ENGLANDS HEROICALL Epistles.

By Michaell Drayton.

AT LONDON, Printed by I. R. for N. Ling, and are to be sold at his shop at the VVest doore of Poules. 1597.

To the Reader.

SEing these Epistles are now at length made publique, it is imagined that I ought to bee accountable to the world of my priuate mea­ning, chiefely for mine own discharge, least being mistaken, I fall in hazard of a iust & vniuersall reprehension, for — Itae nugae seria ducent In mala derisum semel exceptumque sinistre.

Three poynts are especially therefore to bee explaned. First, why I entitle this worke Englands heroicall Epistles; then why I obserue not the persons dignitie in the dedication; lastlie, why I haue annexed notes to euery Epistles end. For the first, the title I hope carrieth reason in it selfe, for that the most and greatest persons berein were English, or else, that theyr loues were obtained in England. And though (heroicall) be properly vnderstood of demi-gods, as of Hercules and Aeneas, whose Parents were said to be the one celestiall, the other mortall, yet is it also transferred to them who for the greatnes of minde come neere to Gods. For to be borne of a celestiall Incubus, is nothing els but to haue a great and mightie spirit, farre aboue the earth­ly weakenes of men, in which sence Ouid (whose imitator I partly professe to be) dooth also vse heroicall. For the second, see­ing none to whom I haue dedicated any two Epistles, but haue their states ouer-matched by them who are made to speake in the Epistles, how euer the order is in dedication, yet in respect of [Page] theyr degrees in my deuotion, & the cause before recited, I hope they suffer no disparagement, seeing euery one is the first in theyr particuler interest, hauing in some sort, sorted the com­plection of the Epistles, to the character of theyr iudgements to whom I dedicate them; excepting onely the blamefulnes of the persons passion, in those poynts wherein the passion is blameful. Lastly, such manifest difference beeing betwixt euery one of thē, where or howsoeuer they be marshaled, how can I be iustly ap­peached of vnaduisement. For the third, because the worke might in truth be iudged brainish, if nothing but amorous humor were handled therein, I haue inter-wouen matters historicall, which vnexplaned, might defraud the minde of much content; as for example, in Queene Margarits Epistle to VVilliam de la Pole,

My Daizie flower, which once perfum'd the ayre,

Margarite in french signifies a Dazie, which for the allusion to her name, this Queene did giue for her deuise: and this as o­thers more, haue seemed to mee not vnwoorthy the explaning. Now, though no doubt I had need to excuse other things beside, yet these most especially, the rest Iouer-passe to eschue tedious recitall, or to speake as malicious enuie may, for that in truth I ouer-see them. If they bee as harmelesly taken as I meant them, it shall suffise to haue onely tonched the cause of the title, of the dedications, and of the notes, whereby emboldned to publish the residue, (these not beeing accounted in mens opinions [...]) I shall not lastly be afraid to beleeue & acknowledge thee a gen­tle Reader.

M. D.

To M. Michaell Drayton.

HOw can he write that broken hath his pen,
Hath rent his paper, throwne his Inke away,
Detests the world, and company of men,
Because they grow more hatefull day by day.
Yet with these broken reliques, mated minde,
And what a iustly-greeued-thought can say:
I giue the world to know, I nere could finde,
A worke more like to liue a longer day.
Goe verse, an obiect for the proudest eye,
Disdaine those which disdaine to reade thee ouer,
Tell them they know not how they should descry,
The secret passions of a witty louer.
For they are such as none but those shall know,
VVhom beauty schooles to hold the blind Boyes bow.
Once I had vow'd (ô who can all voweskeepe)
Hence-forth to smother my vnlucky Muse;
Yet for thy sake she started out of sleepe,
Yet now she dyes. Then doe as kinsfolke vse;
Close vp the eyes of my now-dying-stile,
As I haue op'ned thy sweet babes ere-while.
E. Sc.
Gent. Duris decus omen.

¶ To the excellent Lady Lucie, Countesse of Bedford.

MAdam, after all the admired wits of this excellent age, which haue laboured in the sad complaintes of faire and vnfortunate Rosamond, and by the excellence of in­uention, haue sounded the depth of her sun­dry passions: I present to your Ladiship this Epistle of hers to King Henry, whom I may rather call her louer then be­loued. Heere must your Ladiship behold variablenes in resolution: woes constantly grounded: laments abruptly bro­ken off: much confidence, no certainty, wordes begetting teares, teares confounding matter, large complaints in little papers: and many deformed cares, in one vniformed Epi­stell. I striue not to affect singularity, yet would faine flie imi­tation, and prostrate mine owne wants to other mens perfec­tions. Your iudiciall eye must modell forth what my penne hath layd together: much would shee say to a King, much would I say to a Countesse, but that the method of my Epi­stle must conclude the modestie of hers: which I wish may recommend my euer vowed seruice to your honour.

Michaell Drayton.

The Epistle of Rosamond to King Henrie the second.

* The Argument.

Henrie the second of that name, King of England, the sonne of Geffrey Plantaginet, Earle of Aniou, & Maude the Em­presse, hauing by long sute and princely gifts, wonne (to his vnlawfull desire) faire Rosamond, the daughter of the Lord VValter Clyfford, and to auoyde the danger of Ellinor his iealious Queene, had caused a Labyrinth to be made within his pallace at VVoodstocke; in the center whereof, hee had lodged his beautious paramore. VVhilst the King is absent in his warres in Normandy, this poore distressed Lady, inclosed in this solitarie place, tucht with remorse of conscience, writes vnto the King of her distresse and miserable estate, vrging him by all meanes and perswasions, to cleere himselfe of this infamie, and her of the griefe of minde, by taking away her wretched lyfe.

IF yet thine eyes (great Henry) may endure
These tainted lynes, drawne with a hand impure,
VVhich faine would blush, but feare keeps blushes back,
And therefore suted in dispayring blacke,
This in loues name, ô that these lypps might craue,
But that sweete name (vile I) prophaned haue;
[Page]Punish my fault, or pittie mine estate,
Reade it for loue, if not for loue, for hate.
If with my shame thine eyes thou faine would'st feede,
Heere let them surfeit, on my shame to reede;
This scribled paper which I send to thee,
If noted rightly, dooth resemble mee:
As this pure ground, wheron these letters stand,
So pure was I, ere stayned by thy hand;
Ere I was blotted with this foule offence,
So cleere and spotlesse was mine innocence:
Now like these marks, which taint this hatefull scroule,
Such the black sinnes, which spotte my leprous soule.
O Henry why, by losse thus shouldst thou winne?
To get by conquest? to enrich with sinne?
VVhy on my name this slaunder doost thou bring,
To make my fault renowned by a King?
Fame neuer stoopes to things but meane and poore,
The more our greatnes, makes our fault the more.
Lights on the ground, themselues doe lessen farre,
But in the ayre, each small sparke seemes a starre.
VVhy on a womans frailetie wouldst thou lay
This subtile plot, mine honour to betray?
Or thy vnlawfull pleasure should'st thou buy
vvith vile expence of kinglie maiestie?
T'was not my minde consented to this ill,
Then had I beene transported by my will,
For what my body was enforst to doe,
(Heauen knowes) my soule did not consent vnto;
For through mine eyes, had shee her liking seene,
Such as my loue, such had my louer beene.
True loue is simple, like his mother Truth,
Kindlie affection, youth to loue with youth;
No sharper corsiue to our blooming yeares,
[Page 2]Then the cold badge of vvinter=blasted haires.
Thy kinglie power makes to withstand thy foes,
But canst not keepe backe age, with time it growes;
Though honour our ambitious sexe doth please,
Yet in that honour, age a foule disease.
Nature hath her free course in all, and then,
Age is alike in Kings, and other men,
VVhich all the world will to my shame impute
That I my selfe did basely prostitute;
And say, that gold was suell to the fire,
Gray haires in youth not kindling greene desire.
O no; that wicked woman wrought by thee,
My temptor was to that forbidden tree;
That subtile serpent, that seducing deuill,
vvhich bad mee taste the fruite of good and euill:
That Circe, by whose magicke I was charm'd,
And to this monstrous shape am thus transform'd;
That viperous hagge, the foe to her owne kind,
That wicked spirit, vnto the weaker minde:
Our frailties plague, our natures onely curse,
Hells deep'st damnation, the worst euills worse.
But Henry, how canst thou affect me thus,
T'vvhom thy remembrance now is odious?
My haplesse name, with Henries name I found
Cut in the glasse with Henries Diamond:
That glasse from thence fainc would I take away,
But then I feare the ayre would me betray;
Then doe I striue to wash it out with teares,
But then the same more euident appeares.
Then doe I couer it with my guiltie hand,
vvhich that names witnes doth against mee stand:
Once did I sinne, which memory doth cherrish,
Once I offended, but I euer perrish.
[Page]VVhat griefe can be, but time dooth make it lesse?
But infamy tyme neuer can suppresse.
Some-times to passe the tedious irkesome howres,
I clymbe the top of Woodstocks mounting towers,
VVhere in a Turret secretly I lye
To viewe from farre such as doe trauaile by,
VVhether (mee thinks) all cast theyr eyes at mee,
As through the stones my shame did make them see,
And with such hate the harmles walls doe view,
As vnto death theyr eyes would mee pursue.
The married women curse my hatefull life,
VVhich wrong a lawfull bed, a Queene, a wife;
The maydens wish I buried quicke may die,
The lothsome staine to their virginitie.
VVell knew'st thou what a monster I would bee,
VVhen thou didst builde this Labyrinth for mee,
VVhose strange Meanders turning euery way,
Be like the course wherein my youth did stray:
Onely a Clue to guide mee out and in,
But yet still walke I, circuler in sinne.
As in the Tarras heere this other day
My maide and I did passe the time away,
Mongst manie pictures which we passed by,
The silly girle at length hapt to espie
Chast Lucrece picture, and desires to know
VVhat shee should be herselfe that murdred so;
VVhy girle (quoth I) this is that Romaine dame:
Not able then to tell the rest for shame,
My tougue doth mine owne guiltines betray;
VVith that I send the pratling girle away,
Least when my lisping guiltie tongue should hault,
My lookes should be the Index to my fault.
As that life blood which from the hart is sent,
[Page 3]In beauties fielde pitching his Crimson Tent,
In louely sanguine sutes the Lilly cheeke,
VVhilst it but for a resting place dooth seeke;
And changing often-times with sweet delight,
Conuerts the white to red, the red to white.
The louely blush, the palenes dooth distaine,
The palenes makes the blush more faire againe:
Thus in my breast a thousand thoughts I carry,
vvhich in my passion diuersly doe varry.
VVhen as the sunne hales towards the westerne slade,
And the trees shadowes three times greater made,
Foorth goe I to a little Current neere,
VVhich like a wanton trayle creepes heere and there,
VVhere with mine angle casting in my baite,
The little fishes (dreading the deceit)
vvith fearefull nibbling flie th'inticing gin,
By nature taught what danger lyes therein.
Things reasonlesse thus warnd by nature bee,
Yet I deuourd the baite was layd for mee;
Thinking thereon, and breaking into grones,
The bubling spring which trypps vppon the stones
Chides mee away, least sitting but too nie,
I should pollute that natiue puritie.
Rose of the VVorld, so dooth import my name,
Shame of the worlde, my life hath made the same;
And to th'vnchast thys name shall giuen bee,
Of Rosamond, deriu'd from sinne and mee.
The Clyffords take from mee that name of theirs,
Famous for vertue many hundred yeeres.
They blot my birth with hatefull bastardie,
That I sprang not from their Nobilitie;
They my alliance vtterly refuse,
Nor will a strumpet shall their name abuse.
[Page]Heere in the Garden, wrought by curious hands,
Naked Diana in the fountaine standes,
vvith all her Nimphs got round about to hide her,
As when Acteon had by chaunce espvde her:
This sacred image I no sooner view'd,
But as that meta morphosd man pursu'd
By his owne hounds: so by my thoughts am I,
vvhich chase mee still, which way so ere I flie.
Touching the grasse, the honny-dropping dew,
vvhich falls in teares before my limber shue,
Vpon my foote consumes in weeping still,
As it would say, Why went'st thou vnto ill?
Thus to no place in safetie can I goe
But euery thing [...] giue mee cause of woe.
In that faire Casket of such wondrous cost
Thou sent'st the night before mine honour lost,
Amimone was wrought, a harmelesse maide,
By Neptune that adulterous God betrayd;
Shee prostrate at his feete begging with prayers,
vvringing her hands, her eyes swolne vp with teares;
This was not the entrapping baite of men,
But by thy vertue gentlie warning then;
To shew to mee for what intent it, came,
Least I therein should euer keepe my shame.
And in this Casket (ill I see it now)
VVas loues-loue l-o turnd into a Cowe.
Yet was shee kept with Argus hundred eyes,
So wakefull still be lunos iealousies;
By this I well might haue fore-warned beene,
T'haue cleerd my selfe to thy suspecting Queene,
vvho with more hundred eyes attendeth mee
Then had poore Argus single eyes to see.
In this thou righthe imitatest loue,
[Page 4]Into a beast thou hast transformd thyloue.
Nay worser farre; (degenerate from kinde)
A monster, both in body and in minde.
The waxen Taper which I burne by night,
vvith his dull vapory dimnes mocks my sight;
As though the dampe which hinders his cleere flame,
Came from my breath, in that night of my shame,
VVhen it did burne as darknesse vglie eye
vvhen shot the starre of my virginitie.
And if a starre but by the glasse appeare,
I straight intreate it not to looke in heere;
I am already hatefull to the light,
It is enough, betray mee not to night.
Then sith my shame so much belongs to thee,
Rid mee of that, by onelie murdring mee;
And let it iustly to my charge be layd
Thy roiall person I would haue betrayd:
Thou shalt not neede by circumstance t'accuse mee,
If I denie it, let the heauens refuse mee.
My lifes a blemish which dooth cloude thy name,
Take it away, and cleere shall shine thy fame:
Yeeld to my sute, if ouer pitty moou'd thee,
In this shewe mercie, as I euer lou'd thee.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Well knewest thou what a monster I would bee,
When thou didst builde this Labyrinth for mee.

IN the Cretean Labyrinth a monster was inclosed, called a Mino­taur, the history wherof is well knowne, but the Labyrinth was framed by Daedalus, w so many intricate waies, y being entred, one could either hardly or neuer return, being in maner of a maze, saue [Page] that it was larger, the waies being walld in on euery side, out of the which Theseus by Ariadnes help (lending him a clue of thred) esca­ped. Some report that it was a house, hauing one halfe beneath the ground, another aboue, the chamber doores therein so deceit­fully enwrapped, & made to open so many sundry wayes, that it was held a matter almost impossible to returne.

Some haue held it to haue been an Allegorie of mans life, true it is, that the comparison will hold, for what liker to a Labyrinth then the maze of life? But it is affirmed by antiquitie that there was indeede such a building, though Daedalus beeing a name ap­plied to the workmans excellencie, make it suspected; for Daedalus is nothing els but ingenious, or artificiall. Heereupon it is vsed a­mong the auncient Poets for any thing curiously wrought.

Rosamonds Labyrinth, whose ruins together with her well being paued with square stone in the bottom, and also her towre from which the [...] did run, (are yet remaining,) was altogether vnder ground, being vanlts arched and waled with brick & stone, almost inextricably wound one within another, by which if at a­ny time her lodging were layd about by the Queene, she might ea­sily auoyde perrill imminent, & if neede be, by secrete issues take the ayre abroad, many furlongs round about Wodstocke in Ox­fordshire, wherein it was situated. Thus much for Rosamands La­byrinth.

Whose strange Meanders turned euery way.

Maeander is a riuer in Lycia, a Prouince of Natolia or Asia minor, famous for the sinuositie and often turning thereof, rifing frō cer­taine hills in Maeonia, heereupon are intricate turnings by a trans­sumptiue and Metonimicall kind of speech, called Maeanders, sor this riuer did so strangely path it selfe, that the foote seemed to touch the head.

Rose of the world, so dooth import my name,
Shame of the world my life hath made the same.

It might be reported, how at Godstow where this Rose of the world was sumptuously interred, a certaine Bishop in the visitati­on of his diocese, caused the monument which had been erected to [...] honour, vtterly to be demolished, but be that seuere chastise­ment of Rosamond then dead at this time also ouerpassed, least she should seeme to be the Shame of the world.

Henry to Rosamond.

