white fleec'd Ramme, or golden ball
Compar'd to what the greatest Lord of all
This Westerne world great Henry can bestow!
Nay blush not faire one; this conceit just now
Runne crosse my brest; nor was it in my thought
That gifts could merit, or true love be bought.
But where true love doth reigne, guifts may expresse;
And that alone is great mens happinesse,
[Page]That by so brave a way, as gifts, can show
That love, that poore ones are enforc'd to doe
By sighes and teares, and many times too late
By pining death. behold that cruell fate
In Iphis there, that hangs himselfe; and see
The faire but scornesull Anaxarete,
Who with dry eyes beholds poore Iphis death,
Whom onely love of her had reft of breath.
The Gods themselves were mov'd her spite to see,
And in revenge of such a cruelty
Turn'd her to stone. replyes faire Rosamund,
If love have power to make so deepe a wound,
Has he not justice too? those two should be
Inseparable in a Deity.
Why fits he not his shafts to both the parts,
And wounds reciprocally Lovers hearts?
That sure were justice. I remember, I
Once read and pittyed Iphis tragedy,
And wonder'd that her cruelty was such
To kill a heart, to whom she ow'd so much,
And thought what I in such a case should doe.
The subtle Dame straight answers; and would'st thou
Be juster faire one? since we here are free,
Ile boldly speake; a Monarch pines for thee.
And what the difference is 'twixt slighting him
And vulgar loves, weigh in a just esteeme.
[Page]I doe not speake it onely 'cause a King
in power a greater recompense can bring
For love then others: juster reasons farre
And truer, fairest Rosamund, there are.
As kings have greater soules, so they in love
Doe feele farre stronger passions then can move
A private brest: besides those spirits that raigne
Ore other people, lesse can brooke disdaine.
It therefore double cruelty must prove
To give a sterne repulse to those, whose love
Is both in nature strongest, and beside
Lesse patient a denyall to abide.
But most of all consider at how great
And high a value Monarchs lives are set;
If they should dye for love, that sway the fate
Of nations, borne to change the worlds estate,
Or settle it; to judge of peace and warre;
Oh what respects of private honour are
To be in ballance put with these. but let
Me speake in more particular; as great,
As high a fortune would from Henry's love
Accrew to Rosamund, should death remove
Queene Elianor away, as Englands thron [...]
And royall title. nor can death alone
Divide her from him; a divorce may doe it,
And her unkindnesses may move him to it.
[Page]She was divorc'd before from Lewis of France;
He brook'd her not; great Henry did advance
Her lessen'd state agayne to royalty
By leave obtein'd from Rome: and may not he
Againe reject her? may not Rome be wonne?
And that for Henry, which for Lewi [...] was done?
Oh could'st thou Fortunes gratious proffers use?
While thus alone they were discoursing, newes
Was brought them up, the King was lighted there.
Faire Rosamund was strooke with suddaine feare,
Yet such a feare as did containe a kinde
Of joy, and twixt the two perplex'd her minde▪
Nor had she leisure to dispute the case,
The King himselfe so soone appear'd in place.
Who with so sweete a kisse salutes his love,
That in his lipps his soule did seeme to moove,
And meete the object it desir'd so much.
His powerfull language Cupid aides; and such
His whole deportment was, as most might moove,
And seeme to challenge, by desert, a love.
Oh what beseidged chastity could long
Hold out against so many and so strong
Assaults? such cruell snares, as there were lay'd,
What beauty could escape? the noble Maide
At last (alas) is wonne to his delight.
Within whose armes he spends the wanton night.
[Page]Th' unlawfull fruite of his desires he tasts,
And by that action with dishonour blasts
The pity'd sweetnesse of so fresh a Rose.
Yet thence, when time maturely shall disclose
Her burden'd wombe, (the fates had so decree'd)
A brave and Noble offspring must proceede
William surnamed Long-sword, after by
His right of Marriage Earle of Salisbury,
And made the happy father of a faire
And Noble issue, by that Earle domes heire.
Great Henry now possest of that bright gemme,
Which almost aequall to his Diadem
His longing fancy oft had priz'd before,
In this sweete trance could slumber evermore;
Heere could he dwell, arrived at the height
Of his desires, and ravish'd with delight,
Contemning fame, could be a while content
To lay aside the cares of governement,
And only feast on Loves transporting joyes.
But soone a weighty businesse destroyes
His short delight. the Pope is discontent
That Becket suffers so long banishment;
And, intermixing threats, requires an end
Of this debate. King Lewis of France a friend
To Becket's side, and other Princes too
Are forward, for their owne respects to show
[Page]Themselues complyers to the Popes desire.
Hence Henry's wisedome feares some raging fire
Of warre, while he is absent, might breake foorth
Beyond the seas, and thinkes it therefore worth
His passage ore; assured that the sight
Of him in armes would those weake Princes fright.
But yet before the King from hence depart,
For thee, the dearest jewell of his heart
Faire Rosamund (as fearing where to hyde
So sweete a pledge) his loving cares provide.
A sumptuous bower did he at Woodstock build,
Whose structure by Daedalian art was fill'd
With winding Mazes, and perplexed wayes;
Which who so enters, still deceived strayes
Vnlesse by guidance of a clew of thread
Through those obscure Maeanders he be led.
There with all objects that delight might lend,
And with such chosen servants to attend
And guard her, as had still beene faithfull knowne,
Dooes Henry leave this beautious Paragon;
And swiftly passing into Normandy
Findes there no stirres. in peace and amity
King Lewis and th' Earle of [...]loys neere Ambois were
Both met, to parley with King Henry there;
And mediate with him for Becket's peace,
That all dissention now at last might cease.
[Page]Sixe yeares in exile had the Prelate liv'd
By France supported, since he first had striv'de
Against his King, and for the Clergy cause
Oppos'de himselfe against the royall lawes.
Which made the name of Becket sound so farre.
Declare, my Muse, from whence this fatall jarre
Arose; and from th' originall relate
By what degrees it had disturb'd the State.
The English Clergy (if we trust record
Of* Monkes then living) at that tyme was stord
With all the blessings temporall; they flow'd
In wealth; with strange immunityes endow'd;
And wanted nought, but what they ought to have,
Knowledge and piety; which essence gave
First to that sacred stile of Clergymen.
Who dooes not know what fatall darkenesse then
The mourning face of Europe had orespread?
How all th [...] Arts and Sciences were fled,
And learnings sunne, to these darke regions set,
Was not recover'd from Arabia yet.
As much did wisest writers of those times
Complayne of their licentious Clergyes crimes.
The powerfull Prelates strove not to correct
The vices of their Clerkes, but to protect
[Page]Their persons 'gainst the justice of the State,
And to affrout the civill Magistrate;
And pleading priviledge, oppos'd to stand
Not 'gainst the Vice but Iustice of the Land.
The meaner Clerkes by this impunity
With greater boldnesse durst offend. that high
And sacred order (so it ought to be)
Was growne a refuge for impiety,
And not a burden but an ease to men,
Which worst of people sought; and thither then
As to a place of safety Vices fledd,
And Iustice only thence was banished.
An hundred murders done by Clergymen
* And more, in those nine yeares that Henry then
Had reign'd ore England, were before him proov'd,
At which King Henry was in justice moov'd;
Since it appear'd no punishments at all,
Or those too unproportionably small,
Too slight for that abhorr'd and crying sinne
On the delinquents had inflicted beene
By those that claim'd the power to punish them.
King Henry weighing in a just esteeme
How much the Land and State was wronged then
By this pretended power of Clergymen,
[Page]Strove to revive those ancient Lawes, which were
Establish'd by his Royall Grandfather
Wise Henry Beauclarke to secure the State,
And from the Papall claymes to vindicate
The Royall power. those Lawes, while Stephen kept
Vnjustly Englands Crowne, a while had slept;
Nor durst that King that had so weake a cause,
So bad a title, to maintaine those Lawes
In contestation 'gainst the power of Rome.
Then is the time for Papall claymes to come,
When Kings estates are in distresse, and stand
On doubtfull tearmes, as almost every land
Of Christendome has beene too sadly taught.
King Stephen knew not against whom he fought.
He thought the Empresse Maude alone had beene
The foe to his estate; but Rome stept in.
So in the age that follow'd, when King Iohn
Vnjustly did ascend the Regall throne,
And Englands Peeres in armes against him rose,
King Iohn suppos'd he had no other foes
But only them; 'gainst them his strength he bent▪
But found a sterner foe Pope Innocent.
Twas he that watch'd their tryalls, and his prey
That side was sure to be, that lost the day,
(So Crowes on Armyes waite.) because King Iohn
Could not 'gainst them guard his usurped Crowne
[Page]The Pope claymes that: which whenthe King resignes,
His Holynesse straight to the King enclines,
Whom he before had curst. the right was try'de,
When the Popes power, and ends were ratify'd.
To Arthur and the realme the wrong was done;
To Innocent the satisfaction.
Those wholesome Lawes the noble Henry striv'de
To have by act of Parliament reviv'de,
Which he had therefore call'd at Westminster.
The Prelates there and Peeres assembled were.
The Peeres and Commons all approov'de the Lawes;
Some Prelates only judging that the cause
Of holy Church would be impeach'd thereby,
Refus'd by their assent to ratifie
The Kings desire; others more moderate,
Who weigh'd how great a profit to the State
Losse of a shadow from the Church would be,
Would gladly yeild. 'mongst those that did deny
Becket was stoutest in resolue, as he
Was highest farre in place and dignity.
He was the stay of all, and kept the rest
From then assenting to the Kings request.
But how this famous Becket grew in state,
And whence he sprung, Calliope, relate.
A London Citizen by birth he was,
But of an active spirit, and for place
[Page]Of high employments ever seem'd to be
By nature moulded, borne for dignity.
The gratious fortunes of his youth had brought
Him first to Court attendance, and there taught
Him all those wily garbes; from thence the warre
Receiv'd him as an able Souldier;
In which he came to be implanted high
In Henryes grace, then Duke of Normandy.
Who, when he first gain'd Englands royall power,
Created Becket his Lord-Chancellour.
Oh haddst thou there great Henry, stay'd thy grace,
And not advanc'd him to that higher place,
More happy farre (perchance) had Becket liv'd,
Nor on those termes had King and Clergy striv'd.
Thou hadd'st not then that sad example beene
Of paenitence, nor had Religion seene
Those fooleryes that heathens may deryde,
When Becket was so strangely Deify'de.
But Canterburyes Prelate Theobald dead,
The King promoted Becket in his stead,
Though the wise Empresse (whose direction
In other things was followed by her sonne)
Mislik'de the choyse; so all the Clergy did,
As then their speech and writings* testify'de,
[Page]That he a Courtier and a Souldier
Not learn'd enough, was farre unfit to weare
So high a Mitre▪ but the Kings sole grace
Was strength enough to lift him to the place.
Which by those factious stirres that must ensue,
Shall both the King himselfe, and Becket rue.
But now when hee deny'de to give assent
Vnto those lawes proposde in Parliament,
The King was moov'de; the other Bishops all
Fearing his wrath, from Becket's party fall.
Hee stiffely stands alone, although to gayne
Him to his side, the King had striv'de in vayne.
Pope Alexander, though hee knew the cause
To bee his owne, and g [...]eatly fear'd those lawes,
Yet since his Papall diade [...] did stand
On doubtfull te [...]mes, and th'Emperours strong hand
Did then support the Antipope, he strove
In every thing to keepe King Henryes love.
He therefore wrote to Becket to assent
Without all clauses, to the Kings entent.
Becket repaires to Woodstock to the King,
Humbly submits himselfe, and promising
That he now freely without any clause
Of reservation, would accept the Lawes,
Is by the King receiv'd to grace againe;
Who much rejoyces, thinking that the maine
[Page]Opposer of him, now was growne his owne.
A Councell straight he calls at Clarendon
Assur'd that all the Bishops now would signe
What he propos'd to them; the rest encline
To his desire; Becket revolts againe,
Seemes to repent his promise, to complaine
That he in that had rashly sinn'd before,
A [...]d in that kinde resolues to sinne no more.
The King deluded, and enrag'de at this
So unexpected a revolt of his,
Threatens th' Archbishop; but a Princes threats
Cannot prevaile with him; nor all th' entreats
Ofth' other Bishops, and those Peeres that love
The quiet of the State, have power to moove
His resolution▪ now the fatall wound
Was growne past cure; nor must this kingdome bound
The maladyes of such a spreading sore.
King Henry's fill'd with gr [...]efe and scorne; the more
His great soule weighs the meannesse of his foe,
The more his wrath fed by disdaine doth grow.
He grieves, yet scornes to grieve. so when a net,
Which treacherous hunters in the woods have set,
To b [...] [...] snare for smaller beasts, doth stay
(By chance) a noble Lyon in his way,
The royall beast with greater shame then greife
Teares his base bonds, and almost scornes releife.
[Page]The more King Henry calls to minde how he
Had raisd this Becket from a low degree
Against the wills of all, he still doth finde
More fuell for his wrath-enflamed minde.
At last resolv'd he cites him to appeare
Before his Iudges, and to answer there
Vpon accompt for such large summes, as he
When Chancellour of England formerly
Had from the King detayn'd, for Seignioryes
Vnjustly held, for proud enormityes,
And disobedience in a high degree
Vnto the King, his state and dignity.
To these will Becket scarse vouchsafe replyes,
But (being no Layman) at their Courts denyes
At all to answere, or obey their doome,
From thence appealing to the Court of Rome.
But that discharg'd him not; the Parliament
(Then ata Northhampton) did with one consent
Confiscate all his goods; the Bishops there
b Pronounc'de him by the mouth of Chichester
To be a perjur'd and a factious man;
Disclaim'd him for their Metropolitan,
And all obedience to him. Becket now
Weary'd with these calamityes that grow
[Page]And fearing worse disgraces every day,
[...] secret me [...]nes at last to scape away,
And from the kingdome in disguise is gone
To plead his cause before the Papall throne.
Oh what unwearyed Muse at large cantell
Each severall jarre that from that day befell?
How Becke [...] to the Pope resign'd his Pall?
How in his wrath king Henry banish'd all
Beckets allyes and kinne? how oft 'gainst Rome
In contestation he was forc'd to come,
The Papall power against the royall right?
How oft it was debated in the sight
Of Christendome? how Henry by entreats
Sometimes, and sometimes, like a King with threats
Main [...]ain'd his cause? how oft the dreadfull doome
And interdicting thunderbolt of Rome
Was fear'd in England? and for Beckets jarre
Whole nations likely to be drawne to warre?
How oft did forraigne Princes interpose,
Some to increase the wound, and some to close?
How many vaine Commissions had beene spent?
How many fruitlesse Legacies were sent?
How many dayes of bootlesse parleys set?
How of [...] with him the King in person met?
Seven yeares had past since this debate beganne;
Six [...] yeares had Becke [...] as a banish'd man,
[Page]At Pontinew, and Saint Columba liv'd
Maintain'd by Lewis of France, who oft had striv'd
Or seem'd to strive (and so had Flanders Lord)
In vaine (till now) in making this accord.
But now accord (although in vain [...]) is made.
For though King Lewis and Bloy [...]es Earle perswade
King Henry all offences to forget
That pa [...]t before, and Becket to submit;
Though both agreement make, and Becket bee
With Henry's leave returned to his See,
The Church from thence no lasting concord findes.
Seldome is factious fire in haughty mindes
Extinguish'd but by death▪ it oft, like fire
Supprest, breakes forth againe, and blazes higher.
This end ends not the strife, nor drawes more nigh
The Churches peace, but Beckets tragaedy.

THE REIGNE OF King HENRY the Second.
The Fourth Booke.

