The life and death of Thomas Wolsey Cardinall Diuided into three parts: his aspiring, triumph, and death. By Thomas Storer student of Christ-church in Oxford.

The life and death of Thomas Wolsey Cardinall Diuided into three parts: his aspiring, triumph, and death. By Thomas Storer student of Christ-church in Oxford.

Table of contents

Title page

To the Worshipfull M. Iohn Howson, Chaplaine to her Maiestie.

Ad Thomam Storerrum de suo Tho: Wolsaeo Hendecasyllabi.

Prosopopoeia Wolseij.

De Wolseide, & Momo.

Thomae Wolsaei & Reginaldi Poli Cardinal. Angl. comparatio.

§

Aliud.

§

¶ To the Author, of the life and death of T. W. Cardinall.

§

Wolseius aspirans.

Wolseius triumphans.

Wolseius moriens.

§

§

§

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THE LIFE and DEATH of Thomas Wolsey Cardinall.

Diuided into three parts:

His Aspiring,

His Triumph, and

His Death.

By Thomas Storer Student of Christ-church in Oxford.

At London Printed by Thomas Dawson. 1599

To the Worshipfull M. Iohn Howson, Chaplaine to her Maiestie.

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BAse Vulcans crowne with Laurell to adorne,

That still stands plodding by his Anuills side,

Would make the seely smith be laught to scorn,

And wiser heads the foolish gift deride.

Euen so some Thrasoes fancy to haue fed,

With Muses flowres that know not what they be,

Had bin to bring Silenus Asse a bed,

That vnderstands a rime as well as he.

Which made me consecrate this verse of mine

To him, that can with iudgement reade the same,

Yet stand not too praecize on euery line.

But rather such a web as I could frame

In slender lines, yet slender as they be,

My Muse Arachne-like presents to thee.

Ad Thomam Storerrum de suo Tho: Wolsaeo Hendecasyllabi.

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DUm tu trina tui Storerre fata

Wolsaei triplici canis libello,

Ortus quis celebrem tulit Iuuentam,

Incrementa viristetêre quanta,

Occasus Sene qualis est potitus:

Quaeres cun (que) bonum queant in vsum

De quôis hominum statunotari,

Pertrectare tuum satis videtur

Diuerso vnum elegans stylo Poêma.

Quid dicam? magis es Storerre vates,

Tutam magnifico pius parenti?

An Wolsaee tuus cinis beatus,

Quem tot post hyemes recens tepentem

Hic nostro genitus poeta in aeuo,

Grata mente, sacrâ reponit vrnâ,

Argento meliore, item lapillis,

Et gemmis pretiosiore, ferro,

Nec non aere perenniore cuncta

Mausolaea supra; Poesis vrna est

Non de fossa ferens humo recondi,

Nec per secla situ premi futuros

Informi metuens apud nepotes.

Haec est, ingenij memor character,

Aeterna haec notaposteris dicata

Quâ serinimium licet priorem [...]

Wolsaeum recolent tamen recenti,

Famâ, par meritis quod est duorum:

Et Thomae scio Maximi Patroni,

Et Thomae reor optimi Poetae,

Plusquam corpore, sic valentis arte.

VT NOS VNDA.

Prosopopoeia Wolseij.

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FOrtunae auspicibus nostrae non immemor ipse

Templa Deo, Musis maenia constitui.

Iusta nec abrupti surgunt in culmina muri,

Contigerat summum vita nec ipsa gradum.

Par eadem (que) mei est aeui (que) operis (que) ruina;

Par iterum (que) mihi vita operi (que) datur.

Musa quidem haec nostras imitata est penè ruin [...],

Et iacuit longo semisepulta situ.

Nunc tamen eripuit foedis me, se (que) tenêbris.

Haec (que) Amphionio maenia forte modo

Restituat, Citharam si intenderet altiùs; at quae

Speret ab ingratis proemia temporibus?

Ruderibus sed viue tuis domus inclita viue

Vate tuo, & truncum tolle sub astra caput.

Nulla tuam valeat premere inde ruina ruinam,

Nulla meam. Cineristant bene facta suo.

Eduardus Michelborne.

De Wolseide, & Momo.

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LEgerat Aoniam nuper Wolseida Momu▪;

Cum (que) nihil toto viderat esse libro,

In quo liuenti genuinum frangeret ore,

Talibus ora ferox soluit hiulca modis;

Hà malè! Quem versu morientem inducit, eundem

Aeternùm versu vtuere Musafacit.

Thomae Wolsaei & Reginaldi Poli Cardinal. Angl. comparatio.

LIs erat an maior Polus, an Wolsaeus vter (que),

Magnus, Cardinei splendor vter (que) chori:

Tempora purpureo redimitus vter (que) Galero,

Infula cum lauru cinxit vtri (que) comam:

Ausoniâ triplici cingendus vter (que) Tiarâ,

Si suus ex merito quemque maneret honos:

Hinc cumulos Wolsaeus opum; Polus inde parentes,

Hic Proauûm laudes iactat, & ille suas:

Alter Romanos, patrios habet alter honores,

Ingenio Vlsaeus maior, at arte Polus.

Tu litem, Storere, secas, super alta ferendo

Sydera Wolsaeum laude, super (que) Polum.

Carolus Fitzgeofridus Latiforensis.

§

§

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COnceits true Storer, when I view'd of late,

Thy new-borne Wolsey, while he did remaine

As in the matrice, yet inanimate,

An imperfected embrion of thy braine.

O how my feareful thoughts misaugured,

Least Wolsey like the worke himselfe did frame,

Should euer thus stand inaccomplished,

Which none dare end, saue who began the same!

But now, although thy worke be so perfected,

As that no prowder vaunting Muse can mend it,

And though the stately frame by him erected,

Lies still imperfect, while no hand dares end it.

Yet thine thus ended doth with his agree,

That thine, like his, shall neuer ended be.

Aliud.

WHile Fortune yet did Wolseys state vphold,

Liuing he fram'de himselfe a costly toombe:

To girt with marble crowne, the longing mould

Prowde of the treasure that it should enwombe.

Yet neuer did that monument inuest

The naked temples of his bare-head graue:

And death which him of life first dispossest,

Was dispossest of what it selfe should haue.

But wherefore did the heau'ns his ghost this wrong,

Thus of his duest honour to depriue him?

They knew his graue should not obscure him long,

There should a Muse, they had in Store reuiue him.

Toombes are for dead men; not for Wolsey then,

Whom thou hast made immortall with thy pen.

Charles Fitz-Geffrey.

§

§

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WHen Wolsey died me seemes the sunne did set,

And that his glory with himselfe did waine;

But since his death another did beget,

Which lendes him helpe, his life to reobtaine,

One sunne did set, but two do rise againe:

Cease you that wont admire the starres alone,

Your eies haue now enough to gaze vpon.

Shine Wolsey; cause the world to wonder stil,

And thou true sunne of great Apollo shine,

The world with thy conceited volumes fill,

Smoothe Tasso, and the famous

Petrarcke

Florentine,

Their garlands now to thee do both resigne,

Laura that greene hath slourish'd all this while,

Lies blasted now at the thunder of thy stile.

Thomas Michelborne.

¶ To the Author, of the life and death of T. W. Cardinall.

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THus long a slaue to Silence hast thou seru'de,

Breake out (O Muse) into thy first assayes.

Was therefore this mine infant verse reseru'de,

In fatall darknesse to record thy prayse,

O Witte diuine, that hast so well deseru'de

The fruitfull garland of eternal Bayes?

Then let thy Fame erect my drooping eies,

And by thy praise begin my selfe to rise.

Let me while Eagle-wise thou mountes on height,

Be as thy shade with lowly cariage,

And whiles aboue thou spread'st with piercing flight

Prowde Wolseys life; let me in humble rage

Condemne the world below, that wanting light,

See'th brightsome candles burne vpon her stage,

Till vitall humor faileth to sustaine them,

Yet (Niggard!) giues no matter to maintaine them.

There was a time, when Laureats in their cell,

Diuinely rauisht, wrate those tragicke playes,

That after should in loftie Buskin swell;

Whiles they with huge applause, and frolike bayes,

(Their learn'de ambitious browes beseeming well)

Sate prowdly tickled with the peoples prayse:

And from th'indulgent Consuls wondring hand,

Extort a rich reward, and Laurell band.

It was the worldes first youth that ware the Socke,

And wanton Myrtill ensigne of her sport,

That had the force to moue a sencelesse blocke

To gentle laughter, and by force extort

Sweete teares of myrth, euen from the stubborne looke,

Of men obdurate and vnfeeling sort:

So sharpe and piercing were those wittes of olde:

"No whetstone giue's a better edge than Golde.

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Uirgil that with his two-fold oaten reede,

Then with his thrise-admired Cornet sings,

Had great Augustus patron of his deede,

And sweete Mecoenas sprung from grandsire Kings,

Whiles he their names from death, they him from neede,

With mutuall freedome one another brings:

"Where Vertue doth for Learning honor frame,

"There thankful Learning addes to Vertue fame.

Our age, an aged world, euen doating olde,

That like a miser with a curelesse gowte,

Hugges on those heapes that neuer may be tolde:

So mong that greedie and promiscuous rowte,

Ere one Mecoenas spread the salue of golde,

Our bleare-eyde Horace's may looke them out:

A speech long saide, but not perform'd before,

That Homer and the Muses stand at doore.

Great patrons giue vs leaue their brasse to guilde,

And from deserued graue dead names to rayse,

Crowning Minerua for her speare and shielde

With golden wreathe, her booke with only bayes,

Because they thinke that fitter for the fielde,

And men of learning well repaide with praise:

They giue the spurre of praise, but adde the raine

And curbe of want, to checke them backe againe.

And so with spurre of praise are Poets paide,

Their muse, their labour and industrious art,

That rightly spur-galled they may be sayde.

But if in equall ballance of desart,

Gentle vngentle, men with men were wayde,

Not poizing men by birth, but by their partes:

Their vertues of their minde, their witte and wordes,

Kings were but Poets, Poets more then Lordes.

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And thou sweete Storer that in golden twine,

Hast liuely portraide out our Cardinal,

Shewing the course of prouidence diuine,

That lets high mounters catch the greater fall;

Worthie was he to change for that of thine,

And thou for thy desert his priestly pal:

Thou his, for well employing of thy Muse,

He thine, for his great fortunes great abuse.