WHen first the Post arriued in my Tent,
And brought the Letters Rosamond had sent,
Think frō his lips, but what sweet [...] came,
vvhē in mine eare he softly breath'd thy name,
Straight I enioyne him of thy health to tell,
Longing to heare my Rosamond did well;
VVith newe enquiries then I cut him short
vvhen of the same he gladly would report,
That with the earnest hast my tongue oft tryps,
Catching the words halfe spoke out of his lyps:
This told, yet more I vrge him to reueale,
To loose no time whilst I vnript the seale.
The more I read, still doe I erre the more,
As though mistaking some-what said before.
Missing the poynt, the doubtfull sence is broken,
Speaking againe, what I before had spoken;
Still in a swound, my hart reuiues, and faints,
Twixt hopes, dispaires, twixt smiles, and deepe complaints.
As these sad accents sort in my desires,
Smooth calmes, rough stormes, sharpe frosts, and raging fiers,
Put on with boldnesse, and put backe with feares,
My tongue with curses, when mine eyes with teares.
O how my hart at that black line did tremble,
That blotted paper should thy selfe resemble;
O were there paper but neere halfe so white,
The Gods thereon their sacred Lawes would write
VVith pennes of Angels wings, and for theyr inck,
That heauenly Nectar, their immortall drinke.
Maiestick courage striues to haue supprest
This fearefull passion stirr'd vp in my brest,
[Page]But still in vaine the same I goe about,
My hart must breake within, or woes breake out.
Am I at home pursu'd with priuate hate,
And warre comes raging to my Pallace gate?
Is meager Enuie stabbing at my throne,
Treason attending when I walke alone?
And am I branded with the curse of Rome,
And stand condemn'd by dreadfull counsells dombe?
And by the pride of my rebellious sonne,
Rich Normandy with Armies ouer-runne?
Fatall my birth, vnfortunate my life,
Vnkind my children, most vnkinde my wife.
Griefe, cares, old age suspition to torment mee,
Nothing on earth to quiet or content mee;
So manie woes, so many plagues to finde,
Sicknes of body, discontent of minde;
Hopes left, helps reft, life wrong'd, ioy interdicted,
Banisht, distress'd, forsaken, and afflicted:
Of all releefe hath Fortune quite bereft mee?
Onely my loue vnto my comfort left mee.
And is one beautie thought so great a thing?
To mittigate the sorrowes of a King?
Barr'd of that choyce the vulgar often proue,
Haue wee (then they), lesse priuiledge in loue?
Is it a King, the wofull widdow heares?
Is it a King, dryes vp the Orphans teares?
Is it a King, regards the Clyants cry?
Giues life to him by iustice domb'd to die?
Is it his care, the Common-wealth that keepes,
As doth the nurse her babie whilst it sleepes?
And that poore King, of all these hopes preuented,
Vnhard, vnhelp'd, vnpittied, vnlamented.
Yet let me be with pouertie opprest,
[Page 6]Of earthly blessings rob'd, and dispossest,
Let me be scorn'd, reiected, and reuild,
From kingdom, country, & from Court exild,
Let the worlds curse vpon me still remaine,
And let the last bring on the first againe;
All miseries that wretched man may wound,
Leaue for my comfort; onely Rosamond,
For thee swift Time her speedy course doth stay,
At thy commaund the Destinies obey;
Pitty is dead, that comes not from thine eyes,
And at thy feete, euen mercy prostrate lyes;
If I were feeble, rhumaticke, or cold,
These were true signes that I were waxed old,
But I can march all day in massie steele,
Nor yet my armes vnweeldie weight do feele,
Nor wak'd by night, with bruze or bloudy woūd,
The Tent my bed, no pillow but the ground;
For very age had I layne bedrid long,
One smile of thine againe could make me yong.
VVere there in Art a power but so diuine
As is in that sweet Angell-tongue of thine,
That great Inchauntresse which once tooke such paines,
To force young blood in Aesons wither'd vaines,
And frō groues, mountaines, medowes, marshe & fen,
Brought all the simples were ordaind for men,
And of those plants; those hearbs, those flowers, those weeds,
Vsed the roots, the leaues, the iuyce, the seeds,
And in this powerfull potion that shee makes,
Puts blood of men, of beasts, of birds, of snakes,
Neuer had needed to haue gone so far,
To seeke the soyles where all those simples are,
One accent from thy lypps, the blood more warmes,
Then all her philtres, exorcismes, and charmes.
[Page]Thy presence hath repaired in one day,
VVhat manie yeeres and sorrowes did decay,
And made fresh beauties fairest branches spring
From wrinckled furrowes of Times ruining.
Euen as the hungry winter-starued earth
VVhen shee by nature labours towards her birth;
Still as the day vpon the darke world creepes,
One blossom foorth after another peepes,
Till the small flower whose roote is nowe vnbound,
Gets from the frostie prison of the ground,
Spreading the leaues vnto the powerfull noone,
Deck'd in fresh colours, smiles vpon the sunne.
Neuer vnquiet care lodg'd in that brest,
VVhere but one thought of Rosamond dyd rest;
Nor thirst, nor trauaile, which on warre attend,
Ere brought the long day to desired end;
Nor yet did pale Feare, or leane Famine liue,
vvhere hope of thee, did any comfort giue.
Ah what iniustice then is this of thee,
That thus the guiltlesse doost condemne for me?
VVhen onely shee (by meanes of my offence)
Redeemes thy purenes, and thy innocence,
VVhen to our wills perforce obey they must,
That iust in them, whatere in vs vniust;
Of what we doe, not them account we make,
Thysserues for all; they doe it for our sake,
And what to worke a Princes will may merit,
Hath deep'st impression in a gentle spirit:
Our powerfull wills drawne by attractiue beautie,
They to our wills arm'd by subiectiue dutie.
And true affection doth no bound reteane,
For this is sure, firme loue had neuer meane;
And whilst the cause by reason is disputed,
[Page 7]Reason itselfe, by loue is most confuted.
Ift be my name that doth thee so offend,
No more my selfe shall be mine owne names friend;
And ift be that which thou doost onely hate,
That name, in my name, lastly hath his date.
Say tis accurst, and fatall, and dispraise it,
If written blot it, if engrauen, raze it.
Say that of all names tis a name of woe,
Once a Kings name, but now it is not so.
And when all this is done, I know twill grieue thee,
And therefore (sweet) why should I now beleeue thee?
Nor shouldst thou thinke those eyes with enuie lower,
vvhich passing by thee, gaze vp to thy tower,
But rather praise thine owne which be so cleere,
VVhich from the Turret like two starres appeare;
And in theyr moouings, like a Christall glasse,
Make such reflection vnto all that passe,
Aboue the sunne doth shine, beneath thine eyes,
As though two sunnes at once, shin'd in two skyes.
The little streame which by thy tower doth glide,
VVhere oft thou spend'st the weary euening tide,
To view thee well his course would gladly stay,
As loth from thee to part so soone away;
And with salutes thy selfe would gladly greete,
And offer vp those small drops at thy feete,
But finding that the enuious bankes restraine it,
To'xcuse it selfe doth in this sort complaine it,
And therefore this sad bubling murmur keepes,
And in this sort within the channell weepes.
And as thou doost into the water looke,
The fishe which see thy shadow in the brooke,
Forget to feede, and all amazed lye,
So daunted with the luster of thine eye.
[Page]And that sweet name which thou so much doost wrong,
In time shall be some famous Poets song;
And with the very sweetnes of that name
Lyons and Tygars, men shal learne to tame.
The carefull mother from her pensiue brest
vvith Rosamond shall bring her babe to rest;
The little birds, (by mens continuall sound)
Shall learne to speake, and prattle Rosamond;
And when in Aprill they begin to sing,
vvith Rosamond shall welcome in the spring;
And she in whom all rarities are found,
Shall still be said to be a Rosamond.
The little flowers which dropping honied dew,
which (as thou writ'st) do weepe vpon thy shue,
Not for thy fault (sweet Rosamond) doe mone,
But weep for griefe, that thou so soone art gone,
For if thy foote tuch Hemlocke as it goes,
That Hemlock's made more sweeter then the Rose,
Of loue or Neptune how they did betray,
Nor speake of 1-0, or Amimone,
VVhen she for whom Ioue once became a Bull,
Compar'd with thee, had been a tawny trull;
He a white Bull, and shee a whiter Cow,
Yet he, nor she, nere halfe so white as thou.
Long since (thou knowst) my care prouided for
To lodge thee safe from iealious Ellinor;
The Labyrinths conueyance guides thee so,
(vvhich onely Vahan thou and I doe knowe)
If shee doe guard thee with a hundred eyes,
I haue an hundred subtile Mercuries
To watch that Argus, which my loue doth keep,
Vntill eye, after eye, fall all to sleepe.
Those starrs looke in by night, looke in to see,
[Page 8]VVondring what starre heere on the earth should bee.
As oft the Moone amidst the silent night,
Hath come to ioy vs with her friendly light,
And by the Curtaine help'd mine eye to see
VVhat enuious night and darknes hid from mee;
vvhen I haue wish'd that shee might euer stay,
And other worlds might still enioy the day.
VVhat should I say? words, teares, and sighes be spent,
And want of time dooth further helps preuent;
My Campe resounds with feare sull shocks of war,
Yet in my breast the worser conflicts are;
Yet is my signall to the battailes sound,
The blessed name of beautious Rosamond.
Accursed be that hart, that tongue, that breath,
Should thinke, should speake, or whisper of thy death.
For in one smyle, or lower from thy sweet eye,
Consists my life, my hope, my victorie.
Sweet VVoodstock, where my Rosamond doth rest,
Blessed in her, in whom thy King is blest;
For though in Fraunce a while my body bee,
(Sweet Paradice) my hart remaines in thee.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Am I at home pursued with priuate hate,
And warre comes raging to my Pallace gate?

RObert Earle of Leicester, who tooke part with young king Hen­ry, entred into England with an Army of 3. thousand Flem­mings, and spoyled the Countryes of Norfolke and Suffolke, bee­ing succoured by many of the Kings priuate enemies.

And am I branded with the curse of Roome?

King Henry the second, the first Plantaginet, accused for the death of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, slaine in the Cathedrall Church, was accursed by Pope Alexander, although he [Page] vrgd sufficient proofe of his innocencie in the same, and offered to take vpon him any pennance, so he might escape the curse & in­terdiction of the Realme.

And by the pride of my rebellious sonne,
Rich Normandie with Armies ouer-runne.

Henry the young King, whom King Henry had caused to bee crowned in his life, (as he hoped) both for his owne good & the good of his subiects, which indeede turned to his owne sorrowe, and the trouble of the whole Realme, for he rebelled against him, and raysing a power, by the meanes of Lewes King of Fraunce, & William King of Scots who tooke part with him, inuaded [...].

Vnkind my children, most vnkind my wife.

Neuer King more infortunate then King Henry in the disobedi­ence of his chyldren; first Henry, then Geffery, then Richard, then Iohn, all at one time or other, first or last, vnnaturally rebelled a­gainst him; then the iealoufie of Ellinor his Queene, who suspec­ted his loue to Rosamond: which grecuous troubles, the deuout of those times, attrybuted to happen vnto him iustly, for refusing to take vpon him the gouernment of Ierusalem, offered vnto him by the Patriarck there, which Countrey was mightily afflicted by the Souldane.

Which onely Vahan thou and I doe know.

This Vahan was a Knight whom the King exceedingly loued, who kept the Pallace at Woodstocke, and much of the Kinges iewels and treasure, to whom the King committed many of his secrets, and in whom hee reposed such trust, that hee durst com­mit his loue into his charge.

FINIS.

TO HIS SINGVLER good Lord, the Lord Mount-eagle.

MY verie good Lord, let mee not need by tedi­ous protestation to expostulate the long con­ceiued desire I haue had to honour you: your owne noble inclination can best conceiue, what greater testimonie coulde bee demon­strate: and I had rather abreuiate what I woulde say, then by saying too much, to giue doubtfull construction, of vn­doubted well meaning. Let this my Epistles be one staire or little degree, whereby I may ascend into the entrance of your good opinion, as one whom I haue chose, amongst the num­ber of mine honourable friends, whose patronage may giue protection to my newe aduentured Poesie. Thus leauing your honour to your hopefull fortunes, and my Muse to your gracious acceptance, I wish you all happines.

Michaell Drayton.

King Iohn to Matilda.

* The Argument.

After that King Iohn had assaied by all meanes possible, to win the fayre and chast Matilda, to his vnchast and vnlawfull bed, and by vniust courses and false accusation had bani­shed the Lord Robert Fitzwater her noble Father, and ma­ny other of his alies, who iustly withstood the desire of this wanton King, seeking the dishonour of his faire and vertu­ous daughter this chast Lady still solicited by this lasciui­ous King, flies vnto Dunmowe in Essex, where in a Nun­narie shee becomes a Nun, whether the King (still persi­sting in his sute), solicits her by this Epistle; her reply con­firmes her vowed and inuinsible chastitie, making knowne to the King her pure vnspotted thoughts.

WHen these my Letters come vnto thy view,
Think them not forc'd, or faind, or strange, or new;
Thou knowst no way, no meanes, no course exempted,
Left now vnsought, vnprou'd, or vnatempted,
All rules, regards, all secrets, helps of Art,
VVhat knowledge, wit, experience can impart;
And in the old worlds Ceremonies doted,
Good dayes for loue, times, howers, and minutes noted:
And where Art left, loue teacheth more to find,
By signes in presence to expresse the minde.
Oft hath mine eye, told thine eye, beautie greeu'd it,
And begd but for one looke to haue releeu'd it:
And still with thine eyes motion, mine eye mou'd,
Labouring for mercie; telling how it lou'd.
[Page 10]If blush'd, I blush'd, thy cheeke pale, pale was mine,
My red, thy red, my whitenes aunswered thine;
If sigh'd, I sigh'd, alike both passion proue,
But thy sigh is for griefe, my sigh for loue;
If a word past, that insufficient were,
To helpe that word, mine eye let forth a teare,
And if that teare did dull or sencelesse proue,
My hart would fetch a sigh, to make it moue.
Oft in thy face, one fauour from the rest
I singled forth that likes my fancie best;
This likes me most, another likes me more,
A third exceeding both those lik'd before:
Then one that doth deriue all wonder thence,
Then one whose rarenes passeth excellence.
VVhilst I behold thy Globe-like rouling eye,
Thy louely cheeke (mee thinkes) stands smiling by,
And tells mee, those but shadowes & supposes,
And bids me thether come and gather Roses;
Looking on that, thy brow doth call to mee,
To come to it, if wonders I will see.
Now haue I done, and now thy dimpled chin
Againe doth tell me I but newe begin,
And bids me yet to looke vpon thy lip,
Least wondring least, the greatest I ouerslip.
My gazing eye, on this and this doth ceaze,
vvhich surfets, yet cannot desire appease.
Then like I browne, (ôlouely browne thy haire)
Onely in brownenes, beauty dwelleth there.
Then loue I blacke, thine eye-ball blacke as Iet,
Then cleere, that ball is there in Christall set,
Then white, but snow, nor swan, nor Iuorie please,
Then are thy teeth more whiter then all these:
In browne, in blacke, in purenes, and in white,
[Page]All loue, all sweets, all rarenes, all delight;
Thus thou vile theefe, my stolne hart hence doest carry,
And novv thou flyest into sanctuarie;
Fie peeuish girle, ingratefull vnto nature,
Did she to this end, frame thee such a creature
That thou her glory should increase thereby,
And thou alone doest scorne societie?
VVhy heauen, made beauty like her selfe to view,
Not to be lock'd vp, in a smokie Mew,
A rosy-taynted feature is heauens gold
vvhich all men ioy to touch, all to behold.
It was enacted when the world begun
That so rare beauty should not liue a Nun.
But if this vow thou needes wilt vndertake,
O were mine armes a Cloyster for thy sake,
Still may his paines for euer be augmented,
This superstition that at first inuented
Ill might he thriue, that brought this custome hether,
That holy people might not liue together,
A happy time, a good world was it then,
vvhen holy women, liu'd with holy men,
But Kings in this, yet priuiledg'd may bee,
Ile be a Monke, so I may liue with thee.
VVho would not rise to ring the mornings knell,
VVhen thy sweet lips might be the sacring bell?
Or what is he, not willingly would fast,
That on those lips, might feast his lips at last,
vvho vnto Mattens, early would not rise?
That might reade by the light of thy faire eyes?
On worldly pleasure, who would euer looke?
That had thy curles his beades, thy browes his booke?
VVert thou the crosse, to thee who would not creepe
And wish the crosse, still in his armes to keepe,
[Page 11]Sweet girle, ile take this holy habite on me,
Of meere deuotion that is come vpon me,
Holy Matilda thou the Saint of mine,
Ile be thy Seruant, and my bed thy shrine,
vvhen I doe offer, be thy breast the Alter,
And when I pray thy mouth shall be my Psalter,
The beades that we will bid shall be sweet kisses,
vvhich we will number, if one pleasure mifses,
And when an Auic comes, to say Amen,
vve will begin, and tell them or'e againe.
Now all good fortune, giue me happy thrift,
As I should ioy t'absolue thee after shrift.
But see how much I doe my selfe beguile,
And doe mistake thy meaning all this while,
Thou took'st this vow to equall my desire
Because thou wouldst haue me to be a Fryer,
And that we two, should comfort one another,
A holy Sister, and a holy Brother,
Thou as a Votresse vnto me alone,
She is most chast, that's but enioy'd of one.
Yea: now thy true deuotion doe I finde,
And sure in this I much commend thy minde:
Else heere thou do'st but ill insample giue,
And in a Nunry heere thou shouldst not liue
Is't possible the house that thou art in
Should not be tucht, (though with a veniall sin)
vvhen such a she-Priest comes her masse to say,
Twenty to one, they all forget to pray.
VVell may we wish, they would their harts amend,
vvhen we be witnes, that their eyes offend,
All creatures haue desires, or else some lye,
Let them thinke so that will, so will not I.
Doest thou not thinke our Ancestors were wise,
[Page]That these religious Cells did first deuise?
As Hospitalls were for the sore and sick,
These for the crook'd, the hault, the stigmatick,
Least that theyr seede mark'd with deformitie,
Should be a blemish to posteritie.
VVould [...] her beauty should be hid from sight,
Nere would she thus herselfe adorne with light,
vvith sparkling lamps; nor would she paint her throne
But she delighteth to be gaz'd vpon:
And when the golden glorious sunne goes downe,
vvould she put on her star-bestuded crowne:
And in her masking sute, the spangled skie,
Come forth to bride it in her reuelrie;
And gaue this gift to all things in creation,
That they in this, should imitate her fashion.
All things that faire, that pure, that glorious beene,
Offer themselues of purpose to be seene;
In sincks and vaults, the vgly Toades doe dwell,
The deuils since most vgly, they in hell:
Our mother earth, nere glories in her fruite,
Till by the sunne clad in her Tinsell sute,
Nor doth shee euer smyle him in the face,
Till in his glorious armes he her imbrace:
VVhich proues she hath asoule, sence, and delight
Of generations feeling appetite.
VVell hypocrite (infaith) wouldst thou confesse,
vvhat ere thy tongue say, thy hart saith no lesse.
Note but this one thing, (if nought els perswade)
Nature of all things male, and female made,
Shewing her selfe in our proportion plaine,
For neuer made shee any thing in vaine;
For as thou art, should any haue been thus,
She would haue left insample vnto vs.
[Page 12]The Turtle that's so true and chast in loue,
Shewes by her mate something the spirit doth moue,
Th'arabian Bird, that neuer is but one,
Is onely chast, because shee is alone;
But had our mother Nature made them two,
They would haue clone as Doues, and Sparrowes doe,
But therefore made a martyr in desire,
And doth her pennance lastly in the fire;
So may they all be rosted quicke that be
Apostataes to nature, as is shee.
Finde me but one, so young, so faire, so free,
(vvoo'd, su'd, and sought, by him that now seekes thee)
But of thy minde, and heere I vndertake,
Straight to erect a Nunry for her sake;
O hadst thou tasted of those rare delights
Ordaind each where to please great Princes sights,
To haue theyr beauties, and theyr wits admird,
(VVhich is by nature, of your sexe desird)
Attended by our traynes, our pompe, our port,
Like Gods ador'd abroad, kneeld to in Court,
To be saluted with the cheerefull cry,
Of highnes, grace, and soueraigne maiestie:
But vnto them that know not pleasures price,
All's one, a pryson, and a Paradice.
If in a Dungion, closd vp from the light,
There is no difference twixt the day and night,
VVhose pallate neuer tasted daintie cates,
Thinks homely dishes, princely delicates.
Alas poore girle, I pittie thine estate,
That now thus long hast liu'd disconsolate;
VVhy now at length let yet thy hart relent,
And call thy Father backe from banishment:
And with those princely honors heere inuest him,
[Page]That aukeward loue and hate hath disposest him.
Call from exile, thy deere alies and friends,
To whom the furie of my griefe extends;
And if thou take my counsaile in this case,
I make no doubt thou shalt haue better grace,
And leaue that [...], that accursed Cell,
There let blacke night, and melancholie dwell;
Come to the Court, where all ioyes shall receaue thee,
And till that howre, yet with my griefe I leaue thee.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

THis Epistle of K, Iohn to Matilda, is much more poetical then historicall, making no mention at all of the occurrents of the time, or state, touching only his loue to her, & the extremity of his passions forced by his desires, rightly fashioning the humo of this King as it hath been truly noted by the best & most autenti­call Writers, whose nature and disposition, is truliest discerned in the course of his loue; first resting at the ceremonies of the ser­uices of those tymes, then going about by all strong and pro­bable arguments, to reduce her to pleasures and delights, next with promises of honour, which he thinketh to be last and grea­test meane, and to haue greatest power in her sexe; with promise of calling home of her friends, which he thought might be a great inducement to his desires.

Matilda to King Iohn.