The Argument of the fourth Booke.
Th' o [...]casion heere, and Noble deeds are showne
That first brought Ireland to the English Crowne.
From Wales Earle Strongbow and Fitz-Stevans bring
(In aide of Dermot Leinsters banish'd King)
Their forces ore. Archbishop Becket slayne
D [...]oes with his blood his owne Cathedrall staine.
King Henry sends to plead his innocence
Before the Pope; to England goes; from thence
Himselfe in person into Ireland sailes;
In which his power without a warre prevailes,
And gaines that land without the aide of swords.
In royall state he feasts the Irish Lords;
And heares the w [...]nders of that Ile. thence he
To England sailes, and th [...]nce to Normandy.
FAire Floras pride into the Earth againe
Was sunke; cold Winter had begun his reigne,
And summond beautious daylight to restore
To night those howers, which he had stol'n before.
[Page]King Henry then in Normandy resolv'd
To make abode, and in his thoughts revolv'd
Th'a [...]aires of Ireland. tidings daily came
From thence, and spread his valiant servants fame,
What noble actions they had there atchiev'd,
How many townes already were receiv'd
By that small strength which they transported ore
From Southerne Wales unto the Irish shore.
Fame had already fill'd his Princely eare
With what Fitz-Stephens, what Fitz-Girald there
What noble Raimond had with handfulls wonne,
And private men against a Land had done;
Be [...]des what great Earle Strongbow's actions were,
[...] was already growne the Ilands feare.
Fame is not onely due (though lowder farre
She needes must speake of those) to deedes that are
By potent Monarchs or huge armies done,
That change the worlds estate, and overrunne
With speed the farthest spreading Emperies.
No deedes of worth can fame at all despise,
Though done by few and those the meanest men;
Nor did she onely sound Romes glories then
When Pompeys lawrell'd Charriot show'd at once
The vanquish'd VVest and Easterne nations:
Nor when great Caesar's triumphs did extend
F [...]om farthest Thule to Cyrenes end:
[Page]She did record Romes infant honours too;
What poore Quirinus could 'gainst Tatius doo:
What Tullus then 'gainst Alba wrought; and now
Who does not Numa and Aegeria know?
How king Porsenna did for Tarquin come?
How [...]ocles kept the bridge? how Claelia swumme?
The worthy deedes of her beginning age
Gave to her after greatnesse faire presage:
Her greatnesse after gave this age renowne,
And made her infant honours clearely knowne.
Their noble deedes in Ireland gave presage
Of her full conquest in this later age:
Her conquest now shall their first deedes renowne
As long as Ireland serves the English crowne.
The yeare before, when first the Westerne windes
Blew on the waters, when all various kindes
Of flowers beganne to beautify the spring,
(In aide of D [...]rmot, Leinsters banish'd King,
To whom that promise was ingag'd before)
The brave Fitz-Stephans lanching from the shore
Of Wales, with three tall ships accompany'd
With his stout brother by the mothers side
(Fitz-Gerald) safely crost the Ocean,
And with their Souldiers landed at the Banne
A little creeke neere Wexford, then scarce nam'd,
But ever since by his arrivall fam'd.
[Page]The [...]ext day after on the selfe same shore
Maurice de Pendergast with two ships more
(Part of Fitz-Stephens company) arriv'd;
And there by joyfull Dermot were receiv'd;
Who by that Prince his guidance, and his aide
With th'English colours and their armes display'd
With dauntlesse courage, able to supply
The want of number in their company,
To Wexford martch'd; which by assault they wonne
The country neere together, with the towne,
Dermot Mac Morough, for such valour show'd,
Vpon Fitz-Stephans thankefully bestow'd.
There planted they; that towne of all the rest
Was first by English victory possest,
And has a lasting colony remain'd;
Which through all changes ever has retain'd
The English manners, their attire, and (though
With Irish somewhat mixt) their language too.
When famous Strongbow had in Wales receiv'd
The newes of what Fitz-Stephans had atchiev'd,
With [...]resh supplies unto the Irish shore
He sends his friend the valiant Reimond ore,
And shortly after with farre greater bands
The noble Earle himselfe in Ireland lands
Within the bay of Waterford; which towne
The next day after by assault he wonne.
[Page]Thither king Dermot came, and brought with him
His beautious daughter Eua, Irelands gemme,
The pretious cause which drew the Earle so farre,
The faire reward of his victorious warre.
This beautious Lady, when her father fled
For aide to England, then was promised
To noble Strongbow, and with her for doure
Th'inheritance of Leinsters regall power▪
Which here the King performes, and with as high
A state as might befit their dignity
The marriage rites are celebrated now.
Mars smooths the horrours of his wrinckled brow,
And folds his bloody colours up a while:
The Paphian Queene in that delicious smile,
With which she charmes the Thracian God, appeares;
His purple robe the pleased Hymen weares,
While Dermot gives (with right of all those lands)
His beautious daughter into Strongbow's hands.
Nor was this marriage mannaged alone
By those two Deities; but from his throne
Great Iove look'd downe, and made that knot to be
A worke belonging to his Deity;
By which himselfe did into union bring
Two spatious lands; and by that marriage ring,
Which noble Strongbow to his bride combin'd,
To Englands crowne the Realme of Ireland joyn'd.
A Ladies love, when Dermot was decay'd
In state and power, first brought this forraigne aide,
And to his native land did him restore.
A Ladies love had banish'd him before,
And of his crowne and countrey him bereft.
The King of Meth had in an Iland left
(While he farre off into the land remov'd)
His faire but wanton Queene, who long had lov'd
This Dermot [...]einsters king with flames unchast.
His love on her, as her's on him was plac'd.▪
Her Lords departure, from her seife, or fame
Had Dermot learn'd, and to the [...]land came;
Where soone he gain'd his wish; a willing prey
From thence he tooke the wanton Queene away.
Then, as when once the [...]rojan Paris came,
And stole from Greece that farre renowned Dame,
'Twas not her husbands strength alone that sought
Revenge: a cause o [...] that foule nature brought
All Greece in Armes; the Princes joyn'd in one,
And drew a thousand ships to Ilion-
So when this Prince his fatall Hellen gain'd:
The land was mov'd, her wronged lord complain'd
T'ambitious Rhotherike Connaughts King, who claim'd
The stile of Irelands Monarch, and had aim'd
At conquest of the land▪ he wondrous glad
Of such a faire pretence, as now he had,
[Page]Rais'd his owne forces, and 'gainst Leinsters King
Did all th'incensed neighbour-Princes bring.
Whose force when Dermot could no way withstand,
Bereft [...]f all his strengths, he fled the land,
And to great Henry's royall Court; whom fame
Then spoke the greatest king in Europe, came.
The King, that then remain'd in Aquitaine,
This Irish Prince did gladly entertaine,
Whom after feasting and magnificent
Rewards bestow'd, he with free licence sent
To England; there to gather without let
What voluntaries he from thence could get.
In Southerne Wales Earle Strongbow then remain'd,
Fitz-Stephans too▪ whose aide the King obtain'd
On faire conditions. to Fitz-Stephans he
(If wonne) did promise Wexfords seigniory,
On th'Earle his daughter Eva to bestow,
Which promises were both performed now.
The marriage feasts of Strongbow now were done,
The revells ended all, and Mars begunne
Againe his threatning colours to display,
When th'Earle and old king Dermot ganne to weigh
What acts remained further to be done,
And leaving there sufficient garrison,
Through Leinster all along they tooke their way,
For Dublin bent; the countrey open lay
[Page]To their victorious armes on every side.
No foe durst meete them, or their force abide.
Proud Rhoderike himselfe swell'd with the stile
Of universall Monarch of the Ile,
Was glad to lurke within his proper bounds,
And keepe those safe retreates, the boggy grounds
Which in his owne peculiar Connagh lay.
Thus unresisted Strongbow kept his way,
Till he at last to Dublin came, which soone
By force, and terrour of his name he wonne.
Faine would my Muse in this faire field proceede.
Of Irelands conquest, and each noble deede
A [...]cheived there; of trophees rais▪d, to fame
The armes of England and great Henry's name
Faine would she sing. but Beckets fatall jarre
Againe revives, and from a nobler warre
Drawes backe her eager flight▪ and turnes againe
Her song [...]riumphant to a tragicke straine.
By this King Henry in his active mind
Great deedes and forreine conquests had design'd
Secure from trouble (as in vaine he thought)
Since Beckets peace and reconcilement wrought)
That might twixt State and Clergy rise at home.
When lo from England swift-wing'd fame was come,
And to his grieved eare sad tidings brought
What reakes his stout Archbishop there had wrought
[Page]Since last he did his dignity obtaine,
And to his See return'd in peace againe,
That 'mongst his fellow Bishops, some of late
He did suspend, some excommunicate
For actions past before (from whence it plaine
Appear'd, old grudges were reviv'd againe)
As al [...] that were, when Henry crown'd his sonne,
Assistants at the coronation
With Yorkes Archbishop; for that office he
Claim'd to belong to Canterburies See.
Nor would he then absolve them, though in their
Behalfe, a Suitor young King Henry were.
While this was rumor'd there, to second fame,
To old King Henry the wrong'd Bishops came,
And to his eare declar'd their grievances.
He vext at Beckets wilfull stubbornesse,
Such words (though generall) in his choller spoke
As in some brests too deepe impression tooke.
Foure knights, that heard, by chance, the kings discourse,
As Morvile, Tracy, Britaine, and Fitz-Vrse,
(Vnhappy men) inflam'd with such a rage
And erring zeale, as no succeeding age
Shall ever praise, resolve in heate to doe
For Henry's sake, what Henry's selfe must rue,
And their sad memories as long as fame
Has wings or tongues, shall feele in lasting shame.
[Page]From Normandy without the Kings consent,
These foure unhappy Knights for England went,
To execute what they had there design'd,
And fondly thought would please their Soveraignes mind
Archbishop Becket's death; but found too soon
What fatall service they to him had done.
How sad a cure, fond wretches, have you found?
For balme, you powre in poyson to the wound,
And make that death, which then was but a sore.
King Henryes cause is lost for evermore
If Becket suffer so; your selves are lost,
The King must suffer; all, but Rome are crost.
While Becket bleedes, while you beare lasting staine,
While Henry grieves▪ the Pope alone shall gaine.
[...]ate seem'd to pitty Henry, and decree
That he meane-while should breath in Normandy,
And from his England absent should remaine
Whil'st England was defil'd with such a staine
To Canterbury the foure Knights at last
Arm'd with their followers came, and freely past
Into the Bishop's palace; their intent
Vnknowne, had fill'd with feare and wonderment
The peoples hearts, who flocking up and downe
Af [...]ighted all but Becket; he alone,
Whose head that suddaine danger threaten'd, he
In lookes and gesture unappall'd, and free
[Page]From all dismay, their comming did receive,
And fearelesse answers to their threatnings give,
As if his courage strove not to asswage
At all, but to exasperate their rage.
Nor could that stoutnesse hasten on his fate
So soone; but or their faultring hands forgate
To act it then: or else unhappy they
Not fully yet resolv'd upon the way,
A while for Counsell, did retire from him,
How much the respite of that little time
Did afterwards encrease their monstrous guilt!
Else in the Pallace had his blood beene spilt,
And not the sacred Temple made to be
The seat of that inhumane butchery.
Which on their crime by circumstance of place,
Must set a fouler and more horrid face.
While thus the Knights reti [...]e; the Monkes in care
Of Beckt's safety, to himselfe declare
How great a danger he was in; desire
That from the Pallace straight he would retire,
And to the Church for safeguard fly: but he
Too full of fatall magnanimity
Disdaines to stirre; but there resolues to stay.
By force, at last, they hurry him away,
When words prevaile not; and (in vayne alas)
Into the Temple as a safer place
[Page]Convey his person. but not all the awe
Which so Divine a place from men should draw,
Not all the r [...]verend Roabes that Becket wore,
Nor th' high and sacred o [...]ice which he bore
(When once those furious Knights were enter'd in)
Kept him from death, nor them from deadly sinne.
In all his Roabes, the great Archbishop slayne
Did with his blood his owne Cathedrall stayne.
How much did every fatall circumstance
In this abhorred act of theirs, advance
Thy [...]ame, oh Becket? their unhallowed rage
Made thee not only pity'd by the age,
But worshipp'd too. for them no infamy
Is thought enough, no dignity for thee.
How ill the people in so blinde an age
Can keepe a meane in reverence, or in rage?
They first pronounce thee innocent to be,
A Martyr then, and then a Deity.
To thee they all will pray; and to thy Tombe
Shall greatest Kings in adoration come;
Even he, to whom thou living owd'st thy knee,
Before thy shrine shall prostrate worship thee.
Whose gorg [...]ous wealth and lustre shall outshine
All other shrines; as reliques most divine,
Not only shall thy nobler parts be worne
In gold and gemmes; but men shall strive t'adorne
[Page]Thy meanest garments, and obeisance doe
To thy ridiculously-holy shoo.
Thither from farre shall Pilgrims come to pray.
* Nay, in her danger once a bird (they say)
(Could we beleeve that any bird would be
Of such a Christian faith) did pray to thee.
Soone to King Henry, then in Normandy,
Did this sad newes of Becket's murder fly,
And fill'd his pensive soule with heavinesse.
For well he judg'de (nor proov'd it any lesse)
'Twould be by all the Christian Princes thought
That that foule deede by his command was wrought.
But more he griev'd that he had rashly spoke
Such words before in Chollers heat, as tooke
That bad impression in the Knights. alas
He griev'd to thinke into how sad a [...]ase
Those wretched men had plung'd themselues to doe
Him service, as they thought. they durst not now
Appeare at all. into the North they fledd,
And there alone their lives in sorrow ledd;
And all of them (if we may trust to fame)
Within foure yeares to ends untimely came.
King Lewis of France, or for the love he bore
To slaughtered Becket (show'd so oft before,)
[Page]Or else for envy at the high renowne
And power of Henry, that ecclips'd his owne
(Since now Religion gave him faire pretence)
Pursu'd his ends, with all the vehemence
Of words or prayers, to exasperate
Pope Alexander 'gainst King Henry's state,
Beseeching him, he would avenge with ali
The armes of holy Church, th' unworthy fall
And cruell murder of so deare a sonne.
The like had other neighbouring Princes done.
But Henry full of feares dispatch'd from thence
Embass [...]dours to pleade his innocence
Before the Pope, and there to testifie
What griefe he tooke for Becket's tragaedy,
Beseeching him he would be pleas'd to send
His Legats thither, that might heare, and end
So sad a cause; for much he fear'd from Rome
An Interdiction 'gainst his Realmes would come.
But soone the matter could not have an end.
The fates were pleas'd it should a while depend
Vntill successes of a fairer kinde
Had given some ease to Henry's grieved minde,
And Irelands conquest prosperously gain'd
Allay'd the sorrow he for this sustain'd.
His thoughts are wholly bent on Ireland now;
In person thither he entends to goe;
[Page]And, fearing interruptions, to prevent
What Bulls or mischiefes might from Rome be sent
To trouble England, ere he leave the Land
Of Normandy, he layes a straight command
On th' officers of ev [...]ry Port to see
That no Briefe-carrier, without certainty
Of his estate, entent, and businesse
Should be permitted thence to crosse the Seas.
Nor long in England did the King abyde;
No cause of stay was there, but to provide
Such force and fit retinew, as from thence
Might guard him ore in high Magnificence
To Irelands conquest, like himselfe; which soone
Vnto the height of his desires was done.
At Milford-haven by the Kings command
His whole retinue met; a gallant band
Of English gentry waited on the shore
In glittering armes to follow Henry ore;
Whose lustre might to those rude Irish bring
Astonishment, and shew how great a King
D [...]d now arrive to take possession there;
Whose name before they had beene taught to feare
By what Earle Strong- [...]ow in that region,
And brave Fitz Stephans with the rest had done.
B [...]t oh (too cruell chance) how neere almost
Had all that valour and themselues be [...]ne lost
[Page]B [...] Henry's former jealousies? he heard
Of their renown'd and prosperous deedes; and fear'd
That so much puissance by them was showne
Not to advance his honour but their owne,
And for themselues that they had conquer'd there.