As if a second Nemroth came to reare

Prowde Babel towers, that in their ruines lie,

His buildings taught (as his ambition) were,

To haue none end nor measure till the skie:

Had Wolsey layde his first foundation there,

And made his turrets spire to God on high,

His name, himselfe, his vertuous deedes and all,

Had not beene subiect to their hideous fall.

O see how widdow-like (poore soule!) she standes,

That college he began with curious frame,

So left, (though not without demaine and landes)

As bush or ensigne of her builders shame;

Which though he rearde, with his ambitious handes,

I dare not call him Founder of the same:

How can he be of Christchurch Founder deemde,

That of Christs church no member is esteemde?

And yet as though to recompence the fall

And want of walles, that neuer were erect,

See how the greatest Architect of al

Rebuildes the same, and in a deare respect,

Hath plac't a reuerend steward, that doth call,

The painfull builders, and their worke direct:

By whom true labors haue their due regard,

And well-deseruing letters findes reward.

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And so the ruines that our house before,

So deeply blemisht with defect of stones,

Now farre more glorious, farre triumphant more,

Is made by sweete supply of learned ones,

That daily takes increase by daily store

And carefull noursing of her toward sonnes,

So flourish still, and still encrease thy fame,

And make thy selfe by deede, thy selfe by name.

Among the Series of this learned traine,

O Storer liue, and grace them with thy witte:

Redeeme thy name, nor enuiously containe

Thy thoughts, that with applause thou maist committe

Vnto the presse; so thine admired vaine,

Shall keepe thee from thy graue and darksome pitte:

When (as thy Wolsey) volumes thou shalt frame,

That shall (thou dead) immortalize thy name.

May therefore this be propagated well,

Then blesse posterity, and sow the seede,

And vse thy sweeter Muse, that then shall smel

Ful like a Rose, in midst of many a weede,

And sound abroad thy praises as a bell,

Vnto those posterne ages, that shall neede

Another Storer, in their wanting times,

To tell the worth of these thy piercing rimes.

Iohannes Sprint aedis Christi.

§

§

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Wolseius aspirans.

BEtweene two Muses in the deepe of night,

There sate a reuerend Father full of woe,

They gaz'd on him, and from that dismall sight,

A kind remorse was willing them to go,

But cruell Fortune would not haue it so:

Fortune that erst his pride had ouerthrowne,

Would haue her power by his misfortune knowne.

Where fruitfull Thames salutes the learned shoare,

Was this graue Prelate and the Muses placed;

And by those waues he builded had before,

A royall house with learned Muses graced,

But by his death vnperfect and defaced,

O blessed walls, and broken towers (quoth he)

That neuer rose to fall againe with me.

To thee first sister of the learned nine,

Historians goddesse, Patronesse of Fame,

Entombing worthies in a huing shrine,

Celestiall Clio, Clio peerelesse dame,

My stories, truth, and triumph I will frame:

My stories simple truth, if ought remaine,

Enrich my legend with thy sacred vaine.

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The sad discourse of my vntimely fall

(O tragique Muse) shall pierce thy sullen eares

Melpomene, though nothing can apall

Thy heart obdurate in contempt of feares,

My my laments shall make thee write in teares,

If mong thy scrolles of antique maiestie,

Thou deigne to place a Prelates tragedie.

Perchance the tenor of thy mourning verse

May leade some pilgrim to my toomblesse graue,

Where neither marble monument nor hearse

The passengers attentiue view may craue,

Which honors now the meanest persons haue:

But well is me where e're my ashes lie,

If one teare drop from some religious eie.

Yet when by meanes of Princes gracious doome

I rulde the Church, where aged Wainflet lay,

Zealous I was vnto my Founders toombe;

My thankfull loue did faithfull tribute pay

To him now dead, whose liuing was my stay:

His ancient reliques were as deere to me,

As Princes lookes, or parents loue might be.

Thrice sweete remembrance of that holy man,

Reuerend erector of those stately tow'res,

That worthy College where my youth beganne,

In humane Artes to spend the watchfull houres;

That fruitful noursery, where heau'nly show'res

To me poore country-plant such grace did yeelde,

As soone I prooued the fairest of the field.

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As rightly cal'd, as royally compriz'd,

For that repentant womans name it beares,

Who meekely for our Sauiours feete deuis'de

A double bath of ointment and of teares

Wherewith she washt, then wip't them with her hayres:

With precious sauour heere for aye endures

And tempred spirits with holy breath repures.

Still flourish O our Athens second praise,

Full of religion, and of pregnant wits,

That to high place of dignity dost raise,

So many a sweete diuine that mitred sits,

In sacred see as men of God befits:

"For Arts best nurse is Honors chaste desire,

"And Glory sets all studious hearts on fire.

This greedy flame together with my youth,

(Two neuer fit companions for aduice,)

No'r teaching right from wrong, deceit from truth,

Nor shewes from substance, toyes from things of price,

Layd downe my heart a liuing sacrifice

On Honors altar where it burned bright,

Like Uestaes fire with an eternall light.

This siluer tongue (me thought) was neuer made,

With rhetoricke skill to teach each common swaine,

These deepe conceits were neuer taught to wade,

In shallow brookes, no'r this aspiring vaine,

Fitto conuerse among the shepheards traine:

I could not girt me like a worthlesse groome,

In courser garment wouen of country loome.

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Iust cause I saw my titles to aduance,

Vertue my gentry, Priesthood my discent,

Saints my allies the Crosse my cognisance,

Angells my guard, that watcht about my tent,

Wisedome that vsher'd me where ere I went:

These are our honors, though the world withstand,

Our lands and wealth are in another land.

Yet as through Tagus faire transparent streames,

The wandring Marchant sees the sandy gold,

Or like as Cynthia'es halfe obscured beames,

In silent night the Pilot doth behold

Through misty clowdes and vapors manifold:

So through a mirror of my hop'te for gaine,

I saw the treasure which I should obtaine.

Then did I my poore country charge resigne,

Where I had liu'd disgrac'd and discontent,

Wrong'd by a Knight, for no desert of mine,

But when he deem'd my torch of malice spent,

I made my cleargy-scorning Knight repent:

For Nature fram'd my memory quicke and strong,

But most intentiue to reuenge a wrong.

Forth as I went, when my desires were ti'de,

I was perplext with thousand sundry minds,

The swelling Ocean in a stormy tide,

Was ne're so tosst with selfe resisting winds,

As now my heart it selfe tormented finds:

Nought left but Hope, to ease my troubled soule,

And euen that Hope Despaire did thus controule.

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Wolsey, are these the hopes of thy desarts?

Are these the fruites of wit? is this to know?

O vaine Philosophie, and bootlesse artes,

Such seedes of learned ignorance to sow,

Where Skilles disgrace, and Wisedomes folly grow!

Grow where you list, in me your rootes vnknit,

A setled braine is worth a world of wit.

In Court who euer heard my name before?

Or hearing it, none knowes it I am sure:

Suppose they do; who cares for me the more?

Or graunt they did; how long will that indure?

Admit it should; what good may care procure?

O rather on that homely seate rely,

Where knowne and car'de for, thou maist liue and die.

Seek'st thou for fame? hee's best that least is knowne,

Or Princes fauours? that's no common grant:

Seru'st thou for wealth? a Courtier knowes his owne:

Or for degree? preferment waxeth scant:

Wantst thou to liue? no hell to Courtiers want:

O rather yet embrace thy priuate lot

With honest fame and riches purely got.

Each perfect sense must things repugnant do,

Thy eyes must watch, but neuer seeme to see;

Thy tongue must braue, but learne to flatter too;

Thy eares must heare, yet deafe and carelesse be;

Affection fast and loose, thoughts bond and free:

Vaine, yet precise; chaste, but to maidens kinde;

A Saint in sight, a Machiuel in minde.

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Thy present calmes these stormy waues surpasse,

As pearles indeede the things which precious seeme,

Thy glebe brings corne, thy pasture plenteous grasse,

For thee thy toiling oxen ioyne in teeme,

And after with their death thy life redeeme.

Thy sheepe (a pleasant flocke) their fleeces vaile,

And from their dugges yeeld nectar to thy paile.

At home what duty neighbors yeeld to thee,

Creeping to others now thou must resigne,

Attend their diet, euer waiting be,

When with lesse plentie in a shadie vine,

But greater pleasure thou wer't wont to dine:

Nature hath powr'd enough in each mans lappe,

Could each man learne to vse his priuate happe.

But say all wealth and honor me betide,

And I were borne the onely man to rise,

My Kings deare fauorite, and countries guide,

Th'autentique obiect of all wondring eies,

Experience holdes the Tragique Poet wise:

That rather chose mong Corsicke rockes to dwell,

Then in the pompe of Casars court excell.

Thus reason sought to stale ambitions hould,

Wise Empyricke with twentie truths attended,

But his enchaunted force, all force controulde,

With priuiledge and charter long defended,

Gainst all inuasions till that world were ended:

Whereon presuming he did thus reprooue

All doubts, and from his seate all feares remooue.

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Vnthankfull man to heau'n and heau'ns creatour,

To men and Angells enuious and vnkinde,

Burying Gods Image, quintessence of Nature,

Vertues perfection, excellence of minde,

In barbarous woodes, and desart fields inshrinde:

When men like trees to sweetest voice ne're hearke,

Where words of life can pierce their sauage barke.

Long time the princely shepheard did remaine,

Striking his harpe in fruitfull Palestine,

But as the sheepe, so euery shepheard swaine,

Knew not the vertue of his touch diuine,

Till once the Prince his fancie did incline

To heare him play; then home this child they bring,

With charming notes to ease the troubled King.

The Princes court is mansion of the wise,

Figure of heau'n, faire fountaine of delights,

Theatre of honor, earthly Paradise,

Sodaine aduauncer, Sphere of purest lights,

The liuely Vatican of beauties brights:

Thither let Phoebus progeny resort,

Where shines their father but in Ioues great court?

Let neuer man indued with sundry graces,

So sell himselfe for tithes and trifling gaine;

Nor that rich infinite spirit that embraces,

This vniuerse in compasse of a braine,

So prostitute her deity, nor restraine

In narrow limits of a base content,

Of learned thoughts the boundlesse continent.

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But since our fairer meanes seeme to inuite vs,

By Iacobs ladder to ascend on high,

Whose euery round with pleasure may delight vs,

Why cease we all our studies to apply

To gaine this tipe? And wherefore linger I?

With whose hart-strings Amphions Lute is strung,

And Orpheus Harp hangs warbling at my tongue.

Now was I drawne in chariot of Desire,

While Typhis-like Ambition led the way;

Arriu'd at Court, I needed not enquire

What Lord about the King bore greatest sway;

Their troupes of followers, riches of aray,

Numbers of suters almost numberlesse,

Taught me to know, or somewhat more then ghesse.