NO sooner I, receiu'd thy letters heere,
Before I knew from whom, or whence they were,
But suddaine feare my bloodlesse vaines doth fill,
As though diuining of some future ill;
[Page 13]And in a shyuering extasie I stood,
A chyllie coldnes runnes through all my blood:
Opening thy letters, I shut vp my rest,
And let strange cares into my quiet brest,
As though thy hard, vnpittying hand had sent mee,
Some newe deuised torture to torment mee;
VVell had I hop'd, I had beene now forgot,
Cast out with those things thou remembrest not:
And that proude beautie, which inforst mee hether,
Had with my name, now perrish'd both together:
But ô (I see) our hoped good deceaues vs,
But what we would forgoe, that sildome leaues vs;
Thy blamefull lines, bespotted so with sin,
Mine eyes would clense, ere they to reade begin:
But I to wash an Indian goe about,
For ill so hard set on, is hard got out.
I once determind; still to haue beene mute,
Onelie by silence to [...] thy sute,
But thys againe did alter mine intent,
For some will say, that silence doth consent:
Desire, with small incouraging growes bold,
And hope, of euery little thing takes hold.
I set mee downe at large to write my minde,
But now, nor pen, nor paper can I finde;
For dread, and passion, are so powerfull ore mee:
That I discerne not things that stand before mee:
Finding the pen, the paper, and the waxe,
This at commaund, and nowe inuention lacks,
This sentence serues, and that my hand out-strikes,
That pleaseth well, and this asmuch mislikes,
I write, endite, I point, I raze, I quote,
I enterline, I blot, correct, I note;
I hope, dispaire, take courage, faint, disdaine,
[Page]I make, alledge, I immitate, I faine:
Now thus it must be, and now thus, and thus,
Bolde, shamefast, fearelesse, doubtfull, timerous;
My faint hands writing, when my full eye reedes,
From euery word strange passion still proceedes.
O when the soule is fettered once in wo,
Tis strange what humors it doth force vs to;
A teare doth drowne a teare, sigh, sigh doth smother,
This hinders that, that interrupts the other;
Th'ouer-watched weakenes of a sicke conceite,
Is that which makes small beauty seeme so great,
Like things which hid in troubled waters lye,
vvhich crook'd, seeme straight, if straight, seeme contrary,
And this our vaine imagination showes it
As it conceiues it, not as iudgement knowes it,
(As in a Mirhor, if the same be true)
Such as your likenes, iustly such are you;
But as you change your selfe, it changeth there,
And showes you as you are, not as you were:
And with your motiō doth your shadow moue,
If frowne, or smile; such the conceite of loue.
VVhy tell me, is it possible the mind
A forme in all deformitie should find?
VVithin the compasse of mans face we see
How many sorts of seuerall fauours be;
And that the chyn, the nose, the brow, the eye,
If great, if small, flat, sharpe, or if awry,
Alters proportion, altereth the grace,
And makes a mightie difference in the face;
And in the world, scarce two so likely are
One with the other which if you compare,
But being set before you both together,
A iudging sight doth soone distinguish either.
[Page 14]How woman-like a weakenes is it then?
O what strange madnes so possesseth men
Bereft of sence: such sencelesse wonders seeing,
vvithout forme, fashion, certaintie, or being?
For which so many die to liue in anguish,
Yet cannot liue, if thus they should not languish;
That comfort yeelds not, and yet hope denies not,
A life that liues not, and a death that dies not;
That hates vs most, when most it speakes vs fayre,
Doth promise all things, alwaies payes with ayre,
Yet some-time doth our greatest griefe appease,
To double sorrow after little ease.
Like that which thy lasciuious will doth craue,
vvhich if once had, thou neuer more canst haue;
VVhich if thou get, in getting thou doost wast it,
Taken, is lost, and perrish'd if thou hast it;
vvhich if thou gain'st, thou nere the more hast wone,
I loosing nothing, yet am quite vndone;
And yet of that, if that a King depraue me,
No King restores, though he a kingdome gaue me.
Doost thou of father and of friends depriue mee?
And tak'st thou from mee, all that heauen did giue mee?
vvhat nature claimes, by blood, alies, or neerenes,
Or friendship challenge, by regard or deerenes.
Mak'st mee an Orphane ere my father die?
A wofull widdow in virginitie?
Is thy vnbrideled lust the cause of all?
And now thy flattering tongue bewailes my fall.
The dead mans tombe with fained teares to fill,
So the deuouring Crocodile doth kill,
To harbor hate in shew of sweetest things,
So in the Rose the poysned serpent stings.
To lurke farre off, yet lodge destruction by,
[Page]The Basiliske dooth poyson with the eye;
To call for ayde, and then to lye in waite,
So the Hienna murthers by deceit;
By sweet inticements, so daine death to bring,
So from the Rocks th'aluring Mermaides sing;
In greatest wants, t'inflict tho greatest woe,
This is the worst that tyrannie can doe.
But where the boystrous raging storme preuailes,
In vaine is use of Ankors, oares, or sailes;
Aboue vs, blustering windes, and dreadfull thunder,
Gusts, flawes, and furges, still are working vnder;
Here on this side, the furious tempests flie,
There Rocks, and sands, and dangerous vvhirl-pooles lie,
Is this the meane that maiestie approues,
And in this sort doe Princes wooe theyr loues?
VVith rarest musicke, which the hearing charmes,
Fill they our eares, with noise of clattering Armes?
To please the smell; with odours sweet perfuming,
The smokie steame, of Towers with fire consuming?
For pompous tryumphs, to delight the eye,
Present vs murther, and blacke tragedie;
To please the taste, and stirre the youthfull blood,
Giue they vs teares for drinke, and sighes for foode,
To please the tuch, they cares to vs allow,
Our hands may feele the wrinkles in our brow,
And for sweet friends to nourish our content,
Mue they vs vp, send them to banishment.
Mildnes would better sute with maiestie,
Then rash reuenge, and rough seueritie,
For vertue is more amiable, more sweet
VVhen vertue, and true maiestie doe meet;
For from the prospect of a kingly throne
Vertue sees much, she hath to builde vpon:
[Page 15]O in what safety Temperance doth rest
vvhen it findes harbour in a kinglie brest;
How deere is mercy, hauing power and will,
vvhen pittie helps, where equitie doth kill.
If pittie praise-full in vnhelping men,
In powerfull Kings, how glorious is it then?
Alas, and fled I hether from my fo,
That innocence should be betrayed so?
Is Court and Country both her enemie,
And no place found to shroude in chastitie?
Each house for lust, a harbor, and an Inne,
Each Citty is a sanctuary for sinne;
And all doe pittie beautie in distresse,
If beautie chast, then onely pittilesse.
And thus is beautie made the stale of lust,
Or vnreleeued, perish needes shee must.
Lasciuious Poets, which abuse the truth,
vvhich oft teach age to sin, infecting youth,
For the vnchast make trees & stones to mourne,
Or as they please, to other shapes doe turne
Cinyras daughter; whose incestious minde,
Made her wrong nature, and dishonour kinde:
Long since by them is turnd into a Mirrh,
vvhose dropping liquor euer weepes for her:
And in a fountaine, Biblis doth deplore
Her fault so vile, and monsterous before,
Silla, which once her father did betray,
Is now a byrd, (if all be true they say.)
Shee that with Phoebus did the foule offence,
Now metamorphiz'd into Frankensence.
Other, to flowers, to odours, and to gum,
At least loues lemman is a starre become:
And more; they faine a thousand fond excuses,
[Page]To hide their scapes, and couer their abuses,
The virgine onely they obscure and hide,
vvhilst the vnchast, by them are deified;
Yet if a Vestals name be once exprest,
Shee must be sette together with the rest.
I am not now, as when thou saw'st me last,
That fauour soone is vanished and past;
That Rosie-blush, lapp'd in a Lilly-vale,
Now with the Morphew ouer-growne, & pale.
And downe my cheekes, with showers of swelling teares,
Remaine the furrowes that continuance weares,
And in the circles of my withered eyes,
In aged wrinckles beautie buried lyes:
And in my grace, my presence, iesture, cheere,
Ruine, distresse, woe, anguish, dooth appeare.
That brest, that hand, that cheeke, that eye, that brow,
Faded, decayed, fallen, darkned, wrinckled now:
Such was my beautie once, now is it such,
Once thought most rare, now altred more then much:
Nor I regard all that thou canst protest,
My vowe is taken, I a Nunne profest.
This Vestall habite doth content me more
Then all the robes that yet I euer wore.
Had Rosamand, (a recluse of our sort)
Taken our Cloister, left the wanton Court,
Shadowing that beautie with a holy vale,
vvhich shee (alas) too loosely set to sale,
Shee need not like an vgly Minataur,
Haue been lock'd vp from iealious Ellinor,
But beene as famous by thy mothers wrongs,
As by thy Father subiect to all tongues.
To shadow sinne, might can the most pretend,
Kings, but the conscience; all things can defend.
[Page 16]A stronger hand restraines our wilsull powers,
A will must rule aboue this will of ours,
Not following what our vaine desires doe wooe
For vertues sake, but what we (onely) doe.
And hath my Father chose to liue exild,
Before his eyes should see my youth defild?
And to withstand a Tyrants lewd desire,
Beheld his Towers and Castles razd with fire:
Yet neuer tuch'd with griefe, so onely I,
Exempt from shame might with true honour die.
And shall this iewell which so deerely cost,
Now after all, by my dishonour lost?
No, no, his reuerend words, his holy teares,
Yet in my soule too deepe impression beares:
No, no, his fare-well at his last depart,
More deepely is engrauen in my hart,
Nor shall that blot, by mee his name shall haue,
Bring his gray haires with sorrow to his graue,
Rather with pitty weepe vpon my Tombe,
Then for my birth to curse my mothers wombe.
Though Dunmowe giue no refuge heere at all,
Dunmowe can giue my body buriall.
If all remorcelesse, no teare-shedding eye,
My selfe will moane my selfe; so liue, so die.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

THis Epistle, containeth no particuler poynts of historie, more then the generallity of the argument layeth open, for after the banishment of the Lord Robert Fitzwater, and that [...] was become a Recluse at Dunmowe, (from whence this reply is ima­gined to bee written,) the King still earnestly persisting in his sute, [Page] Matilda with this chast & constant deniall, hopeth yet at length to find some comfortable remedy, and to rid herselfe of doubts, by taking vpon her this monasticke habite, and to shew that shee still beareth in minde his former crueltie, bred by the impatience of his lust, she remembreth him of her fathers banishment, & the lawlesse exile of her alies and friends.

Doost thou of Father and of friends depriue mee?

Then complayning of her distresse, that flying thether, thinking there to finde releefe, she sees herselfe most assayld where she ho­ped to haue found most safetie.

Alas, and fled I hether from my foe, That &c.

After againe, standing vpon the precise poynts of conscience, not to cast off this habite she had taken,

My vowe is taken, I a Nunne profest.

And at last laying open more particulerly the miseries sustained by her Father in England, the burning of his Castles and houses, which she proueth to be for her sake: as respecting onely her ho­nour, more then his natiue country and his owne fortunes.

And to withstand a Tyrants lowde desire,
Beheld his Towers and Castels set on fire.

Knitting vp her Epistle with a great and constant resolution,

Though Dunmow giue no refuge heere at all,
Dunmow can giue my body buriàll.
FINIS.

To the vertuous Lady, the Lady Anne Harrington: wife to the honourable Gentleman, Sir Iohn Harrington, Knight.

MY singuler good Lady: your many vertues knowne in generall to all, and your gracious fauours to my vnworthy selfe, haue confir­med that in mee, which before I knew you, I onely sawe by the light of other mens iudge­ments. Honour seated in your breast, findes herselfe ador­ned as in a rich pallace, [...] which makes her admirable: which like the sunne (from thence) beget­teth most precious things of this earthly world, onely by the vertue of his rayes, not the nature of the mould. Worth is best [...] by the worthie, deiected mindes want that pure fire which should giue vigor to vertue. I refer to your owne great thoughts, (the vnpartiall Judges of true affecti­on) the vnfained zeale I haue euer borne to your honorable seruice: and so rest your Ladiships humbly at commaund.

Michaell Drayton.

Queene Isabell to Mortimer.

* The Argument.

Queene Isabell, (the wife of Edward the seconde, called Ed­ward Carnaruan,) being the daughter of Phillip le Beau, King of Fraunce, forsaken by the King her husband, who delighted onely in the company of Piers Gaueston, his minion and fauorite: and after his death seduced by the e­uill counsaile of the Spensers. This Queene thus left by her husband, euen in the glory of her youth, drewe into her e­speciall fauour Roger Mortimer, Lorde of VVigmore: a man of a mightie and inuinsible spirit. This Lord Mortimer rising in Armes against the King, with Thomas Earle of Lancaster and the Barrons, was taken ere hee could gather his power, and by the King committed to the Tower of Lon­don. During his imprisonment, he ordained a feast in honor of his birth-day, to which he inuited Sir Stephen Segraue, Lieutenant of the Tower, and the rest of the officers, where by meanes of a drinke prepared him by the Queene, hee cast them all into a beauie sleepe, and with ladders of cordes bee­ing ready prepared for the purpose, hee escapeth, and flyeth into Fraunce: whether shee sendeth this Epistle, complay­ning her owne misfortunes, and greatly reioycing at his safe escape.

THough such sweet comfert comes not now from her
As Englands Queene hath sent to Mortimer,
Yet what that wants, which might my power approue,
If lines can bring, this shall supply with loue.
[Page 18]Mee thinks affliction should not fright mee so,
Nor should resume these sundry shapes of wo:
But when I faine would finde the cause of this,
Thy absence shewes mee where the erroris.
Oft when I thinke of thy departing hence,
Sad sorrow then possesseth euery sence,
But finding thy deere blood preseru'd thereby,
And in thy life, my long-wish'd libertie,
vvith that sweet thought my selfe I onely pleuse,
Amid'st my griefe; which sometimes giues me ease,
Thus doe extreamest ills a ioy possesse,
And one woe makes another woe seeme lesse.
That blessed night, that mild-aspected howre,
VVherein thou mad'st escape our of the Towre,
Shall consecrated euer-more remaine:
VVhat gentle Planet in that howre did raigne;
And shall be happy in the birth of men,
vvhich was chiefe Lord of the Ascendant then.
Oh, how I fear'd that sleepie iuyce I sent,
Might yet want power to further thine intent;
Or that some vnseene misterie might lurke,
VVhich wanting order, kindly should not worke:
Oft did I wish, those dreadfull poysoned lees
That clos'd the euer-waleing Dragons eyes,
Or I had had those sence- [...] stalkes
That grow in shadie Proserpines darke walkes;
Or those blacke weedes on Lethe bankes below,
Or Lunary that doth on Latmus flow:
Oft did I feare thys moyst and foggie Clime,
Or that the earth, waxt barraine nowe with time
Should not haue hearbes to helpe me in this case,
Such as doe thriue on Indias parched face.
That morrow, when the blessed sunne did rise,
[Page]And shut the lidds of all heauens lesser eyes,
Forth from my [...] by a secret staire
I steale to [...], as though to take the ayre;
And aske the gentle stood as it did glide,
Or thou didst [...] or perish by the tide?
If thou didst perish, I desire the streame
To lay thee softly on her siluer teame,
And bring thee to me to the quiet shore,
That with her teares, thou might'st haue some teares more.
VVhen suddainly doth rise a rougher gale,
vvith that (me thinks) the troubled waues looke pale,
And sighing, with that little gust that blowes,
vvith this remembrance seemes to knit her browes.
Euen as this suddaine passion doth [...] mee,
The cheerfull sunne breakes from a clowde to light mee;
Then doth the bottom euident appeare,
As it would tell mee, that thou [...] not there,
VVhen as the water, flowing where I stand,
Doth seeme to tell mee, thou [...] safe on land.
Did Bulloyne once a festiuall prepare
For England, [...], [...], and Nauarre?
VVhen Fraunce enuied those buildings (onely blest)
Grac'd with the Orgies of my bridall feast,
That English Edward should refuse my bed
For that incestuous, shamelesse Ganimed?
And in my place, vpon his regall throne,
To set that girle-boy, wanton Gaueston.
Betwixt the feature of my face and his,
My glasse assures me no such difference is,
That a foule witches bastard should thereby
Be thought more worthy of his loue then I.
VVhat doth auaile vs to be Princes heires,
vvhen we can boast our birth is onely theirs?
[Page 19]VVhen base, dissembling flatterers shall deceaue vs,
Of all our famous Auncestors did leaue vs:
And of our princely iewels and our dowers,
vvee but enioy the least of what is ours;
when Minions heads must weare our Monarches crownes,
To raise vp dunghills with our famous townes:
VVhen beggers-brats are wrapt in rich perfumes,
And sore aloft, impt with our Eagles plumes;
And ioynd with the braue issue of our blood,
Alie the kingdome to theyr crauand brood.
Did Longshanks purchase with his conquering hand,
Albania, Gascoyne, Cambria, Ireland?
That young Carnaruan (his vnhappy sonne)
Should giue away all that his Father wonne?
To backe a stranger, proudly bearing downe
The braue alies, and branches of the crowne?
And did great Edward, on his death-bed giue
This charge to them which afterward should liue,
That, that proude Gascoyne; banished the land,
No more should tread vppon the English sand?
And haue these great Lords in the quarrell stood,
And seald his last will with their deerest blood,
That after all this fearefull massaker,
The fall of Beuchamp, Lasey, Lancaster,
Another faithlesse fauorite should arise
To cloude the sunne of our Nobilities;
And gloried I in Gauestons great fall,
That nowe a Spenser should succeede in all;
And that his ashes should another breed,
vvhich in his place and Empire should succeed;
That wanting one, a kingdoms wealth to spend,
Of what that left, thys now should make an end:
To wast all that our father wonne before,
[Page]Nor leaue [...] sword to conquer more.
Thus but in vaine we [...] doe resist,
vvhere power can doe (euen) all things as it list,
And with vniust men to debate of lawes,
Is to giue power to hurt a rightfull cause:
VVhilst parliaments must still redresse their wrongs,
And we must [...] for what to vs belongs;
Our wealth but fuell to theyr fond excesse,
And we must fast, to feast their wantonnesse.
Think'st thou our wrongs then insufficient are
To moue our Brother to religious warre?
And if they were, yet Edward doth [...]
Homage for [...], Guyne, and Aquitaine:
And if not that, yet hath he broke the truce;
Thus all accur, to put backe all excuse.
The Sisters wrong, ioyn'd with the Brothers right,
Me thinks might vrge him in this cause to fight.
Be all those people sencelesse of our [...]
vvhich for our Country oft haue manag'd Armes?
Is the braue Normans courage now forgot?
Or the bold Brittons lost the vse of shot?
The big-bon'd Almaines, and stout Brabanders,
Their warlike Pykes, and sharp edg'd Semiters?
Or doe the Pickards let theys [...] lie,
Once like the Centaurs of olde Thessalie?
Or if a valiant Leader be theyr lack,
vvhere thou art present, who should driue them back?
I doe coniure thee by what is most deere,
By that great Name of famous Mortimer,
By auncient VVigmors honourable Crest,
The [...] where all thy famous Grandsires rest;
Or if then these, what more may thee approue,
Euen by those vowes of thy vnfained loue,
[Page 20]That thy great hopes may moue the Christian King,
By forraine Armes some comfort yet to bring,
To curbe the power of Traytors that rebell
Against the right of princely Isabell.
Vaine witlesse woman, why should I desire
To adde more spleene to thy immortall fire?
To vrge thee by the violence of hate,
To shake the pyllars of thine owne estate,
VVhen what soeuer we intend to doe,
To our misfortune euer sorts vnto;
And nothing els remaines for vs beside,
But teares and Coffins onely to prouide,
VVhen still so long as Burrough beares that name
Time shall not blot out our deserued shame;
And whilst cleere Trent her wonted course shall keepe,
For our sad fall, her christall drops shall weepe.
All see our ruine on our backs is throwne,
And to our selues our sorrowes are our owne,
And Tarlton now whose counsell should direct
The first of all, is slaundred with suspect:
For dangerous things dissembled sildome are
vvhich many eyes attend with busie care.
VVhat should I say? my griefes doe still renew,
And but begin when I should bid adiew,
Few be my words, but manifold my woe,
And still I staie, the more I striue to goe.
As accents issue forth, griefes enter in,
And where I end, mee thinks I but begin:
Then till faire tyme some greater good affords,
Take my loues payment in these ayrie words.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

O how I feard that sleepie drinke I sent
Might yet want power to further thine intent.

MOrtimer beeing in the Tower, and ordayning a feast, in honour of his birth-day, as he pretended: and inuiting there-vnto Sir Stephen Segraue Constable of the Tower, with the rest of the offi­cers belonging to the same, hee gaue them a sleepie drinke, proui­ded him by the Queene, by which meanes hee got libertie for his escape.

I steale to Thames, as though to take the ayre,
And aske the gentle streame as it doth glide,

Mortimer being gotte out of the Tower, swamme the riuer of Thames into Kent, whereof shee hauing intelligence, doubteth of his strength to escape, by reason of his long imprisonment, being almost the space of three yeeres.

Did Bulloyne once a festiuall prepare,
For England, Almaine, Cicile, and Naudrre?

Edward Carnaruan, the first prince of Wales of the English blood, married Isabell, daughter of Phillip the faire, at Bulloyne, in the presence of the Kings of Almaine, Nauarre, and Cicile, with the chiefe Nobilitie of Fraunce and Englande, which marriage vvas there solemnized with exceeding pompe and magnificence.

And in my place, vpon his regall throne,
To set that girle-boy, wanton Gaucston.

Noting the effeminacie and luxurious wantonnes of Gaueston the Kings Minion; his behauiour and attire euer so womanlike, to please the eye of his lasciuious Prince.

That a foule witches bastard should thereby,

It was vrged by the Queene and the Nobilitie, in the disgrace of Piers Gaueston, that his mother was conuicted of witchcraft, and burned for the same, and that Piers had bewitched the King.

Albania, Gascoyne, Cambria, Ireland.

Albania, Scotland so called of Albanact, the seconde sonne of Brutus, and Cambria, Wales, so called of Camber the third sonne, the foure [...] and Countries, brought in subiection by Ed­ward Longshanks.

[Page 21]
When of our Princely iewells, and our dowers,
We but enioy the least of what is ours.

A complaynt of the prodigalitie of King Edward, giuing vnto Gaueston the iewells & treasure which was left him by the aun­cient Kings of England; and enriching him with the goodly Ma­nor of Wallingforde, assigned as parcell of the dower, to the Queenes of this famous Ile.

And ioynd with the braue issue of our blood,
Alie our kingdome to theyr crauand brood.

Edward the second, gaue to Piers Gaueston in marriage, the daughter of Gilbert Clare, Earle of Glocester, begot of the Kinges sister, Ioane of Acres, married to the said Earle of Gloster.

Should giue away all that his Father wonne To backe a stranger:

King Edward offered his right in Fraunce to Charles his brother in law, and his right in Scotland to Robert Bruse, to bee ayded a­gainst the Barrons, in the quarrell of Piers Gaueston.

And did great Edward on his death-bed giue

Edward Longshanks on his death-bed at Carlile, commaunded young Edward his sonne on his blessing, not to call backe Gaue­ston, which (for the misguiding of the Princes youth) was be­fore banished by the whole counsell of the land.

That after all this fearefull massaker,
The fall of Beuchamp, Lasey, Lancaster.

Thomas, Earle of Lancaster, Guy, Earle of VVarwicke, & Henry Earle of Lincolne, who had taken theyr oathes before the deceas­sed King at his death, to withstand his sonne Edward if he should call Gaueston from exile, beeing a thing which hee much feared: now seeing Edward to violate his Fathers commaundement, rise in Armes against the King, which was the cause of the ciuile war, and the ruine of so many Princes.