Some envious spirits fed his jealous feare;
[...]or which he made a Proclamation
No Victualls, Armour, or Munition
Should from his Kingdomes be transported ore
For Strongbow's succour, to the Irish shore;
And that his Subjects, that did there remaine,
[...]efore next Easter should returne againe;
This Proclam [...]tion had so much distrest
(Not long before) [...]arle Strongbow and the rest,
Th [...]t all▪ which had bin conquer'd in that coast,
A [...]d the [...] themselues had u [...]terly beene lost,
If [...] valour had not strove with fate,
[...] them. what neede I heere relate
[...] [...], R [...]imond, and Fitz▪Girald were
[...] in [...], and their action there?
Wh [...]n [...] great Kings with all the strength almost
That could be levy'd in th'adjoyning coast
[...] these worthies, how they iss [...]'d out
With courages miraculously stout,
A [...]d with succ [...]sse as high; and march'd that day
[...] all their foes with victory away?
[Page]Or how Miles Cogan chas'd the King of Meth
Away from Dublin walls and in the death
Of many thousands seal'd his victory?
Or how Fitz-Stephans, with a company
(Too small almost to be beleev'd) did guard
His fort neere Wexford towne, besiedged hard
By full three thousand Irish, when no strength
No force could make him yeild, untill at length
A false report the perj [...]r'd foes devis'd,
And with the hazard of t [...]eir soules, surpris'd
Fitz-Stephans body? these calamityes
Did through King Henry's jealousies arise
Gainst those that planted first that Irish coast.
And time it was, ere all againe were lost,
The King himselfe upon that shore should land,
Whose force no Irish Princes durst withstand.
Novembers cold had rob'd the forrest trees
Of all their dresse; and Winter gan to freeze
Small lakes; when not the season of the yeare
(Though judg'd by some untimely) nor the feare
Of those rough Irish Seas had power to keepe
The King from passing ore; into the deepe
They put, and hoised sailes; the Easterne winde
Blew faire, and further'd what the King design'd.
By whose auspicious gales he safely c [...]me
To land at Waterford; when swiftest Fame
[Page]Through every part of Ireland flyes, to bring
The fear'd arrivall of so grea [...] a King.
And what that fame had wrought was quickly seene,
So soone came Irelands greatest Princes in;
Dermon Mac Arth the Prince of Corke, while yet
The King stay'd there, came freely to submit
Himselfe a subject to him; and the like
Did D [...]nold doe, the Prince of Limericke.
Who, to procure his peace, swore fealty.
Both whom great Henry sent away with high
And rich rewards: and placed in the Townes
Of Corke, and Limricke English Garrisons.
The King when this at Waterford was done,
Leaving Fi [...]z-Barnard to maintaine the towne,
March'd with his gallant troopes in faire array
[...]o Dublin ward, where ere he made his stay,
The greatest Lords of all the Countryes nigh,
As Ophelan the King of Ossory,
And Ororike of Meth, to Henry came;
With other Princes of the highest name
As Mac Talewie, O Carell, Ochadese,
Othwely, Gillmeholoch. all of these
In person did submit themselues; agree
To be his vassalls, and sweare fealty.
But Rotherike, that [...]ore the Monarchs name
And King of Connaught then, no neerer came
[Page]Then to that famous river Shenin's side,
Which his rough Connaught doth from Meth divide,
And there was met by Hugh de Lacy, and
Fitz-Aldeline sent by the Kings command
To take his hostages; which freely there
He did deliver and allegeance sweare.
By his example all the greatest Lords
Did freely yield to Henry's name. no swords
To gaine that land were drawne; no blood was lost;
No warre so great an Ilands conquest cost.
Now Christmas was; which in all heights of state
The royall Henry strove to celebrate;
That those rude Irish people there might see
And reverence so great a Majesty.
Who flocke in greatest companies, to gaze
At this unusuall lustre; with amaze
They see his great attendance, and admire
His sumptuous plate, his servants rich attire;
While plentious Ireland to their feasting boords
The Seas provisions and the lands affoords.
Downe with the Irish Kings great Henry sate.
So show'd of old Imperiall Caesars state,
When barbarous kings great Rome did entertaine:
Who view'd with wonder such a Monarch's traine,
And gorgeous court. such did old Poets strive
To make those feasts, which Iove was pleas'd to give
[Page]To rurall Deities, and to admit
The Sylvans rough, and rusticke Faunes to sit
At his caelestiall boord; while wondring they
The radiant glories of great Iove survay;
VVhile they behold the beautious Trojan stand
A waiter by; and from his snow-white hand
Give cups; and ravish'd with the sound, admire
To heare bright Phoebus and the lovely quire
Of his nine daughters to heavens glorious King
The Pallenaean triumphs sweetly sing.
As much as those rude people wondred at
King Henry's sumptuous court, and royall state:
As much the English Courtiers did admire
The Irish Princes fashions and attire,
Their different garbes and gestures; while each eye
Is pleas'd in viewing such variety,
And to each other both afford delight.
VVhen wine and Cates had weakened appetite,
The noble Henry with a smiling cheere
Offers discourses, longing much to heare
More of their countreys nature, thus at last
To Dublins reverend Prelate, who was plac'd
Not farre from him at boord, the King beganne;
Grave Father, since I know your wisedome can
Dive deepe into the qualities and state
Of things, and search what old records relate
[Page]Too much abstruse for vulgar braines to finde;
From your deepe skill informe our longing minde,
Of what wise Nature for this spatious Ile
Has wrought in tempers of the aire and soile,
And those fam'd wonders, where she does display
Prodigious power, and leaves her usuall way,
As if she meant to mocke the purblinde eye
And feeble search of our Philosophy.
Loud fame has spread them (though obscurely) ore
All parts of this our Westerne world; nor more
Was scorched Africke fam'd by elder time
For breeding wonders, then your Irish clime
Has beene to us renowned for her rare
And strange endowments. to our eare declare
What you grave Father by tradition
Or by experience know▪ the King had done;
Attentive silence all the Princes make;
When thus the Bishop, humbly bowing, spake.
If I relate by Henry's high command
The wondrous treasures of my native land,
Let him be pleased with a gratious eare
To censure all; if I endeavour here
Not, what is smoothly probable, to shew,
But that which is (although most strangely) true.
Yet there let nought seeme strange, where we unfold
The workes of him that could doe what he would;
[Page]Nor let us say some things 'gainst nature be,
Because such things as those we seldome see:
We know not what is naturall; but call
Those acts, which God does often, naturall;
Where if we weigh'd with a religious eye
The power of doing, not the frequency,
All things alike in strangenesse to our thought
Would be, which he in the creation wrought.
But in those rare and wondrous things may wee
The freedome of that great Creatour see;
When he at first the course of things ordain'd,
And Nature within certaine bounds restrain'd,
That lawes of seedes and seasons may be knowne,
He did not then at all confine his owne
Almighty power; but whensoere he will
VVorkes 'gainst the common course of Nature still,
Those workes may we view with a wondring eye,
And take delight in that variety.
Such prodigies the most are seene (as some
Have thought) in Iles and places farthest from
The center of the world; as here they may
Behold, that doe this VVesterne Ile survay.
But ere we mention those rare wonders here,
So please great Henry, to his sacred eare
VVe will at first in generall unfold
VVhat temper, fruits, and wealth the land does hold,
[Page]Her wholsome aire; her blessings manifold;
That you great King may in that glasse behold
Th'Almightie's love to you, that gave so soone
So easily, so much to Englands crowne.
Ireland is faire, though rudely clad, although
She want that dresse that other Nymphs can show,
Who by long wealth and art are civiliz'd.
Nor therefore let this land be de [...]pis'd,
As if that Nature negligent had beene
In moulding her, or there no care were seene
Of Iove at all. rare are th'endowments, know
That he at first did on this Ile bestow.
And largely may for humane health suffice.
Although she want the pompous merchandise
Which Easterne countryes to the world afford;
Though not with purple, nor rich scarlet stor'd;
Although the silke wormes pretious toyle she want
To cloth for shew her gay inhabi [...]ant;
Though from the wounded en [...]railes of her ground
No gold be digg'd, no pretious pearles be found
Within these lakes, nor from the glistering rockes
Rich diamonds gather'd. plentious are her flockes
And graine. she wants the meanes of those sad crimes
That doe infest the gawdy Easterne clymes;
She brings no poysons, such as guilty gold,
And cups of choisest gemmes too often hold.
[Page]Her harmelesse grounds no balefull hearbes doe beare,
Nor Aconite can Stepdames gather here,
Arachne's poyson is not understood,
Nor those sad plagues, which from Medusaes blood
In Affricke grew, and through all lands were spread.
This Ile alone nere felt the Gorgons head.
Most aequall temper does this Iland hold.
When Phoebus sits in Capricorne, the cold
May well be suffer'd without Vulc [...]ns aide,
And Cancer's heat endur'd without a shade.
In winters cold, as Summers heat, the field
Is richly cloath'd, and does fresh herbage yield.
From whence in Iune we are not forc'd to mow;
Nor doe our cattell stalls in winter know.
Within this aire no sad contagions breede;
Nor does this land the aide of Phoebus neede.
Without diseases they enjoy their breath,
And know no meane twixt perfect health and death.
* But if those things that more prodigious are,
You be desirous in particular
To heare related: few 'mongst many take.
In Mounsters Northerne part there is a lake,
Within whose bosome two fam'd Ilands stand;
The one farre greater in extent of land
[Page]Then tother is; of nature strange; into
The greater Ile no woman ere could goe,
Nor any female creature, but straight dy'd.
Th' experiment in beasts we oft have try'd;
And oft observ'd in birds. from places nigh
Male birds securely to that Iland fly,
And picke the blossomes from each budding stemme.
Thither the females dare not follow them,
As if by nature they were taught to fly
The hidden cause of that mortality.
But in the lesser Ile none dye at all,
Which they the Iland of the living call.
For in that Iland oft have many men
By extreame sicknesse long tormented beene,
When nature seem'd quite spent, and they in vaine
Have wish'd for death, but could not death obtaine,
Till that in boates into the Iland by
They have beene carryed, and there straight they dye.
Another Ile, which Aren named is,
Within the Westerne part of Connaughtlyes,
In which mens bodies dead unburied ly
In open aire, yet never putrifie.
Children through many ages in that place
Their father's, grandsire's, and great grandsire's face
Vnchanged see and know▪ they neede not carve
Faire Statues, nor draw pictures to preserve
[Page]The memory of their dead auncestours;
By which men know deceased Emperours.
In stead of Statues their owne bodies ly
Discern'd and knowne by their posterity.
Another wonder does that Iland yeild.
All parts of [...]reland else with mice are fill'd;
But there no mice breede, nor can live upon
That ground; if thither they be brought, they runne
With hast to drowne themselves in water nigh;
Or if prevented, instantly they dy.
A Well there is in Mounster to be seene;
Within whose water whosoere hath beene
Once drench'd, his haire straight takes a hoary dy.
Another fountaine of quite contrary
Effect to that, in Vlster springs▪ for there
Those that have washed once, how old so ere,
Shall never after have an hoary haire.
Thither the beautious women doe repaire;
And all those curious men that too much feare
The Ensignes of old age, are bathed there.
In Connaught on a mountaines highest ground
Farre from the Sea is a fresh fountaine found;
VVhose waters, like the Seas set tides, each day
Doe twice flow up, and twice doe ebbe away.
Not farre from VVexford lies a piece of ground
In Leinster Province, where no Rattes are found.
[Page]They breede not there, nor brought can live at all.
If you'll trust Fame for the originall
And cause of this, a curse denounc'd there was
By S. Yuorus Bishop of the place
Against all Ratts (whose books by chance they tore)
And they from thence were banish'd evermore.
A spatious quantity of Meadow ground
In Connaught lyes; where biting Fleas abound,
And doe so much the haplesse place infest,
It lyes forsaken both by man and beast.
The uselesse soile in vaine is fruitfull there.
What lesse then miracle can this appeare?
And shew to us, that if th' Almighty please,
The least of all his Creatures can disseize
Man of a dwelling. so when all that store
Of his most wondrous judgements heretofore
On sinnefull Aegypt he was pleas'd to bring;
Not all the forces of so great a King
'Gainst Lice, flyes, froggs had power to guard the land;
Nor their invasion could a [...] all withstand.
Some other meadow g [...]ounds, quite contrary
To these in nature doe in Leinsterly.
Where the rich soile in pasture so abounds,
If grazing cattell cover all those grounds,
They feele no want; what grass they eate by dayes
The dewy night backe to the land repayes;
[Page]And what fam'd Maro of that wealthy field
In Mantua spake, these meadows truely yeild.
But so myraculously temperate
Prooves Irelands aire sometimes, Wolues have of late
In middst of bare December whelped beene,
And young-hatch'd Crowes at Christmas have bin seen.
What neede I speake of that fam'd Willow tree.
At Glindelachan; which was knowne to be
Chang'd from his nature (though it yet appeare
In outward forme a Willow) and each yeare
Brings forth faire Apples, that have proov'd of strange
And medcinable vertue still? that change
The common people, as divinely rare,
Imputed to S. Keiwin's powerfull prayer;
Or to your sacred eare relate the story
Of our S. Patrick's famous Purgatory?
Nine dismall caves there are in one of those
If any man by night himselfe repose,
Such most unsufferable torments there
(As humane nature scarce has power to beare)
He shall endur [...]. the silly folke suppose
[...]he paines of Hell not much exceeding those.
But if that all the prodigyes we know
Of truth in Ireland, or all those that so
Are by the common people thought to be,
We should relate; your sacred Majesty
[Page]Would first be weary'd: day would first be done
Ere through those wonders our discourse could runne.
With that the Bishop his relation ceas'd.
Great Henry gave him thankes; and highly pleas'd
To heare the nature of his new-gain'd land,
Rewards those Irish with a bounteous hand
That on his Royall Court did then attend,
And that this action might to happy end
Be brought, and Ireland setled in a blest
And sure estate; beginning at the best
Of cares (God's service,) he to Dublin then
A Synod calls of th' Irish Clergymen;
With whom were many English Prelat [...] joyn'd;
To sift the state of Irelands Church, and finde
What errours had by time crept in, to be
The blemishes of Christian purity.
While thus great Henry labours to secure
His new-gaind Realme, to leave it in a sure
And peacefull state; from these his wish'd affair [...]
He is diverted by more tragicke cares.
Sad newes to him, (though secretly) are brought
Of what the fiend Impiety had wrought
In his bold sonnes; their inclinations now
And bad designes beyond concealment grow.
Enough to breake a tender fathers heart.
But of his sorrow this was but a part;
[Page](Although alas, he were enforc'd to see
In this unnaturall conspiracie
His life and kingly state endanger'd were)
For other tidings to encrease his feare
Came flying ore (as mischiefes ever joyne,
Not singly come) Albert and Theodine
Were by Pope Alexander sent from Rome
As Legates, and to Normandy were come,
There to examine Becket's murder now,
With power not only to enquire and know,
But punish it, and interdict at once
All great King Henry's large dominions,
Vnlesse that he himselfe in person there
Vpon their summons did forthwith appeare.
And now the feast of Easter was at hand,
King Henry griev'd that from his new gain'd land
He was so soone enforc'd to part away,
Before well setled; yet because delay
On tother side did seeme so dangerous;
Of those affaires he briefly does dispose;
Makes Hugh de Lacy chiefe Iustitiar,
And to the chiefest Captaines each a share
Of governement he leaves. then crosses ore,
A [...]d with a prosperous winde upon the shore
Of Wales arrives; but making then no stay
At all in England, sailes with speede away
[Page]To Normandy, to meete the Legates there.
And does before them personally sweare
That he commanded not that horrid deede;
But for those words that rashly did proceede
Out of his mouth, and might be thought to be
The mooving cause of that blacke tragaedy,
He is contented to what pennance fit
The Pope or they enjoyne him, to submit.