To please their vaine, and be my selfe admirde,

I cast my learning in a Courtiers mold;

My schollership and carriage both conspirde

T'appeach their wrong, that most iniurious hold

Such men vnfit, to haue their names enrold

In place of note, or handle things of weight,

That spend their time in contemplations height.

Frame to your selues imaginary courts,

(O piercing spirites inflam'de with heau'nly fire)

Kings Mathematicke, counterfeit resorts,

Portraites of iustice, shadows of desire,

Such aery castles as conceipts inspire,

Such commonwealths as Plato did vphold,

Administring booke-iustice vncontrold.

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Such heau'ns, such planets, and such whirling spheres,

The Syracusan wisard did inuent,

Wherein the curious workmanship appeares

Of their first mouer, and did represent,

The wondrous fabricke of the firmament:

If heau'ns and common wealths may be so showne,

The courts estate much easier may be knowne.

These fancies I had framed long before,

Deeming my selfe my fortunes architect;

Now care sollicited me ten times more,

To bring those meditations to effect,

And so my wary counsell to direct,

As might content the pillar of my state,

That next in counsell to his soueraignesate.

A man made old to teach the worth of age,

Patriarke-like, and graue in all designes,

One that had finish't a long pilgrimage,

Sparing in diet, abstinent from wines,

His sinews small as threeds, or slender lines:

Lord of the citty, where with solemne rites,

The old Prince Arthur feasted with his Knights.

He saw my gifts were such as might deserue,

He knew his life was drawing to an end,

He thought no meanes so likely to preserue

His fame, with time and enuy to contend,

As to aduance some faithful seruing friend,

That liuing might in time to come record,

Th'immortall praise of his deceased Lord.

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He brought me first in presence of the King,

Who then allotted me his Chaplains place;

My eloquence did such contentment bring

Vnto his eares that neuer Prince did grace

Poore Chaplaine more, nor lowly priest embrace

"Dread soueraigne so. For Nature teacheth euer,

"Who loues preferment, needes must loue the giuer.

Next who but I was sent Embassadour,

With Europes greatest Monarch to intreate,

Caesar of Almaine Germans Emperour,

In Belgia keeping his imperiall seat,

To handle matters of importance great:

My hap was such the King could hardly ghesse,

Which pleasde him more, my speede, or good successe.

The Argonauticke vessell neuer past,

With swifter course along the Colchan maine,

Then my small barke with faire and speedy blast

Conuayd me forth, and reconuayd againe;

Thrice had Arcturus driu'n his restlesse waine,

And heau'ns bright lampe, the day had thrice reuiu'd,

From last departure, till I first arriu'd.

The King not deeming I had yet beene gone,

Was angry for my long surmiz'd delay;

I tolde his Maiestie that all was done,

And more than all, and did his pardon pray

That I beyond commission went astray;

And could haue wisht for euer to be chid

With answer to content as then I did.

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T'is not huge heapes of figuratiue deuises,

Nor luxurie of metaphors or phrases,

Nor finenesse of connexion that intices

Court-learned eares, and all the world amazes,

But depth with pleasure crauing all the graces

Of art and nature, curiously precize,

Serenely modest, excellently wise.

It is not learning; for the Courtiers know it,

Nor folly; but for Councellors most fit,

Nor graue demeanour; for we must bestow it

On Ladies toyes; nor quintessence of wit,

For that is most vnstaide, nor doth it fit

With Courtiers maiestie to be reputed,

Too learn'd, too graue, too fine, or too conceited.

A skill transcendent ouer euery art,

Yet subiect or essentiall vnto none,

Vnperfect too, yet hauing euery part,

And thus though strange, vnperfect, and but one,

Yet all admire and reuerence it alone:

Vnknowne and vndefin'de saue in discerning,

By practise to be got, but not by learning.

Men pointed out by Fortune for good happe,

Haue from their infancy this gift inspir'd,

Promotions fall, as plenteous in their lappe,

As words out of their mouths, thus I acquir'd,

The deanerie of Lincolne vndesir'd:

And then the Almnership, and euery hower,

Some droppes distilling of a golden shower.

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As in a burning glasse or little sphere,

Dispearsed sun-beames oft vnited are,

And in one point beames infinite appeare,

Innumerable rayes disiected farre,

From th'oblique circle of that glorious starre▪

So like that instrument I now begun,

Tunite the fauours of our earthly sun.

New friends vnknowne, great presents vndeseru'd,

Olde sutors came, held backe with long delay,

And al like poppets when their time was seru'd,

Gaue place to other, and so likewise they,

Ending their parts, let other actors play:

No way in all the court so duly tread,

As was the path which to my lodging led.

Transplanted thus into a fertile spring,

And watred from aboue with heau'nly dew,

Enlightned with the presence of my King,

My branches waxed large and faire of hew,

And all about fresh buddes of honor grew:

Garlands of Lordships, blossomes of degree,

White roddes of office, keyes of knightly fee.

Looke how the God of Wisedome marbled stands,

Bestowing Laurel wreathes of dignitie

In Delphos Ile, at whose vnpartiall hands,

Hang antique scrolles of gentle Herauldrie,

And at his feete ensignes and trophies lie:

Such was my state whom euery man did follow,

As liuing statue of the great Apollo.

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But see, euen when my ioyes did most abound,

My crowned pillar most vntimely fell,

And I about his shaft like Iuie wound,

That did in pride, as he in height excell,

Was left behind to heare his heauy knell:

And sing a Requiem to his soule deceast,

For I, poore I, lost more then all the rest.

O hidden doome, of that eternall spirit,

That sentence giues, the righteous man shall die:

Iniurious death that lets rude soules inherit

Long leases of their liues, and dost enuy

That Princes liue, on whom all states rely.

And cruell fate that such confusion brings,

To common wealths by Ostracisme of Kings.

He died, and in memoriall of his name,

Built that faire chappell, where he now takes rest;

A rich foundation of a curious frame,

The fairest monument left vnsupprest,

Passing all temples of the gorgeous East:

O strew his hearse with roses red and white,

For he both stemmes did in one bed vnite.

True branch of both, thy father is not dead,

For in thy looke I reade his vertuous raigne,

His crowne is set on thy victorious head,

Dead to himselfe, he liues in thee againe,

His wisedome seated in thy princely braine:

O were not Times old wings so farre outworne,

But he new crownde, and thou as newly borne!

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But both are gone, and we too soone bereft,

To better kingdomes both translated are;

This testimony to the world is left,

He was the Prince of peace, thou God of warre,

He was a fixed, thou a wandring starre:

Seu'n is a number fatall from the heau'ns,

But eight King Henrie passing all the seu'ns.

He came of noble, thou of Kingly race,

He brought to win, thou borne to weare a crowne;

He got great wealth, thou honor didst embrace;

He kept his owne, thou conquer'st many a towne;

He houses built, thou batterdst citties downe:

O worthies both! and vnsufficient me,

To mourne for him, or speake enough of thee.

Then for my selfe whom wisedome neuer taught,

To seeke for gold in coffins of the dead,

My deepe contriuing pollicie so wrought,

That in his youthly raigne my dearest dread,

Me to his sacred counsell did aread:

Where all estates in open court did find,

The liuely vigor resting in my mind.

When I did muse, my spirit did wholy beare,

His full perfection to enrich my thought;

What time I spake, my life was wholy there,

And to my speech all grace and beautie brought:

What praise soeuer any member sought,

That God (whom we call soule) sprung from our heart.

Was all in all, and all in euery part.

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What matters past in priuate conference,

Or publique counsell for the common good,

I still enform'd his sacred excellence,

Framing my sentence to his princely moode,

His word, my deede, his will, my warrant stoode:

Nor neede his grace one iot of pleasure spare,

His royall graunt, in person to declare.

Enough said I your highnesse doth in this,

To make vs lawes that in subiection dwell,

Let Magistrates correct what is amisse;

Such nobles as in wisedome most excell,

Aduance to place where they may gouerne well:

And as you do your kingdomes glory prize,

Of all your land, select the learned wise.

For if the temperature of common weale,

Be guided by the course of heau'nly pow'res,

Such as in deepe affaires will iustly deale,

Must haue an eie to those aeternall bow'res,

And by their view direct this state of ours:

Else how can he a perfect states-man prooue,

That knowes not how coelestiall bodies mooue?

How can he marke religions stedfast pole,

How many long degrees we distant are?

How lawes of iustice compasse in the whole

Like orbe of fixed lights, or note from farre,

A fained meteor from a fixed starre:

How darke eclipsed truth is neuer seene,

When worlds corrupting treasure comes betweene.

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When wise Magitians wandred farre and wide,

To find the place of our Messias birth,

A starre by east, became their faithfull guide,

Angells proclaming notes of ioyfull mirth,

Glorie to God on high, and peace on earth:

While here I pawsde, the King with smiling cheare,

Bade me proceede, for he was bent to heare.

Dread soueraigne, I intend not to detract

From noble families their ancient rights;

Ill fares the shippe whose loftie toppes be wrackt,

Whole Empires fall where such confusion lights,

Long life and honor to S. Georges Knights:

"Yet this I reade, that realme shall fairest rise,

"Where wise men rule, or Rulers can be wise.

Put such in trust your grace may rest secure,

And sway the scepter with immortall praise,

Whether you please your royall selfe immure,

In cittie walls triumphing sundry waies,

Or els in progresse spend the sommer daies:

What hath the ayre, the sea, the land, and all,

That is not yours, or subiect at your call?

Scholler (said he) thou know'st my kingdomes state,

And canst with pleasure painfull trauells brooke,

Ile prize thy seruice at the highest rate,

Performing that which thou hast vndertooke,

For Lordly rents, Ile change thy Easter booke:

Good priest whose sonne so ere thou art by kind,

Wolsey of Ipswich ne're begat thy mind.

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Soone after this the King with mighty hoast,

In person meant to enter warlike France,

To challenge what his auncetors had lost,

On Turney gates his standard to aduance,

And in their courts, to make our courtiers daunce▪

Which vnacquainted labor to supply,

He thought no subiect was so fit as I.

He might as well appoint some artlesse swaine,

In Pytheas place to build Mausolus toombe;

To reare th' Aegyptian Pyramid's againe,

Restore the ruines of declining Rome,

Or put some shepheardesse to Arachnes loome:

As me a student and a yong diuine,

To furnish out a campe, no charge of mine▪

But now the sweetnesse of promotions taste,

Delightsome prospect to the tower of fame,

Such skill in my vnmartiall wittes had plac'de,

As would not onely iust proportion frame,

Of men, and fit munition for the same:

But bring from rockes where flintie sinewes stoode,

Whole stony legions of Deucalions broode.