And gloried I in Gauestons great fall,
That nowe a Spenser should succeed in all?

The two Hugh Spensers, the Father & the sonne, after the death of Gaueston, became the great fauorites of the King, the sonne be­ing created by him Lord Chamberlaine, and the Father Earle of Winchester.

[Page]
And if they were, yet Edward doth detaine
Homage for Pontiu, Guyne, and Aquitaine.

Edward Longshanks, did homage for those Citties and territories to the French King, which Edward the second neglecting, moued the French King, by the subbornation of Mortimer, to ceaze those Countries into his hands.

By auncient Wigmors honourable Crest.

Wigmore in the marches of Wales, was the ancient house of the Mortimers, that noble and couragious familie.

That still so long as Borrough beares that name,

The Queene remembreth the great ouerthrowe giuen to the Barrons, by Andrew Herckley, Earle of Carlill, at Borrough bridge, after the battaile at Burton.

And Torlton now, whose counsells should direct,

Thys was Adam Torlton, bishop of Herford, that great polititi­an, who so highly fauoured the faction of the Queene and Morti­mer, whose euill counsell afterward wrought the destruction of the King.

Mortimer to Queene Isabell.

AS thy saluts my sorrowes doe adiourne,
So backe to thee their interest I returne;
Though not in so great bountie (I confesse)
As thy heroicke princely lines expresse:
For how should comfort issue from the breath
Of one condemn'd, and long lodg'd vp in death?
From murthers rage thou didst me once repriue,
Now in exile, my hopes thou doost reuiue;
Twice all was taken, twice thou all didst giue,
[Page 22]And thus twice dead, thou mak'st me twice to liue.
This double life of mine, your onely due,
You gaue to mee; I giue it backe to you;
Nere my escape had, I aduentur'd thus,
As did the skye-attempting Daedalus;
And yet to giue more safetie to my flight,
Haue made a night of day, a day of night.
Nor had I backt the proude aspyring wall,
vvhich held without, my hopes, within, my fall,
Leauing the cordes to tell where I had gone,
For gazing eyes with feare to looke vpon,
But that thy beautie, (by a power diuine)
Breath'd a new life into this spirit of mine.
Drawne by the sunne of thy celestiall eyes,
vvith fiery wings made passage through the skyes.
The heauens did seeme the charge of me to take,
And sea and land be friend mee for thy sake;
Thames stopt hen tide, to make me way to goe,
As thou had'st charg'd her that it should be so,
The hollow murmuring winds their due time kept;
As they had rock'd the world, whilst all things slept;
One billow bore me, and another draue mee,
This stroue to helpe me, and that stroue to saue mee;
The brisling Reedes, mou'd with the ayre, did chide mee,
As they would tell me, that they moant to hide mee.
The pale-fac'd night beheld thy heauie cheere,
And would not let one little starre appeare,
But ouer all, her smoakie mantle hurl'd,
And in thick vapours muffled vp the world;
And the pure ayre became so calme and still
As it had beene obedient to my will;
And euery thing disposd vnto my rest,
As when one Seas the Alcion buildes her nest.
[Page]And those rough waues which late with furie rusht,
Slide smoothlie on; and suddainly are husht;
Nor Neptune lets his surges out so long
As Nature is in bringing forth her yong;
Nor let the Spensers glory in my chaunce
That thus I liue an exile now in Fraunce;
That I from England banished should be,
But England rather banished from me:
More were her want, Fraunce our great blood shold beare,
Then Englands losse should be to Mortimer.
My Grandsire was the first since Authurs raigne,
That the Round-table lastly did ordaine;
To whose great Court at Kenelworth did come
The peerlesse knighthood of all Christendome:
VVhose princely order, honoured England more
Then all the conquests shee atchiu'd before.
Neuer durst Scot set foote on English ground,
Nor on his backe did English beare a wound,
vvhilst VVigmore flourisht in our princely hopes,
And whilst our Ensigne march'd with Edwards troupes:
VVhilst famous Longshanks bones (in Fortunes scorne)
As sacred reliques to the fielde were borne;
Nor euer did the valiant English doubt,
VVhilst our braue battailes guarded them about.
Nor did our wiues and wofull mothers mourne
The English blood that stained Banocksburn,
VVhilst with his Minions sporting in his Tent,
VVhole dayes and nights in banquetting were spent:
Vntill the Scots (which vnder safeguard stoode)
Made lauish hauock of the English blood;
And battered helmes lay scattered on the shore,
vvhere they in conquest had beene borne before.
A thousand kingdoms will we seeke from farre,
[Page 23]As many Nations wast with ciuill warre,
vvhere the disheuel'd gastly Sea-nymphe sings,
Or well-rigd shyps shall stretch theyr swelling wings,
And dragge theyr Ankors through the sandie foame,
About the world in euery Clime to roame,
And those vnchristned Countries call our owne,
vvhere scarce the name of England hath been knowne;
And in the Dead-sea sinck our houses fame,
From whose sterne waues we first deriu'd our Name,
Before foule black-mouth'd infamie shall sing
That Mortimer ere stoop'd vnto a King.
And we will turne sterne-visag'd Furie backe,
To seeke his spoyle, who sought our vtter sack:
And come to beard him in our natiue Ile,
Ere hee march forth to follow our exile.
And after all these boystrous stormie shocks,
Yet will we grapple with the chaulkie Rocks.
Nor will we come like Pyrats, or like theeues,
From mountaine Forrests, or sea-bordering Cleeues,
But [...] the ayre with terror (when we come)
Of the sterne trumpet, and the bellowing drum:
And in the field aduaunce our plumie Crest,
And march vpon faire Englands flowrie brest;
And Thames which once we for our life did swim,
Shaking our dewie tresses on her brim,
Shall beare my Nauy; vaunting in her pryde,
Falling from Tanet with the powerfull tyde;
VVhich fertile Essex, and faire Kent shall see,
Spreading her flagges along the pleasant lee,
VVhen on her stemming poopes she proudly beares
The famous Ensignes of the Belgicke Peeres.
And for the hatefull sacriligious sin
VVhich by the Pope he stands accursed in;
[Page]The Cannon text shall haue a common glesse,
Receits in parcels, shall be paide in [...]
This doctrine preach'd, vvho from the Church doth take,
At least shall trebble restitution make:
For which Rome sends her curses out from farre,
Through the sterne throate of terror-breathing warre,
Till to th'vnpeopled shore shee brings supplies
Of those industrious Romaine, Colonies.
And for his homage, by the which of old
Proude Edward Guyne and Aquitane doth hold,
Charles by inuasiue Armes againe shall take,
And send the English forces o're the Lake;
vvhen Edwards fortune stands vpon this chaunce,
To loose in England, or expusd from Fraunce;
And all those townes great Longshanks left his sonne,
Now lost againe, which once his Father wonne.
VVithin their strong Percullisd Ports shall lie,
And from theyr walls his sieges shall defie.
And by that firme and vndissolued knot,
Betwixt the neighbouring French, and bordering Scot,
Bruse nowe shall bring his Redshanks; from the seas,
From th'Iled Orcad's, and the Hebrydes,
And to his VVesterne Hauens gyue free passe,
To land the warlike Irish Galiglasse:
Marching from Tweed to swelling Humber sands,
vvasting along the Northern nether-lands:
And wanting those which should his power sustaine,
Consum'd with slaughter in his bloodie [...],
Our warlike sword shall driue him from his shrone,
vvhere hee shall lye for ys to tread vpon:
And those great Lords, now after theyr attaints,
Canonized amongst the English Saints;
And by the superstitious people, thought,
[Page 24]That by theyr Reliques, miracles are wrought,
And thinke that flood much vertue doth retaine,
vvhich tooke the blood of famous Bohun slaine;
Continuing the remembrance of the thing,
To make the people more abhorre theyr King,
Nor shall a Spenser (be he nere so great)
Possesse our VVigmore, our renowned seate.
To raze the auncient Trophies of our race,
vvith our deserts theyr monuments to grace;
Nor shall he lead our valiant marchers forth,
To make the Spensers famous in the North:
Nor be the Gardants of the Brittish pales,
Defending England, and preseruing VVales.
At first our troubles seemed calme enough,
But now are growne more boyst'rous and more rough,
vvith grauest counsell all must be directed,
vvhere plainest shewes are openly suspected;
For where mishaps our errors doth assault,
There doth it easilest make vs see our fault.
Then (sweet) represse all fond and wilfull spleene,
Two things to be a woman; and a Queene:
Keepe close the cyndars, least the fire should burne,
It is not this which yet must serue our turne.
And if I doe not much mistake the thing,
The next supply shall greater comfort bring;
Till when, I leaue my Princesse for a while,
Liue thou in rest, though I liue in exile.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Of one condemn'd, and long lodg'd vp in death.

ROger Mortimer, Lord of Wigmore, had stood publiquely con­demned, for his insurrection with Thomas Earle of Lancaster, [Page] and Bohun Earle of Herford, by the space of three months; and as the report went, the day of his execution was determined to haue beene shortly after, which he preuented by his escape.

Twice all was taken, twice thou all didst giue.

At what time the two Mortimers, this Roger Lord of Wigmore, and his vncle Roger Mortimer the elder, were apprehended in the West, the Qeene (by meanes of Torlton Bishop of Herford, and Becke Bishop of Duresme and Patriarck of Ierusalem, beeing then both mightie in the state, vpon the submission of the Mortimers, somewhat pacified the King, and nowe secondly shee wrought meanes for his escape.

Leauing the cordes to tell where I had gone.

With strong ladders made of cordes prouided him for the pur­pose, he escaped out of the Tower, which when the same vvere found fastened to the walls, in such a desperate attempt they bred astonishment to the beholders.

Nor let the Spensers glory in my chaunce,

The two Hugh Spensers, the Father and the sonne, then beeing so highly fauoured of the King, knew that theyr greatest safety came by his exile, whose high and turbulent spirit, could neuer brooke any corriuall in greatnes.

My Grandstre was the first since Arthurs ralgne,
That the Round-table lastly did ordaine.

Roger Mortimer, called the great Lorde Mortimer, Grandfather to this Roger, which was afterward the first Earle of March, ree­rected againe the Round-table at Kenelworth, after the auncient order of King Arthurs table, with the retinue of a hundred knights and a hundred Ladies in his house, for the entertaining of such aduentures as came thether from all parts of Christendome.

Whilst famous Longshanks bones in fortunes scorne.

Edward Longshanks willed at his death, that his body should bee boyled the flesh from the bones, & that the bones should be borne to the warres in Scotlande, which hee was perswaded vnto by a prophecie, which told that the English should still be fortunate in conquest, so long as his bones were carried in the field.

The English blood that stained Banocksburne.

In the great voyage Edward the second made against the Scots, at the battell at Striueling, neere vnto the riuer of Banocksburne, [Page 25] in Scotland, where there was in the English Campe such banquet­ting & excesse, such riot and misorder, that the Scots, (who in the meane time laboured for aduantage) gaue to the English a great and fearefull ouerthrowe.

And in the Dead-sea, sincke our houses fame, From whose &c.

Mortimer so called of Mare Mortuum, & in French, Mort mer: in English the Dead sea, which is sayd to be, where Sodome and Gomorra once were, before they were destroyed by fire frō hea­uen.

And for that hatefull sacriligious sinne,
Which by the Pope he stands accursed in,

Gaustelinus and Lucas, two Cardinalls, sent into England from Pope Clement, to appease the auncient hate betweene the King & Thomas Earle of Lancaster, to whose Embassie the King seemed to yeeld vnto, but after theyr departure he went backe from his promises, for which he was accursed at Rome.

Of those industrious Romaine Colonies.

A Colonie is a sort or number of people, that came to inhabite a place before not inhabited, whereby he seemeth here to prophe­cie of the subuersion of the Lande; the Pope ioyning with the power of other Princes, against Edward for the breach of his pro­mise.

Charles by inuasiue Armes againe shall take,

Charles the French King, mooued by the wrong done vnto his sister, ceazeth the Prouinces which belonged to the King of Eng­land, into his hands, stirred the rather thereto by Mortimer, who solicited her cause in Fraunce, as is expressed before in the other Epistle, in the Glosse vpon this poynt.

And those great Lords now after their attaints,
Canonized amongst the English Saints.

After the death of Thomas Earle of Lancaster at Pomfret, the the people imagined great miracles to be done by his reliques: as they did of the body of Bohun Earle of Herford, slaine at Borough bridge.

FINIS.

¶ To the Right Honourable and my very good Lord, Edward Earle of Bedford.

THrice noble and my gracious Lord, the loue I haue euer borne to the illustrious house of Bedford, and to the honourable familie of the Harringtons, to the which by marri­age your Lordship is happily united, hath long since deuoted my true and zealous affection to your ho­nourable seruice, and my Poems to the protection of my no­ble Lady, your Countesse: to whose seruice I was first be­queathed, by that learned and accomplished Gentleman, Sir Henry Goodere (not long since deceased,) whose I was whilst he was: whose patience, pleased to beare with the im­perfections of my beedlesse and vnstaied youth. That excel­lent and matchlesse Gentleman, was the first cherisher of my Muse, which had been by his death left a poore Orphane to the worlde, had hee not before bequeathed it to that Lady whom he so deerly loued. Vouchsafe then my deere Lord to accept this Epistle, which I dedicate as zealously, as (I hope) you will patronize willingly, vntill some more acceptable ser­uice may be witnes of my loue towards your honour.

Your Lordships euer,
Michaell Drayton.

Queene Isabell to Richard the second.

* The Argument.

Queene Isabell (the daughter of Charles king of Fraunce) be­ing the second wife of Richard the second, the sonne of Ed­ward the blacke Prince, the eldest sonne of King Edward the third: After the said Richard her husband was depo­sed from his crowne and kingly dignitie, by Henry Duke of Herford, the eldest sonne of Iohn of Gaunt, Duke of Lan­caster, the fourth sonne of Edward the third, this Lady bee­ing then very young, was sent backe againe into Fraunce, without dowre, at what time the deposed King her husband was sent from the Tower of London (as a prisoner) vnto Pomfret Castle. VVhether this poore Lady, bewayling her husbands misfortunes, writeth this Epistle from Fraunce.

AS doth the yeerely Augur of the spring
In depth of woe, thus I my sorrow sing;
VVords tun'd with sighs, teares falling oft among,
A dolefull burthen to a heauie song;
VVords issue forth to finde my griefe some way,
Teares ouer-take them, and doe bid them stay:
Thus whilst one striues, to keepe the other backe,
Both once too forward, now are both too slack.
O how I flatter griefe, and doe intreate it,
Griefe flatters me, so oft as I repeate it.
[Page]And to it selfe hath sorrow chang'd mee so,
That woe is turn'd to mee, I turn'd to woe.
If fatall Pomfret, hath in former times,
Nourish'd the griefe begot in hoter Clymes,
Thether I send my woes, there to be fed,
But where first borne, where fitter to be bred;
They vnto Fraunce be aliens, and vnknowne,
England from her, doth challenge these her owne.
They say, all mischife commeth from the North,
It is too true, my fall doth set it forth;
And where bleake winters stormes do euer rage,
There should my sighes finde surest anchorage,
Except that breeme ayre holds the Northerne part,
Doe freese that Aetna, which so burnes my hart.
But why should I thus limmit griefe a place,
vvhen all the world is fild with our disgrace?
And we in bounds thus striuing to containe it,
The more abounds, the more we doe restraine it.
O how euen yet, I hate my loathed eyes,
And in my glasse oft call them faythlesse spyes,
That were so haplesse, with one louing looke,
To grace that Traytour, periur'd Bullenbrooke;
But that of sence, ioy had all sence bereau'd,
They neuer should haue beene so much deceau'd.
Proude was the Courser which my Lord bestrid,
vvhen Richard like his conquering Grandsire rid,
For all the world, in euery looke alike
The Rosie Ilands in his Lilly cheeke;
His silken Amber curles so would he tie,
So carried he his princely Eagle eye:
From top to toe, his like in euery lim,
All looke on Edward, that did looke on him.
The perfit patterne Nature chose alone,
[Page 27]VVhen at the first shee fram'd proportion,
Reseru'd till then, that all the world should view it,
And praise th'insample by the which she drew it;
O let that day be guiltie of all sin,
That is to come, or euer yet hath bin,
VVherein great Norfolks forward course was staid,
To proue the treasons he to Herford layd.
VVhen with sterne furie, both these Dukes enrag'd,
Their gauntlets then at Couentry engag'd,
vvhen first thou didst repeale thy former grant,
Seal'd to braue Mowbray, as thy Combatant,
From tymes vnnumbred howers, let time deuide it,
Least in his minutes, he should hap to hide it:
Yet on his browes let wrinckled age still beare it,
That when it comes, all other howers may feare it,
And all ill-boading Planets, by consent,
That day may hold their wicked parliament;
And in heauens large Decrees, enrole it thus,
Blacke, dismall, fatall, inauspitious,
For then should he, in height of all his pride,
Vnder great Mowbrays valiant hand haue died:
Nor should not nowe from banishment retire,
The fatall brand to set our Troy on fire.
O why did Charles relieue his needy state?
A vagabond, and stragling runnagate;
And in his Court, with grace did entertaine
This vagrant exile, this abiected Caine:
That with a thousand mothers curses went,
Mark'd with the brands of ten yeeres banishment.
VVhen thou to Ireland took'st thy last farewell,
Millions of knees vpon the pauements fell,
And euery where th'applauding ecchoes ring
The ioyfull shouts that did salute a King;
[Page]Thou went'st victorious, crown'd, in triumph borne,
But cam'st subdu'd, vncrown'd, and laugh'd to scorne;
And all those tongues which tit'led thee theyr Lord,
Grace Henries glorious stile with that great word;
And all those eyes dyd with thy course ascend,
Now all too few on Herford to attend.
Princes (like sunnes) be euermore in sight,
All see the clowdes which doe eclipse their light;
Yet they which lighten all downe from their skyes,
See not the clowdes offending others eyes,
And deeme their noone-tide is desir'd of all,
VVhen all expect cleere changes by theyr fall.
VVhat colour seemes to shadow Herfords claime,
vvhen law and right his Fathers hopes doth maime?
Affirm'd by Church-men (which should beare no hate)
That Iohn of Gaunt, was illigittimate:
vvhom his reputed mothers tongue did spot,
By a base Flemish Boore to be begot,
vvhom Edwards Eglets mortally did shun,
Daring with them to gaze against the sun.
VVhere lawfull right and conquest doth allow,
A triple crowne on Richards princely brow,
Three kingly Lyons beares his bloody field,
No bastards marke doth blot his conquering shield;
Neuer durst he attempt our haplesse shore,
Nor set his foote on satall Rauenspore;
Nor durst his slugging Hulks approch the strand,
Nor stoop'd a top as signall to the Land,
Had not the Percyes promisd ayde to bring,
Against theyr oath vnto theyr lawfull King;
Against theyr fayth vnto our Crownes true heyre,
Theyr valiant kinsman, Edmond Mortimer.
VVhen I to England came, a world of eyes
[Page 28]vvere there attending on my fayre arise;
vvhen I came back, those fatall Plannets frowne,
And all are set before my going downe;
The smooth-fac'd Ayre did on my comming smile,
But with rough stormes are driuen to exile:
But Bullenbrooke deuisd we thus should part,
Fearing two sorrowes should possesse one hart;
That we should thus complaine our griefes alone,
Least one should liue in two, two liue in one;
Inflicting woe, and yet doth vs denie
But that poore ioy is found in miserie.
Hee hath before diuors'd thy Crowne and thee,
vvhich might suffice, and not to widdow mee;
Nor will one place our pouertie containe,
vvhich in our pompe, both in one bed haue laine:
VVhich is to proue (the greatnes of his hate)
How much our fall, exceedeth our estate.
VVhen England first obtaind mee by thy loue;
Nor did a kingdome my affection moue,
Before a Crownes sad cares I yet did try,
Nor thought of Empire, but loues Emperie;
Before I learn'd to sooth a publique vaine,
And onely thought, to loue, had been to raigne.
I would to God that princely Anne of Beame,
Might still haue worne the English Diademe,
That shee whose youth first deck'd thy bridall bed,
Had kept that fatall wreath vppon her head;
VVould God shee still might haue enioy'd her roome,
Possest my throne, and I haue had her Toombe:
Or would Aumerle had sunck when he betrayd,
The complot which that holy Abbot layd;
VVhen he infring'd the oath which he first tooke,
To end that proude vsurping Bullenbrooke,
[Page]And been the ransome of our friends deere blood,
Vntimelie lost, and for the earth too good;
And we vntimely mourne our hard estate,
They dead too soone, and we doe liue too late.
Death seuers them, and life doth vs inclose,
Their helpe decreased, doth augment our woes;
And though with teares I from my loue depart,
This curse on Herford fall to ease my hart;
If the foule breach of a chast lawfull bed,
May bring a curse, my curse light on his head.
If murthers guilt with blood may deeply staine,
Greene, Scroope, and Bushie, die his fault in graine:
If periurie may heauens pure gates debar,
Damn'd be the oath he made at Doncaster;
If the deposing of a lawfull King,
Thy curse condemne him, if no other thing;
If these disioyn'd, for vengeance cannot call,
Let them vnited, strongly curse him all.
And for the Percies, heauen yet heare my prayer,
That Bullenbrooke, now plac'd in Richards chayre,
Such cause of woe vnto their wiues may bee,
As those rebellious Lords haue been to mee.
And that proude Dame which now controleth all,
And in her pompe triumpheth in my fall,
For her great Lord may water her sad eyne,
vvith as salt teares as I haue done for mine:
And mourne for Henry Hote-spurre, her deere sonne,
As I for my sweet Mortymer haue done;
And as I am, so succourlesse be sent
Lastly, to taste perpetuall banishment.
Then loose thy care, where first thy crowne was lost,
Sell it so deerely, for it deerely cost;
And sith they did of libertie depriue thee,
[Page 29]Burying thy hope, let not thy care out-liue thee.
But hard (God knowes) with sorrow doth it goe,
vvhen woe becomes a comforter to woe;
Yet much (mee thinks) of comfort I could say,
If from my hart pale feare were rid away;
Some-thing there is, which tells mee still of woe,
But what it is, that heauen aboue doth know,
Griefe to it selfe, most dreadfull doth appeare,
And neuer yet was sorrow voyde of feare;
But yet in death doth sorrow hope the best,
And with this farewell wish thee happy rest.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

If fatall Pomfret hath in former times,

POmfret Castle euer a fatall place to the Princes of England, & most ominous to the blood of Plantaginet.