THE REIGNE OF King HENRY the Second.
The Fift Booke.

The Argument of the fift Booke.
Against their Father Henry's impious Sonnes
Raise Warre through all his large dominions
By forreigne Princes back'd. the old King's successe
On every side, and wondrous happinesse.
King Lewis of France is chasd from Normandy;
And Chesters Earle surpris'd in Brettainy.
At Farneham field the Earle of Leister's tane,
And almost all his warrelike Flemmings slaine▪
The King of Scotland by a little band
Is taken prisoner in Northumberland.
To Becket's shrine old Henry pensive goes;
Then freely pardons all his yeilding foes.
T [...]kes in the Forts that were against him mann'd,
And without bloodshed quiets all the land.
[Page]The wofull newes of murder'd Rosamund
Amidd'st these joyes his bleeding heart doth wound.
A truce twixt Lewis and him. young Richard gets
Poictou; but when King Henry comes, submits,
And by his father is sent forth to winne
His yet-offending brothers from their sinne.
NOw did those fatall and unnaturall jarres
Disclose themselues, and more then civill wars
Began to make afflicted England bleede;
While Henryes foes from Henryes loynes proceede.
From Hell to Earth did that accursed fiend
The Viper-hair'd Impiety ascend
T' infect the Royall houshould; such was she
As ancient Poets made Megaera be,
That lov'd no warres, but twixt neere kindred bred,
No blood, but such as sonnes or brothers shed;
Such warres whose tryalls must be ever bad,
Whose conquests must be losse, and triumphs sad.
Twixt Pelops sonnes twas she that bred despight,
Twas she that made the Theban brothers fight,
That made Atrides impiously be slayne,
And impiously to be reveng'd againe.
She now through France, through England sounds alarmes,
And Henry's sonnes against their father armes.
[Page] Henry the sonne (too soone crown'd King) on slight
Pr [...]tences of a wrong resolues to fight
'Gainst his deare Fa [...]her. in that blacke designe
Richard and Geoffrey with their brother joyne
(As then was thought) incensed by the spleene
And jealousies of Elianor the Queene.
With them the Earles of Chester, Leister too;
And Bigot Norfolkes Ea [...]le, with many moe
'Domestick Rebells joyne. nor did so bad
So impious a cause as theirs (oh sadd
Crime of the Fates) want forreine aiders too,
For all the Christian Princes neere, as though
They understood not what Rebellion were,
Nor treason knew, to th' unjust side, adhaere.
King Lewis of France assists his sonne in Law,
And to that party Scotlands King doth draw;
That side does Philip Earle of Flanders take;
So much old Henry's state now seem'd to shake
As nothing almost but th' immediate hand
Of heaven alone had power to make him stand.
Why doe you Princes such Rebellion love?
Such sadd examples 'gainst your selues approove,
You that are Kings and Fathers? is it hate
O [...] envy borne to Henry's prosperous state
That mooves you [...]hus? alas, you doe not show
A skil [...]ull hate to him in arming so.
[Page]Your arming makes those warres that were before
Warres civill onely, to be so no more,
But gives the grieved father hope to share
A glorious triumph from a tragicke warre;
For else the conquest which great Henry had
Ore his owne sonnes and subjects had beene sad.
The King of Scotland must a prisoner be,
And Lewis with shame oft chas'd from Normandy,
Lest noble Henry should triumph ore none,
But onely sonnes and subjects of his owne.
And you most gracious Soveraigne, borne to be
Th'admir'd example of true piety
To your deceased Father; with an eye
Secure, may read your vertues contrary
In Henry's sonnes. and read it, Sir; true story
That brands their names, will sound your endlesse glory.
King Iames, whilest living, did behold, and blest
Your piety; of what you since exprest
No little part, the wondring people all
Beheld, and honour'd at his funerall;
But most of all is, what we daily see,
Your pious truth to his deare memory.
So may our Princely Hope (let God above
Be pleas'd) young Charles by your example prove,
And such unto your selfe hereafter be
As you to blessed Iames in piety.
The foes in this great combination ty'd
Invade King Henry's lands on every side.
While Scotlands King fall's on Northumberland,
While Chesters Earle, and Fulgiers armed stand
To seaze the townes of Brittaine; Lewis of France
With young King Henry all their force advance
For Normandy, attempting to surprise
Vernoul, a towne that in the confines lyes.
Thus like a Lyon rows'd on every side,
Old Henry's prudence must at once provide
For all assaults; and first in person he
To succour Vernoul martches speedily.
Which Lewis of France by treachery that day
Had tane; but left it straight, and fled away.
The English King pursues, and in his course
Surprises many forts of his by force.
Nor durst the King of France, of all the time
That warre endur'd, in field encounter him,
But making short incursions, as for prey,
Would never stand the tryall of a day.
From thence with winged speed old Henry goes,
To meete in Brettaine with his rebell foes;
But Chesters Earle and [...]ulgiers durst not bide
His puissance; but fled and fortify'd
Themselves within the castle Dole; which he
Str [...]ightly besieg'd, and wonne it speedily.
[Page]There Chesters Earle into his hands he got,
With fourescore other prisoners of note.
While thus in France the conquering King proceedes,
Heavens potent hand assists their valiant deedes,
That loyall warres for him in England made.
The Northerne parts does Scotlands King invade.
To whose resistance, their most able men
The noble Lucy, Lord chiefe Iustice then,
And Bohun, Constable of England, bring,
And stay the progresse of that warrelike King.
There whilest with loyall and couragious hearts
They guard the North, in Englands Easterne parts
Arise warr [...]s fiercer; where with numerous bands
Of warlike Flemmings furious Leister lands.
With him does Bigot Earle of Norfolke joyne.
There their rebellious forces they combine
To wast their native soyle. the wofull fame
Of which to brave Bohun, and Lucy came.
Who hea [...]ing this conclude with Scotlands King
A speedy truce, and all their forces bring
Into the Easterne parts; where fates provide
Fresh strength to succour injur'd Henry's side.
The loyall Earles of Gloster, Arundel,
And Cornewall there are met, provided well
Of all munition, in their just designe
With noble Lucy and Bohun to joyne.
[Page]The Lords all met, to Farneham march away.
There was the tryall of that bloody day
Ordain'd. there Leister with his Flemish troopes
Comes to encounter them. with different hopes,
Though aequall fury, the two armies fought;
The Flemmings prey, the English freedome sought,
To chase from thence the forreiners away.
Long doubtfull stood the tryall of the day.
When thus the lo [...]all Lords their souldiers cheere;
Now let your truth and loyalty appeare
Brave Englishmen; nor is it Henry's right
'Gainst rebells armes for which alone you fight,
And to revenge your wronged Prince; (although
That were engagement great and high enough)
You fight lest England should be made a spoyle
To vagrant theeves; or (more) your native soyle
Here suffer conquest by a forreine sword,
And after ages in blacke leaves record
The fatall field of Farneham. fortune meant
In this to keepe your valours innocent,
Though rebell Leister make a civill warre,
He frees you from it, since his souldiers are
All forreiners; in fight you neede not feare
To wound at all your native countrey there,
Nor shed your kindreds blood; the foe frees you
From those foule crimes which he intends to doe,
[Page](Fight 'gainst his Soveraigne, friends, and native land.)
What great advantage on our side doth stand!
Our armes are loyall, 'gainst a forreine foe;
His warres both civill, and rebellious too.
Such speeches from the Lords had raysed high
The English vertue; they all wish'd to dye
Rather then see, what else they sadly fear'd.
On one side Englands woefull state appear'd.
On tother side the justice of so brave
A cause, fresh vigour to their spirits gave.
The Flemmings armed with resolve as great,
Whose desperate fortunes on that day were set,
And no hope left beyond, came fiercely on,
Breathing out nothing but destruction,
To gaine the price of their adventures there,
Or to their foes to leave a conquest deare.
So neere the flockes fight hungry beasts of prey;
So fight brave dogs to chase the wolves away
As then the English and the Flemmings fought.
How many tragedies that day were wrought!
How were the fields with slaughter cover'd ore!
How was th'adjoyning river stain'd with gore!
At last bright [...]ustice rose, and by the lawes
Of God and nature ballancing the cause,
Gave a full conquest to the English side.
But so the desperate Flemmings fell and dy'd,
[Page]As in their deaths it plainely might appeare
With what resolves they had encountred there.
Ten thousand of them in the field were slaine;
Their great Commander Leisters Earle was tane,
With him his Amazonian Countesse too
Was taken prisoner, and many moe.
Who by the conquering Earles were speedily
Sent out of England into Normandy,
And to old Henry brought, where then he lay,
With joyfull newes of that victorious day.
One of the strongest propps young Henry had▪
And bold'st supporter of a warre so bad
Is now remov'd, ambitious Leister, he
Who most had sooth'd the sonnes impiety,
And 'gainst the father beene most insolent,
Is at his mercy now a prisoner sent.
The King forbeares revenge, and does disdaine
With any show of cruelty to staine
The joy of this successe; but keepes him there
As warre had made him, onely prisoner.
But Englands wretched state by one successe
Could not be rescu'd wholly from distresse,
Gainst which so great conspiracies did aime.
For second newes from thence to Henry cam [...]
By Richard then elect of Winch [...]ster
That other forces had arrived there
[Page]By that rebellious Earle of Norfolke brought;
By whom outragious mischiefes had beene wrought,
And th' Easterne parts of England much annoy'd;
That stately Norwich was with fire destroy'd,
That greater woes are feared every day;
That th' Earle of Flanders then at Gravelin lay
With young King Henry, purpos'd to invade
England with all the strength that they had made.
The King is mov'd to heare his countreys woe,
And to her rescue straight resolves to goe
In person▪ then with his accustom'd speede,
By which he found his actions still succeede,
(For all his acts and march [...]s still did show
Such speede, that Lewis of France would oft avow
He thought King Henry did not goe but fly)
Prepares to crosse the seas from N [...]rmandy.
And takes aboord, besi [...]es his faithfull men,
Those Lords with him that were his prisoners the [...]
Leister, and Chesters Earles, with many moe.
But when he hoys'd his sailes, crosse windes gan blow,
The Seas grow rough, as if the Seas conspir'd
And windes to crosse what he so much desir'd.
King Henry sighes, and lifting his sad eyes
To heaven, thus speakes; oh God, thou onely wise,
If my entents in E [...]gland may succede,
If her afflicted state my pre [...]ence neede,
[Page]And that my safe arrivall there may be
Her health, and cure of all her malady,
Then grant me passage thou, whose onely becke
Has power the windes and swelling Seas to checke:
But if my presence to her coast may prove
More cause of woes, and fiercer tumults move,
If my revenging hand may launce the sore
Too deepe, and make it greater then before,
Let these crosse windes still keepe me from that shore;
Oh let me never see my England more.
Rather then these my armes should onely gaine
My right; and not the nations peace maintaine,
Let me loose all, and my unthankefull sonne
Before his time po [...]sesse her as his owne.
Rather then seat a long and tragicke warre
Within her bleeding bosome; farre oh farre
Let my sad state from thence be banished.
Too much already has that Iland bled
For Princes strifes and Soveraigneties dire love.
Oh if my landing may auspicious prove
For Englands peace, and quench all factious fire,
Let windes and Seas consent to my desire.
His pious prayer was heard; the swelling Maine
Smooth'd his rough face, the wind turn'd faire againe▪
And gave presage to his rejoycing minde
Of what successe he should in England finde.
[Page]By which his navy soone is wafted ore,
And at Southampton safely set on shore.
Departing thence, before he seeke his foes,
Or realmes sicke parts, in Pensive wise he goes
Himselfe to visite slaughter'd Becket's shrine;
(Whether the Lega [...]es did before enjoyne
That paenitence, or that 'twere voluntary.)
At three miles di [...]ance off from Canterbury,
The King himselfe alighting from his horse
Does barefoote * thither take his pensive course,
Whil'st paines with his humiliation meete,
And ruthlesse stones doe cut his tender feete,
Leaving the peoples wondring eyes, from thence
A bloody tracke of his sharpe paenitence.
But when he came to slaughter'd Becket's shrine,
Oh there (could worship greater then divine
Have beene) he had perform'd it; on his face
He prostrate fell, and weeping kiss'd the place,
Which yet of Becket's murder bore the staine.
There with submissive praye [...]s he strove to gaine
Pardon for that which others wrought, and he
Was guilty of, but accidentally.
But yet, as if no teares could expiate,
Nor prayers could cleanse so foule a crime as that,
(To such esteeme in that blind age's thought
Was this supposed Martyr Becket brought)
[Page]The pensive King goes farther; bares his backe,
And on his flesh refuses not to take
Rod-stripes from each blind Monke that there did live▪
Which they as freely to their Soveraigne give.
A strange example sure! but let the sage
Nor censure them, nor Henry, but the age.
But ere great Henry from that city went,
More glorious newes (as if chang'd Fortune meant
To recompence him for her threats so late,
And now on all sides make him fortunate)
Was thither brought to his rejoycing eare,
That Scotlands King was taken prisoner
The warlike * William, who had made, almost
Without resistance, on the Northerne coast
So many inrodes, such rich spoiles had wonne,
And so much wracke in severall places done.
Huge was his army, but by different wayes
D [...]spers'd they sought securely for their preyes
Ranging abroad, and pillaging without
Controll, the townes, and hamlets round about.
* Five gallant Yorkshire Knights, whom glorious Fame
Was pleas'd to grace, to Alnwicke Castle came;
To enter thither secretly they meant.
The misty weather favour'd their intent;
[Page]Vnseene they came; although the strength were small
(For but foure hundred horse were they in all)
Such prize to them did friendly fame ordaine,
As greatest armies have beene proud to gaine,
A captive Monarch. from the Castle towers
They view'd farre off the scatter'd Scottish powers.
Whose armie's greatest part from thence was gone,
And led by severall Captaines, marched on
To spoyle some other parts. the Knights at last,
Who in their active thoughts did hourely cast
Some brave designes, by scouts, that had descry'd
The Scotts proceedings all, were certify'd
Which way King William with small guards abroade
Was gone; and thither with their troopes they rode,
Oretooke, and charg'd him there; the King, although
Amaz'd to meete so suddainly a foe,
Did not forget he was a King, but made
As brave resistance as the strength he had
Would give him leave. the trumpets sound in vaine
To draw to rescue of their Soveraigne
His stragling troopes; whom sweetnesse of the prey
Had carryed thence, and scatter'd every way.
The Knights prevaile; the King's surprised there,
And to New-castle borne a prisoner.
(Oh mocke of fortune!) he that enter'd late
The English bounds so strong a Potentate,
[Page]Guarded with * fourescore thousand Souldiers,
As if he sought to gaine by [...] warres
The Kingdome's conquest; not a meaner prey,
By this small troope is captive borne away.
Pleas'd with this newes triumphant Henry goes
From thence to London; where with all true showes
Of joy and duty they receiv'd their King,
And with an army marches thence to bring
The realmes sicke parts unto their former state.
No towne, no fort, how proud so ere of late,
And strongly mann'd, durst now resist or stay
His course; fame opens him a bloodlesse way.
Huntingdon Castle's yielded to his hands.
Nor durst Earle Bigot with his Flemmish bands,
That lately strooke such terrour through the land,
Resist his Lord; but into Henry's hand
Did freely yield Bungay and Fremingham
His two strong forts, and humbly kneeling came
To sue for mercy, which he there obtain'd.
The like did Ferrers Darbies Earle, and gain'd
His pardon too, contented now to yield
Those two strong Castles, which he long had held.
As much stout Mowbray was enforc'd to doe,
And with himselfe resign'd his Castle too.
[Page]So did the forts then kept in Leisters name;
And to Northampton Duresmes Prelate came
To give three Castles freely to the King.
Thither did then the Knights of Yorkeshire bring
Their royall captive Scotlands King; and there
Presented him as Henry's prisoner.
Who could have hop'd to fin [...]e such blest successe
From such a warre? what greater happinesse
Could ore-joy'd Henry in his largest thought
Have wish'd to see, or all the starres have wrought?
So high a conquest gain'd by fame alone?
So many Castles without slaughter wonne?
No blood in purging of rebellion shed?
And in three weekes all England q [...]ieted
Without the sword? no fields with slaughter stain'd?
What Prince ore sonnes and subjects ever gain'd
So just and true a triumph? or could see
In civill warre a joyfull victory?
This conquest was ore hearts, not bodies wrought.
And 'twas the hand of heaven, not Henry fought.
But killing griefe (as if unconstant fate
Already 'ganne to envy Henry's state)
Amidd'st these triumphs comes; and all the joy
Of this successe must one sad death destroy.
How deepe (alas) doe Loves disasters wound!
The woefull newes of murder'd Rosamund
[Page]Was now to royall Henry brought. Oh what
Pathetike tongue can at the height relate
How much he griev'd? a starre-crost lovers woe
No living tongue can tell; they onely know,
Whom such a cause as that, has reav'd of breath.
If those sad Ghosts should from the shades of death
Arise, not they themselves could speake that woe,
Which no expression once but death could show.
Yet may the Muse, since Muses are divine,
Vnfold those depths▪ thou saddest of the Nine,
Inspire my thoughts, and lend thy skill to me,
Oh tune thy heavyest notes, Melpomene,
And to the world in fitting accents sound▪
The tragicke fate of fairest Rosamund.
Whilest old King Henry was beyond the Seas
Detain'd in warre, to guard those Provinces,
And scatter'd parts of his dominions