Imagine Turney vanquisht by the King,

With Turwins walls and all the confin'de land:

Ill windes they are that good to no man bring,

Worse warres that suffer not the churches stand,

My wind blew faire, the church fell in my hand,

That was elect and consecrated soone,

Bishop of Turney when the warres were done.

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A sweete preferment, for it was my first;

A straunge aduancement in another Realme;

A pleasant draft to quench ambitions thirst;

A ioyfull note to wake me from my dreame;

A fruitfull spring, to send so faire a streame:

What man but me could fortune thus aduance,

In peace, in warre, in England, and in France?

My solemne consecration beeing ended,

And holy miter placed on my head,

With falling mists the darksome night extended

Hir sable wings, and gently ouerspread

Heau'ns gloomy vaile, whence Phoebus lamp was fled:

Dead time of rest to euery mortall wight,

No musicke to the silence of the night.

To cheerfull minds that bringeth wanton sleepe,

With many a Phantasme and deluding toy,

And pensiue heart it doth detaine and keepe,

From tedious company that would annoy,

Dull Saturnists that haue abiur'd all ioy:

To me whose day was all in pleasure spent,

This wondrous vision it did represent.

From that rich valley where the Angels laid him,

His vnknowne sepulchre in Moabs land,

Moses that Israel led and they obaid him,

In glorious view before my face did stand,

Bearing the folded tables in his hand:

Wherein the doome of life, and deaths despaire,

By Gods owne finger was ingrauen faire.

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He passing forth, a ioyfull troope ensued,

Of worthy iudges and triumphant Kings,

Victorious Iosuah that in armes subdued,

Prophane vsurpers of their hallowed things,

And smote their leaders, breaking al their wings:

With him as ioyning hearts with meeke consent,

Princes of Israel and of Iuda went.

Next whom with solemne note of trumpets sound,

The tabernacle of the Lord was brought,

About it holy Priests assembled round,

With sacred Ephods, girdles richly wrought,

Such garments as the Lord had Aaron taught;

With warbling harpe, and crownet on his head,

The ghost of Dauid loftie measures lead.

To these in order all the Prophets came,

Mysterious prophets, cloth'd in poore array;

Pronouncing oft Iehouah's dreadfull name,

Crying to Syon; Learne, O learne the way,

Your desolation hastneth euery day:

These were refusde, for none regarded them

In all the daughters of Ierusalem.

The next in ranke were holy Martyres bleeding,

Whose euery wound in perfect glory shines:

Then they which wrote our Sauiours iust proceeding,

His life and death in euerlasting lines:

And last of all, the best of all diuines,

To whome deepe mysteries of things conceal'd,

At Pathmos Ile in vision were reueal'd.

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Now from th' Aethereall pallace of her rest,

In perfect semblance they appear'd to me:

But O my soule how are thy pow'res opprest,

That sleeping saw'st, and waking canst not see?

O God! if so thy gracious pleasure be,

Such beauty be reueal'd to mortall men,

Direct, O soone direct my wandring pen.

In chariot framed of celestiall mould,

And simple purenesse of the purest skie,

A more then heau'nly Nymph I did beholde,

Who glauncing on me with her gracious eie,

So gaue me leaue her beautie to espie:

For sure no sence such sight can comprehend,

Except her beames their faire reflection lend.

Her beauty with Eternitie began,

And onely vnto God was euer seene,

When Eden was possest with sinfull man,

She came to him, and gladly would haue beene,

The long succeeding worlds eternall Queene:

But they refused her (O hainous deed!)

And from that garden banish't was their seede.

Since when, at sundry times and sundry waies,

Atheisme and blinded ignorance conspire,

How to obscure those holy burning raies,

And quench that zeale of heart-inflaming fire,

As makes our soules to heau'nly things aspire:

But al in vaine, for mauger all their might,

Shee neuer lost one sparkle of her light.

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Pearles may be foild, and gold be turn'd to drosse,

The sun obscur'd, the moone be turn'd to bloud,

The world may sorrow for Astraeas losse,

The heau'ns be darkned like a dusky wood,

Waste desarts lie where watry fountaines stood:

But faire Theologie (for so she hight,)

Shall neuer loose one sparkle of her light.

Such one she was as in his Hebrew song,

The wisest King for fairest creature prooues▪

Embracing her the Cedar trees among,

Comparing her to roses and to doues,

Preferring her before all other loues:

Such one she was, and euery whit as faire,

Beside these two, was neuer such a paire.

Her handmaides in Amazon-like attire,

Went chaste and modest like Dianaes traine,

One, by her gazing lookes seem'd to aspire

Beyond the moone, and in a high disdaine,

To deeme the world, and wordly treasures vaine:

She hight Astrology, on whose bright lawne,

Spheres, Astrolabes, and skilfull globes are drawne.

The next faire, smiling with a pleasing cheere,

Had pow're to rauish and enchant mens eares,

High Rhetoricke whose shadowed vaile showne cleere,

With siluer tongues, and ouer it she weares

A wimpled scarfe bedew'd with hearers teares:

Whose captiue hearts she should detaine long while,

With pleasance of her vnaffected stile.

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The third a quicke-eyd dame, of piercing sight,

That reasons worth in equall ballance way'd;

The truth she lou'd aboue all earthly wight,

Yet could not tell her loue but what she saide,

Was certaine true, and she a perfect maide:

Her garment short tuckt vp, to worke prepar'd,

And she cald Logicke without welt or gard.

Next these, whose outward lookes I knew aright,

And had some portion of their endlesse treasure,

Faire Algebra with figures richly dight;

Sweete Musicke foundresse of delightsome pleasure;

Earth-scanning Nimph, directresse of all measure:

These humbly did her soueraigne highnesse greete,

And meekely laid their garlands at her feete.

From euery one she pluckt a speciall flower,

And laid each flower vpon a seuerall part;

Then from her owne a stemme of wondrous power,

Whose leaues were beames, whose stalke a fi'ry dart,

And that she laid vpon my trembling hart:

Those were the buds of art, this plant of blisse,

This gaue them life, they yeelded grace to this.

Opening the closure of her speech diuine,

My sweetly-rauisht sence she thus bespake,

Now Prelate art thou plac'de in Gods deare vine,

To heau'nly thoughts thy studies whole betake:

And when thou shalt from drowsie sleepe awake,

Thanke these my handmaides that haue thought thee fit,

To whom the charge of soules I might commit.

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To thee the charge of soules I here commit,

Of sheepe and shepheards both take ouersight;

If thou for gaine the greater charge omit,

Or loose one title of the churches right,

Or lesse esteeme Gods word then Kingly might;

Mingling religious booke with honors mace,

Leauing Gods fauor for the princes grace:

If thou by false pretence procure this wrong,

(What may not learn'd iniquity procure?)

Thy name shall die the vulgar sort among,

Proscript and abiect from those fathers pure,

Whose memory for euer shall endure:

Obliuion and disgrace vpon thy graue,

Shall write their triumph, and thy name depraue.

This said, her Martyrs drew her chariot on,

Through vnknowne passage of the blasting ayre,

And now to Abrahams bosome is she gone,

Commanding all her Nimphs and handmaids faire,

To these sweete waues, and pleasant bankes repaire:

And I, though full of care, and vex't in mind,

Tooke shippe for England with a prosperous wind.

Welcome my Lord of Turney said the King,

Two Dukes with two as scornfull lookes past by,

A yong French Bishop seem'd so base a thing

To such great noble things that looke so high,

As made me wonder at diuinitie:

That she the nearest to the King of Kings,

Should be debasde by any thing of things.

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Say I were yong, my liuely spirits were fit,

To grow in wisedomes euer-blowing spring,

Or say ambitious, that's a marke of wit,

To beare our thoughts aloft on eagles wings,

And wit to youth especiall grace doth bring:

I hate such lingring wisedome as appeares,

In hoary cognisance of ancient yeares.

Say all the world th'aboundance of their mind,

And speake of Wolsey all the wrong they can,

I say the world is enuious and vnkind,

The multitude e're since the world began,

Was ready to reprooue the iustest man,

Who rightly climes the top of endlesse praise,

Regards not what the wise discourser saies.

Obiect they Turney, I deuisde a way

To compasse Lincolne or some other see,

Admire they this; I found a blisfull day,

In primacy of Yorke enstall'd to be;

Such happy fortune still betided me,

That when they enuied at my meane estate,

I got some greater to confound their hate.

Each sence may common obiects comprehend,

Things excellent the sensitiue confound,

The eie with light and colours may contend,

The eare endure the note of common sound,

Both faile when glorious beames lowd strokes abound:

So enuy that at meanest things beare spite,

Stands mute at view of vnexpected height.

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The peeres that hated me were now content,

With me their former friendship to renew,

Who sought by me to purchase gouernment,

And learne of me that thus in greatness grew.

O But the Italian Florentine said true:

The man furthereth other men to thriue,

Of priuate greatnesse doth himselfe depriue.

Failing to hit the marke whereat I aime,

They take the least rupulse in deepe disgrace,

And neuer ceast with fury to exclaime

Against my name, and odiously debase,

My birth, my parents, and vngentle race:

Vnnobly done, which though I not respect,

Yet vnto them, themselues I might obiect.

Where are the gifts whose ensignes ye pretend,

O dull inheritors of others praise?

The vertues that your lordly armes commend,

And crownd your ancients with immortall bayes?

Amisse faire Fortitude her coate displaies:

Where such as neuer durst maintaine the field,

May beare a lion armed in their shield.

Thou four-fold goddesse, that hast stem'd thy crowne,

With wisedome, valor, temperance, and right,

Place by thy sides those Heroes of renowne,

That temperate iustice with discretions might;

Let Herauldry prouide in honors sight,

That such as are with fathers goods possest,

Retaine their vertues, or resigne their crest.

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Fine schollers borne of Pallas heau'nly braine,

As she of Ioues, haue purchasde this decree,

From meaner Princes in their seuerall raignes,

Dukes, Vidams, Barons, such as brauest be,

To muse of things that nobles do not see:

When their reward, though they be well regarded,

May be to be well thought of, scarce rewarded.

Which made me, when I once had found the spring,

Draw from the Fountaine where the proudest drew,

Leauing the counsell, seeke vnto the King,

And when my purpose was indeede to sue,

To sue to him, because I euer knew,

Suing to Courtiers with our best complaints,

Like superstitious praying vnto Saints.