O how euer yet I hate my lothed eyes, And in my glasse, &c.

When Bullenbrooke returned to England from the West, bring­ing Richard a prisoner with him, the Queene, who little knewe of her husbands hard successe, stayd to behold his comming in, little thinking to haue seene her husband thus led in triumph by his foe, and now seeming to hate her eyes, that so much had graced her mortall enemie.

Wherein great Norfolkes forward course was staid,

She remembreth the meeting of the two Dukes, of Herford and Norfolke at Couentry, vrging the iustnes of Mowbrayes quarrell against the Duke of Herforde, and the faithfull assurance of his victory.

Oh why did Charles releeue his needy siate?
A vagabond, &c.

Charles the French King her father, receiued the Duke of Her­ford [Page] into his Court, and releeu'd him in Fraunce, being so neerly alied, as Cosin german to King Richard his sonne in Lawe, which hee did simply, little thinking that hee shoulde after returne into England, and dispossesse King Richard of the crowne.

When thou to Ireland took'st thy last fare-well,

King Richard made a voyage with his Armie into Ireland, a­gainst Onell and Mackemur which rebelled, at what time Henry en­tred heere at home, and rob'd him of all kingly dignitie.

Affirm'd by Church-men, (which should beare no hate)
That Iohn of Gaunt was illigitimate.

William Wickham, in the great quarrell betwixt Iohn of Gaunt & the Clergie, of meere spight and mallice (as it should seeme) re­ported that the Queene confessed to him on her death-bed, being then her Confessor, that Iohn of Gaunt was the sonne of a Flem­ming, & that she was brought to bed of a woman child at Gaunt, which was smothered in the cradle by mischance, and that shee obtained this child of a poore woman, making the King beleeue it was her owne, greatly fearing his displeasure. Fox. ex Chron. Albani.

No Bastards marke doth blot our conquering shield.

Shewing the true and indubitate birth of Richard, his right vnto the Crowne of England, as carrying the Armes without blot or difference.

Against their fayth vnto the Crownes true heyre,
Theyr noble kinsman &c.

Edmond Mortimer Earle of March, sonne of Earle Roger Morti­mer, which was sonne to Lady Phillip daughter to Lionell Duke of Clarence, the third sonne to King Edward the third, which Ed­mond, (King Richard going into Ireland) was proclaimed heyre apparant to the Crowne, whose Aunt called Ellinor, this Lorde Percie had married.

I would to God, that princely Anne of Beame,

Richard the second, his first wife was Anne, daughter to the K. of Beame, which liued not long with him, and after, hee married this Isabell, daughter to Charles, King of Fraunce. This Princesse was very young, and not marriageable when shee came first into England.

[Page 30]
O would Aumerle had suncke when he betrayd
The complot which that holy Abbot layd.

The Abbot of Westminster had plotted the death of King Henry, to haue beene doone at a Tylt at Oxford; of which con­fedracie there was, Iohn Holland, Duke of Excester, Thomas Hol­land, Duke of Surry, the Duke of Aumerle, Mountacute, Earle of Salisbury, Spenser Earle of Gloster, the Bishop of Carlile, Sir Tho­mas Blunt, these all had bound themselues one to another by In­denture to performe it, but were all betrayd by the Duke of Au­merle.

Scroope, Greene, and Bushie, die his fault in graine,

Henry going towards the Castle of Flint, where King Richard was, caused Scroope, Greene, and Bushie, to be executed at Bristow' as vile persons, which had seduced this King to this lasciuious & wicked life.

Damn'd be the oath he made at Doncaster.

After Henries exile, at his returne into England, hee tooke his oth at Doncaster vpon the Sacrament, not to clayme the crowne, or kingdome of England, but onely the dukedome of Lancaster, his owne proper right, and the right of his wife.

And mourne for Henry Hote-spurre, her deere sonne,
As I for my &c.

This was the braue couragious Henry Hote-spurre, that obtay­ned so many victories against the Scots, which after falling out right with the curse of Queene Isabell, was slaine by Henry, at the battaile at Shrewsburie.

Richard the second to Queene Isabell.

WHat canst thou looke or hope for frō that hand,
which neither sence nor reason could cōmand?
A kingdoms greatnes hardly can he sway,
That wholsome counsaile did not first obay;
Ill did thys rude hand guide a scepter then,
Ill thys rude hand now gouerneth a pen;
How should I call my selfe, or by what name,
To make thee know from whence these letters came?
Not from thy husband, for my hatefull life
Hath made thee widdow, being yet a wife;
Nor from a King, that title I haue lost,
And of that name proude Bullenbrooke doth boast:
Neuer to haue beene, might some comfort bring,
But no woe is, to say, I was a King.
This lawlesse life, which first procur'd my hate,
This tongue, which first denounc'd my kingly state,
This abiect minde, which did consent vnto it,
This hand, that was the instrument to doe it,
These all beare witnes, that I doe denie
All worldly hopes, all kingly maiestie.
Didst thou for my sake leaue thy fathers Court,
Thy famous Country, and thy princely port,
And vndertook'st to trauaile dangerous waies,
Driuen by aukward winds, and boyst'rous seas;
And lefts great Burbon for thy loue to mee,
VVho sued in marriage to be linck'd to thee,
[Page 31]Offring for dower the Countries bordring nie,
Of fruitfull Almaine, and rich Burgundie,
Didst thou all this, that England should receaue thee,
To miserable banishment to leaue thee?
And in thy ruine, and thy fortunes wracke,
Forsaken heere, to Fraunce to send thee back.
VVhen quiet sleepe (the heauy harts releefe)
Seales vp my sences, some-what lesning greefe,
My kingly greatnes vnto minde I call,
And thinke that I but dreamed of my fall;
VVith this conceite, my sorrowes I beguile,
That my fayre Queene is but with-drawne a while,
And my attendants in some Chamber by,
As in the height of my prosperitie.
Calling aloude, and asking who is there,
The Eccho aunswering, tells mee VVoe is there.
And when mine armes would gladly thee enfold,
I clip the pillow, and the place is cold,
VVhich when my waking eyes precisely view,
T'is a true token, that it is too true.
As many minuts as in one howre be,
So many howers each minute seemes to me;
Each howre a day, morne, euening, set, and rise,
Each day a yeere, complet with miseries,
A sommer, winter, spring-time, and a fall,
All seasons varying, yet vnseasoned all;
Hote griefes, cold cares, moyst sorrow, scorching hate,
Too long extreames, too short a temperate;
Each yeere a world from golden ages past,
That hasteth on the yron times at last,
That from creation of all happy things,
A desolution to my fortune brings;
Thys endlesse woe, my thred of lyfe still weares,
[Page]In minuts, howers, dayes, moneths, ages, yeres.
Ioy in the sunne, that doe possesse the South,
For Pomfret stands here, in the Norths cold mouth;
There wanton Sommer lords it all the yeere,
Frost-starued VVinter doth inhabite heere;
A place wherein Dispayre may fitly dwell,
For sorrow best sutes with a clowdy Cell.
Let Herford vaunt of our atchiuements done,
Of all the honours that great Edward wone,
Of famous Cressy, where his keene sword lopp'd,
The flowers of Fraunce, which all had ouer-topp'd;
And with those fayre Delices, set the walke,
vvhere our emperious English Lyons stalke,
vvhich pluck'd those Lillies, planted on those streames,
And set them heere, vpon the banks of Thames.
Now Bullenbrooke, our conquering Trophies beares,
Our glorious spoyles thys false Vlisses weares,
And all the story of our famous warre,
Must grace the Annalls of great Lancaster.
Seauen goodly syens from one stocke begun,
Seauen liuely branches from one roote did run;
My princely Father was the straightest stem
The fairest blossome which adorned them;
VVhose precious buds began to spring so faire,
As soone they shew'd what fruit they meant to beare,
But I his graft and barraine trunke am growne,
And for a fruitlesse water-bough am hewne,
From our braue Grandsire, both in one degree,
Yet after Edward, lohn the young'st of three:
But princely VVales, by me giues place to Gaunt,
Henry on Richard now predominant.
VVhen that vsurping bastard-sonne of Spayne,
Deposed Petro, from his peacefull raigne.
[Page 32]My Father mou'd with the Castillians moane,
Pluck'd downe that proude aspyring Phaeton:
And ere a Crowne had yet adorn'd his head,
A conquered King from Fraunce to England led.
A subiects hand my Crowne from mee hath torne,
And by a home-nurst begger, ouer-borne.
Is valour hence with him to heauen fled?
Or in my barren breast decay'd and dead?
VVho for his vertue and his conquests sake,
Posteritie a demie God shall make:
And iudge this vile and abiect spirit of mine,
Could not proceede from temper so diuine.
VVhat earthly humor, or what vulgar eye,
Now lookes so low, as on my misery?
VVhen Bullenbrooke is seated on our throne,
And makes that his, which we but call'd our owne:
He bids, commaunds, he chooseth, he elects,
Pardons, defends, he warrants, he protects;
Into our counsells he himselfe intrudes,
And who but Herford with the multitudes?
Thus Bullenbrooke triumpheth in our fall,
And for their King reputed is of all.
His power disgrades, his dreadfull frowne disgraceth,
He throwes them downe, whō our aduauncement placeth;
As my disable and vnworthy hand,
Could giue no soueraine title of commaund.
He treads our sacred tables in the dust,
And proues our acts of parliament vniust;
As though he hated that it should be said,
That such a law, by Richard once was made.
VVhen Herford had his iudgement of exile,
Saw I the peoples murmuring the while,
Saw I the loue, the zeale, the fayth, the care,
[Page]The Commons still to pleasing Herford bare;
Fond women, and scarce-speaking chyldren moume,
vveeping his parting, wishing his returne.
And was I forc'd t'abridge his banish'd yeares,
vvhen they bedew'd his footsteps with theyr teares,
Yet could not see mine owne insuing fall,
Not seeing that, which sauing that, saw all.
Neuer our treasure stuft with greater store,
Neuer our strength, neuer our power was more,
Neuer more large bounds to our Emperie,
Neuer more counsaile, wisedome, policie:
Neuer did all so suddainly decline,
But iustice is the heauens, the fault is mine.
Kings pallaces stand open to let in,
The soothing Traytor, and the guide to sin,
Many we haue in tryumphs to attend vs,
But few are left in perrill to defend vs;
Amongst the most, the worst we best can chuse,
Tis easie to desire, but hard to vse.
Oh famous Gloster, thou fore-saw'st my end,
The curse that did my lawlesse youth attend,
His death is newe, (and I in sinne am old,)
vvho my destruction, (Prophet-like) fore-told;
And like Laocan, crying from his tower,
Foreshow'd the horse which hid the Grecian power.
Is this the thing for which we toyle and sweat?
For which the great, doe kneele vnto the great?
Is thys the thing, in seeking to attaine,
All payne is pleasure, and all losse is gaine?
Is thys the iewell which we prize so hie?
At heauen, at fame, at life, at libertie;
And vnto thys, in striuing to aspire,
Are we made slaues vnto our fond desire?
[Page 33]Yet on steepe Icie banks heere still we dwell,
And if we slip, our fall is into hell.
Sweet Queene, Ile take all counsell thou canst giue,
So that thou bid me neither hope nor liue;
Counsell that comes when ill hath done his worst,
Blesseth our ill, but makes our good accurst.
Comfort is now vnpleasing to mine eare,
Past cure, past care; my bed is now my Beere.
Since thus misfortune keepes vs heere so long,
Till heauen be growne vnmindfull of our wrong,
VVe may in warre, some-time take truce with foes,
But in dispaire, we cannot with our woes.
O let this name of Richard neuer die,
Yet still be fatall to posteritie;
And let a Richard from our line arise,
To be the scourge of many families,
And let the Crowne be fatall that he beares,
And wet with sad lamenting mothers teares.
Thy curse on Percy, heauen doth now preuent,
vvho hath not one curse left, on me vnspent,
To scourge the world, now borrowing of my store,
As rich in plagues, as I in wealth am pore.
Then cease (deere Queene) my sorrowes to bewaile,
My wounds too great for pittie now to heale,
Age stealeth on whilst thou complainest thus,
My griefes be mortall, and infectious;
Yet better fortunes, thy faire youth may trie,
That follow thee, which still from me doth flie.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

This tongue which first denounc'd my kingly state,

RIchard the second, at the resignation of the Crowne to his Co­sin Henry in the Tower of London, at the deliuery of the same [Page] with his owne hand, confessed himselfe to be vnable to gouerne, denounced all kingly dignitie; so that hee might onely haue his life.

And left'st great Burbon for thy loue to mee,
Who sued in marriage to be linck'd to thee.

Before the Princesse Isabell was married to Richard the second, Lewes Duke of Burbon sued to haue had her in marriage, which it was thought he had obtained, if this motion had not [...] out in the meane time; this Duke of Burbon sued againe to haue re­ceiued her at her comming into Fraunce, after the imprisonment of King Richard, but King Charles her Father then crost him as be­fore, and gaue her to Charles, sonne to the Duke of Orleance.

Let Herford vaunt of our atchiuements done,

Henry the eldest sonne of Iohn of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, which at the first was Earle of Darbie, then created Duke of Her­ford, but after the death of Iohn of Gaunt his Father, was Duke of Lancaster, and Herford, Earle of Darby, Leicester, and Lincolne, and after he had obtained the Crowne, was called by the name of Henry of Bullenbrooke, which is a towne in Lincolne shiere, as vsually all the Kings of England bare the name of the places where they were borne.

Of famous Cressy, where his keene sword lopp'd,
The flowers of Fraunce, which all had ouertopp'd.

Remembring the famous victory Edward the third their Grand­father obtained at Cressy, where were almost slaine all the Nobili­tie of Fraunce, where the Frenchmen lost all their ancient glory.

And with their Flower-delices set the walke,
Where our &c.

Edward the third, by the conquest of Fraunce, ioyned the Lil­lies or Flower-delices, which is the Armes of Fraunce, with the Lyons, the Armes of England, which coate first came from Nor­mandie by the Conquerer, remaining in the right of his possession.

Seauen goodly syens from one stocke began,

Edward the third had seauen sonnes, his eldest Edward Prince of Wales, after called the blacke Prince, William of Hatfielde his second, Lionell Duke of Clarence the third, Iohn of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster the fourth, Edmond of Langley, Duke of Yorke the fift, Thomas of Woodstocke Duke of Gloster the sixt, and William [Page 34] of Windsore the seauenth.

My princely Father was the straightest stem.

Truely boasting himselfe, to bee the eldest sonne of the eldest Brother, which was Edward the blacke Prince.

Yet after Edward, Iohn the young'st of three.

By this disabling Henry Bullenbrooke, beeing the sonne but of a fourth brother, William & Lionell being both before Iohn of Gaunt.

When that vsurping bastard sonne of Spayne,

Noting the courage of his Father, which set Petro the King of Castile in his kingdome, when hee was expulsed by his bastard brother.

A conquered King from Fraunce to England led.

The blacke Prince tooke King Iohn of Fraunce prysoner, at the battaile of Poycters, and brought him into England, where hee dyed at the Sauoy.

And by a home-nurst begger ouer-borne.

By this reprouing his owne weakenes and cowardize, who had suffered himselfe to be expulsed his kingdome by a subiect, and one so much inferior to himselfe in greatnes.

And proues our acts of parliaments vniust.

In the first parliament that Henry called after Richard had resig­ned the Crowne, hee anihilated all the lawes that were made in the parliament called the wicked parliament, held in the 20. yeere of King Richards raigne.

Saw I the loue, the Zeale, the faith, the care,
The Commons still &c.

When the Combat shoulde haue beene at Couentry, betwixt Henry Duke of Herford, and Mowbray Duke of Norfolke, the Cō ­mons mourned exceedingly, after they heard that Herford was adiuged by the King to be banished for tenne yeeres, so greatlie was he alwaies fauoured of the people.

And was I forc'd to abridge his banish'd yeeres,

When Henry Duke of Herford came to Eltham to take his leaue of King Richard, the King (to please the Commons rather then for any loue he bare to Herford,) plucked backe foure yeeres of his banishment.

[Page]
O famous Gloster, thou fore-saw'st the end,

Thomas of Woodstocke, Duke of Gloster, the Kings vnckle, who had oftr reproued this youthfull Kings insolence, was put to death at Callice, by the commaundement of this Richard, his vn­naturall kinsman.

And let a Richard from our line arise,

A prophecie of Richard Crookebacke the Tyrant, which after was the onely scourge and plague of both the houses of Yorke & Lan­caster, and the death of many great Princes.

FINIS.

To the Right Honourable, the Lord Henrie Howard.

LEarned and noble Lord, custome and con­tinuance haue sealed this priuiledge to Po­etry, that (sometime) the light subiect of a laboured Poem, is graced with the title of a learned and iudiciall censor: your Lord­ship sufficiently knoweth what I but put you in remem­brance off, your wisedome and experience know what hath beene most vsuall in the course of times: your iudgement makes me doubtfull, being what I am: your honor giues me some comfort, beeing what you are: Counsell is not euer con­uersant with seueritie, and I know true vertue loueth, what is neuer so little like herselfe, howe vnseasoned so euer my rymes seeme to the worlde: I am pleased if you peruse them with patience. Thus wishing my lines may bee as acceptable as I desire, I leaue them to your learned censor.

Michaell Drayton.

Queene Katherine to Owen Tudor.

* The Argument.

After the death of that victorious Henry the fift, Queene Ka­therine, the [...] of England and Fraunce, daughter to Charles the French King, holding her estate with Henrie her sonne, (then the sixt of that name,) falleth in loue with Owen Tudor a VVlechman, a braue and gallant Gentle­man of the VVardrop to the young King her sonne: yet greatly fearing if her loue should be discouered, the Nobili­tie would crosse her purposed marriage: or fearing, that if her faire and princely promises should not assure his good successe, this high and great attempt, might (perhaps) daunt the forwardnesse of his modest and shame fast youth: wher­fore to breake the Ice to her intent, shee wryteth vnto him this Epistle following.