'Gainst Lewis of France, and his unnaturall sonnes;
Whil'st England shaken was with loud alarmes,
And fill'd with forreine and rebellious armes;
Pale Nemesis, that had possest before
The jealous brest of raging Elianor,
In farre mor [...] horrid shapes was enter'd now,
And all her wrongs in doubled formes did show;
[...]ongst which (the deepest piercing wrong) she found
H [...]r bed despis'd for love of Rosamund.
[Page]Then madd she raves; tis not the subtilty
Of that Daedalian Labyrinth (quoth she)
Shall hide the strumpet from my vengefull hand;
Nor can her doating champion Henry stand
Against me now to guard his Paramour.
If through the winding Mazes of her bower
No art nor skill can passe: the World shall know
A Queenes revenge; the house Ile overthrow,
Levell those Iustfull buildings with the ground,
And in their ruines tombe his Rosamund.
There let him seeke her mangled limbs. oh draw
To my assistance just Rhamnusia;
I doe not strive a▪ rivall to remoove;
Tis now too late to seeke a husbands love:
I seeke revenge alone, and in what part
I may most deepely wound false Henry's heart.
The fairer, and the more belov'd, that she
Is now: the sweeter my revenge will be.
Oh grant that Henry to his Rosamund
May feele desire as great as ere was found
In man; as great as beauty ere could moove;
To which adde all the Matrimoniall love
He owes to me; that when his flame is such,
The death of her may make his griefe as much.
In nothing now but Rosamund alone
Can I afflict his heart; what could be done
[Page]In all his other comforts, has beene try'd.
I have already drawne his sonnes to syde
Against their father in unnaturall jarre
And rais'd him up from his owne loynes a warre.
What could old Poets make Medea more
Against false Iason doe, t [...]en Elianor
▪Gainst him has done, when Rosamund is dead?
Besides Creusaes death, Medea shed
Her childrens blood before their fathers eyes.
But I, in stead of those mad tragedies
(In which my selfe with him should beare a part)
Can by his children more torment his heart.
Their deaths, perchance, (though murder'd) could not be
So much his griefe as their impiety.
In which they now proceede; their fathers crowne
Is by their armes into the hazard throwne.
And to the full revenge I have begunne
Does nothing want but her destruction.
At Oxford then, with this revengefull minde,
The Queene abode, a fitting time to finde
For execution of her blacke intents,
Whilest every day her cruell instruments
Were lurking neere to Woodstocke, to descry
A way to act this balefull tragedy.
Faire Rosamund within her bower of late
(While these sad stormes had shaken Henry's state,
[Page]And he from England last had absent beene)
Retir'd her selfe; nor had that starre beene seene
To shine abroade, or with her lustre grace
The woods, or walkes adjoyning to the place.
About those places, while the times were free,
Oft with a traine of her attendants, she
For pleasure walk'd; and, like the huntresse Queene
With her light Nymphs, was by the people seene.
Thither the countrey Ladds and Swaines, that neere
To Woodstock dwelt, would come to gaze on her.
Their jolly Maygames there would they present,
Their harmelesse sports, and rustick merryment
To give this beautious Paragon delight.
Nor that officious service would she slight:
But their rude pastimes gently entertaine.
When of [...] some forward, and ambitious swaine,
That durst presume (unhappy Ladd) to looke
Too neere that sparkling beauty, planet-strooke
Return'd from thence, and his hard hap did waile.
What now (alas) can Wake, or Faire availe
His love-sick minde? no Whitsunale can please,
No Iingling Morris-dances give him ease;
The Pipe and Tabor have no sound at all;
Nor to the May-pole can his measures call,
Although invited by the merryest Lasses.
How little for those former joyes he passes?
[Page]But sits at home with folded armes; or goes
To carue on Beeches-barkes his piercing woes,
And too ambitious love. Cupid, they say,
Had stoll'n from Venus then; and lurking lay
About the fields and villages, that nigh
To Woodstock were, as once in Arcady
He did before, and taught the rurall swaines
Loves oratory, and perswasive straines.
But now faire Rosamund had from the sight
Of all withdrawne▪ as in a cloud, her light
Envelop'd lay, and she immured close
Within her Bower, since these sad stirres arose,
For feare of cruell foes; relying on
The strength and safeguard of the place alone:
If any place of strength enough could be
Against a Queenes enraged jealousie.
Now came that fatall day, ordayn'd to see
Th' ecclipse of beauty, and for ever be
Accurs't by wofull lovers. all alone
Into her chamber Rosamund was gone;
Where (as if fates into her soule had sent
A secret notice of their dire intent)
Afflicting thoughts possest her as she sate.
She sadly weigh'd her owne unhappy state,
Her feared dangers, and how farre (alas)
From her reliefe engaged Henry was.
[Page]But most of all, while pearly dropps distain'd
Her rosie cheekes, she secretly complain'd,
And wail'd her honours losse, wishing in vaine
She could recall her Virgine state againe;
When that unblemish'd forme, so much admir'd,
Was by a thousand noble youths desir'd,
And might have moov'd a Monarchs lawfull flame.
Sometimes she thought how some more happy Dame
By such a beauty, as was hers, had wonne
From meanest birth, the honour of a Throne,
And what to some could highest glories gaine,
To her had purchas'd nothing but a stayne.
There when she found her crime, she check'd againe
That high aspiring thought, and gann complaine
How mu [...]h (alas) the too too dazeling light
Of Royall lustre had misled her sight;
Oh then she wish'd her beauties nere had been
Renown'd: that she had nere at Court beene seene:
Nor too much pleas'd enamour'd Henry's eye.
While thus she sadly mus'd, a ruthfull cry
Had pierc'd her tender eare, and in the sound
Was nam'd (she thought) unhappy Rosamund.
( [...]he cry was utter'd by her grieved Mayde,
From whom that clew was taken, that betray'd
Her Ladyes life,) and while she doubting fear'd,
Too soone the fatall certainty appear'd;
[Page]For with her traine the wrathfull Queene was there.
Oh who can tell what cold and killing feare
Through every part of Rosamund was strooke?
The rosie tincture her sweete cheekes forsooke,
And like an Ivory statue did she show
Of life and motion reft. had she beene so
Transform'd in deede, how kinde the fates had beene
How pitifull to her? nay to the Queene?
To free her guilty hand from such a cryme,
So sadd and foule, as no succeeding time
But shall with griefe condemne. yet had she beene
A Statue; and look'd so: the jealous Queene
Perchance on that her cruelty had showne,
Least Henry should have turn'd Pygmalion,
And for a St [...]tues love her bed forsooke.
The Queenes attendants with remorse are strooke;
Even she herselfe did seeme to entertaine
Some ruth; but straight Revenge return'd againe,
And fill'd her furious breast. Strumpet (quoth She)
I neede not speake at all; my sight may be
Enough expression of my wrongs, and what
The consequence must proove of such a hate.
Heere, take this poyson'd cup, (for in her hand
A poyson'd cup she had,) and doe not stand
To parley now: but drinke it presently,
Or else by tortures be resolv'd to dye.
[Page]Thy doome is set. pale trembling Rosamund
Receives the cup, and kneeling on the ground;
When dull amazement somewhat had forsooke
Her breast, thus humbly to the Queene she spoke.
I dare not hope you should so farre relent
Great Queene, as to forgive the punishment
That to my foule offence is justly due.
Nor will I vainely plead excuse, to shew
By what strong arts I was at first betray'd,
Or tell how many subtle snares were lay'd
To catch mine honour. these, though nere so true,
Can bring no recompence at all to you,
Nor just excuse to my abhorred crime.
Instead of suddaine death, I crave but time,
Which shall be stil'd no time of life but death.
In which I may with my condemned breath,
While griefe and p [...]nnance make me hourely dye,
Poure out my prayer [...] for your p [...]osperity.
Or take revenge on this off [...]ding face,
That did procure your wrong, and my disgrace.
Make poysonous leprosies orespread my skinne;
And punish that, that made your Henry sinne.
Better content will such a vengeance give
To you; that he should loath me whilest I live,
Then that he should extend (if thus I dye)
His lasting pity to my memory,
[Page]And you be forc'd to see, when I am dead,
Those teares perchance, which he for me will shed,
For though my worthlesse selfe deserue from him
No teares in death: yet when he weighs my crime,
Of which he knowes how great a part was his,
And what I suffer as a sacrifice
For that offence; twill grieve his soule to be
The cause of such a double tragaedy.
No more (reply'd the furious Queene) have done;
Delay no longer, least thy choyse be gone,
And that a sterner death for thee remaine.
No more did Rosamund entreat in vaine;
But forc'd to hard necessity to yeild,
Drunke of the fatall potion that she held.
And with it enter'd the grimme tyrant death.
Yet gave such respite, that her dying breath
Might begg forgivenesse from the heavenly throne▪
And pardon those, that her destruction
Had doubly wrought. forgive, oh Lord, said she,
Him that dishonour'd, her that murder'd me.
Yet let me speake, for truths sake, angry Queene;
If you had spar'd my life, I might have beene
In time to come th' example of your glory;
Not of your shame, as now. for when the story
Of haplesse Rosamund is read; the best
And holyest people, as they will dete [...]t
[Page]My crime, and call it foule: they will abhorre,
And call unjust the rage of Elianor.
And in this act of yours it will be thought
Hing Henry's sorrow, not his love you sought.
And now so farre the venoms force assail'd
Her vitall parts, that lif [...] with language fail'd.
That well built palace, where the Graces made
Their chiefe abode, where thousand Cupids plai'd,
And cowch'd their shafts; whose structure did delight
Even natures selfe, is now demolish'd quite,
Nere to be rais'd againe. th' untimely stroake
Of death, that pretious Cabinet has broake,
That Henry's pleased heart so long had held.
With suddaine mourning now the house is fill'd;
Nor can the Queenes attendants, though they feare
Her wrath, from weeping at that sight forbeare.
There well they could, while that faire hearse thy view,
Believe the ancient embleme to be true;
And thinke pale death and winged Cupid now
Their quivers had mistooke. untimely so
By rough North blasts doe blooming Roses fade▪
So crushed falls the Lillyes tender blade.
Her hearse at Godstow Abbey they enterre.
Where sad and lasting monuments of her
For many yeeres did to the world remaine.
Nought did the Queene by this dire slaughter gaine▪
[Page]But more her Lords displeasure aggravate;
And now, when he return'd in prosperous state,
This act was cause, toge [...]her with that crime
Of raising his unnaturall sonnes 'gainst him,
That she so long in prison was detain'd,
And, whilest he liv'd, her freedome never gain'd.
But Henry's troubles finde not yet an end,
Whose cares beyond the English shores extend,
As if one kingdomes burden could not be
Enough for his great magnanimity.
The yet-perplex'd affaires of Normandy
Invite his presence next; where fates decree
Almost as easie peace shall be obtain'd
As England late had by his presence gain'd.
Now did King Lewis and young King Henry lye
Beseiging faithfull Roane in Normandy.
To whose reliefe the brave old Henry goes;
But first with care and prudence does dispose
The setled state of England to his minde;
And loath to leave at liberty behinde
So great a firebrand as his jealous Queene
Fierce Elianor in this late warre had beene,
Commits her person to close custodie;
Then musters all his martiall company,
And Caesar-like transporting all his [...]tore
Of great and princely prisoners, crosses ore,
[Page]As if he went to triumph, not to fight.
Nor proov'd it lesse indeede; for even the sight
Alone of so renown'd and fear'd a Chiefe
As old King Henry, was faire Roanes reliefe.
King Lewis of France no longer meant to stay,
Nor on the tryall of one doubtfull day
To set his fortunes; yet asham'd that he
Should seeme to flye before his enemy,
And fearing that disgrace, encamped lay
Himselfe a while; and first convey'd away
From thence the sicke and weakest of his men,
And with the rest in order followed then.
For uncontroll'd had Henry enter'd Roane,
Set ope the gates, and beate the rampiers downe,
Levell'd the trenches all, that stopp'd the way,
And dar'd the French to tryall of the day.
But Lewis retir'de, and weighing in sadd thought
What small advantage his designes had wrought
Or for himselfe, or those whom he entended
To aide, now wish'd this bootelesse warre were ended;
And thoughts of peace he wholly entertain'd.
And since he knew a peace might be obtain'd
(As then it stood) with ease from Englands King
And love besides, in labouring to bring
The sonnes in too; and that th' old King would seeme
For such a savour much oblig'd to him;
[Page]A reverend Bishop he to Henry sent,
Who signify'd the Christian King's entent
To worke that pious and Religious peace,
That warres so sad and impious now might cease
Twixt sonnes and Father; nature made the way,
And joyfull Henry nam'd the meeting day;
[...]ho, though successefull ever in that warre,
Was still a father, not a conquerer.
Then to Gisors with joy he goes; to whom
King Lewis of France, and yong King Henry come.
Where though no perfect un [...]on could be wrought
(For young Prince Richard was not thither brought,
Who still was fiercely warring in Poictou)
Yet something's done▪ and as a prologue now
To that faire peace, which afterward ensu'd,
A truce both Henryes, and King Lewis conclude.
Fierce Richard, though King Henryes second sonne,
Yet borne to sit on Englands royall throne,
Had all the time of these unnaturall jarres
Against his father, made victorious warres
Within Poictou; in which few townes remain'd,
But that Prince Richard the whole land had gain'd.
This is that Heroe, who by deedes of fame
Shall gaine through all succeeding times the name
Of Lions-heart; whose deedes as farre shall sound
[...]s lyes the farthest Verge of Christian ground;
[Page]Who by deserved honours fetch'd from farre
Shall wash the staine of this rebellious warre
From off his sacred memory againe;
And conquests great 'gainst Saracens obtaine.
From him the dreadfull Saladine sh all fly.
Philip of France his envious enemy
Shall feare the force of his victorious hand,
And rue it oft. he in his time shall stand
Th' ecclipse of other Christian Princes fame,
And only terrour of the Pagan name.
After the true concluded at Gisors,
Into Poictou with all his martiall force
The old King Henry marches 'gainst his son;
At whose arrivall every fort and towne,
Which Richard not by love, but force, had gain'd
Straight yeild themselues into his Fathers hand;
Whose Marches almost no resistance finde.
When young Prince Richard (with perplexed minde)
Had heard his father's comming and successe,
He stormes, and taxes of perfidiousnesse
King Lewis of France, and young King Henry, that
Had thus forsaken their confaederate;
But yet resolves (too proudly) not to yeild
At all; but stand the tryall of a field
Against his father; and with impious hopes
[...]nto the field drawes all his Martiall Tropes.
[Page]From whence Kings Henry's army was not farre.
And now too neere approach'd the wicked warre.
Some pious Souldiers 'gann those mischiefes feare
Which they should act, as well as suffer, there.
Richard's great heart began to yeild to shame,
And feele the reverence of a fathers name.
Sometimes his stubborne courage rais'd him high;
Sometimes againe relenting Piety
Check'd those proud thoughts; and in so bad a cause
Told him how great a crime his valour was.
Yet had not Piety alone the power
To curbe his spirit; his father every houre
Encreast in men, and Iustice, with a tide
Of strength flow'd in, to vindicate her side.
Why stood'st thou out (Richard) so long a time?
Tis now too late to free thy selfe from crime
Though thou submit. the world may justly say
It was not true repentance, but dismay.
Thou could'st no longer cheere thy fainting troopes;
And not thy resolution, but thy hopes
Forsake thee heere. that act will termed be
Despai [...]e, which had before beene piety,
But thanke the weakenesse of thy army now,
That made thee see (though late) and disallow
That horrid guilt, before that lives it cost,
Or blood by thy impiety were lost.
Strucke with remorse, at last young Richard throwes
His late rebellious armes aside, and goes
To his offended father, to present
Himselfe a sad and humble paenitent.
There on his knees, for that unkind offence
He pardon craves; no other eloquence
But teares and sighs his griefe had power to use.
No other pleas were strong in his excuse.
The royall father meetes with teares of joy
Those teares; and pardons him the noblest way;
With kinde embraces liftes him from the ground;
And in his rich paternall love had found,
Instead of chiding him for what was done,
A way to praise him by comparison,
That of the brothers he submitted first;
As if the father had forgot that erst
He aequall to the rest astray had gone,
Remembring Richards paenitence alone.
So much King Henry's wondrous goodnesse wrough [...]
On Richard's noble nature, as it brought
Fr [...]sh teares from him; and though it pardon'd, more
Did seeme to aggravate th' offence before.
Yet such encouragement from thence he tooke,
As thus, when teares would give him leave, he spoke;
Sir, your preventing grace has tane from me
So farre the neede of all apology
[Page]As I should only speake my thankfulnesse,
If any language could so much expresse.
But that my dutious deedes shall better show▪
And for the first true service I can doe,
Vouchsafe me leave, great Sir, to goe and winne
My yet offending brothers from their sinne.
Let me be there employ'd; I shall prevaile
In that, when other advocates will faile,
When forreine Princes for their owne close ends
Shall faintly speake, when false and factious friends
In their misdeedes shall flatter them; shall I
By true example check impiety;
I, that have sinned happily in this
To make them know how good our Father is.
Which (most accurs'd) I had not grace to know,
Till by offending I had found it so.
More had he utter'd; but King Henry there
Cut off his speech, almost or ejoy'd to heare
That thing propos'd, which was his chiefe entent;
And then with faire and kind encouragement
For that designe dispach'd his Sonne away,
Himselfe resolv'd in Normandy to stay.
And thankefull Richard with a joy as high
Goes to performe the pious Legacy.