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Wolseius triumphans.

CLlio, are all thy sisters scholler-like?

No court-like Muse for polliticke designes?

And onely for Apollo doe they strike

Their instruments to what he most inclines?

Is this the reason that he euer shines?

No wōder if the world behold him bright,

Such Virgins can giue oyle to any light.

Then shall no busie burdner of the Presse,

Without a Muse stand riming at my waies,

The more a Nouice seekes, he findes the lesse,

And sure the lesse he findes, the lesse he straies,

No pollicie to silence now a daies:

Let him that shall my famous life descry,

Write of my Triumphs, let the meanes go by.

The glory of my Primacie affords

Discourse enough (O Time) to spend thine howres,

Barren inuention shall abound with words,

As Autumne doth with fruits, the spring with flowres,

Summer with sun-beames, winter time with showres:

Poets in vaine their stratagems deuise,

Wittes want makes men desirous to seeme wise.

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But as a Saphyre hanging downe the brest,

A farre more orient glittering doth make,

Than doth a Diamond of good request

Set in a bracelet, and more glorie take,

Not for the vertue, but for the places sake:

So did a clowdy Saphyre dimme my light,

Not with his worth, but with his places height.

Graue auncient Warham full of high desart,

The Easterne Metropolitane of Kent,

A perfect Leuite of a loyall heart,

Fit for the temple whereto he was sent,

In all religious orders excellent:

No fault, but that he would not soone resigne

To me, and his large prouince change for mine.

Which fault, my Romish frends had soone espide,

Their care was feruent Catholike for me,

Who in their Synode did such meanes prouide

For my aduancement to more high degree,

As Canterburie should inferior be:

They chose me Cardinall, but mine owne voice,

Had thought me worthy of an higher choice.

They chose me Cardinall, and sent a hat,

What choise? what hat? where was the triple crowne?

A Monmouth man can do as much as that:

O had his holinesse bin in a sowne,

Or surfeited, or tooke some potion downe!

S. Peters church, S. Angells famous towre,

The seuen hills citty had bin in my powre.

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A second Vatican, a new Auignion,

Another Laterane I could inuent,

For reliques, pomp, and church diuision,

What had I car'd in glory to haue spent,

Mine owne, the churches, and the Kings owne rent?

Me thought, if Friends, and Fortune, had bin true,

I could haue built all Italie anew.

Wise Chaplaines that had walkt a quiet pace,

Good honest painfull Graduates in their kind,

Told me it was a step to higher place,

And such a step, as few could euer find,

A lofty step; and stepping termes refind,

Step they that doubtfull feare to clime on hie,

What neede he step hath Wisdoms wings to flie?

Now missing Clemens crowne, I thought to take

King Henries Seale, high Chancelor of the land,

Which secular authoritie did make

Me able all their furies to withstand,

That in their wisedomes had seuerely scan'd:

A clergy man his calling much impaires,

To meddle with the polliticke affaires.

Then Moses that had all Aegyptians skill,

Whose deepest learning flourisht in his daies,

And many priests of Iuda sinned still,

That not by iustice onely purchast praise,

But practiz'd vse of martiall assaies:

Some pleas are hard, and many things befall,

Which priuiledge or conscience must recall.

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Diuine proceedings faile, not being backt

With lawfull maintenance of eiuill sword;

Endeuours polliticke take small effect,

That wants assistance from the heau'nly word;

Beside some help must wealth and state afford:

For iudgement vttred by the mouth of want,

Is either partiall, or admitted scant.

Thus though my crosses, pillars, and my mace,

Honoured my person to the common view

Of such as measure men by outward grace;

Yet to my seuerall charges being due,

I might not to succession be vntrue:

Our state is not the Moones, that from her waine▪

Growes crescent presently, and new againe.

If once we fall, we fall Colossus-like,

We fall at once like pillars of the sunne,

They that betweene our stride their sailes did strike,

Making vs sea-markes where their shippe did runne,

Euen they that had by vs their treasure wonne;

Rise as we may by moderate degrees,

If once we stoope, thei'le bring vs on our knees.

I made my chappell pure deuotions seate,

Meete for the seruice of the heau'nly King,

The tongues of the most learned did intreate

Of his decrees, and skilful priests did sing,

And singing boyes vse their hearts trebling string:

Such ornaments are most beseeming vs,

In Gods behalfe, let noble Peeres do thus.

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My houshold was not like the tent of Loue,

Full of faire damsels, like Venetian bowers,

Nor of such virgins, whom the spirit doth moue,

No place for sister-hood within my towers,

Yet eu'ry day as many meales as howers:

Seruants and officers in eu'ry roome,

And royall fare for strangers when they come.

Where is that open cawsey wont to leade

The hungry beggar to a sheafe of corne?

Who lets them gleane with Ruth, or giues them bread▪

Who rather feedes not fooles, or men forsworne,

Or els for briefnesse sake leaues al forlorne?

See now the parlours of our highest states,

Are like to painted doores or posterne gates.

Proportion was surucior of my charge,

Adding to lofty buildings, gardens faire,

Iust with my gaines my houses to enlarge,

Mine vsuall walkes to pleasantnesse of ayre,

Of euery thing making an equall payre:

Planting faire arbors in my forrests wide,

And feasting chambers by the riuers side.

This louing streame that doth salute the shore,

In true affection to a schollers eie,

Euen from these banckes encreaseth more and more,

Waue tossing ouer waue most enuiously,

Till flowing tide forbid her passing by:

And make them stay, while passengers may see,

What was begun, and what was done by me.

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Faire Dambie is praisde for being wide,

Nilus commended for the seu'n fold head,

Euphrates, for the swiftnesse of the tide,

And for the garden whence his course is led;

The banckes of Rhine with vines are ouerspred:

Take Loyre and Po, yet all may not compare

With English Thamesis for buildings rare.

My dreames were nothing but of Memphis still,

Of Pyramids, of statues caru'd in gold,

Hercules pillars, and Olympus hill,

My waking fancies too were euer sold,

Such toyes in gazing blindnesse to behold:

No strokes of Musickes sound could strike away,

High thoughts by night, nor deepe conceits by day.

A prowd man may his owne musitian be,

His heads deuise makes pauines to his heart,

This heart with pleasure leapes, and daunces free

All but the measures, framing euery part,

Like Organs worthy of so sweete an art:

His thoughts plaies Marches to his vaulting mind.

And Memories Recorder sounds behinde.

Pride makes her Rounds, for she hath neuer end,

And Sonnets, for shee neuer leaues her noise,

She makes her Dumpes, if any thing offend,

And to her Idole-selfe with warbling voice,

Sings Hymnes and Anthems of especiall choice:

And yet Prides quier is put to silence cleane,

Wanting a base, a tenor, and a meane.

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Farre from the church be these immusicall

Vntoward songs that wants so many parts,

And since that pure religion doth install

Learned professors, prelates of desarts,

Let them aspire and reare instructed harts,

Against the base bestowers of church liuings,

That vse their graunts in sellings, and not in giuings.

For such men are like curtaines at their best,

He meaneth Symoniacke and vnlearned ministers

To make vs sleepe, or hinder vs from light,

Troublers of Nature, children of the west,

Haters of sence, adopted sonnes of night,

In whom the wise both sorrow and delight:

Yet were there not such vegetalls the while,

What had the wiser sort whereat to smile?

O you that beare the courage of diuines,

Hate such mens patronage, ingage not Art,

For who beholds the spoiler of the vines,

And stands secure, or takes the spoilers part,

Shall in his conscience feele such deadly smart,

That when he seekes by scripture to be easde,

The more he reades, the more he is displeasde.

Renowned Picus of Mirandula

Hated the substance of a cleargy man

That was vnlettered, and made a lawe,

An ignorant which neuer had began

To seeke, or after seeking neuer skan

Some part of somewhat, that might wisedome bring,

Should be accounted but a liuing thing.

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The noble Tichobraghe for whose deare sake,

All Denmarke is in admirations loue,

In deepe regard such difference doth make,

Betweene those men whose spirit soare aboue,

And those base essenses which only moue:

That in his Isles horizon he admittes,

No clowdy meteors of such foggy wittes.

On forraine princes I will neuer stand,

Sweete Clio pardon, if I do digresse,

The noble Earle, the learn'd Northumberland,

Fauours you Muses, and he doth addresse

His peerelesse cares, which you must needes expresse:

Write Clio, write, and that aeternally,

In spite of Muses he shall neuer die:

For in his life his praise, and after death

Thankfull remembrance still remaines aliue,

So long as Fame's aeternall trump hath breath,

And time drawes time, and these daies other driue,

Or hasty minutes in their swiftnesse striue:

While man can speake with man, and vertue praise,

So long continues his immortall praise

Princes are meere diuines, for they maintaine

The liuing Gospel of the liuely truth,

Doubly in them Gods Image doth remaine,

In high commanding where hir mercy shew'th

The future hopes of goodnesse that ensu'th,

And then in their creation: Thus two waies

Princes are bound the Prince of heau'n to praise.

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Now to be princely and to be diuine,

I added Winchester to all the rest,

With sundry others which I held by fine,

And being once installed in the best,

Vouchsafte with Abbies to be so possest:

I held this certaine sure, and neuer doubt,

Abbies, and Bishoprickes will not fall out.

I made them friends, and that they might continue,

I got church-liuings more then I will say,

Small liuings added to a great reuenue,

Riddes poore reports, and common talkes away:

The Chorus of the people that can say,

The Parson careth not for our soules health,

Will hold their tongues at hearing of such wealth.

Thus full of riches and exceeding powre,

I added liuing vnto liuing still,

Scarce came a day, within whose euery howre

There were not yeelded offrings of free will,

To haue, or leaue, vntill I had my fill:

One starre is newly added shining faire,

Vnto the backe of Cassopeias chaire.

Betweene solemnitie and loftie state,

The sequele of my life I will diuide,

Whereby I purchaste honor ioyn'd with hate,

And enuie still did beare a mightie side,

Who rises by his wisedome is enui'de:

Let them enuie; but when their lordships fell,

I must haue notice where their Wardes must dwell.

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I car'd not for the gentrie, for I had

Tithe-gentlemen, yong nobles of the land;

The greatest of the Realme were highly glad,

When with great charge, and sute vnder my hand,

They left the first fruites of their neerest band:

Fortune is Lady of the nobly borne,

The learned noble haue her gifts in scorne.