IV dge not a Princesse worth impeach'd hereby,
That loue thus tryumphs ouer maiestie;
Nor thinke lesse vertue in this royall hand,
vvhich now intreats, that wonted to commaund;
For in this sort, though humbly now it wooe,
The day hath beene, thou would'st haue kneel'd vnto.
Nor thinke that this submission of my state,
Proceeds from frailtie, (rather iudge it fate)
Alcides nere more fit for loues sterne shock,
Then when for loue sate spinning at the Rock.
[Page 36]Neuer lesse clowdes did Phoebus glory dim,
Then in a Clownes shape when he couered him;
Ioues great commaund was neuer more obay'd,
Then when a Satyrs antick parts he play'd.
He was thy King, that sued for loue to mee,
Shee is thy Queene, that sues for loue to thee.
VVhen Henry was, what's Tudors now, was his,
vvhilst yet thou art, what's Henries, Tudors is;
My loue to Owen, him my Henry giueth,
My loue to Henry, in my Owen liueth;
Onely in Henry, was my Tudor then,
Onely in Tudor, Henry now agen.
Henry woo'd mee whilst warres did yet increase,
I wooe my Tudor now in calmest peace,
To win affection, hee did conquest proue,
And I on conquest doe make warre with loue:
Great Henry soughtt' accomplish his desire,
Armed with tempests, thunder-boults of fire,
As once when Iunos treasons forced Ioue,
T'imbrace the beautious Semele, his loue.
I to my loue, as once the Ciprian Queene,
On Simois banks was with the Troyan seene.
Incampt at Melans, in warres hote alarmes,
First saw I Henry, clad in princely Armes.
At pleasant VVindsore, there these eyes of mine,
Iudg'd Tudor first, for wit and shape diuine.
Henry abroad, with puissance and with force,
Tudor at home, with courtship and discourse;
Hee then, thou now, I hardly can iudge whether
Did like me best, Plantaginet or Tether.
A march, a measure, battell, or a daunce,
A courtly rapier, or a conquering Launce.
His princely bed aduaunced my renowne,
[Page]And on my temples set a double Crowne;
vvhich glorious wreath, (as Henries lawfull heire,)
Henry the sixt vpon his brow doth beare.
At Troy in Champayne he did first enioy
My bridall-rites, to England brought from Troy;
In England now, that honour thou shalt haue,
vvhich once in Champayne famous Henry gaue.
I seeke not wealth, three kingdoms in my power,
If these suffice not, where shall be my dower;
Sad discontent may euer follow her,
vvhich doth base pelfe before true loue prefer:
If titles still could oure affections tie,
vvhat is so great, but maiestie might buy;
As I seeke thee, so Kings [...] mee desire,
To what they craue, thou easily may'st aspire.
That sacred fire, once warm'd my hart before,
The fuell fit, the flame is now the more,
And meanes to quench it, I in vaine doe proue,
VVe may hide treasure, but not hide our loue,
And since thy vertue this at first did gaine it,
vvill I by reason now seeke to restraine it.
Nor these great titles vainely will I bring,
VVife, daughter, mother, sister to a King,
Of grandsire, father, husband, sonne, and brother,
More thou alone to mee, then all the other.
Nor thinke so Tudor, that this loue of mine,
Should wrong the Gaunt-borne great Lancastrian line,
Nor stirre the English blood, the Sunne and Moone,
T'repine at Lorayne, Burbon, Alansoon;
Nor doe I thinke there is such different ods,
That they alone should counted be for Gods.
If Cadmus earthly issue reckoning vs,
And they from Ioue, Mars, Neptune, Eolus,
[Page 37]Of great Latonas of-spring onely they,
And we the brats of wofull Niobe,
Our famous Grandsires (as their owne) bestrid,
That horse of fame, that Ioue-begotten steed,
VVhose bounding hoofe plow'd that Boetian spring,
vvhere those sweet Maydes of memorie doe sing.
Not onely Henries Queene, but boast aswell,
To be the childe of Charles and Isabell.
Nor doe I know from whence their griefe should grow,
They by this match should be disparag'd so,
vvhen Iohn and Longshanks issue both affied,
And to the Kings of VVales in wedlocke tied,
Shewing the greatnes of your blood heereby,
Your race, and royall consanguinitie.
And VVales as well as haughty England boasts,
Of Camilot, and all her Penticosts;
A nephewes roome in great Pendragons race,
At Arthurs Table held a princely place.
If of the often conquests of our Land,
They reare the spoyles of their victorious hand,
If these our auncient Chronicles be true,
They altogether are not free from you.
VVhen bloody Rufus sought your vtter sack,
Twice entring VVales, yet twice was beaten back.
VVhen famous Cambria wash'd her in the flood,
Made by th'effusion of the English blood;
And oft return'd with glorious victorie,
From VVorster, Herford, Chester, Shrewsbury,
vvhose power, in euery conquest so preuailes,
As once expuls'd the English out of VVales.
Although my beautie made my Countries peace,
And at my bridall bloody warres did cease,
[Page]Yet more then power, had not his person beene,
I had not come to England as a Queene.
Nor tooke I Henry to supply my want,
Because in Fraunce that time my choise was scant;
vvhen Fraunce had robd all Christendome of men,
And Englands flower remain'd amongst vs then:
Glaster, whose counsells (Nestor like) assist
Couragious Bedford, that great martiallist;
VVarwicke, for vertue honour'd of his foes,
And Yorke, whose fame yet daily greater growes,
VVarwicke, the pride of Neuels haughtie race,
Great Salsbury, so fear'd in euery place.
That valiant Poole, whom no atchiuement dares,
And Vere, so famous in the Irish warres,
VVhom (though I were a mighty Princesse borne)
Yet of the worst, no whit I neede to scorne;
But Henries rare perfections, and his parts,
As his sword kingdoms, so those conquer'd harts.
As chast was I to him, as Queene might bee,
But freed from him, my chast loue vow'd to thee:
Beauty doth fetch all fauor from thy face,
All perfit courtship resteth in thy grace.
If thou discourse, thy lipps such accents breake,
As loue a spirit, forth of thee seem'd to speake.
The Brittish language, which sweet vowels wants,
And iarrs so much vpon harsh consonants,
Comes with such grace srom thy mellifluous tongue,
As doe the sweet notes of a well set song,
And runnes as smoothly from those lypps of thine,
As the pure Thuskan from the Florantine;
Leauing such seasoned sweetnes in the eare,
As the voyce past, yet still the sound is there.
[Page 38]Like Nisus Tower, where once Apollo lay,
And on his golden viall vs'd to play;
vvhere sencelesse stones were with such musick drownd,
As many yeeres they did retaine the sound.
Had he which dar'd proud Perseus to the field,
Caried my Tudors picture in his shield,
The sight there of should haue subdu'd alone,
That Gorgons head, which turn'd men to a stone.
If Ioue should take my Tudors louely eye,
And with heauens lights should place it in the skye,
The wandring starrs would leaue theyr endlesse maze,
And fixe themselues, vpon that starre to gaze.
If faire Alcmenas three nights-gotten sonne,
vvhen he his twelue great labours first had done,
Had knowne one lock of thy delicious ore,
Kept by the Dragon, Lyon, Serpent, Bore,
Twelue labours more for that he would sustaine,
And where he ended, would begin againe.
Yet let not this make thee thy selfe forget,
Nor my affection now so firmely set;
Nor with repulse my forwardnes reproue,
To boast the conquest of a princely loue:
No my sweet Tudor, I will aunswer no,
Thy gentle brow doth mildly warrant so.
VVhen Nature shew'd her wonders in thy face,
Shee made that mount Loues royall sporting place,
vvhere sweet content doth banquet all the yere,
Nor coy disdaine yet euer dwelled there;
Let peeuish worldlings speake of right and wrong,
Leaue plaints and pleas, to whom they doe belong,
Let old men speak of chaunces and euents,
And Lawyers talke of titles, and discents;
[Page]Leaue fond reports to such as stories tell,
And couenaunts to such as buy and sell,
Loue my sweet Tudor, that becomes thee best,
And to our good successe referre the rest.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Great Henry sought to accomplish his desire,
Armed &c.

HEnry the [...] making clayme vnto the Crowne of Fraunce, first sought by Armes to subdue the French, and after sought by marriage to confirme what he got by conquest, the heate and fu­rie of which inuasion, is aluded to the fiction of Semele in Ouid: which by the craftie perswasion of Iuno, requested Ioue to come vnto her as he was wont to come vnto his wife Iuno, who at her request he yeelding vnto, destroyed her in a tempest.

Incamp'd at Melans in warres hote alarmes,
First &c.

Neere vnto Melans, vpon the riuer of Seyne, was the appoin­ted place of parley between the two Kings of England, & Fraunce, to which place, Isabell the Queene of Fraunce, and the Duke of Burgoyne, brought the young Princesse Katherine, where King Henry first saw her.

And on my temples set a double Crowne,

Henry the fift, and Queene Katherine, were taken as King and Queene of Fraunce; & during the life of Charles the French king, Henry was called King of England, and heire of Fraunce, and af­ter the death of Henry the fift, Henry the sixt his sonne, then beeing very young, was crowned at Paris, as true and lawfull King of England and Fraunce.

At Troy in Champayne he did first enioy,

Troy in Champayne, was the place where that victorious king Henry the fift married the Princesse Katherine, in the presence of the chiefe Nobilitie of the Realmes of England and of Fraunce.

[Page 39]
Nor these great titles vainely will I bring,
Wife, daughter, mother, &c.

Fewe Queenes of England, or Fraunce, were euer more prince­ly alied then this Queene, as it hath beene noted by Historiogra­phers.

Nor thinke so Tudor, that this loue of mine,
Should wrong the Gaunt-borne &c.

Noting the descent of Henry her husband, from Iohn Duke of Lancaster, the fourth sonne of Edward the third, which Duke Iolm was surnamed Gaunt, of the Cittie of Gaunt in Flaunders, where he was borne.

Nor stirre the English blood, the Sunne and Moone,
T'repine &c.

Aluding the greatnes of the English line, to Phoebus and Phoebe, fained to be the children of Latona, whose heauenly kinde might scorne to be ioyned with any earthly progenie; yet withall, boa­sting the blood of Fraunce, as not inferior to theirs. And with this allusion followeth on the history of the strife betwixt Iuno & the race of Cadmus, whose issue was afflicted by the wrath of heauen. The chyldren of Niohe slaine, for which the wofull mother be­came a Rocke, gushing forth continually a fountaine of teares.

And Iohn and Longshanks issue, both affied,

Lhewellin, or Leolin ap Iorwerth, marryed Ioan, daughter to King Iohn, a most beautifull Lady. Some Authors affirme shee was base borne. Lhewellin ap Gryfith maried Ellinor, daughter to Simon Mont­fort Earle of Leicester, and Cosin to Edward Longshankes, both which Lhewellins were Princes of Wales.

Of Camilot and all her Penticosts,
A nephewes roome &c.

Camilot, the auncient Pallace of King Arthur, to which place all the Knights of that famous order yeerely repayred at Penticost, according to the law of the Table, & most of the famous home­borne Knights were of that Country, as to this day is perceaued by theyr auncient monuments.

When bloody Rufus sought your vtter sacke,

Noting the ill successe which that William Rufus had in two voi­ages he made into Wales, in which a number of his chiefe Nobi­litie were slaine.

[Page]
And oft return'd with glorious victory,

Noting the diuers sundry incursians that the Welchmen made into England, in the time of Rufus, Iohn, Henry the second, and Longshanks.

Owen Tudor to Queene Katherine.

WHen first mine eyes beheld thy princely name,
And found from whence these friendly letters came,
As in excesse of ioy my selfe forgot,
VVhether I saw it, or I saw it not;
My panting hart doth bid mine eyes proceed,
My dazeled eye, inuites my tongue to reed;
Mine eye should guide my tongue, amazed mist it,
My lips which now should speake, are dombe, and kist it,
And leaues the paper in my trembling hand,
vvhen all my sences so amazed stand:
Euen as a mother comming to her child,
vvhich from her presence hath been long exil'd,
vvith tender armes his gentle necke doth straine,
Now kissing him, now clipping him againe;
And yet excessiue ioy delndes her so,
As still shee doubts if this be hers or no;
At length awak'ned from this pleasing dreame,
vvhen passion some-what leaues to be extreame,
My longing eyes, with theyr fayre obiect meet,
VVhere euery letter's pleasing, each word sweet.
It was not Henries conquests, nor his Court,
That had the power to winne mee by report,
[Page 40]Nor was his dreadfull terror-striking name,
The cause that I from VVales to England came,
For Christian Rhodes, and our religious truth,
To great atcheeuements first had wonne my youth;
Before aduenture did my valour proue,
Before I yet knew what it was to loue:
Nor came I hether by some poore euent,
But by th'eternall Destinies consent,
vvhose vncomprised wisedoms did fore-see,
That thou in marriage should'st be linck'd to mee.
By our great Merlin, was it not fore-told,
(Amongst his holy prophecies enrold)
vvhen first he did of Tudors fame diuine,
That Kings and Queenes should follow in our line;
And that the Helme, (the Tudors auncient Crest)
vvith Lillies fetch'd from Fraunce should be possest;
And that our Leeke, (our Countries chiefe renowne)
Should grow with Roses, in the English Crowne:
As Charles faire daughter, thou the Lilly wear'st,
As Henries Queene, the blushing Rose thou bear'st;
By Englands conquest, and by Fraunce's oth,
Thou art the true made dowager of both;
Both in thy Crowne, both in thy cheeke together,
Ioyne Tethers loue to thine, and thine to Tether.
Then make no future doubts, nor feare no hate,
vvhen it so long hath beene fore-told by Fate;
And by the all-disposing doome of heauen,
Before our births, vnto one bed were giuen.
No Pallas heere, nor Iuno is at all,
vvhen I to Venus giue the golden ball;
Nor when the Grecians wonder I enioy,
None in reuenge to kindle fire in Troy.
And haue not strange euents diuin'd to vs,
[Page]That in our loue we should be prosperous.
VVhen in thy presence I was call'd to daunce,
In loftie tricks whilst I my selfe aduaunce,
And in my turne, my footing faild by hap,
vva'st not my chaunce to light into thy lap.
VVho would not iudge it Fortunes greatest grace,
Sith he must fall, to fall in such a place;
His birth from heauen thy Tudor not deriues,
Nor stands on typ-toes in superlatiues,
Although the enuious English doe deuise
A thousand iests of our hiperbolies;
Nor doe I claime that plot by auncient deedes,
vvhere Phoebus pastures his fire-breathing steeds;
Nor doe I boast my God-made Grandsires skarres,
Nor Giants trophies in the Tytans warres;
Nor faine my birth (your princely eares to please)
By three nights getting, as was Hercules;
Nor doe I forge my long decent to runne.
From aged Neptune, or the glorious sunne,
And yet in VVales with them most famous bee,
Our learned Bards doe sing my pedigree,
And boast my birth from great Cadwallader,
From faire Cair-Septon, in Mount Palador,
And from Eneons line, the South-wales King,
From Theodor the Tudors name doe bring.
My royall mothers princely stocke began,
From her great Grandame faire Gwenellian,
By true decent from Leolin the great,
As well from North-wales as faire Powslands seate;
Though for our princely Genealogie,
I doe not stand to make Apologie:
Yet who with iudgments true vnpartiall eyes,
Shall looke from whence our name at first did rise,
[Page 41]Shall find that Fortune is to vs in debt;
And why not Tudor, as Plantaginct?
Nor that terme Croggen, nick-name of disgrace,
Vsd as a by-word nowe in euery place,
Shall blot our blood, or wrong a VVelchmans name,
vvhich was at first begot with Englands shame.
Our valiant swords, our right did still maintaine,
Against that cruell, proude, vsurping Dane;
And buckled in so many dangerous fights,
vvith Norwayes, Swethens, and with Muscouits,
And kept our natiue language now thus long,
And to this day yet neuer chang'd our tongue;
vvhen they which now our nation faine would tame,
Subdu'd, haue lost theyr Country, and theyr name.
Nor neuer could the Saxons swords prouoke
Our Brittaine necks to beare theyr seruile yoke,
vvhere Cambrias pleasant Countries bounded bee,
vvith swelling Seuerne, and the holy Dee;
And since great Brutus first arriu'd, haue stood
The onely remnant of the Troyan blood.
To euery man is not alotted chaunce,
To be the glorious conqueror of Fraunce;
Yet if my titles may be raisd by thee,
If heauen say this, heauen saith yet more may be;
And our S. Dauid, in the Brittaines right,
May ioyne with George, the sainted English Knight,
And old Caer-marden, Merlins famous towne,
Not scorn'd by London, though of such renowne.
Ah would to God, that howre my hopes attend,
vvere with my wish, brought to desired end.
Blame mee not Madame, though I thus desire,
vvhen Kings doe wonder what I doe admire;
Should'st thou but touch swart Melas with thy hand,
[Page]His Ietty grauell would be Tagus sand.
Nature to shew more skill in thy curles, stroue,
Then did Arachne in the web shee woue;
VVhere thou wilt sit vnto thy Lute to sing,
There shall another faire Pirene spring.
The Gods wish Hebe had no other Cup,
But thy sweet lip for Nectar when they sup.
The sweet calme odor thy breath doth respire,
Might coole that all which Phaeton set on fire.
VVonder not (Madam) though all eyes doe gaze,
vvhen such a Comet doth begin to blaze;
Till now your beauty in nights bosome slept,
vvhat eye durst looke, where awfull Henry kept;
VVho durst attempt to saile but neere the bay,
vvhere that all-conquering great Alcides lay;
But beauty now is set a Princes prize,
And kings now come to cheapen merchandize.
If thou but walke to take the breathing ayre,
Orithia makes mee that I Boreas feare,
If to the fire, loue once in lightning came,
And fayre Egina makes me feare the flame.
If in the sunne, then sad suspition dreames,
Phoebus should spred Lucothoe in his beames,
If in a Fountaine thou doost coole thy blood,
Neptune I feare which once came in a flood;
If with thy maides, I dread Apollos rape,
vvho cusned Chion in an old vviues shape;
If thou doost banquet, Bacchus makes me dread,
vvho in a Grape Erigone did feede;
And if my selfe thy Chamber doore should keepe,
Yet feare I Hermes, comming in a sleepe.
Pardon (sweet Queene) if I offend in thys,
In these delayes, loue most impatient is:
[Page 42]And youth wants power, his hote spleene to suppresse,
vvhen hope already banquets in excesse.
Though Henries fame, in me you shall not find,
Yet that which better shall content your mind;
VVhat helps a Crownes adorning of the head,
vvhen comfort wanteth in a princely bed;
But onely in the title of a King
vvas his aduantage, in no other thing:
If in his loue more pleasure you did take,
Neuer let Queene trust VVelchman for my sake.
Yet iudge mee not from modestie exempt,
That I another Phaetons charge attempt;
My mounting thoughts, which thus to heauen aspire,
Shewes that my spirit's tuch'd with celestiall fire,
For had it been of grosse and earthly mud,
It neuer durst presume to such a good;
If loue a fault, the more is beauties shame,
vvhen she herselfe is Author of the same;
All men to one peculiar vice incline,
Onely to loue, is naturally mine.
Thou art by beauty famous, as by birth,
Ordaind by heauen, here to adorne the earth,
Ad faythfull loue vnto thy princely state,
And then alike in all things fortunate.
A King might promise more, I not denie,
But yet (by heauen) he lou'd not more then I.
And thus I leaue, till time my fayth approue,
I cease to write, but neuer cease to loue.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

O that the Helme, the Tudors aundient Crest,

THe Armes of Tudor was the Helmes, or mens heads, whereof he speaketh as a thing prophetically fore-told of Merlin.

When in thy presence I was call'd to daunce.

Owen Tudor, beeing a courtly and actiue Gentleman, cōmaun­ded once to daunce before the Queene, in a turne (not beeing a­ble to recouer himselfe) fell into her lap, as shee sate vpon a little stoole, with many of her Ladies about her.

And yet with them in Wales, most famous be,
Our learned Bards, &c.

This Berdh, as they call it in the Brittish tongue, or as we more properly say Bard, or Bardus be theyr Poets, which keepe the re­cords of Pedigrees and descents, and sing in oades and measures to theyr Harps, after the old manner of the Lirick Poets.

And boast my blood from great Cadwallader,

Cadwallader the last King of the Brittaines, descended of the no­ble and auncient race of the Troyans, to whom an Angell appea­red, commaunding him to goe to Rome to Pope Sergius, where he ended his life.

Since faire Cair-Septon in mount Palador,

Cair-Septon, now called Shaftsbury, at whose building it was sayd an Eagle prophecied (or rather one named Aquilla) of the fame of that place, and of the recouery of the Ile by the Brittains bringing backe with them the bones of Cadwallader from Rome.

And from Eneons line, the South-wales King,
From Theodor &c.

This Eneon was slaine by the Rebells of Gwentsland, he was a noble and worthy Gentleman, who in his life did many noble acts, and was father to Theodor, or Tudor Maur, of whom descen­ded the Princes of South-wales.

From her great Grandam faire Guenellian.

Guenellian the daughter of Rees ap Griffeth, ap Theodor, Prince of South-wales, maried to Edniuet Vahan, auncestor to Owen Tudor.

My true descent from Leolin the great,

This is that Lewhelin, called Leolinus magnus, Prince of North­wales.