THE REIGNE OF King HENRY the Second.
The Sixt Booke.

The Argument of the sixt Booke.
Betwixt Ambois and Tours, the Sonnes are brought
To meete their Father. perfect peace is wrought;
A Peace is made with France and Scotland too.
From Normandy the two King Henryes goe,
Great signes of joy in England every where
Are show'd, to welcome their arrivall there.
The King his Realme of England doth divide▪
Into six circuits; and for each provide▪
Iudges Itinerant. what great resort
Was seene at onee in Henry's stately Court.
His happinesse, his power, and high renoune,
His daughters royall marriages are showne.
Old Henry does refuse the proffred Crowne
Of Palaestine to take. Henry the sonne
Rebells againe; and does repentant dye.
The third sonne Geoffrey's w [...]full tragaedy.
NOw did victorious Henry's wish succeede.
With such effectuall diligence and speede
Had young Prince Richard with his Brothers wrough [...],
That both of thē he to their father brought
[Page]Betwixt Ambois and Tours. there first of all
Are di [...]ontents and jarres unnaturall
By [...] King Henry's prudence made to cease;
There first is wro [...]ght a full and finall peace.
The sonne [...] a [...]e taught to hate their impious crime,
A [...]d vow o [...]edience for the future time.
Nor does th [...] fathers wisedome thinke he does
E [...]ugh, if for the present [...]e compose
This fatall strife; but carefull to prevent
The causes of all future discontent
He lends a gentle eare, while they expresse
In humble sort their former grievances;
He grants their just demands, and does advance
With liberall hand their yearely maintenance,
Which had before bin justly thought to be
Too small for them. and that this enmity
Might not alone be ended, but forgot
On every side▪ the lands un [...]ustly got,
While this sad warre remain'd, are every where
Restor'd againe, and every prisoner
Without a ransome on both sides set free.
And all their followers in that state to be
As when the warre beganne. with Henry there
A peace King Lewis and th'Earle of Flanders sweare;
And that the friendship may be firmely ty'd,
Adela Lewis his daughter is affy'd
[Page]To Princely Richard; to remaine, till she
Should come of age, in Henry's custody.
There to conclude these sad dissentions,
Richard and Geoff [...]y, Henry's younger sonnes
A personall homage to their father doe;
Which young King Henry freely offred too;
But that the father suff [...]ed not; since he
Invested was in regall dignity.
White-winged Concord come from heaven above
(Concord, of all estates the joy and love,
Whose sacred armes the spatious world infold,
And that mixt fabricke from dissolving hold)
On Henry's countreys now was pleas'd to light.
With her, her lately banish'd sister, bright
As she, faire Piety, did not disdaine,
Descending downe, to visite earth againe.
She that from Englands Court had lately fled,
As once from Argos tragicke towers she did,
When Atreus feast did her pure soule affright,
And made the Sunne obscure his mourning light.
Nor does the presence of bright Phoebus more
Comfort earths drooping face, when to restore
Her fragrant Wardrobe, he returnes in spring,
Then Pi [...]ty, and blessed Concord bring
True joy to humane hearts. the King in thought
Is recompens'd for what the fates had wrought
[Page]So lately 'gainst him. his two younger sonnes
He sends away to their dominions,
And wise men with them; Geoffrey to remaine
In Brettaine, Richard in his Aquitaine,
There, with their severall Councells, to advise
The best for their estates and dignities.
The two King Henryes, father and the sonne
Through every part of their dominion
Vpon that side the Sea, a progresse take,
To cure the wounds of that late warre, and make
The rents all whole againe; then from that coast
The Seas for England they together crost.
But oh what Muse can at the height relate
The joy that Englands long-afflicted state
Express'd to welcome their arrivall there?
Or show how all the wayes from Porchmouth, where
They landed first, and thence to London rode,
Were fill'd with people numberlesse, and strow'd
With such greene dresse, as then the spring could show,
And Sol from Taurus gilded hornes bestow
Vpon the cheered earth, as if that then
The season had consented with the men.
How did the aire with acclamations sound!
When in that joyous sight the people found
Their happinesse; they saw two Kings as one,
Distracting not the quiet of a throne,
[Page]And, as a glorious wonder, might descry
Two Sunnes at once, and yet a peacefull sky.
This sight more joy'd the hearts of people now,
Then any triumph of a warre could doe.
Nor could the greatest conquest, by the blood
Of slaughter'd nations purchas'd, be so good.
So did th'Italian youths follow in throngs
Their laurell'd charriots with triumphant songs,
When captive Kings were brought, when woefull sto­ries
Of ruin'd lands were made their envy'd glories.
Before this triumph no sad captives goe
To waile in chaines their woefull overthrow;
No pale dejected lookes, no hearts afraid
Are found, no envy'd glories are display'd;
But gentle peace does with a gracious eye
Appeare, and leade the faire solemnity.
Whose crowne of olive does more glorious show
Then any victor's laurell wreath could doe.
One Court, one table now receives againe
Whom late this spatious Ile could not containe
(As f [...]iends) within blew Neptune's watery armes;
And they whose presence fill'd with warres alarmes
So oft of late great France and England too,
Without warres feare are seene together now;
And promise, like th' Oebalian friendly starres,
Health to the late distressed Marriners.
[Page]Nor does King Henry spend in wanton ease
The Halcyon dayes of this his happy peace:
But like a wise and noble Potentate,
[...]o cure the sad diseases of his state,
He first beginnes (as first it ought to be)
With holy Church. the sinne of Simony,
Which those corrupted times too much had fill'd,
A Synod to that end at London held
By wholsome lawes and canons did restraine.
From thence old Henry fully to maintaine
His honour, goes in person, and repaires
Some breaches of the late unhappy warres;
And many Castles of the inner land,
Which had in those rebellious times beene mann'd,
And kept against himselfe, he rases downe,
As Leister, Walton, Groby, Huntington.
To deedes of justice then he turn'd his minde,
And first of all the English Kings did finde
That happy course, applauded till this day,
To give his subjects by an easier way
The use of justice. England he divides
Into sixe circuites; and for each provides
Three reverend Iustices itinerant;
That all his subjects farthest off, whom want
Would not per [...]it so great a way to come,
Might meete bright Iustice twice a yeare at home;
[Page]And that offences there where they were done,
Might be to Iudges made more clearely knowne.
A glorious act, which shall for ever fame
To after times the second Henry's name.
Those mighty kings who by such specious deedes
As founding towers or stately Pyramids
Would raise their names, and by that vast expence
Doe seeke the fame of high magnificence,
Doe not deserve, by those proud workes they raise,
So true an honour, nor such lasting praise
As he, whose wis [...]dome to good manners dr [...]wes
The mindes of men by founding wholesome lawes,
And planting perfect justice in a state.
Those let the vainer people wonder at;
By those a state showes faire; by this it lives:
They outward beauty; this true essence gives.
But now, my faire Calliope, relate
How high, how glorious was old Henry's state
In this so happy and establish'd peace!
When all dissentions on such tearmes did cease
As he himselfe could wish! when his command
Was fear'd in Wales: when Englands happy land
Was well assured: Scotlands strength dismay'd:
And conquer'd Ireland quietly obey'd
His powerfull scepter; when he did possesse
Without controll those stately Provinces
[Page]Of France, which stretch'd even to the bounds of Spain,
From Normandy to farthest Aquitaine.
That King of Connaught, Roderike the stout,
He that in Ireland had so long stood out
'Gainst th'English power, does now to England send
Embassadours on Henry to attend,
To yield himselfe to his protection
A tributary to the English Crowne.
And now through Europe the loud voyce of fame
So wide had spread this potent Monarchs name,
That from the farthest part [...] of Christendome
Embassadours of greatest Princes come,
To hold their leagues and amity with him;
And London saw (so high was his esteeme)
In his great Court at once th'Embassadours
Of the two mighty Christian Emperours
The East and Westerne Caesars both; in whom
The auncient honour of Imperiall Rome
Divided lives; the Duke of Saxony,
The Earle of Flanders, King of Sicily;
From all these Legates at one time resort,
Together seene in Henry's stately Court.
Nor doe the Princes weigh his power alone,
But wisedome too, and (as to Salomon)
Send farre to crave his counsell and advise;
As two great Kings, when difference did aris [...]
[Page]About the bounds of their dominion,
Alphonso then King of Castile was one,
Tother his uncle Sanctio of Navarre;
Who loath that the ungentle hand of warre
Should judge the cause, to prudent Henry send,
With power for him to heare and [...]ake an end;
Which [...]e determines in so brave a way,
That both the Kings are pleas'd, and both obey.
And young Alphonso sends, after the strife
Had end, to crave of Henry for his wife
(With full assurance of an ample doure)
His second daughter lovely Elianour.
Who was according to that King's demand,
Sent with a rich attendance to his land,
And there receiv'd with joy, and highest state;
Where they their wished Nuptialls celebrate.
His eldest daughter Maude before had he
Bestow'd on Henry Duke of Saxony
Surnam'd the Lyon, from whose happy wombe
The fates ordaine great Emperours shall come.
And in this happy yeare did Henry too
His third and youngest daughter Ioane bestow
On noble William King of Sicily;
Attended hence with fit solemnity.
Nor did it seeme enough to favouring fate
That Henry's glorious and majesticke state
[Page]Through Europe onely should be honoured;
Even to the farthest bounds of Asia spred
The fame of his great power and happinesse.
The holy land was brought to sad distresse
By strength of faithlesse Saracens opprest.
Great Saladine the terrour of the East,
That powerfull Soldane that possest the throne
And diadem of stately Babylon,
With all that th'old Assyrian Monarchs held,
Whose unresisted puissance had quell d
The strength of all those parts, and into thrall
Had brought the other Pagan Princes all,
Entitled King of Kings and Lord of Lords,
Against the Christians turn'd his conquering swords,
And now had enter'd with that p [...]oud designe,
Vpon the bounds of fearefull Pa [...]aestine;
His dreadfull hoast had past faire Iordanes flood,
Sack'd townes adjoyning, and in Christian blood
Pursu'd the conquest [...]n; great feare of him
Possest the Princes of [...]erusalem,
Who all consult about their present state.
Their king old Baldwin was deceas'd of la [...]e,
And to his nephew, then a child (no more
Then five yeares old) had left the regall power▪
Too weake his tender age is thought to beare
That weight, when such a threatning warre so neere
[Page]Their wals is brought: the Princes all consent
To offer up their crowne and government
To some redoubted Christian Monarch's [...]and,
Whose power might guard their now-endanger'd land;
And with one voyce agree in He [...]ry's name.
To him, as to the Prince of greatest fame,
And best to them for wealth and prowesse knowne,
They meane to tender Salems royall Crowne.
And for Embassadour to him they choose
The Reverend Patriarch Heraclius,
Who beares along with him (to be a signe
That by the generall vote of Palaestin [...]
This royall tender was to Henry made)
Things of the greatest note that kingdome had;
The keyes of that so much renowned place,
Which our deare Saviour's happy birth did grace:
And of that honour'd tombe, which did containe
His blessed body, till it rose againe;
The keyes of David's stately Tower: with them
The royall standart of Ierusalem.
Thus Fates for absent Henry did ordaine
Their highest graces; but (alas) in vaine,
As afterward it prov'd, when to the King
Those honour'd signes the Patriarch did bring.
For he too much perplex'd about his owne
Affaires at home, refus'd that sacred Crowne:
[Page]Although the Patriarch did striue to shew
That title was by right of birth his due,
A [...]d [...] t [...]e law [...]ull heire of Salems Throne,
A [...] being Geoffrey, Earle of A [...]iou's sonne,
Whose brother, F [...]lke Plantagen [...]t, had beene
Before [...] King of Palaestine.
And [...]hough Pope Lucius had for that intent
Persuasive [...]etters to great Henry sent,
He still refu [...]'d. God, for the Christians sinne,
Was not at tha [...] time pleased to incline
His [...] to succour their afflicted state,
Nor any o [...]her Christian Potentate,
Till (a [...]l [...]oo late) sad newes was brought to them
That Saladine had tane Ierusalem.
But long great Henry in that blissefull state
Could not abid [...]; the course of en [...]ious fate
Soone wrought a change with him. Before the Sunne
Had twice thr [...]ugh his coelestiall Zodiake [...]unne,
Deep [...] alterations in some mindes appear'd,
And dangers thence the people justly [...]ear'd.
That happy Genius, [...]hich of late did guide
Th' affaires of England, now in griefe 'gan hide
His glorious head, lamenting to be gone;
The dat [...] of Henry's prosperous dayes was done;
[...]nd nought but troubles from that time ensu'de,
A [...]d tragicke woes. Oh sad vicissitu [...]e
[Page]Of earthly things! to what untimely end
Are all the fading glories that attend
Vpon the State of greatest Monarchs, brought!
What safety can by policy be wrought?
Or rest be found on Fortunes rest [...]esse wheele?
Tost humane states are here enforc'd to feele
Her kingdome such, as floating vessels finde
The stormy Ocean, when each boysterous winde
Let loose from Ae [...]l's Adamantine cav [...]s,
Rush forth, and rowle into impetuous waves
The Seas whole waters; when sometimes on high
The raised Barke doth seeme to kisse the Skye:
Sometimes from that great height descending downe,
Doth seeme to fall as low as Acheron.
Such is the fra [...] condition of mans state;
Such contrarieties the turning fate
Of Henry found; to him d [...]d Fortune seeme
In all her favours and her frownes [...].
The former re [...]ts, which dire Impiety
Ha [...] made in Henry's roy [...]ll family,
Had well b [...]ene cur'de againe, an [...] closed all
Without effects so sad and tragicall,
As all the Land from thence did justly fear [...].
On easie [...] termes was peace establish'd there
Then men could hope, and gentler salves did serve,
Then wounds so fester'd seemed to deserue.
[Page]So [...]hen the gracious God was pleas'd) but see
How [...]ull of danger all relapses be.
In humane states how s [...]ldome permanent
Is perfect health! deserved punishment,
Which heaven is pleas'd to respite for a time,
It oft payes home upon a second crime.
Henry the sonne in [...]eart revolts againe
From his indulgent father. Signes too plaine
His honest servants saw, and sigh'd to see.
His aymes on every opportunity
[...] spi [...]it so young and [...]ot could not conceale.
And now it seem'd no human skill could heale
[...]h' inveterate sicknesse of his impious minde.
God, for old Henry's sinnes, did justly finde
M [...]anes, by his sonnes, the father to chastise,
And yet to punish their impieties.
So double woe is to the father sent,
Who feeles their crimes, and then their punishment.
Richard, the second sonne, that held [...],
And Aquitaine, for them, refus'd to doe
To young King H [...]nry p [...]rsonall Homage, though
Their fa [...]her Henry had commanded so.
Yet Richard soone [...], and tend [...]rs it;
Bu [...] his imperious brother with despight
[...] then to take it from his hands.
A strong desire to seize on R [...]chards lands
[Page]Young Henry had. Full well he knew that all
The Barons of those Provinces would fall
Gladly from Richards sterner government,
Who had before declared their intent.
With him in this his brother Geoffrey joyn'd,
Who to his father bore as false a minde.
With Richard's lands they meane themselves to make
Strong 'gainst their Father; and entend to take
Thence the first step to their dis [...]oyalty.
Riihard in wrath departs from Normandy,
Returning home to fortifie and manne
His holds within Poictou and Aquitaine,
And by his brothers is pursu'd. He findes
A great estrangement in the Barons mindes;
And is enfor [...]'d, by their revolt dismay'd,
To crave his father old King Henry's ayd.
Who with an army thither straight repaires,
Yet not to make, but to compound the warres.
There young King Henry labours to maintaine
The Barons of Poictou and Aquitaine
'Gainst Richar [...]s great complaints, and under-hand
For his owne ends, perswades them to withstand
His fathers force, and not at all submit.
Old Henry labours by perswasions fit
To pacifi [...] these new▪ bred enmities,
And venturing of himselfe to p [...]rleys, twice
[Page]Miraculously scap'd foule tre [...]sons hand.
Once a true servant, that did next him stand,
Instead of him, was with an arrow slaine,
Nor was the traytor found; and when againe
He made approach▪ a barbed shaft, that from
Th' adjoyning Castle did with fury come,
Had pierc'd his royall breast, had not his horse
Advanc'd his head, and [...]ne the arrowes force,
By which himselfe, to save his master, dy'd.
By these abhorred treasons terrifi'd,
The King no more would venture, but prepares
To curbe the Barons, and his Sonnes by warres.
But that a juster stronger hand must doe;
Th' [...]ternall Iudge of all the world had so
D [...]creed, that [...] sword should spared be
In punishing his sonnes impietie.
That he himselfe, whose just and certaine hand
No creature can preuent, no force withstand,
Whose sacred will the Elements obey,
And all the Starres doe serve, would take a way
Without old Henry's ayd, or crime at all,
Without a warre so much vnnaturall,
To punish guilt, that justice should be done,
Yet the old King but lose, not kill a sonne.
Now young King Henry at Martell prepares
To meet his father in rebellious warres;
[Page]By by a Dysentery de [...]th assailes
His youth, and spite of youth or strength prevailes.
The sharpe malignant humour did corrode
His guts; and thence, while there the paine abode,
A speed ng feav [...]r seiz'd his vitall part.
Oppressed Nature past the helpe o [...] art,
Beyond all hope o [...] cure, lay languishing.
When Paenitence from heavens eternall King
To save this dying Prince his so [...]e, is sent,
And sweeten so his bodies punishment.
Now late alas (though not too late) did hee
Feele, and bewaile his first impiety.
And to his father humbly sent, to craue
His pardon now; which he as freely gave,
Yet durst not trust himselfe in person there,
(The late foule treasons justly made him fear [...])
But to declare a true forgivenesse, sent
His Ring to him. Which when the paenitent
And dying Prince receiv'd, [...]e humbly kist,
While floods of teares his contrite heart exprest.
Then he conju [...]'d hi [...] servants, that did [...]tand
About him, to fulfil [...] his last command;
Which they in all per [...]ormed as they swore.
A bed of ashes on the Chamber [...]loore
They strew'd, and thither pensive sackcloth brought▪
Then from his royall Couch, so richly wrought
[Page]With various worke, with gold embroyder'd o [...]e,
They tooke him downe▪ the kingly robes he wore
They stript him of, and put the sackcloth on,
Then on the bed of ashes layd him downe.
This (quoth the dying king) this is the way
To heauens bright pallace; and this sad array
Is fa [...]re more glorious in th' Almighty's eye
Then purple, silks, or rich embroydery,
And sooner enters heaven; though that be high,
No step's so neare it as humility.
'Tis not fraile mortals gorgeous dresse, that there
Can rich at all, or beautifull appeare,
Since 'twixt the Glories of earths greatest throne,
And blisse of Saints is no comparison.
Waile not my early death; no [...] is re [...]t
Too soone of breath, to whom a time is left
Of paenitence. I had untimely dy'd,
Had these late warres in my rebellious pride
Cut off my youth, and left my name to be
The curs'd example of impiety.
And thou, my wronged father, in this low
And humble state vouchsafe againe to know
(What impious I had once forgot) thy sonne,
No more thy rivall in the regall throne.
Which whilst I sought, I labour'd to destroy
The Royall root, from wh [...]nce I grew so high.
[Page]I crave no interest in thy fortunes now,
But onel [...] that that Nature can bestow,
The blessing of a childe. Seeking thy throne
I grew unworthy to be call'd thy sonne.
Forbeare, you lasting Registers of time,
To name my title, lest you speake my crime.
Or if the truth of story must doe so,
Be just, and publish my repentance too.
How ere, when Englands Kings are nam'd, let mee
From that high Catalogue excluded bee.
And witnesse you, my friends, when I am gone,
I dy'd no King, but Henry's pensive sonne.
With that the Feaver his strong heart assailes,
And 'gainst resisting Natures force prevailes.
From his yong brest the strugling spirit flyes,
And night eternall closes up his eyes.
Soone was the newes to old King Henry brought;
When different sorrow powerfull Nature wrought
In his great soule. Sometimes he wailes a sonne
In flower of all his youth untimely gone:
Sometimes he joyes to heare that paenitence,
That wash'd away the staine of his offence.
Yet thence againe [...]low teares, as cause to prove
His sorrow good, and iu [...]tifie his love.
So Henry wept, in all respects but one,
As holy David did for Absal [...]n.
[Page]They both lost sonnes; both wail'd their sonnes offence:
Yet David heard no signes of paenitence
In his slaine Absalon▪ that could [...]t all
Give comfort to his griefe spirituall.
Had Absalon [...]or his abhorr'd offence
Left markes behinde him of true paenitence
Instead of that great pillars pride, which he
Had rays'd before to keepe his memory,
Farre lesse (no doubt) in that respect alone,
Had David mourned for h [...]s slaughter'd sonne.
The griefe that Henry tooke, though wondrous great,
Yet could not make him his just wrath forget
Against the Barons of Poictou, from whom
The cause of these rebellions first did come.
He drawes his martiall forces vp, to presse
With narrow siege the Towne of Li [...]oges.
Which soone was rendred to his powerfull hand,
And with that Towne and Castle, all the Land;
The Barons pardon crave; wi [...]h them his sonne
P [...]ince Geoffrey comes; [...]pon submission
The King forgives his sonne, and is content
To take of them an easie punishment.
But though a fathers deare affection
Twice freely pardon'd this offending sonne:
Soone after did the hand of God on high
Pursue with vengeance the impiety
[Page]Of young Princ [...] Geoffr [...]y. At a Turneament
In Paris held, to which this Geoffrey went
With other Lords in youthfull bravery,
To prove his active strength and chevalry,
He fell together with his horse; the blow
So sorely bruis'd his body, that although
He presently expir'd not in the place,
(For God in mercy lent him such a space
Of time to breath, he might repenting call
To him for Grace) y [...]t of that [...]a tall fall
(As it appeared plaine) in all the pride
Of his fresh youth, he shortly after dy'd.