It may be some were glad when I was sent,

Twice in Embassage to the Emperours court;

And others sad, respecting that I went,

Furnisht so royally with such resort,

As farre exceedes beleefe of true report:

Speake they their pleasure, Yet with equall worth,

And greater good I came, then I went forth.

Imperious ghost of Charles come sit by mine:

He cannot come, but lies in Princes ward,

And he disdaines to sue to Proserpine,

Deare fellow ghost (but he will not regard,

Or if he do, from comming is debard:)

Truly Imperious, for thy entertaine

To me, and all the followers of my traine.

The towne of Bruges, Princes faire resort,

Flanders rich ornament, noble Peeres Exchange,

The chosen cittie for the Emperours Court,

About whose streetes, my following troupes did range,

Was in her curt [...]sie so highly strange:

That nothing there was suffred to be spent,

Either by me, or any one that went.

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Returning home in farre more glorious sort,

Then Mardocheus to the Median King,

The summe of my successe I did report,

Pl [...]asing his eares with sound of euery thing;

Eloquence taught my common talke to sing

Contenting matter, and delighting wordes,

No sweeter straines all Musicks art affordes.

Honour's without emploiments of estate,

Are like to sun-beames without heate or light,

A noble man, and not a magistrate,

Shines halfe eclipsed in his cleerest bright:

Ioyne heau'nly gifts to earthly, light to light;

Let these great excellencies make a truce,

Fortune shall neede no wheele-write for her vse.

But from a Monarch of that soueraigne power,

Twise to be sent, so honourably grac'd,

To Europs highest braunch and fairest flower,

In so short season with so happy blast,

Each doubtfull care with wisedome ouercast,

Returning to be more, then going forth,

Was fatall to the Cardinal of the North.

Now at such times as Lawyers walke the streets,

Without long rowles of papers in their hands,

When friendly neighbour with his neighbour meetes,

Without false chalenge to each others lands,

The counsellor without his client stands:

When that large Capitoll lies voide and waste,

Where Senators and Iudges late were plac't.

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Then in a solemne progresse would I ride,

To see the houses where my liuings lay,

The Image of what was, did not abide,

Nay scarce the memory remaines this day,

For any stranger that shall passe that way.

This course in old Records ignoraunce tooke,

Teare the red letters and burne all the booke.

How patient is Antiquitie the while,

And all the soules that leane on Abrahams breast,

Those sacred spirits, that with inspired stile,

Wrote truly of the church, and hauing ceast,

Their paines on earth, do liue in peace and rest?

"Our parents age worse then our grandsires be,

"We worst beget, our children worse then we.

Then in an humor I accursed strait,

Those vnbaptised sacrilegious hands,

That onely for Gods vestrie laide their waite,

Prophanely seazing on the churches lands,

And casting faire for all while none with stands:

But lest my sorrowes openly should breake,

Thus with my selfe (me thought) I gan to speake.

Ye churches founded by religious Kings,

Reioyce within your Eccho sounding vaultes,

Though enuious Time this desolation brings,

Battring your marble pillars with assaults,

And euen in men there rest no meane defaults:

Triumph in this, there is a doome for time,

Reuenge for men that by your losses climbe.

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And ye (the seruants of the liuing King,)

Let not your stately pallace walles decline,

No desolation may confusion bring

To those faire monuments, but let them shine,

Old famous Hospitality t'enshrine:

That if she now be there, it may appeare,

If not, the stones may witnesse shee was there.

That honor which is left, maintaine it still,

That which is past, (due or not due) t'is gone,

And be you like your selues, come what come will,

Those great procurers of the churches mone,

Shall one day be accusde by euery stone

That now lies mute. Let them aduance their stile,

And boast their armes, beare you the crosse the while

If crosses worne for sanctitie are despisde,

Because the wearers, least deserue that crest,

Why should not crests of valour so be priz'd

At equall rate, but they enioy the best,

Being of worthy meedes farre dispossest;

A new Clarentieux made for this intent,

One for desart another for discent?

What field deserues emblazon'd more to be,

Then which our Sauiours bloud bestain'd with red?

What Princes heire inherits like degree

To Gods deare sonne, whose blessed armes were spred,

Vpon his armes the crosse, whereon he bled?

All they that serue this Prince must weare that crest,

Like Princes followers fastned on their brest.

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And happy is that seruant, that hath store,

Of those crosse-badges, and can vse them well;

Inuisible effects will more and more,

Prouoke a secret vertue to excell,

Wrought inwardly, nor suffer there to dwell,

Vnherauld humorous stampes, that seeme to burne,

When mettall wantes, make coulour serue the turne.

Shall I discourse? that man that wants a crosse,

Is a plaine man vntoucht, and sure downe right,

Content to suffer his saluations losse,

When with a shadow he may hide the light,

And hopes to do it. (O religions night!)

That hidest from our eies, what most appeares,

Crossing of Starres, of Planets, and of Sphaeres.

Say then there are no Poles; shortnesse of skill

Followes that proposit on: if there be,

Are they not opposite by Gods owne will?

Nay can diuision make equalitie,

Vnlesse the crossing make their euen degree?

He that denies the crossing of each Pole,

Astronomie condemnes him in the whole.

Then they were worne, when no man durst resist,

If now they doe, the world is wiser growne;

Mistaking was the cause I was not blist:

If Diagrammes of Euclide had bin knowne,

Dioscorides faire twines in gardens sowne;

The Mathematique skil of twining flowers,

Spheres, Globes, the earths authoritie were ours.

[Page]

No more of this, lest if I say too much,

My lines poore writer, beare the greatest blame;

I may suspect, because the world is such,

Sometimes iniuriously to lay the blame,

On him that speaketh in anothers name:

Yet Ile declare my glorious state much more,

To vex them deeper then they grudg'd before.

Nor was that starre, that ioyned to the sunne,

Hath beene miraculous at noone daies view,

When equall with his fiery course he runne,

Or stoode admiring how his greatnesse grew,

So wondred at, as when they gaue their due

To presence of my state: If I had light,

All borrowed was from Henries princely right.

How bright was he that could afford such beames,

And yet himselfe be glorious aboue measure?

How plentifull that had all flowing streames?

How kingly minded in his endlesse treasure?

From him I had my wealth, from me his pleasure:

Let others ioy by other lights appeare,

True Cynthaes father shineth in my sphere.

If I bore pillars, t'was a prophecy,

The church would want them to support their state,

In all my life there was a mysterie

Accomplisht in my fall, yet shall I rate

My selfe in compasse, or appoint a date

To th'Empyrean highnesse of my birth,

Which I first made familiar to this earth?

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Loaden with reuerence, prowd with mine eie,

Which nothing but obedience would see,

Vnheau'nly musicall I might not lie,

Organs were common, consorts were so free,

That pleasing others, they displeased me:

Entring into my selfe, I sung within,

An higher trebble then which they begin.

How loftie aboue other wings I flew,

And yet vnmelted by my Phoebus heate,

How faire a chariot in my sphere I drew,

And moouing still, enioyd a perfect scate,

How royall, how attended, nay how great,

Not I, but all forget but my discent,

No epithete fittes me but Excellent.

My studie, heau'n, my thoughts how to be wise,

My care to flourish, my desire to gaine,

Glorie my end, my comfort still to rise,

And to enioy next place to Princes raigne,

My setled purpose not to fall againe:

My plot was pollicie, wit my defence,

Greatnesse my pride, holinesse my pretence.

In due obseruance of the Lords behests,

So farre as weake mortality perceiu'd,

In such behauiour, as behooued best,

Mortality, vnlesse I were bereau'd,

Or I in it, or it in me deceau'd:

I seem'd to shew, the world so seem'd to see,

For to pretend is now esteem'd to be.

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Ierusalem, the pride of Palestine,

Renowned through the world for Syons height,

Within whose walls the purest Sun did shine,

That euer gaue heau'ns euer-shining light,

Though farre most glorious in all earthly sight,

Was iust my Peere; and once of like renowne,

I for a man, as that was for a towne.

What hath the world to which I may compare,

That thing which was my selfe, what I haue beene?

Nature hir selfe is grown exceeding bare,

And Art wants words, and histories faire Queene

Will not report what mortall eies haue seene:

Lest Muses, wanting musick take their wings,

As quite amaz'd, and leaue their siluer strings.

Yea they, whose opticke skill redoubles light,

And teaches men how they may see too farre,

That Art which bids Natures poore eies good night,

Gazed vpon the shewes of painted warre,

Or on an arras-wouen blazing starre:

Where Art with Nature curiously did striue,

In busie works of shadowes prospectiue:

When as they neede no more to calculate,

Or seeke the house of Planets, and of signes,

They saw the figure of my high estate,

And knew how euery obiect there inclines,

Though iudging spirits be seldome true diuines:

Within my priuate house they might espie,

More of mine honour, then in all the skie.

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Who follow'd me, but Fortune was at hand,

To follow him? or, if she went before,

To vsher him? or, if I made him stand,

To stand with him? or, if I wisht him more,

To begge herselfe, to amplifie his store?

My birth enioyn'd, my planets to a date,

My selfe made Fortune to be fortunate.

Mans eie makes what is seene to seeme so faire,

Mans eare makes what is heard to sound so sweete,

Mans speech is censur'd by the breathing ayre,

His touch by softnesse; euerie sence is meete

For his owne obiect, but I needes must greete

Sence-wanting Censurers, that faile in this,

Not seeing things aright, they heard amisse.

Why should I satisfie the vulgar sort,

That beast of many, yet not wisest heads?

Whom I could wish some honest friend exhort,

To picke the Dazies in his parish meades:

For who my praise-excelling Triumph reades,

Although in glorious places he haue beene,

Must yet imagine more than he hath seene.

For I my selfe that could conceiue as well

As other iudges of mine owne estate,

Stoode dumbe at mine owne height, nay could I tell

What to thinke of my selfe, or how to rate,

The long appointed prouidence of Fate?

For excellencie euer beares this mind,

By no inferior skill to be defin'd.

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Let Art in generall seeme to begin,

To specifie, let euery perfect sence

Conceiue, and in conceit all greatnesse winne,

Yet hath my glorie cause of best pretence,

When I am best defin'd by difference:

Describe me then, and there described are,

Might, wisedome, eminence, beyond compare.

To which my threefold ioy, the thrice exceeding

The grace-vouchsafing presence of my King,

Added the spirit of more high proceeding,

Chaunging my tenour to a sweeter string,

For Phoebus neuer better light doth bring,

Then when he takes from Ioues imperiall seate,

If not his light, yet influence more great.