[Page 43]
Nor that word Croggen, nickname of disgrace,

In the voyage that Henry the second made against the Welch­men, as his souldiers passed Offas ditch at Croggen Castell, they were ouerthrowne by the Welchmen, which word Croggen, hath since been vsed to the Welchmens disgrace, which was at first be­gun with theyr honour.

And old Caer Merdin, Merlins famous Towne;

Caer Merdin, or Merlins Towne, so called of Merlins beeing sound there; This was Ambrose Merlin, whose prophecies vvee haue. There was another of that name, called Merlin Siluestris, borne in Scotland, surnamed Calidonius, of the Forrest Calidon, where he prophecied.

And kept our nature Language now thus long,

The Welchmen be those auncient Brittaines, which when the Picks, Danes, and Saxons inuaded heere, were first driuen into those parts, where they haue kept theyr language euer since the first, without commixtion with any other language.

FINIS.

To my honoured Mistres, Mi­stres Elizabeth Tanfelde, the sole Daugh­ter and heire, of that famous and learned Lawyer, Lawrence T anfelde Esquire.

FAire and vertuous Mistresse, since first it was my good fortune to be a witnes of the many rare perfections where-with nature and education haue adorned you: I haue been forced since that time to attribute more admiration to your sexe, then euer Petrarch could before perswade mee to by the prayses of his Laura. Sweete is the French tongue, more sweet the Italian, but most sweet are they both if spoken by your admired selfe. If Poesie were prayselesse, your vertues alone were a subiect sufficient to make it esteemed though amongst the barbarous Getes: by how much the more your tender yeres giue scarcely warrant for your more then womanlike wisedom, by so much is your iudgement, and reading, the more to be wondred at. The Graces shall haue one more Sister by your selfe, and England by your birth shall add one Muse more to the Muses: I rest the humbly deuoted seruant to my deere and modest Mistresse: to whom I wish, the happiest fortunes I can deuise.

Michaell Drayton.

William de la Pole, Duke of Suf­folke, to Queene Margarit.

* The Argument.

VVilliam de la Pole, first Marques, and after created Duke of Suffolke, beeing sent into Fraunce by King Henry the fixt, concludeth a marriage betweene the King his Maister, and Margarite, daughter to Rayner Duke of Aniou: who one­ly had the title of the King of Cicily and Ierusalem. This marriage beeing made contrary to the liking of the Lords & counsell of the Realme, (by reason of the yeelding vp Aniou & Maine into the Dukes hands, which shortly after proued the losse of all Aquitaine,) they euer after cotiuually hated the Duke; and after (my meanes of the Commons) banished him at the parliament at Bery: where after he had the iudg­ment of his exile, beeing then ready to depart, hee [...] backe to the Queene this Epistle.

IN my disgrace (deere Queene) rest thy content,
And Margarits health from Suffolks banishment;
Not one day seemes fiue yeeres exile to mee,
But that so soone I must depart from thee;
VVhere thou not present, it is euer night,
All be exil'd that liue not in thy sight.
Those Sauages which worshyp the sunnes rise,
vvould hate theyr God, if they beheld thyne eyes,
The worlds great light, might'st thou be seene abroad,
vvould at our noonestead euer make aboade;
And force the poore Antipodes to mourne,
[Page]Fearing least he would neuer more returne.
VVere't not for thee, it were my great'st exile
To liue within this Sea-inuirond Ile.
Poles courage brooks not limitting in bands,
But that (great Queene) thy soueraigntie commands;
Our Falcons kinde cannot the cage indure,
Nor buzzard-like doth stoope to euery lure;
Their mounting broode in open ayre doth roue,
Nor will with Crowes be coop'd within a groue;
VVee all doe breath vpon this earthly ball,
Likewise one heauen encompasseth vs all:
No banishment can be to him assign'd,
vvho doth retaine a true resolued minde.
Man in himselfe, a little world doth beare,
His soule the Monarch euer ruling there,
vvhere euer then his body doth remaine,
He is a King that in himselfe doth raigne,
And neuer feareth Fortunes hot'st alarmes,
That beares against her, Patience for his Armes.
This was the meane proude VVarwicke did inuent,
To my disgrace, at Leister parliament,
That onely my base yeelding vp of Maine,
Should be the losse of fertile Aquitaine,
vvith the base vulgar sort to winne him fame,
To be the heire of good Duke Humfreys name;
And so by treason spotting my pure blood,
Make this a meane to raise the Neuells brood.
VVith Salesbury, his vile ambitious Syer,
In Yorks sterne brest, kindling long hidden fyer,
By Clarence title working to supplant,
The Eagle ayrie of great Iohn of Gaunt.
And to this end did my exile conclude,
Thereby to please the raskall multitud;
[Page 45]Vrg'd by these enuious Lords to spend their breath,
Calling reuenge on the Protectors death,
That since the old decrepit Duke is dead,
By mee of force he must be murthered.
If they would know who robd him of his life,
Let them call home Dame Ellinor his wife;
vvho with a Taper walked in a sheete,
To light her shame, at no one through London streete;
And let her bring her Nigromanticke booke,
That foule hagge Iordane, Hun, and Bullenbrooke:
And let them call theyr spirits from hell againe,
To know how Humfrey died: and who shall raigne.
For twentie yeeres and haue I seru'd in Fraunce,
Against great Charles, and bastard Orleance?
And seene the slaughter of a world of men,
Victorious now, and conquered agen;
And haue I seene Vernoylas batfull fields,
Strewd with ten thousand Helmes, ten thousand shields,
vvhere famous Bedford did our fortune trie,
Or Fraunce or England for the victory.
The sad inuesting of so many Townes,
Scor'd on my brest in honourable wounds;
VVhen Mountacute and Talbot of such name,
Vnder my Ensigne, both first wonne theyr fame:
In heate and cold all fortunes haue indur'd,
To rouze the French, within their walls immur'd.
Through all my life, these perrills haue I past,
And now to feare a banishment at last?
Thou know'st how I, (thy beauty to aduaunce,)
For thee refusd the infant Queene of Fraunce,
Brake the contract Duke Humfrey first did make,
Twixt Henry, and the Princesse Arminacke;
Onely (sweet Queene) thy presence I might gaine,
[Page]I gaue Duke Rayner, Aniou, Mauns, and Maine,
Thy peerelesse beauty for a dower to bring,
To counterpoize the wealth of Englands King;
And from Aumearle with-drew my warlike powers,
And came my selfe in person first to Towers,
Th'Embassadours for truce to entertaine,
From Belgia, Denmarke, Hungarie, and Spaine,
And telling Henry of thy beauties storie,
I taught my tongue a Louers oratorie,
As the report it selfe did so indite,
And make tongues rauish eares with theyr delight:
And when my speech did cease, (as telling all)
My lookes show'd more, that was Angelicall.
And when I breath'd againe, and paused next,
I left mine eyes to preach vpon the text.
Then comming of thy modestie to tell,
In musicks numbers my voyce rose and fell;
And when I came to paint thy glorious stile,
My speech in greater cadences to file,
By true descent to weare the Diadem,
Of Naples, Cicils, and Ierusalem.
And from the Gods thou didst deriue thy birth,
If heauenly kinde could ioyne with brood of earth;
Gracing each tytle that I did recite,
vvith some mellifluous pleasing Epithite;
Nor left him not, till hee for loue was sicke,
Beholding thee in my sweet Rethorick.
A fifteens taxe in Fraunce I freely spent,
In tryumphs, at thy nuptiall Tournament;
And solemniz'd thy marriage in a gowne,
Valu'd at more then was thy Fathers Crowne;
And onely striuing how to honour thee,
Gaue to my King, what thy loue gaue to mee.
[Page 46]Iudge if his kindnes haue not power to moue,
vvho for his loues sake gaue away his loue.
Had he which once the prize to Greece did bring,
(Of whom old Poets long agoe did sing)
Seene thee for England but imbarqu'd at Deepe,
vvould ouer-boord haue cast his golden sheepe,
As too vnworthy ballast to be thought,
To pester roome, with such perfection fraught.
The brynie seas which sawe the shyp enfold thee,
vvould vaute vp to the hatches to behold thee,
And falling backe, themselues in thronging smoother,
Breaking for griefe, enuying one another:
VVhen the proude Barke, for ioy thy steps to feele,
Scorn'd the salt waues should kisse her furrowing keele,
And trick'd in all her flaggs, herselfe she braues,
Dauncing for ioy vpon the siluer waues;
vvhen like a Bull, from the Phenician strand,
Ioue with Europa, trypping from the land,
Vpon the bosome of the maine doth scud,
And with his swannish breast cleauing the flood,
Tow'rds the fayre fields, vpon the other side,
Beareth Agenors ioy, Phenicias pride.
All heauenly beauties, ioyne themselues in one,
To shew theyr glory in thine eye alone;
vvhich when it turneth that celestiall ball,
A thousand sweet starrs rise, a thousand fall.
VVho iustly sayth, mine banishment to bee,
vvhen onely Fraunce for my recourse is free?
To view the plaines where I haue seene so oft,
Englands victorious Ensignes raisd aloft;
vvhen this shall be my comfort in my way,
To see the place where I may boldly say,
Heere mighty Bedford forth the vaward led,
[Page]Heere Talbot charg'd, and heere the Frenchmen fled,
Heere with our Archers valiant Scales did lie,
Heere stoode the Tents of famous VVillohbie;
Heere Mountacute rang'd his vnconquered band,
Heere forth we march'd, and heere we made a stand.
VVhat should we stand to mourne and grieue all day,
For that which time doth easily take away:
VVhat fortune hurts, let patience onely heale,
No wisedome with extreamities to deale;
To know our selues to come of humaine birth,
These sad afflictions crosse vs heere on earth;
A taxe imposd by heauens eternall law,
To keepe our rude rebellious will in awe.
In vaine we prise that at so deere a rate
vvhose best assurance is a fickle state,
And needlesse we examine our intent,
vvhen with preuention, we cannot preuent;
vvhen we our selues fore-seeing cannot shun,
That which before, with destinie doth run.
Henry hath power, and may my life dispose,
Mine honour mine, that none hath power to lose,
Then be as merry, (beautious, royall Queene)
As in the Court of Fraunce we erst haue beene;
As when ariu'd in Porchesters faire roade,
(vvhere, for our comming Henry made aboade)
vvhen in myne armes I brought thee safe to land,
And gaue my loue, to Henryes royall hand;
The happy howers, we passed with the King,
At faire South-hampton, long in banquetting,
VVith such content as lodg'd in Henries brest,
vvhen he to London brought thee from the VVest;
Through golden Cheape, when hee in pompe did ride,
To VVestminster, to entertaine his Bride.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Our Faulcons kinde cannot the cage indure.

HE alludes in these verses to the Faulcon, which was the aunci­ent deuice of the Poles, comparing the greatnes and haughti­nes of his spirit, to the nature of this byrd.

This was the meane proude Warwicke did inuent,
To my disgrace &c.

The Commons, at this Parliament, through Warwickes meanes, accused Suffolke of treason, & vrged the accusation so vehemently that the King was forced to exile him for fiue yeeres.

That onely my base yeelding vp of Maine,
Should be the losse of fertile Aquitane.

The Duke of Suffolke beeing sent into Fraunce to conclude a peace, chose Duke Rayners daughter, the Lady Margaret, whom he espoused for Henry the sixt, deliuering for her to her Father, the Countries of Aniou and Maine, & the Cittie of Mauns. Where­vpon the Earle of Arminack (whose daughter was before promi­sed to the King) seeing himselfe to be mocked, caused all the Eng­lish men to be expulsed out of Aquitaine, Gascoyne, & Guyne.

With the base vulgar sort to winne him fame,
To be the heyre of good Duke Humfreys name.

This Richard that was called the great Earle of Warwick, when Duke Humfrey was dead, grewe into exceeding great fauour with the Commons.

With Salisbury, his vile ambitious Sire,
In Yorks sterne brest, kindling long hidden fire,
By Clarence title working to supplant,
The Eagle Ayrie of great Iohn of Gaunt.

Richard Plantaginet, Duke of Yorke, in the the time of Henrie the sixt, claymed the Crowne, (beeing assisted by this Richard Ne­uell Earle of Salisburie, and Father to the great Earle of Warwicke, who fauoured exceedingly the house of Yorke) in open parlia­ment, as heyre to Lionell Duke of Clarence, the third sonne of Ed­ward the third, making his title by Anne his mother, wife to Ri­chard Earle of Cambridge, sonne to Edmond of Langley, Duke of Yorke; which Anne, was Daughter to Roger Mortimer Earle of March, which Roger, was sonne and heyre to Edmond Mortimer, [Page] [...] married the Lady Phillip, Daughter and heire to Lionell Duke of Clarence, the third sonne of King Edward, to whō the crowne after Richard the seconds death lineally discended he dying with­out issue. And not to the heires of the Duke of Lancaster, that was younger Brother to the Duke of Clarence. Hall cap. 1. Tit. [...] or. & Lanc.

Vrg'd by these enuious Lords to spend their breath,
Calling reuenge on the Protectours death.

Humfrey Duke of Glocester, and Lorde Protectour, in the [...]. yeare of Hen. 6. was by the meanes of the Queene, and the Duke of Suffolk was atested by ye Lord Beumond at the Parliament [...] at Berry, and the same night after murthered in his bed.

If they would know who rob'd him, &c. To this verse,
To know how Humfrey dyed, and who shall raigne.

In these verses her iests at the Protectours wife, who being [...] and conuicted of treason, because with Iohn Hun a Priest, Roger Bollingbrooke a Negromancer, and Margery Iordane called the Witch of Ely, shee had consulted and agreed by Sorcery to kill [...] King, was adiudged to perpetuall pryson in the Ile of Man, and [...] doo penaunce openly in three publique places in London.

For twenty yeares and haue I seru'd in Fraunce.

In the 6. yeare of Hen. the 6. the Duke of Bedford being decea­sed then Lieutenant generall, and Regent of Fraunce: this Duke of Suffolke was promoted to that dignity, hauing the L. Talbot, [...]. Scales, and the Lord Mountacute to assist him.

Against great Charles, and Bastard Orleance.

This was Charles the seauenth, that after the death of Henry the [...] obtained the crowne of Fraunce, & recouered againe much of that his Father had lost. Bastard Orleance was sonne to the Duke of Orleance, begotten of the L. Cawnies wife, preferred highly to many notable offices, because he being a most valiant Captaine, was continuall enemy to the Englishmen, daylie infesting them with diuers incursions.

And haue I seene Vernoyla's batfull fields.

Vernoyle is that noted place in Fraunce, where the great battell was fought in the beginning of Hen. 6. his raigne, where the most of the French cheualry were ouercome by the Duke of Bedford.

[Page 48]
And from Aumearle with-drew my warlike powers.

Aumearle is that strong defenced towne in Fraunce, which the Duke of Suffolke got after 24. great assaults giuen vnto it.

And came my selfe in person first to Towers
Th'Embassadours for truce to entertaine,
From Belgia, Denmarke, Hungary, and Spaine.

Towers is a Citty in Fraunce, built by Brutus as he came into Britaine, where in the 21. of Henry the 6, was appoynted a great dyet to bee kept, whether came th'Embassadours of th'Empire, Spaine, Hungary, and Denmarke to intreate for a perpetuall peace, to be made betweene the two Kings of England, and Fraunce.

By true descent to weare the Diadem
Of Naples, Cicile, and Ierusalem.

Rayner Duke of Aniou, Father to Queene Margarit, call'd him selfe King of Naples, Cicily, and Ierusalem, hauing the title alone of King of those Countries.

A fifteenes taxe in Fraunce I freely spent.

The Duke of Suffolke after the marriage concluded twixt King Henry, and Margarit Daughter to Duke Rayner, asked in open Parliament a whole fifeteenth to fetch her into England.

Seeue thee for England but imbark't at Deepe.

Deepe is a Towne in Fraunce, bordering vpon the Sea where the Duke of Suffolke with Queene Margarit tooke shippe for Eng­land.

As when ariu'd in Porchesters faire Roade.

Porchester a Hauen Towne in the South-west part of England, where the King taried expecting the Queenes ariuall, whom from thence he conueyed to South-hampton.

Queene Margarit to William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolke.

WHat newes (sweet Pole) look'st thou my lines should tell,
But like the sounding of the dolefull bell,
Bidding the deaths-man to prepare the graue,
Expect from me no other newes to haue.
My brest, which once was mirths imperiall throne,
A vast and desart wildernes is growne;
Like that cold Region, from the world remote,
On whose breeme seas, the Icie mountaines flote,
vvhere those poore creatures banish'd from the light,
Doe liue imprison'd in continuall night.
No ioy presents my soules internall eyes,
But diuination of sad tragedies,
And care takes vp her solitarie Inne,
vvhere youth and ioy, theyr Court did once begin.
As in September, when our yeere resignes,
The glorious sunne vnto the watry signes,
vvhich through the clowdes lookes on the earth in scorne;
The little Byrd, yet to salute the morne,
Vpon the naked branches sets her foote,
The leaues now lying on the mossy roote;
And there a silly chirripping doth keepe,
As though shee faine would sing, yet faine would weepe,
Praysing faire Sommer, that too soone is gone,
Or mourning VVinter, too fast comming on.
In this sad plight I mourne for thy depart,
Because that weeping cannot case my hart.
[Page 49]Now to our ayde, who stirres the neighbouring Kings;
Or who from Fraunce a puissant Armie brings;
VVho moues the Norman to assist our warre;
Or brings in Burgoyn, to ayde Lancaster;
VVho in the North our lawfull claime commends,
To winne vs credite with our valiant friends;
To whom shall I my secrete thoughts impart;
VVhose brest is now the closet of my hart;
The auncient Heroes, fame thou didst reuiue,
And didst from them thy memory deriue;
Nature by thee, both gaue and taketh all,
Alone in Pole she was too prodigall;
Of so diuine and rich a temper wrought,
As heauen for him, perfections depth had sought,
Peables and Flints we finde in euery path,
The Diamond rich India onely hath.
VVell knew King Henry what he pleaded for,
vvhen thou wert made his sweet-tong'd Orator;
vvhose Angell-eye, by powrefull influence,
Imparteth wonders, passing eloquence,
That when loue would his youthfull sports haue tryde,
But in thy shape, himselfe would neuer hide;
vvhich in his loue had beene of greater power,
Then was his Nymph, his flame, his swanne, his shower.
To that allegiance Yorke was bound by oath,
To Henries heyres, and safetie of vs both,
No longer now he meanes record shall beare it,
He will dispence with heauen, and will vnsweare it.
Hee that's in all the worlds blacke sinnes forlorne,
Is carelesse now how oft hee be forsworne;
And now of late his title hath set downe,
By which he claimes the right of Englands Crowne.
And now I heare, his hatefull Dutches chatts,
[Page]And rips vp theyr decent vnto her brats,
And blesseth them as Englands lawfull heyrs,
And tells them that our Diadem is theyrs.
And if such hap her Goddesse fortune bring,
If three sonnes faile, she'le make the fourth a King.
Hee that's so like his Dam, her youngest Dick,
That foule, ilfauored, crookback'd stigmatick,
That like a carkase stolne out of a Tombe,
Came the wrong way out of his mothers wombe;
vvith teeth i'ns head, his passage to haue torne,
As though begot an age ere he was borne.
VVho now dare curbe proude Yorke, if he doe rise?
And stoope that haggard, which so threats the skyes?
To crop that bastard weede which daily growes,
To ouer-shadow our vermilion Rose?
Or who will muzzell that vnruly Beare?
From whose sterne presence all doe flie for feare;
vvhilst on his knees the silly King is downe,
To saue theyr labour, reaching at his Crowne.
VVhere like a mounting Cedar he should beare
His plumed top, aloft into the ayre;
And let these shrubs sit vnderneath his shrowdes,
vvhilst in his armes he doth imbrace the clowdes.
But he with error in deuotion led,
Lets others rase the Crowne from of his head;
And (like a woman) sits him downe to weepe,
VVhere hee in Armes his kingly right should keepe,
As ill beseeming Henries royall sonne,
As when Alcides at the distaffe spunne.
O that he should his Fathers right inherit,
Yet by an alien to that mightie spirit;
That field the VVesterne world with his report,
His glorious conquest got at Agyncourt;
[Page 50]VVhose name to Fraunce dyd greater terror bring,
Then to the foule, the presence of theyr King;
VVho fild the ditches of besiged Cane,
vvith mangled bodyes of our Nation slaine:
And made the Normans eate theyr horse for foode,
Yet staru'd for hunger; made them drunke with blood.
Nor can he come from Lancasters great line,
Or from the wombe of beautious Katherine.
All other creatures follow after kind,
But man alone doth not beget the minde.
My Daysie-flower which erst perfum'd the ayre,
vvhich for my fauours Princes once did weare,
Now in the dust lyes troden on the ground,
And with Yorks garlands euery one is crownd;
Those flattering starrs which followed our faire rise,
Now towards our set, are vanish'd from our eyes,
Yorks rising sonnes now altogether shine,
And our light dim, towards euening doth decline;
Now in the skyes his dreadfull Comet waues,
And who be starrs, but VVarwicks bearded staues;
And all those knees which bended once so low,
Grow stiffe, as though they had forgot to bow;
And none like them, pursue me with despite,
vvhich most haue cryde, God saue Queene Margarite.
VVhen fame shall brute thy banishment abroade,
The Yorkish faction then will lay on loade;
And when it comes once to our VVesterne Coast,
O how that hagge Dame Elinor will boast;
And labour straight, by all the means shee can,
To be calld home, out of the Ile of Man;
To which I know great VVarwicke will consent,
To haue it done by acte of Parliament,
That to my teeth, my birth she may defie,
[Page]Slaundring Duke Rayner with base beggery;
The onely way she could deuise to grieue mee,
vvanting sweet Suffolke, which should most releeue [...].
And from that stocke doth sprout another bloome,
A Kentish Rebell, a base vpstart groome;
And this is hee the VVhite-Rose must prefer,
By Clarence daughter, match'd with Mortimer.
Thus by Yorks meanes, this rascall pesant Cade,
Must in all hast Plantaginet be made;
Thus that ambitious Duke sets all on worke
To sound what friends affect the claime of Yorke,
VVhilst he abroade doth practise to commaund,
And makes vs weake by strength'ning Ireland;
More his owne power still seeking to encrease,
Then for King Henries good, or Englands peace.
Great VVinchester vntimely is deceas'd,
That more and more my woes should be encreas'd.
Beuford, whose shoulders proudly bare vp all
The Churches prop, that famous Cardinall,
The Commons, (bent to mischiefe) neuer let,
vvith Fraunce t'vpbrayd that valiant Somerset,
Rayling in tumults on his souldiers losse;
Thus all goes backward, crosse comes after crosse.
And-nowe of late, Duke Humfreys old alies,
vvith banish'd Elnors base accomplices,
Attending theyr reuenge, grow wondrous crouse,
And threaten death and vengeaunce to our house;
And I alone the wofull remnant am,
T'endure these stormes, with wofull Buckingham.
I pray thee Pole haue care how thou dost passe,
Neuer the Sea yet halfe so dangerous was;
And one fore-told by vvater thou should'st die,
(Ah foule befall that foule tongues prophecie,)
[Page 51]And euery night am troubled in my dreames,
That I doe see thee tost in dangerous streames;
And oft-times shipwrackt, cast vpon the land,
And lying breathlesse on the queachie sand;
And oft in vision see thee in the night,
vvhere thou at sea maintain'st a dangerous fight;
And with thy proued Target and thy sword,
Beat'st backe the Pyrate which would come abord.
Yet be not angry that I warne thee thus,
The truest loue is most suspitious:
Sorrow doth vtter what vs still doth grieue,
But hope forbids vs sorrow to belieue;
And in my counsell yet this comfort is,
It cannot hurt, although I thinke amisse:
Then liue in hope, in tryumph to returne,
vvhen cleerer dayes shall leaue in clowdes to mourne;
But so hath sorrow girt my soule about,
That, that word hope, (mee thinks) comes slowly out:
The reason is, I know it here would rest,
vvhere it may still behold thee in my brest.
Farewell sweet Pole, faine more I would endite,
But that my teares doe blot as I doe write.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Or brings in Burgoyn to ayde Lancaster.