Lib. 7. HENRY the Second.

The Argument of the seventh Booke.
Prince John King Henry's youngest sonne is sent
To take the charge of Irelands government.
'Twixt Henry and King Philip severall jarres
And quarrels rise, that threaten daily warres.
A reverend Prelate by the Pope imploy'd
Betwixt the Kings all difference to decide,
Perswades them both an holy warre to make.
Both Kings, with Philip Earle of Flanders, take
The Crosse upon them. But their good intents
Are crost againe by fatall accidents;
And both the Kings against each other bent
Towarre againe. Richard in discontent
His father leaves, and takes King Philip's part.
Ensuing losses breake old Henry's heart.
THus is the King of halfe his store bereft;
Two sons untim [...]ly dead; two sons are le [...]
The seeming comforts of his age; as who
Could think but living childrē shold be so?
Oh who would not suppofe that to have seene
Two youthfull sonnes before him dead, had beene
[Page]A grievous c [...]rse and punishment to him?
But he, that sees old Henry's end, will deeme
His living sonnes to be his curse, and say
God pity'd him in taking two away.
For furious Ri [...]hard, who was eldest now,
And heire apparant to the Crowne (as though
His brother's deaths could no examples be
To shew the vengeance of Impiety)
Soone after 'gainst his father raises warre
Of worse and sadder consequence by farre
Then all the rest had beene; they caus'd his smart:
But this of Richard breakes his bleeding heart.
The Realme of Ireland Henry did entend
To Iohn his youngest sonne; and to that end
Had from Pope Vrban got a grant before
That he might freely leaue, as successour,
Which sonne he pleas'd in Irelands government.
Thither is Iohn with [...]it attendance sent
(But twelve yeares old) to make him early knowne,
And lov'd among those people, as his owne.
To rule among them as their Governour;
But not invested in the Regall power.
Th' example of his eldest sonne, whom he
Before advanc'd to royall dignity
Too soone (alas,) had made him justly feare
The same from others. But unhappy there
[Page]This Prince his too too early rule did prove.
Instead of gaining that rude Nations love;
Which by a sweet demeanour had beene wonne,
(For they, as every barbarous Nation,
Although they know not what is true respect:
Yet, if respected, wondrously affect.)
The youthfull Gallants of that Prince his Covrt
Could not re [...]raine, bur in a scorne [...]ull sort
The Natives rude behaviours did deride▪
And so distastfull was their mocking pride
To those plaine people; they began to hate
Whom else they would have honour'd, and forgate
That loyall love and reverence, which before
They to the English King and Nation bore.
From thence sad warres the Irish Princes mov'd;
Which by the losse of men and treasure, prov'd
Vnhappy to the English side; till from
His government young Iohn was called home,
And left it, after an expensive warre,
In worse estate then when he enter'd farre.
Now daily quarrels 'twixt the Realmes of France.
And England grow. Fresh cause of variance
From all occasions does the active minde
Of young King Philip 'gainst old Henry finde.
Sometimes he c [...]aimes Gisors, and other lands
By Henry held from him; somet [...]mes demands
[Page]The Princesse Adela, his sister (now
Of perfect age) to be deliver'd to
Her husband Richard, Henry's eldest sonne,
According to the old conclusion,
Which in her father Lewis his time was made;
Or else he is resolved to invade
King Henry's Provinces, while he delayes
His answer; forces on both sides they raise;
While neighbour-Princes kindly enterpose,
And strive these breaches 'twixt the Kings to close,
Nor perfect peace, nor constant warre ensn'd;
Their truces often broke, were oft renew'd:
The sword oft drawne, and oft was sheath'd againe.
While this so jarring concord did remaine,
Betwixt the Kings; sad newes was brought to them
That Saladine had tane Ierusalem,
Discomfited the Noble Christian hoast;
And with their slaughter [...]ad through all that coast
Seized the townes of strength into his hands.
These wofull tidings through all Christian lands
In Europe flew; excitements every where
From Pulpits sounded in the peoples eare,
To aid their brother-Christians in the East,
And take revenge on Pagans that opprest
The holy land. For this great purpose some
Religious Prelates sent through Christendom [...]
[Page]To severall Courts of greatest Princes came,
To draw their succours. One of greatest name *
In that imployment; who most seem'd t'advance
The cause, that Prelate was, who then in France
Labour'd to draw these armed Kings from thence.
And turne their swords against the Saracens.
Betwixt Gisors and Try, a day was set
For enterview; where these two Monarchs met▪
Their royall armies slay'd not farre srom thence.
No p [...]ace was wrought upon the conference
(Though thither Philip Earle of Flanders came,
A powerfull Prince, and one of honour'd name,
With Noble purpose to attone their jarres,
And to prevent so sad and causelesse warres)
Till this grave Prelate to the place was come,
And for the generall cause of Christendome
Thus humbly spake; Most puissant Kings, and you
Renowned Earle, let it in season now
Be thought to speake, what borne upon the wings
Of Fame, already through all Europe rings,
The tragicke slaughter of our Christian hoast,
And sacred Salem to vile Pagans lost,
Since by those Christians sufferings, God for you
Sets ope the way to highest honours now.
Let that brave cause engage these armes of yours.
Thither, great Kings, transport your conquering powers,
[Page]And for the name of your Redeemer, move
A war [...]e more just than any peace can prove;
(Much more) a juster warre then this can be.
For when the foes of Christianity
Doe rage; if peace it selfe, at such a time,
May in the Christian world be judg'd a crime,
What crime is that, when they to warre can goe,
Yet not 'gainst him that ought to be their foe?
But for him rather? (Let me freely speake)
When Christian Princes 'gainst each other wreake
Their wrath at sucst a time; what side so ere
Be beat, the holy cause must suffer there;
And every death, when your fierce battels joyne,
A Champion takes from bleeding Palaestine.
God (sure) decree'd I should prevaile with you,
Because he lets me finde you armed now,
When I am come to speake. Your breasts are not
Becalm'd with peace; your active spirits are hot;
And what should hinder you from Salems warre,
Since you have met a juster cause by farre
Then that that mov'd this heat, that rays'd these armes
I doe not seeke to still these loud alarmes,
But to direct them to an object right,
Where godly zeale, not sinfull wrath shall fight;
That shall renowne you in all times to come,
And crowne your dying men with martyrdome.
[Page]Doe you for honour fight? (as who would make
A warre at all if not for honours sake?)
Behold where truest honour may be gain'd;
When by your armes his cause shall be maintain'd,
Who is the fountaine of it; he that gave
To you those royall glories that you have,
And claymes some quitall by your service shew'd.
What fame so great as that of gratitude?
Even Fame it selfe, which in some warres is made
The highest prize, for which great Kings invade
Each others lands, in this more glorious warre
Is a small part of the reward; for farre
More happy recompence ordained is
For this religious deed, eternall blisse.
Goe, vindicate that (once most happy) land
So grac'd by heaven, and with victorious hand
Redeeme those sacred monuments, that lye
Detain'd by Pagans in obscurity,
Which to the faithfull world would more be knowne;
And Christian Poets shall hereafter crowne
In deathlesse songs, together with the fames
Of that lov'd Countrey, your victorious names▪
If Homers Poëm could so farre renowne
That [...]oy, the long-besieged Phrygian Towne:
If he could give her very ruines fame,
And lend each field, each stone a pleasing name:
[Page]What in this sacred subject may be done?
A theame, disdaining all comparison?
In which for wit they shall not need to toyle,
The plentious matter will so [...] their stile.
Instead of Ida's hill, and famed grove,
Which their fictitious gods (they say) did love,
And oft descended downe from heaven to grace:
Their theame shall be each truly honour'd place,
Which glorious Angels oft have hallowed,
Where our blest Lord himselfe vouchsaf'd to tread.
Instead of [...]riam's Palace, or the Cave
Where Pa [...]is once his fatall judgement gave;
Instead of young Anchises b [...]idall wood,
Or that fam'd rocke, where faire Hesion stood:
Shall they discourse of David's Tower, the Cave
Which once unto that holy Baptist gave
Abode on earth; or where Elias stood
When lifted up; and make [...]aire Iordans flood,
And Kedrons torrent, in true fame surpasse
What Simois, or silver Xanthus was.
But whither has my zeale transported me?
Or what is this so like an extasie?
Let me returne againe. Great Kings I see
Your Noble thoughts already working be
In [...]his brave cause. I will presume to adde
No more [...]ut this; now let your goodnesse glad
[Page]All Christian hearts; in friendships bands combine;
And thinke you have no foe but Saladine.
With that he ceas'd; the Princes all are mov'd;
And in their lookes already had approv'd
The Bishop's speech; when Henry thus began
T' expresse his thoughts; Let it become the man
Of greatest age, to show he does forsake
The worlds vaine pompe and honour first, to take
This holy Crosse, and fight for Palaestine.
We thinke it no dishonour to beginne
To seeke a peace at Philip's hand; nor can
We feare, for such a cause, that any man
Will thinke distrust in these our warres at home,
And not the love we beare to Christendome,
Engages us; since we resolve to goe,
And by that souldiers pilgrimage to sh [...]w
No rest from armes is sought, when we so [...]arre
In person march, to meet a noble warre.
On that shall Henry's thoughts be wholly set.
And if King Philip's resolutions meet
With mine in this, and yours brave Earle, to stand
Another Champion for the holy Land;
Then, Princes, joyne your armed hands with mine,
And let our peace bring warre to Saladine.
They both agree to what old Henry spake;
With that they kindly all embrace, and take
[Page]The holy crosse before the Bishop there.
And that a [...]ifference plainly might appeare
Among their crossed souldiers; they agree
Those cr [...]sses shall in severall colours be
Worne by the Na [...]ions; th' English shall be seene
In white: in red the French: the Flemmi [...]gs greene.
And now at home to [...]ettle all affaires,
To their owne Realms from thence each Prince repaires,
To levy money, and prov [...]sions make
For that great voyage they entend to take.
For when they tooke the Crosse, it was ag [...]eed
Betwixt the Kings, and by the Pope d [...]creed
That all, as well the C [...]ergy a [...] the Lay,
Within each Land should be enforc'd to pay
Of their revenues the tenth part, unto
This warre, unlesse they would in person goe.
And for a summe in present to be made,
The tenth of all the moveables they had
Should levy'd be for preparation.
In every part of his dominion
B [...]yond the Seas, this order Henry gave.
And thence to England crost the Se [...], to have
Th [...] Edict put in execution there;
[...] his wealthiest subjects every where,
From who [...]e estates he mig [...]t large summes collect.
Two hundred [...] he did select
[Page]I [...] London; and in Yorke an hundred moe;
The like entending in all Townes to doe.
King Philip so; so th' Earle of Flanders did,
In their [...] treasure to provide.
But what malignant spirit then did reigne,
To make so pious an intention vaine?
How were their noble preparation crost?
And that revenge against the Panyms lost?
Al [...]s, what Starres malevolent aspect
Could take such sad and tragicall effect
Against King Henry, as to overthrow
That happinesse, that seem'd so neere him now?
How true a Fame might his last dayes [...]ave wonne!
With what content might those gray haires have gone
Downe to the grave, if in that holy w [...]rre
He happily haddy'd, though ne're so farre
From off his native land? H [...] had not then
With such unworthy cares distracted b [...]ene
As after must ensue▪ nor forc'd to see
Againe a sonn's ab [...]orr'd impiety.
But Fates to Henry's age had not ordain'd
So great a happinesse; sad woes remain'd
To vex his state, and breake his bleeding heart.
Doe thou, Calliope, declare in part
What obscure cause produc'd [...] so strange,
And wrought this sudden, and unlook'd for change.
Reim [...]nd Th [...]louses Earle had off [...]r'd wrong
(Alt [...]ough bu [...] slight) to some that d [...]d belong
To Richard o [...] [...], K [...]ng [...] sonne.
Thence grew so great an alteration.
For fierce young Richard, with his armed bands
(F [...]rst rais'd for better warre) invad [...]s the Lands
Of Reimond stra [...]ght, and wast [...] his Countrey neere
With fire and sword, [...]urprising Cast [...]s there.
At th' Earle's complaint Philip o [...] France was mov'd,
And to King Henry sent; whose a [...]swer prov'd
No satisfaction: [...] Philip then
Invaded Berry with his choysest m [...]n,
And tooke [...]en Townes and Castl [...]s [...]uddenly
[...]rom H [...]nry there; who straight to Normandy
From England with a m [...]ghty a [...]my goes:
Now on both sides the warres with fury rose.
The holy voyage is fo [...]got; in vaine
The ne [...]ghbour-Princes of this jarre complaine:
In vaine the Pope intreats or threatens now.
Th' incensed Kings goe farther on: although
Young Richard, Henry's sonne, from whom at first
[...] breach b [...]gan, is b [...] the L [...]gate curst.
N [...] enterviewes, no parleyes can doe good;
Tho [...]gh under [...] old famous Elme, that stood
[...] [...] and [...] the Kings twice me [...].
[...], when t [...]e wrongs were thought on both sides great,
[Page]Instead of peace, a jarrearose, that more
Deprest King Henry, then all warres before.
Philip, [...]or Richard of P [...]ictois, demands
Ad [...]la there againe from Henry's hands,
Offers the promis'd dower, requiring that
Th' old King, for certainty of Richard's state,
Would now assure him the inheritance
Of all his Lands in England, and in France.
And to that end that homage should be done
By all the Lords; that Iohn his yo [...]nger sonne,
To whom the father's favour did encline,
Should straight be sent to warre in Palaesti [...].
To these demands whilest Henry does refuse
To yeeld assent, a sadder woe ensues:
In indignation Richard straight forsakes
His aged Father; and him [...]elfe betakes
Whol [...]y to Philip King of France his side.
And firmest friendship 'twixt these two is ty'd.
With Richard many of the Barons goe:
[...] her selfe forsakes old Henry too.
When now proud Philip, in disdaine that from
This enterview no peac [...] at all d [...]d come,
Fels downe that aged Flme, whose spreading shade
So oft the place of parley had beene made
'Twixt France and Engla [...]d's mighty King [...], and swore
That place should never hold a parley more.
[Page]Sad did the ruines of so fam'd a tree
To all the pittying people seeme to be,
Whose honour'd shade had many ages beene
More then a royall Court; where oft was seene
Such state, as one Imp [...]riall house (although
Of gorgeous structure) could but seldome show;
Nor one whole kingdome at [...] time cont [...]ine;
Two rivall Kings together to remaine
Beneath the covert of a shady tree,
Where onely Nature made their Canopy.
Those old religious trees, that heretofore
Great Conquerours spoyles, and boasting trophees bore,
Sacred to Mars, or to [...] name,
Were not more hon [...]ur'd, or inde [...]t to Fame
Then was this stately Elme; not 'cause that there
The Druides, when Druid [...]s there were
Among the ancient Gaules, had pray'd, or done
Their barbarous rites and superstition;
Nor that the Fawnes and Dryades h [...]d made
Their nightly bowers, and ipor [...]ed in the shade:
But 'cause the people [...] pride had lov'd to shew
The place, where Kings did stand at enterview.
This El [...]e was fell'd by Philip in his r [...]ge,
Of Henry's following death a s [...]d presage.
Now too too weake is old King Henry's side
For those proud [...]oes,) that so unj [...]stly ty'd
[Page]In combination, threaten his estate;
By his owne sonne and souldiers left of late,
And by those weapons wounded, that should guard
His royall person. While the Fates so hard
Opprest his grieved soule, in discontent
To his beloved City Mauns he went,
Hi [...] place of birth, and high in his esteeme,
Bu [...] angry Fortune will not leave to him
That City now; Mauns must be tane away.
Thither, while he does with small forces stay;
(For but seven [...]undred souldiers guard their King)
Philip of France and furious Rich [...]rd bring
A potent army. For the townes defence
The King too weake, is forc'd to flye from thence,
And to abandon that beloved Towne.
He that had never fled before, nor knowne
What 'twas to feare pursuing enemies,
From his owne sonne, and young King Phili [...] flyes.
And, looking backe on that forsaken Towne,
Curses the impious prowesse of his sonne.
Philip and Richards unresisted powers
March further up, with ease surprising Tours.
Vpon which losse another da [...] is set
For [...]nterview, and both the Kings are met
Not farre from Turw [...]n. Where, although that cleare
The Sky at their first meeting did appeare,
[Page]Yet on th [...] sudden from a swelling cloud
The thunder issu'd with report so loud,
It st [...]ooke a terror into every heart
Ore all the fields; and twice (they say) did part
The Kings a sunder; once with such a force,
King Henry there had fall'n from off his horse,
Had not his servants held him up. How ere,
It was decreed that Henry's honour there
Should [...]all farre lower, and he suffer more
Then all his puissant reigne had felt before.
He that had given conditions still, that ne're
Had taken any, from what foe soe're,
Yeelds now to all conditions they demand;
Yeelds to deliver into Philip's hand
Adela now; and for those Provinces,
Which in that continent he did possesse,
To doe him homage; lets his Barons sweare
Allegiance to his sonne Prince [...] there;
An [...] yeelds to pay for [...]harges of the warre
Two thousand marks to Philip, a [...]d so farre
His N [...]ble heart, not us'd to bow, was broke,
That his griev'd spirit within three dayes forsooke
The earthly mansion. For a Feaver joyn'd
Wi [...]h the afflicting anguish of his minde.
Whose forces soone dis [...]olv'd that house of clay.
A [...] Ch [...]non then this dying Monarch lay.
[Page]When to encrease the anguish of his thought,
And more disturbe his peace, a scrowle was brought,
And (by ill fate) presented to him there,
Containing all their names, that did adhaere
In this conspiracy to Philip's side.
Where first of all his haplesse eye espy'd
The name of Iohn his sonne (whither that he
Were truly one of that conspiracy,
Or some of Richard's followers, to remove
Before King Henry dy'd, that wondrous love,
Which towards Iohn he seem'd of late to beare
Above the other, falsely wrote him there.)
From thence extremity of passions
Surpris'd his soule. He curst his impious sonnes,
Curst his owne birth; and had despairing dy'd,
Had not Diviner counsell come to guide
His griefes aright, and by Religions lawes
Direct his wounded conscience to the cause
Of those his suffrings, making the disease
The cure, and troubled thoughts the way to peace.
Wailing his sinnes, into the Temple there
He bids th [...]m his yet-living body beare,
Where he before the holy altar plac'd
In humble [...] breaths out his l [...]st;
And of so great a Monarch now remaines
No more on ear [...]h, then what a tombe containes,
[Page]Who lately ore so many Lands did reigne,
From Scotlands bounds, to farthest Aquitaine.
A Prince in peace of highest Majesty;
In warre too great to finde an enemy:
In power above his neighbour Princes farre;
Who, though his sword were often [...]rawne to warre,
His owne conditions without battels wrought,
Liv'd still victorious, though he seldome fought,
And might have seem'd above the reach of Fate,
But that himselfe his greatest foes begate;
Wrong'd by that power which he had made, and crost
By those of whom he had deserved most;
Blest o [...]t miraculously; o [...]t againe
Beyond beleefe deprest; his various reigne
Temper'd with all extremities of Fate;
And though triumphant, yet unfortunate▪
FINIS.