For once he maskt those his victorious eies,

Wherein both maiestie and mercy shin'd,

Eclipsed (as he thought) but no disguise,

Nor sight-deluding torchlight so could blind

My wandring eies, but euer in my mind,

Somewhat suggested me, there should be One,

Deseru'd more then my place, a royall throne.

The very place wherein a Prince appeares,

Discernes his presence, makes the chamber blest,

Like planets are they knowne within their spheres,

Or as Halcyon with her turning brest,

Demonstrates wind from wind, and east from west:

This is a certaine Nature of estate,

It cannot masked be, nor change his gate.

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And as defaults will more conspicuous be,

How much th'offender greater is esteem'd,

So vertue in a princely body see,

Lamp like, and farre more excellently deem'd;

That in such vnity it seldome seem'd;

In mutuall approach of highest blisse,

Whether more graced each by other is.

How are they blinded then that dare conspire,

The least offence against great soueraigntie?

Or with Prometheus touch one sparke of fire,

Kindled within the breast of Maiestie?

How blind that cannot see serenitie?

O let them neuer more inioy their sights;

Prometheus-like, let Vultures gnaw their lights.

Who stoppes the triumph of my chariots course?

Or charmes the swiftnesse of my Fortunes blast?

Why lies my pride at anchor to discourse?

And weary Muse, why make you so smal hast?

What are you silent? shall I not be grac'de

By sea and land, whom sea and land haue founde,

With wind by land, with tide at sea renownde?

Their violence neuer draue mee to the north,

Whence by the Prouerbe nothing comes but ill.

By great Promotion I proceeded foorth

That worthie Pilot, that hath wondrous skill,

To drawe and withdrawe, promise and fulfill:

At my returne, to doe the prouerbe due,

Either I found or made the prouerbe true.

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Why should I doe a seely prouerbe wrong

That meant not mee, not I, his authour knew?

O had he power to make his prouerbe strong,

Or good, or bad; then fortune might renue

My former fauours; be that sentence true.

This answer is enough for my defence,

No harme, I came but halfe the way from thence.

And comming from a climate moist and cold,

I fear'd the south would be too hot for me,

Especially the court, when vncontroll'd,

Within the honest North I might be free

From scorching hatred: happy is that see

Whose Prelate sees no courtiers, none of these

That come a fleecing in their dioecese.

Which sanctity nathlesse pretends no harme,

But zealous hindrance of the churches pride,

Who lately would impropriate a Farme

Vnto the church? Nay who doth not deride

The poore fee simple on the churches side?

And laugh within themselues to see such trickes,

Babes in their cradles heires to Bishoprickes.

Before I stoopt, I hoou'red for my pray,

And stopt my westerne Knight, that once stockt me,

Within the Temple gate I made him stay,

In tenure of Knights-seruice, where his fee

Was like his practise, short of his degree:

And there he deckt the tower with great excesse,

Would God men could out-build their wickednesse.

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Then should the rich foundation princely layd,

Of this faire church halfe expiate my sinnes,

Or were as much of my great ransome payd,

As here is laide of this, but nought he winnes,

That cannot finish that which he beginnes:

In some calme rest my troubled soule would bide,

Might I, but where I built, be iustifi'de.

My buildings stand without an Echoes sound,

Yet they are loftie, and the waters nigh:

What bashful Eccho walks the solemne round?

Or rather what inhabitants? or why?

Or else how long wil they my worth deny?

If by the waters side my building lie,

Shall that faire riuer drowne my memory?

The pedant minister and seruing clarke,

The ten-pound, base, frize-ierking hireling,

The Farmers Chaplaine with his quarter marke,

The twentie noble Curate, and the thing,

Cald Elder, all these gallants needes will bring

All reuerend titles into deadly hate,

Their godly calling, and my high estate.

It ill befits my triumph to acquaint,

The shew thereof with such a rabblement;

Or turne my glory to a light complaint,

But that I would afford each complement,

As princes do to cause their meriment:

Diuiner fooles then these sprung vp of late,

Did neuer Porter bring within his gate.

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Tis superstition to erect high towers,

But great religion to enioy their height,

Folly to spend the vtmost of our powers,

To kindle sacred learnings ioyfull light,

And saue the Muses from eternall night:

But had none founded Colledges and Schooles,

Whence had they wisedome to account vs fooles?

Alureds owne wings, and Bayliols owne zeale,

(Both Kings renowmed for their gracious deede;

The three religious Winchesters did seale

Their praises, and their statutes with like speede,

Nor do the Lincolnes want deserued meede:

Why should not I of Yorke by right expect,

Equall remembrance for my greater act?

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Wolseius moriens.

VIth honorable burdens I haue tir'de

My Fortunes wheele that it can turne no more,

The leases of my lordships are expir'de,

My lamp burnt out, poore Metaphors great store

To trope my miseries my heart growes sore:

Help me, for I haue surfeited of late,

Some Paracelsian of a sublimate.

Sublim'd indeede, but all the purest gone,

The treasure is in others coffers laid,

Now write Melpomene my tragicke mone,

Call Neroes learned maister, he will ayd,

Thy failing quill with what himselfe once sayd:

Neuer did Fortune greater instance giue,

In what fraile state prowd Magistrates do liue.

Behold my graue, where scarce lies any stone

To couer me, nor roofe to couer it,

And when thou seest our ruines both in one,

One Epitaph will equally befit

The church and me, let neuer man of wit

Be vsde therein; paint on the churches wall,

Here lies an Abbey, there a Cardinall.

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The North was neuer warme since I came thence,

Leicester was neuer rich since I lay there,

O blasting spirit of me, dead influence,

In countries, whose poore wasted Hemisphere

Did euer since a greater burden beare:

Teares that should fall from eies of each degree,

Are Isicles, and will not melt for me.

The peoples hearts of late are strung so hard,

That they will breake before one note shall sound,

Or so vntunable, that still they iar'de;

Their braines so like the Moone, whose coate they found,

That teares for toyes, and not true cause abound:

Call vp my spirites themselues, all are asleepe,

Distill my ashes, yet they cannot weepe:

All as my Chrysom, so my winding sheete,

None ioy'de my birth, none mourn'd my death to see,

The short Parenthesis of life was sweete,

But short▪ what was before, vnknowne to me,

And what must follow, is the Lords decree:

The period of my glory is exprest,

Now of my death, and then my Muse take rest.

Not such as I tooke, when they from me hent

The Seale of England, by great Henries will,

Wherein his picture with his fauour went,

A double losse: They that haue Courtiers skill,

They that haue fauor, let them signe their bill

While wax is warme, and Fortune seemes to blesse,

And Princes seale is ready to impresse.

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For I vnseal'd was open to the view

Of all that read my fortune: some woulde say,

They thought as much before, but that's vntrue,

Because they saw no likelihood of decay,

No bird that striu'd, nor beast that lost his way:

But men interpreted and made a glosse,

Imagining them Prophets of my losse.

My Crosses fall, and Chaplains broken head,

Were Oracles in silence, cause of feare,

Emblemes of trouble, impreses of dread,

Doubt and suspition in my minde did reare

Heauy conceits, when nothing did appeare:

Such are the desperate troubles of our soule,

Where greater things the better things controule.

The day was now approaching nigh at hand,

Of my enstalment in Yorkes gracious See,

Th'aeternall Prouidence did then withstand,

M'intented enterprise; but things must be,

As heau'ns fore-seeing wisedome shall decree:

The mace of Honor, borne like Vertues crest,

Was now laid on my shoulder for arrest.

I did not meane with Predecessors pride

To walke on cloth as custome did require,

More fit that cloth were hung on either side

In mourning wise, or make the poore attire,

More fit the dirige of a mournfull quire:

In dull sad notes all sorrowes to exceede

For him, in whom the Princes loue is dead.

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I am the toombe where that affection lies,

That was the closet where it liuing kept:

Yet wisemen say affection neuer dies;

No but it turnes, and when it long hath slept,

Lookes heauy like the eie that long hath wept:

O could it die, that were a restfull state;

But liuing, it conuerts to deadly hate.

My seruants shal like bondmen serue the time,

My guard attend, without or welt or gard,

We now are subiect to another clime,

Vaine pride, and sumptuous pomp we must discar'd,

For from my losse they haue their iust reward:

Now is captiuity the first degree

Of downefall by commission falne on me.

But why do I heere cease at my arrest,

By which I am prouoked to proceede?

O Libertie how much is that man blest,

Whose happy fortune do his fates areede,

That for Deserts reioyces to be freede?

Much more may others grieue, and much more I,

That for Desert haue lost our Libertie.

By short and heauy iourneys I was brought

To Sheffield parke, there taking sweeterepose,

Where true Nobilitie intirely sought

T'ennoble griefe, and entertaine my woes:

O how doth heau'n the course of cares dispose,

By enterchange of honor and of pleasure,

To augment our miseries exceeding measure?

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His traines attendance shew'd my glories past,

(Bitter remembrance) and my present shame,

(Vnhappy presence) and the times of waste,

Accusing all when I deseru'd the blame,

Accursing Change that keepes mee not the same:

Let him that sees his priuate miserie,

Auoid the prospect of prosperitie.

It breeds pale Enuy, and sad Discontent,

Procures offence before a proffered wrong,

Torments it selfe, till all conceits are spent,

And thoughts deliuered by malitious tongue;

Then rapt with violent fury, growes so strong,

That it enuenomes all our humane parts,

Blind-iudging eies, and sense-confounding harts.

Farre better had I met vpon the way,

Legions of Lazars, ghosts of men vniust,

Afflicted spirits tormented night and day,

With Prides remembrance, and incestuous lust,

Appearing in their ornaments of dust:

Such passengers might well haue met with me

Of like profession, and of like degree.

Ages to come will thankfully admire,

That princes worth which pittied prelates want,

Those benefits are noble and entire,

But in few grounds increaseth such a plant,

Since their old vertuous rootes are growne so scant.

Professions doubt breedes good house-keepers care,

That though they would, yet few there are that dare.

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Sicknesse the Herault of armes, hearts, and all,

Frustrating all arrests, arrests my health,

Stopping my vitall powres, and did fall

So violent, and with so sodaine stealth,

As that it ceaz'd on all my spirits wealth:

Some thought it was a wind, and sooth they say,

It blew my breath, my life, and all away.

By this time, and t'was more then high time now,

Another Knight was sent me from the King,

To whom (saluting me) I gan a vow,

My innocencie, till his words did ring

A peale of ioyes, neuer did Syren sing,

Nor Sayler heare such musike on the seas,

Sweetly to sound, and rauishingly please.