THE DESCRIPTION OF KING HENRY THE SECOND, WITH A SHORT SURVEY of the changes in his REIGNE.

IT has beene a cu­stome of old Hi­storians, when they record the a­ctions of great Princes, to deliver also some Characters of their per­sons [Page] and peculiar dispositions; that the curiositie of succeeding times, who pry deepely into those men, whose lives were of so great mo­ment in the world, might beeful­ly satisfied and delighted. It will not therefore bee amisse to deliver a Character of King Henry the Se­cond; a Monarch greater in Fame and Territories than any Christian King, that then lived▪ Hee was a man (as we finde recorded) of a just stature, a strong and healthfull constitution; but somewhat grosse, more by the inclination of Nature, then by any fault either of intem­perance or sloth. For besides the sparenesse and sobrietie of his dyet, he vexed his bodie with continuall labour, and to ouercome his natu­rall [Page] fat [...]esse, was almost immode­rate in all his exercises. Hee was of a ruddy complexion, his head was large, his eyes gray, whose aspect was terrible in his anger; his voyce was hoarse and hollow. Hee was a Prince of great affabilitie, faceti­ous in discourse; and when he was free from anger, or important busi­nesse, [...]ee was [...]ost pleasant and Courtly in his whole conversation. Eloquent he was by nature, and (which was rare then) very learned. The best histories, which in those dark times could be gotten in Chri­stendome, he had perused with di­ligence, and by the benefit of an extraordinary memorie did retaine them perfectly. He was very har­dy in enduring either labo [...]r, or ex­tremities [Page] of the seasons; couragi­ous in warre: but not rash, and willing to try all wayes before the chance of a battell; yet when there was occasion, very resolute, and so much feared by those Princes that had to doe with him, that hee was never put to any great field. Hee was more kinde in honouring the memories of his souldiers that were slaine, then hee was in rewarding those that were alive; and never see­med truly to value his best Captains, till after they were dead. Exceeding frugall and parsimonious hee was, (almost below the dignity of a King) but it proved happy to his affaires. Though in private hee were very sparing, [...]et abroad hee appeared often in great magnifi­cence; [Page] his bountie to some poore Princes, and those large summes, which hee disbursed to the holy warre, might teach the worl [...] that hee was not covetous, but wisely provident▪ The greatest taxe that was laid upon him by those that li­ved in the same age, was his too too often breaking of his promises; a fault that many Princes, great in other vertues, have beene guilty of. Hee was exceeding fond of all his children, especially in their childish age, before their carriage had deser­ved either way; which shewed that Nature onely wrought that strong affection in him. Yet there, where he most loved; and by those of whom hee had most deserved, it pleased God, hee tasted the grea­test [Page] crosses; his Sonnes were his scourges, and the onely instruments that did, or (in l [...]kelihood) could shake the felicitie of so puissant a Monarc [...]. So great a contrarietie there seemed to be betweene his af­fection to them, and the returne of theirs to him. Hee appeared in no­thing almost of a tender nature, but in loving them; and might have beene thought fomewhat severe in disposition, if hee had not beene a father, to shew the contrary: they were in generall of a Noble de­portment, taxed in their times al­most of no unjust or bad act [...]ons, but their ingratitude and disobedi­ence to him: and had carried a re­pute of the Noblest Princes, if they had not at all beene Sonnes. But [Page] perchance it pleased God by the fruit of his loynes to punish those sinnes of the flesh to which the King was so much addicted. Hee was noted, more then any Prince of his time, to be given to the love of women; but especially after the displeasure conceived against his wife Queene Elianor (as a stirrer up of his Sonnes against him) when hee altogether forbore her bed, hee was growne carelesse of the voyce of Fame, and strove not at all to hide his wanton affections. All his vertues (which indeed were many) had occasion often to be knowne by the varieties of his reigne, in which felicitie and crosses did so often [...]ceed each o­ther, they were not onely tried, but declared to the world. For very re­markeable [Page] were the alterations of Fortune (if we consider all things) which happened in the reigne of this great Prince. Of which if you will take a briefe survey, consider it divided as it were into five Acts; for as one sayes, Tanquam fabula est vita hominis.

Let the first eight yeares of his reigne (or thereabouts) be counted for the first Act. Where the bravery and wisedome of his youth (for but 24. years of age was he) enough appeared in setling the kingdome, and vindicating the rights of his royall Crowne, after so long a con­fusion, and so many calamities of civill warre. He [...] expelled the stran­gers out of the Realme, which in St [...]phans time had bin the diseases of [Page] it. He providently setled not onely the revenues but the authority of his Crown (as before appeareth) and fitly disposed of all the Castles and strong holds; which he either kept in his owne power, or quite demoli­shed. Hee maintained the ancient bounds & honor of the Realme not onely in the North, but against the Welsh. Beyond the Seas he suf [...]ered no damage, but gained upon all oc­casions. K. Lewis & he were some­times likely to have come to battel; b [...]t peace was made, and King Lewis content rather to sit downe with some little losse, then contend with so puissant a foe. Chaumont he tooke from him, & seized (against his wil) upō Nants in Britain: this was indeed the time of K H [...]nry's greatest felicity [Page] in which hee enjoyed his dignitie without any vexations, and the people, that had long beene affli­cted with miserable times, did tru­ly rejoyce in their new King. And during these yeares, as a farther bles­sing to him, and securitie to the kingdome, the Queene was fruit­full, and bare him three Sons.

For the second Act, wee may consider his next eleven or twelve yeares; in which time, though hee suffered nothing by the hand of warre, as not molested by rebels at home, nor threatned at all by for­raigne enemies: yet by the oppo­sition of one Church-man he found a long and wearisome vexation. For almost all this time did that famous jarre of Archbishop Becket, [Page] and at the last his lamentable mur­ther a [...]flict King Henry, and excee­dingly disturbe the quiet of his minde. The particulars at large have appeared in the foregoing sto­rie, and shall not here trouble the Reader. Yet in this incumbred time, his State and Dignitie had great additions; of which the hap­piest was that easie accession of the Realme of Ireland unto his Scepter. And another (considering the pre­sent occasions of state) of as much importance to him, the gaining of the Dutchy of Britaine to his third Sonne Geoffrey. Which hee with great wisedome and industrie ob­tayned in the nonage of that yong Ladie Constantia, the daughter an [...] heire of Coran Duke of Brittaine, [Page] then deceased. Hitherto his hap­pinesse was not at all impaired, nor hee afflicted with any thing but the dissention of Archbishop Becket. His times of danger, and great sufferings now ensue.

Let therefore the three following yeares of his reigne be taken for the third Act; in which the Scene is altogether changed, and instead of a glorious and happy reigne, no­thing but afflictions, and the extre­mest dangers that cou [...]d be feared, threaten not onely his Crowne, but life also. This is the time of that great revolt of his three Sons from him; besides so mighty a confede­racy ioyned with them, as Lewis King of France, William King of Scotland, David his brother, Philip [Page] Earle of Flanders, Matthew Earle of Boloigne, Theobald Earle of Bloys, besides so many of the greatest and strongest English Peeres, as the Earls of Leister, Chester, and Norfolke, with the Lord Mowbray, and divers others. No part of al his large domi­nions was free from warre; Nor­mandy invaded by Lewis of France, and young King Henry, Aquitaine by his Sonne Richard possessed a­gainst him, as the Dutchy of Brit­taine was by Geoffrey. The Nor­thern parts of England were all wa­sted by the great strength of William K. of Scotland, & the Easterne parts much afflicted by those mercenary troops of Flemmings, which the Earle of Leister brought over, be­sides the forces of the Earl o [...] Nor [...]olk. [Page] This great Monarch, whose felicitie was so lately the envie of his neigh­bour-Princes, is now become the pittie of them all; and the injuries done to his estate and person, are much lamented by some Princes too farre off to lend him succour. But be hold the turning of Fortune againe; it pleased God againe to lift him from this depth of calami­tie, to the height of honour▪ Hee now found the benefit of his fru­gality; and that large treasure, which hee before had gathered, was his great assistance in procuring merce­narie souldiers to his side; besides some faithfull Lords there were, (whom we have named in the sto­rie) that were deeply moved at their masters injuries; and so Nobly ser­ved [Page] him, that within three yeares after the beginning of these com­bustions, King Henry, according to his owne wishes, beheld a hap­py and victorious end of them, as is before expressed.

Let the fourth Act continue a­bout seven yeares that next ensued, a time of honour, and highest hap­pinesse to this great King; after his troubles were allended according to his wish, the King of France daunted, the martiall King of Scot­land his prisoner, all rebels under his feet; his Sonnes brought to ac­knowledge their duty, and all his large dominions in great securitie. While the mightiest Monarchs of the Christian world admired his wisedome and great successe, asto­nished [Page] almost at so wonderfull a change as they now beheld. His sumptuous Court was filled with congratulating Ambassadours; of whom at one time there were moe seene, then ever had beene to­gether in the Court of England; as namely from the two Christian Emperours, Manuel of Constantin­ople, and Frederike of the Romans, from the Kings of Navarre, and A­ragon, [...]om the Archbishop of Triers, and the Earle of Flanders. During the time of this happinesse, hee marryed his two youngest daughters (for the eldest was marri­ed before to the Duke of Saxony) to the Kings of Sicily and Arragon. Hee called Parliaments, in which according to his minde, hee was [Page] furnished with treasure, he wisely setled the estates of Church and Common-wealth, and besides ma­ny other wholsome & happy con­stitutions, he first appointed Iudges Itinerant for the six circuits of the Realme of England.

The last and tragicall Act may be considered in the five following yeares, untill the end of his reigne and lif [...]. The date of his felicitie was now expired; and nothing fol­lowed but trouble and calamitie. The beginning of which was a se­cond revolt of his two Sonnes, Henry and Geoffrey, which was soone taken off by the untimely death of both the Princes (as is before decla­red in the Poëm;) besides the ill suc­cesse in the affaires of Ireland under [Page] the government of Iohn his youn­gest sonne. Those troubles that a­rose from Philip King of France, and prevailed against Henry in his old age, more then any enemy had beene able to doe before: which had not fallen so heavily upon him, if Richard (then his eldest sonne) had not unnaturally forsaken his father, and joyned in confederacy with King Philip. That miserable dissen­tion broke the heart of old King Henry, and was the end both of his reigne and life.

FINIS.

THE SINGLE, AND COMPARATIVE CHARACTERS OF HENRY the Sonne, and RICHARD.

LEt it not seeme imperti­nent (if the Reader ther­by may be informed or delighted) to deliver the Characters of these two Princes the eldest Sonnes of King Henry the Second, who bore so great and stir­ring [Page] parts in the history of their fathers reigne. They were Princes of greatest eminence in those times, and upon whom the eyes of Chri­stendome were most set; a large Stage they had to act upon; and early occasions to discover their worth. They were both tall of sta­ture beyond the ordinary height of men; of comely visage, and maje­sticall presence; for courage and magnanimity they were thought equall; and both admired for roy­all vertue, though of a nature diffe­rent. Henry was beloved for his sweetnesse: Richard honour'd for his gravi [...]. Henry was affable and wondrous liberall: Richard severe and full of constancy. Henry was addicte [...] to martiall sports and pa­stimes: [Page] Richard more inclined [...]o warre it selfe: One was Courtly: the other serious. One beloved for mercy: the other feared for Iustice. The one a refuge: the other a terror to all offenders. Two Princes bro­thers of so great worth; and yet so diverse, have seldome beene obser­ved. Yet well might they spring from one root; their father Henry in the mixture of his nature was knowne to containe both their dif­ferent Characters; and iudged to have a minde (as one [...]peakes of Augustus Caesar) full of varietie.

How much the sweetnesse and lovely carriage of young King Hen­ry had wonne upon the world, let one observation (which some of his owne time thought like a mi­racle) [Page] teach us to judge. How strange was it, that a young Prince rising in armes against his father, possessed neither of lands nor trea­sure, much lesse of a good or just cause, was followed almost by all the neighbouring world against a King of so large a territory, and so full of treasure▪ that in this great de­fection from him, hee was able, al­most with mercenary souldier [...] to vindicate his right against all those potent enemies▪ This young P [...]ince had gained to his side not onely his brothers Richard and Geoffrey, and most of the great Nobility of Eng­land, but the Kings of France and Scotland, the Earle of Flanders, and many other great forraigne Princes. So many rich gifts of minde and [Page] body were heaped on this young Henry (saith a Writer of his time) that Nature, as it were envying what she had bestowed, soyled it againe with one staine, the vice of ingra­titude, and disobedieuce to so good a father. Which sinne of his was thought the cause that plucked downe Divine vengeance, and un­timely cut off that flourishing youth which was judged worthy (if God had prolonged it) to have ruled a greater Empire.

The severity and industrious cou­rage of Richard the second Sonne let this declare; the Earledome of Poi­ctou, and the Dutchy of Aquitaine, which were the inheritance of his mother Eleanor, were committed to his government whilest he was [Page] very young. Yet in that tender age (so manly were his vertues, so awe­full was the hand which he carried over the rebellious and stubborne subjects of those Countryes, that he soone reduced them to a more quiet state, and setled obedience, then any of their former Princes had ever done. As he was stout in the action of warre; so was hee constant and unwearied in pursuing his fortune, and making the full use of any suc­cesse, according to that marke that Lucan gives of Iulius Caelar:

Nil credens actum cum quid superesset a­gendum. Hee was so severe in puni­shing their offences, that hee began (so great a resemblance sometimes has vice with vertue) to be taxed of cruelty, till the wiser sort had fully [Page] considered the quality of his acti­ons, and the necessity of such pro­ceedings. How prevalent he was in the managing of warres (to omit those great & high exploits, which he afterwards atchieved when hee was King of England) by this one sad observation we may somewhat i [...]dge; after the untimely deaths of his two brothers, Henry and Geoffrey, when hee onely of the Sonnes was left at mans estate; and unnaturally warred against his father; assisted onely by Philip King of France, hee more prevailed then his brother Henry with a farre greater confede­racy had beene able to doe in the foregoing warres▪ Henry the Sonne had many and great Princes (as [...]e­fore wee shewed) that sided with [Page] him. And yet so victorious an end did old King Henry make of that bu­sinesse, that hee saw his greatest and most glorious times after the con­clusion of that warre; but when Ric [...]ard revolted from him, assisted onely by Philip of France, the father was inforced to suffer more, and stoope lower than any imagined that a Prince of so great a spirit and power could ever have bin brought unto. By which finally his heart was broken, and a period set to all his worldly glory. Richard in that was more unhappy than his brother Henry, that his unna [...]urall wars we [...]e able to give so deepe and uncurable a wound to his fathers heart, and lent him no time at all to obtaine his pardon, as Henry had done, nor [Page] could the father liue to bee a wit­nesse of Richards forrow and true re­pentance, as hee had beene of the others. Which notwithstanding was many wayes, after the death of old King Henry, testified by Richard; and last of all, when himselfe was dying, he commanded his servants to bury him at Fonteverard; and lay him acrosse at his fathers feet, to whom his disloyalty and unnatu­rall revolt (as hee with griefe ac­knowledged) had beene so great a crosse.

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.