The King said he, (thereat I lowly bent)

Commends him (then I rear'd my heart againe)

Commaunds me, (how I muz'd at his intent)

Assure you that his Grace doth still remaine,

His royall selfe your louing soueraigne:

And wills you by his beames your thoughts to cleere,

Shrowded so long in clowdes of heauy cheere.

Where blind reports haue buzzed in his eares,

Some heinous crimes wherein you should offend,

Since no sound proofe, no certaintie appeares,

He reckes them of no truth, nor to no end,

Which made him in his princely iudgement send

To heare your triall, and not iudge before,

He could commaund no lesse, you craue no more.

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I thank't him for his kindnesse, and repli'de,

Did now the liuehood of my youth remaine,

Had not my strength late with my honor di'de,

No opposite occasion could restraine

My iourney poste, but yet ere Phoebus waine

Haue drawne him twice vnto his westerne rest,

I hope to be in better health addrest.

Two Agonies at once, each in his kind,

Vnite themselues, and so diuided me,

The bodies griefe, and passions of the mind,

Agreeing in strength, and striuing in degree,

Worke on their subiect, leauing one to be

Patient of sicknesse, suppliant of mone,

And I, poore I, must be that odious one.

My Mitre with two toppes deceiu'd my head,

Within one top of Antichrists owne crowne,

In this I blessed am, in being dead

Before I wore that weight that casts men downe,

The soules and bodies both be ouerthrowne:

And were my Rotchet true religions staine,

Repenting teares now wash it white againe.

Comming to Leicester, hard at their gate,

The Abbot with his Couent and their lights

Met me, (O then againe I saw the state,

Not mine, but theirs, not theirs, but churches rights)

This was the last of all the holy nights:

When no pure Planet would this sadnesse see,

The very toarches dropt blacke teares for me.

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The Abbot meeting me stood halfe amaz'd,

Doubting what title should befit me best:

Seeing him silent, when I had embrac'd,

Thus opned I the closure of my brest;

Father I come to take my latest rest:

Vouchsafe for this vile flesh some holy shrine,

Prouide a place to lay these bones of mine.

Would God (said he) would God this body were

Thy spirits worthy keeper and so strong

As they are high, then might you ouerbeare

The strange attempts of such as haue too long

Offred your Lordship, as you thinke, some wrong:

But noble Cardinall, what shall we do?

Sicknesse is growne a Politician too.

Indeede perchance (I said) it may preuent

Such courses as my calling ill befits,

I rather chuse that death should make extent,

Then I consume my fi [...]ry spirit of wits,

For he that stands may fall, and he that sits

May feele vnsetled ease, then let me die,

So in my graue securely shall I lie.

Thus in I went into their holy Cell,

Where new obiections wandred in my mind,

Why could I not be once content to dwell,

In like meane sort, and to like orders bind

My life? why was I not so well inclin'd?

A quiet roofe seem'd then too meane for me,

I sold my selfe to purchase high degree.

[Page]

Monkes, let your charitable tapers burne,

That I may see my selfe with outward light;

Fie, outward lampes will neuer serue my turne,

And of my selfe within I haue no sight,

When it is day abroad, in me t'is night:

Blacke smoake arises from my very name,

I want the oile that should maintaine the flame.

Then gentle Kingstone thinking to appease

And mitigate the troubles of my mind,

Mistooke the nature of my great disease;

Doubt not, said he, the Prince is well inclin'd,

And his good will your Lordship soone shall find:

He wishes your long life; Ah but said I,

The Prince of heau'n determines I shall die.

And had the dutie to my God bin such,

As it was faithful seruing to the King,

Then had my conscience free from feare or touch,

Mounted aloft on Cherubins swift wing,

In holy consort borne a Part to sing:

That now with heauy weight is ouerspread,

And with my body wishes to be dead.

But now my Soule, how wandrest thou abroade

Through Labyrinths inextricable wayes?

Oh finde some ready passage to thy God!

And age, forget the course of yonger dayes,

Forget the pomp and peoples flattering prayse:

And Death (if thou regard a mans request)

Set free my spirite that faine would be at rest.

[Page]

Why some are gone already, looke about,

Did no man meete part of my soule before?

I had but three, one and an halfe are out;

Nay had I more then one? I had no more,

God saue the substance of that little store:

I hope one goes to heau'n, why then t'is well,

Philosophie, and both the rest to hell.

Ile vegetate no longer, perish Sence,

Aspire sweete Reason, and by faith, ascend,

Flie to the perfect pure Intelligence,

Humble Repentance, teach me how to bend

My carefull passage to that ioyfull end:

What is't a clocke? as soone as eight hath strooke,

My soule this earthly bodie hath forsooke.

My Lord, (said one) the clocke shall neuer strike,

No but the howre will come, and that's all one;

But Sir, these prophecies proue seldome like:

Yes at the howre of death, else few or none,

Where earthly clowdes are halfe remou'd and gone,

The soule at separation mends her view,

With purer insight she discernes what's true.

Is not that Wainflet that is come for me,

Great Founder of the sinfull womans towres,

With Wickams ghost, fathers of like degree?

Come they of late from Gods celestiall bowres?

Ile go with them, O if the precious showres

Of that vnspotted Lambe with droppes of bloud,

Haue washt you cleane, let me enioy like good.

[Page]

When shall my toombe at Windsor be prepar'd,

That wants a tenant now expecting me?

It is a monument of good regard,

Befitting well a man of best degree,

O that I now lay buried vnder thee;

And by my side closde vp in dustie vales,

All voices, Ecchoes, talkes, reports, and tales.

I want my Balme to be perfum'd withall,

My coffin is too close a lodge for me,

Fie, fie, addresse me to my funerall,

My mother Earth mine onely wife shall be,

And yet no incest, sithence onely she

Beares al her sonnes and daughters in one wombe,

She Europes, Amerikes, Affrickes, Asiaes toombe.

Those worldlings that wont Nature to accuse,

For giuing Rauens longer liues then men,

Let them the ioy of their opinion vse,

And rauing liue content in earthly denne,

Let age lend them the spectacles to kenne:

This body is a gaole, our soule enlarg'd,

And when we die, our debtes are al discharg'd.

So if I rest indebted to my Lord,

Then let him take my body, soule, and all,

Faine would I see him of mine owne accord,

Or heare that warrant that should quickly call

Me to appeare at sizes generall:

Meane while within this Porters lodge to stay,

But till I shall desire to breake away.

[Page]

Twixt this and then I wil deuise a word,

That ten times ten sound worse than Guilty may;

My Conscience shall witnesses afford,

As many as are minutes in a day,

I charge it not dissemble any way.

If for my traill they demaund my will,

My Country hath and doth condemne me still.

Whither? to Lions denne? Daniel came thence;

I am not worthy to succeede his place:

O'r to the Wolues? there lies my best defence,

For I was rauenous in the time of Grace,

To spoyle the forrest, and the plants deface:

The chosen sheepe will to the Shepheard say,

I was the sheepe that euer went astray.

Yet I that durst offend, dare hope for grace

Beyond all reason, contrary to sense,

Saluation heauy sinners may embrace,

If God remit the guilt of deep offence;

Let all the world hang in their owne suspence,

The world is but a poynt, whereon men dwell,

And I am at a poynt what they can tell.

If any billes of new inditement come,

At the Kings bench in heau'n I must appeere,

Long since arrested, now expect my doome;

Sue where you list, but I must answere there,

Die and accuse me in that hemisphere;

No'r flesh, nor bloud my Declaration telles,

Mine owne accuser in my bosome dwelles.

[Page]

In whose great Temple richly beautified,

Pau'd al with Starres disperst on Saphyre flowre,

The Clarke is a pure Angel sanctified,

The Iudge our true Messias full of powre,

Th' Apostles his Assistants euery houre,

The Iury Saints, the Uerdict Innocent,

The sentence, Come ye blessed to my tent.

The speare that pearc'd his side, the writing Pen,

Christs bloud the Incke, red incke for princes name,

The vailes great breach, the miracle for men,

The sight is shew of them that long dead came

From their old graues, restor'd to liuing frame,

And that last signet passing all the rest,

Our soules discharg'd by Consummatum est.

Here endlesse ioy is their perpetuall cheare,

Their exercise sweete songs of many parts,

Angells the quire, whose Symphonie to heare,

Is able to prouoke conceiuing harts,

To misconceiue of al inticing Arts:

The Dittie prayse, the subiect is the Lord,

That tunes their gladsome spirit to this accord.

Stay then till some good Meteor appeare,

Or let the Sunne exhale me vapor-wise,

Stirre Charles-wayne, and see the coast be cleare,

Let no congealed clowdes or mistes arise

Along the moouing circle of the skies;

Or rather shut vp all in darksome night,

That none may see my silent secret flight.

FINIS.

§

§

[Page]

REader: the Decôrum is kept euen in these Errata: there is no reason that a Booke should be without faultes, when the person of whom the booke intreateth had so many in his life. But the Author could haue wisht, that Wolsey had corrected his errors while he liued, on that condition, that himselfe had committed none in the description of his life. If the reader find any more then are here set downe, let him remember that it is a matter ineuitable, vnlesse Nature had either placed our eyes behind vs, or the wallet of faults before vs.

A 4 side 2 line 14 dele now. C 2 line 6 for When reade Where. Ibid, line 7 for Where reade Nor. E 3 side 1 line 6 The man that. Ibid. line 9 for rupulse reade repulse. F the last page line 21 reade immortall dayes. K 2 side 2 line 6 triall.

I. S.

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Information about this book

Title statement

The life and death of Thomas Wolsey Cardinall Diuided into three parts: his aspiring, triumph, and death. By Thomas Storer student of Christ-church in Oxford.

Storer, Thomas, 1571-1604.

Edition statement

1599

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2004-11 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A13001

ID [STC]

STC 23294

ID [STC]

ESTC S117856

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99853065

ID [PROQUEST]

99853065

ID [VID]

18429

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Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A13001)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 18429)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 333:6)

Source

— The life and death of Thomas Wolsey Cardinall Diuided into three parts: his aspiring, triumph, and death. By Thomas Storer student of Christ-church in Oxford., Storer, Thomas, 1571-1604..

Extent

[80] p.

Printed by [Valentine Simmes for] Thomas Dawson,. At London :: 1599.. (In verse.) (The words "aspiring .. death." are bracketed together on the title page.) (Actual printer's name from STC.) (Signatures: A-K⁴.) (The last leaf is blank.) (Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.)

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