PHillip Duke of Burgoyn and his sonne were alwaies great fauo­rites of the house of Lancaster: howbeit they often dissembled both with Lancaster and Yorke.

Who in the North our lawfull claime commends,
To winne vs credite with our valiant friends.

The chiefe Lords of the North-parts in the time of Henry the 6. withstoode the Duke of Yorke, at his rysing, giuing him two great ouerthrowes.

[Page]
To that aleageance Yorke was bound by oath
To Henries heires, and safety of vs both.
No longer now he meanes records shall beare it,
He will dispence with heauen, and will vnsweare it.

The Duke of Yorke at the death of Henry the fifth, and at this Kings coronation, tooke his oath to be true subiect to him, and his heires for euer: but afterward dispensing there-with, claimed the Crowne as his rightfull and proper inheritance.

If three Sonnes faile, shee'l make the fourth a King.

The Duke of Yorke had foure Sonnes, Edward Earle of March, that afterward was Duke of Yorke, and King of England, when he had deposed Henry the 6. and Edmond Earle of Rutland, slaine by the Lord Clifford at the battell at Wakefield: and George Duke of Clarence that was murthered in the Tower: and Richard Duke of Glocester who was (after he had murthered his Brothers sons) King by the name of Richard the third.

He that's so like his Dam, her youngest Dicke,
That foule ill fauoured crookback'd Stigmaticke, &c.
Till this verse. As though begot an age, &c.

This Richard (whom ironiacally shee heere calls Dicke) that by treason after his Nephewes murthered, obtained the Crowne, was a man lowe of stature, crooke-back'd, the left shoulder much higher then the right, and of a very crabbed and sower counte­nance: his Mother could not be deliuered of him vncut, and he was borne toothed, and with his feete forward contrary to the course of nature.

To ouershadow our vermilion Rose.

The red Rose was the badge of the house of Lancaster, and the white Rose of Yorke, which by the marriage of Henry the seauenth, with Elizabeth indubitate heire of the house of Yorke, was conioy­ned and vnited.

Or who doth muzzle that vnruly Beare.

The Earle of Warwicke, the setter vp and puller downe of Kings, gaue for his Armes the white Beare rampant, and the Rag­ged staffe.

His glorious conquest got at Agyncourt.

Agincourt is a Teritory in Fraunce, where King Henry the fifth discomfited the whole French puissance beeing 60000. horsemen, [Page 52] besides foote-men and Pages, and slewe at the same battell 8000, of their Nobility, Knights, and Gentlemen. And almost all the Princes of Fraunce, besides such as were taken prisoners.

Who fill'd the ditches of besieged Caen
With mangled bodies. &c.

Caen is a meruailous strong Towne of Normandy, which after long famine and extreame misery, was yeelded vp to King Henry the fifth, who fortified the Towne and Castle to the vse of the English.

My Daysie flower which erst perfum'd the ayre,
Which for my fauour Princes once did weare, &c.

The Daysie in French is called Margarit, which was Queene Margarits badge, where-with all the Nobility and chiualry of the Land at the first ariuall were so delighted, that they wore it in their Hats in token of honour.

And who be Starres but Warwicks bearded staues.

The ragged or bearded staffe was a part of the Armes belong­ing to the Earldome of VVarwicke.

Slaundering Duke Rayner with base beggery.

Rayner Duke of Aniou, called himselfe King of Naples, Cicile, and Ierusalem, hauing neither inheritance nor tribute from those parts, and was not able at the marriage of the Queene of his owne charges to send her into England though he gaue no dower with her: which by the Dutches of Glocester was often in disgrace cast in her teeth.

A Kentish Rebell, a base vpstart Groome.

This was Iack Cade which caused the Kentish-men to rebell in the 28. yeare of Henry the 6.

And this is he the white Rose must prefer,
By Clarence Daughter match'd to Mortimer.

This Iack Cade instructed by the Duke of Yorke, pretended to be decended from Mortimer which married Lady Phillip, Daugh­ter to the Duke of Clarence.

And makes vs weake by strengthning Ireland.

The Duke of Yorke beeing made Deputy of Ireland, first there began to practise his long pretended purpose, strengthning him­selfe by all meanes possible that he might at his returne into Eng­land [Page] by open warre, to claime that which so long he had priuily gone about to obtaine.

Great Winchester vntimely is deceas'd.

Henry Beuford Bishop and Cardinall of Winchester, Sonne to Iohn of Gaunt, begot in his age, was a proud and ambitious Prelat, fauouring mightily the Queene, and the Duke of Suffolke, conti­nually heaping vp innumerable treasure, in hope to haue beene Pope, as himselfe on his death-bed confessed.

With Fraunce t'vpbraide the valiant Somerset.

Edmond Duke of Somerset, in the 24. of Henry the 6 was made Regent of Fraunce, and sent into Normandy to defend the Eng­lish Territories against the French inuasions, but in short time he lost all that King Henry the fifth wone, for which cause the Nobles and the Commons cuer after hated him.

T'endure these stormes with wofull Buckingham.

Humfrey Duke of Buckingham, was a great fauorite of the Queenes Faction, in the time of Henry the 6.

And one foretold by water thou shouldst dye.

The Witch of Eye receaued aunswer by her spirit, that the Duke of Suffolke should take heede of water; which the Queene for­warnes him of, as remembring the Witches prophecie, which af­terward came to passe.

FINIS.

To the Right Worshipfull Sir Thomas Mounson, Knight.

SIR, amongst many which most deseruedly loue you, though I the least, yet am loth to be the last, whose en­deuours may make knowne how highly they esteeme of your noble and kinde disposition: let this Epistle Sir (I beseech you) which vnwoorthily weares the Badge of your woorthy name, acknowledge my zeale with the rest, (though much lesse deseruing) which for your sake doe ho­nour the house of the Mounsons. I knowe true generositie accepteth what is zelously offered, though not euer deser­uingly excellent, yet for loue of the Art from whence it re­ceiueth resemblance. The light Phrigian harmony stirreth delight, as well as the melancholy Doricke moueth passion: both haue their motion in the spirit, as the lyking of the soule moueth the affection. Your kinde acceptance of my labour, shall giue some life to my Muse, which yet houers in the vncertaintie of the generall censure.

Michaell Drayton.

Edward the fourth to Shores wife.

* The Argument.

This Mistresse Shore, King Edward the fourths beautious paramore, was so called of her husband a Goldsmith, awel­ling in Lumbard street. Edward the fourth, sonne to Ri­chard Duke of Yorke, after hee had obtained the Crowne by deposing Henry the sixt, (which Henry was after murthe­red in the Tower by Richard Crookebacke) and after the battell fought at Barnet, where that famous Earle of VVar­wicke was slaine, and that King Edward quietly possessed the Crowne, hearing (by report of many) the rare and won­derfull beauty of the afore-said Shores wife, commeth him­selfe disguised to London to see her; where after he had once bebeld her, he was so surprised with her admirable beautie, as not long after he robbed her husband of his deerest iewel; but first by this Epistle he writeth vnto her.

VNto the fayr'st that euer breath'd thys ayre,
From English Edward to that fairest faire;
Ah would to God thy title were no more,
That no remembrance might remaine of Shore,
To countermaund a Monarchs high desire,
And barre mine eyes of what they most admire.
O why should Fortune make the Citty proude,
To giue that more then is the Court alow'd?
VVhere they like (wretches) hoard it vp to spare,
And doe engrosse it, as they doe theyr ware.
VVhen fame first blaz'd thy beauty heere in Court,
Mine eares repulsd it, as a light report,
[Page 54]But when mine eyes sawe what mine eare had hard,
They thought report too niggardly had spard;
And strooken dumbe with wonder, did but mutter,
Conceiuing more then shee had words to vtter.
Then thinke of what thy husband is possest,
vvhen I enuy that Shore should so be blest,
vvhen much abundance makes the needy mad,
And hauing all, yet knowes not what is had;
Into fooles bosoms thys good fortune creepes,
And wealth comes in the whilst the miser sleepes.
If now thy beauty be of such esteeme,
vvhich all of so rare excellencie deeme,
vvhat would it be, and prized at what rate,
vvere it adorned with a kingly state?
vvhich beeing now, but in so meane a bed,
Is like an vncut Diamond in lead,
Ere it be set in some high-prized ring,
Or garnished with rich enamiling;
The sparkling luster of the stone is spilt,
If that the beautie be not shewd in gilt.
VVhen first attracted by thy heauenly eyes,
I came to see thee, in a strange disguise,
Passing thy shop, thy husband calld mee back,
Demaunding what rare iewell I did lack?
I want, (thought I) one that I dare not craue,
And one (I feare) thou wilt not let mee haue;
Hee calls for Caskets forth, and shewes mee store,
But yet I knew he had one iewell more;
And deadly curst him that hee did denie it,
That I might not for loue or mony buy it.
O might I come a Diamond to buy,
vvhose sparkling radiance shadowed but thine eye,
vvould not my treasure serue, my Crowne should goe,
[Page]any iewell could be prized so;
[...] Agat, branched with thy blushing straines,
[...] Saphyre, but so azur'd, as thy vaines;
My kingly scepter onely should redeeme it,
At such a price if iudgement could esteeme it.
How fond and sencelesse, be those strangers then,
VVho bring in toyes to please the English men.
[...] smile to thinke how fond th'Italians are,
To iudge theyr artificiall Gardens rare,
vvhen London in thy cheekes can shew them heere,
Roses and Lillies growing all the yeere;
The Portugall, that onely hopes to win,
By bringing stones from farthest India in,
vvhen happy Shore can bring them forth a gerle,
vvhose lipps be Rubies, and her teeth be Pearle.
How silly is the Polander and Dane,
To bring vs Christall, from the frozen maine,
vvhen thy cleere skinnes transparence doth surpasse,
Theyr Christall, as the Diamond doth glasse.
The foolish French, which brings in trash and toyes,
To turne our vvomen men, our gerles to boyes,
vvhen with what tire thou doost thy selfe adorne,
That for a fashion onely shall be worne;
vvhich though it were a garment but of hayre,
More rich then robe that euer Empresse ware.
Mee thinks thy husband takes his marke awry,
To set his plate to sale when thou art by;
vvhen they which doe thy Angell locks behold,
Like basest drosse doe but respect his gold;
And wish one haire before that massy heape,
And but one locke before the wealth of Cheape:
And for no cause else, hold we gold so deare,
But that it is so like vnto thy hayre.
[Page 55]And sure I thinkc Shore cannot chuse but flout
Such as would find the great Elixar out,
And laugh to see the Alchimists, that choke
Themselues with sumes, and wast theyr wealth in smoke,
vvhen if thy hand but touch the basest mould,
It is conuerted vnto purest gold,
vvhen theirs is chaffer'd at an easie rate,
vvell knowne to all to be adulterate;
And theyrs, no more when it by thine is set,
Then paltry Beugle, or light-prized let.
Let others weare perfumes, for thee vnmeet,
If there were none, thou could'st make all things sweet.
Thou comfort'st sence, and yet all sence doost wast,
To heare, to see, to smell, to feele, to tast;
Thou a rich shyp, whose very refuse ware,
Aromaticks, and precious odors are.
If thou but please to walke into the Pawne,
To buy thee Cambricke, Callico, or Lawne,
If thou the whiterles of the same would'st proue,
From thy more whiter hand plucke off thy gloue;
And those which by, as the beholders stand,
vvill take thy hand for Lawne, Lawne for thy hand.
A thousand eyes, clos'd vp by enuious night,
Doe wish for day, but to enioy thy sight;
And when they once haue blest their eyes with thee,
Scorne euery obiect els, what ere they see,
So like a Goddesse beautie still controules,
And hath such powerfull working in our soules.
The Merchant which in traffique spends his life,
Yet loues at home to haue a daintie wife,
The blunt-spoke Cynick, poring on his booke,
Sometime (aside) at beautie loues to looke.
The Church-man, by whose teaching we are led,
[Page]Alowes what keepes loue in the marriage bed;
The bloody souldier which in Armes doth toyle,
vvith Beauty yet content to share his spoyle,
The busie lawyer wrangling in his pleas,
Findeth in beautie yet there is some ease;
The toyling trades-man, and the sweating Clowne,
VVould haue his wench faire, though his bread be browne;
So much is Beautie pleasing vnto all,
To Prince and peasant, one in generall:
Nor neuer yet did any man despise it,
Except too deere, and that he could not prize it,
Vnlearn'd is learning, artlesse be all Arts,
If not imploy'd to prayse thy seuerall parts;
Poore plodding schoolemen, they are farre too low,
vvhich by probations, rules, and axiom's goe,
He must be still familiar with the skyes,
vvhich notes the reuolutions of thine eyes;
And by that skill which measures sea and land,
See beauties world, thy wast, thy foote, thy hand,
VVhere he may finde, the more that he doth view,
Such rare delights as yet are strange and newe;
And other worlds of beautie more and more,
VVhich [...] discouered before:
And to thy rare proportion to apply,
The lines and circles in Geometry,
Vsing alone Arithmaticks strong ground,
Numbring the vertues that in thee are found.
And when these all haue done what they can doe,
For thy perfections all too little too.
But leauing Arts, what should I say thou art?
But of each Goddesse thou a better part,
From Iris white, thy red, vermillion, blew,
Thy skin, thy lip, thy cheeke, thy vaines pure hiew;
[Page 56]But those in her, together mixed bee,
But all distinct, and seuerall in thee.
From beautious Ceres, thy soft-swelling brest,
Those orient Grapes giue Nectar, beeing prest;
Thy smyles from Venus, but such smyles of ioy,
As when she laughes vpon her little boy;
Thy caridge, from maiesticke luno's gate,
vvhich giues delight for all to wonder at.
VVhen from the East the dawne hath broken out,
And gone to seeke thee all the world about,
vvithin thy Chamber hath shee fixt her light,
vvhere but that place, the world hath all been night;
Then is it fit that euery vulgar eye,
Should see loue banquet in her maiestie?
VVe deeme those things our sight doth most frequent,
To be but meane, although most excellent;
For strangers still the streets are swept and strewd,
Few looke on such as daily come abroade;
Things much restraind, doth make vs much desire them,
And beauties sildome seene, makes vs admire them.
Nor is it fit a Citty shop should hide,
The worlds delight, and Natures onely pride,
But in a Princes sumptuous gallery,
Hung all with Tissue, flor'd with Tapistrie;
vvhere thou shalt sit, and from thy state shalt see,
The tylts and tryumphs that are done for thee.
Then know the difference (if thou list to proue)
Betwixt a vulgar, and a kingly loue,
And when thou fino'st, as now thou doubt'st the troth,
Be thou thy selfe vnpartiall Iudge of both;
VVhere harts be knit, what helps if not enioy?
Delayes breede doubts, no cunning to be coy.
VVhilst lazie Time his turne by tariance serues,
[Page]Loue still growes sickly, and hope daily stormes
Meane while, receaue that warrant by these lines,
vvhich princely rule and soueraignty resignes;
Till when, these papers by their Lords command,
By me shall kisse thy sweet and dainty hand.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

THis Epistle of Edward to Shores wife, and of hers to him be­ing of vnlawfull affection, ministreth small occasion of histori­call Notes, for had he mentioned the many battailes betwixt the Lancastrian faction and him, or other warlike dangers, it had been more like to Plautus boasting Souldiour then a kingly Courtier. Notwithstanding it shall not be amisse to annexe a line or two.

From English Edward to the fairest faire.

Edward the fourth was by nature very chiualrous and very a­morous, applying his sweet and amiable aspect to attaine his wan­ton appetite the rather, which was so well knowne to Lewes the French King, who at their interuiew inuited him to Paris, that as Cominaeus reports, being taken at his word, he notwithstanding brake off the matter, fearing the Parisian dames with their witry conuersation, would detaine him longer then should be for his be­nefit, by [...] meanes Edward was disapointed of his iourney: and albeit Princes whilst they liue haue nothing in them but what is admirable, yet we neede not mistrust the flattery of the Court in those times, for certaine it is that his shape was excellent, his haire drew neere to a blacke, making his faces fauour seeme more delectable. Though the smalenes of his eyes full of a shining moi­sture, as it tooke away some comlines, so it argued much sharp­nes of vnderstanding, and cruelty mingled therewith. And in deede [...] Buchanan (that imperious Scot) chargeth him and other Princes of those times, with affection of tiranny as Richard the third manifestly did.

When first attracted by thy heauenly eyes.

Edwards intemperate desires, with which he was wholy ouer­come, [Page 57] how tragically they in his ofspring were punished, is vni­uersally knowne. A mirrour representing their ouer-sight, that rather leaue their children what to possesle, then what to imitate.

How silly is the Polander and Dane
To bring vs Christall from the frozen maine.

Alluding to their opinions, who imagine Christall to be a kind of Ice, and therefore it is likely they who come from the frozen parts, should bring great store of that transparent stone, which is thought to be congealed with extreame cold. Whether Christall be Ice or some other liquor, I omit to dispute, yet by the exam­ples of Amber and Corall there may be such an induration, for Solinus out of Pliny mentioneth, that in the Northerly Regions a yellow ielly is taken vp out of the Sea at low tides, which he calls Succinum, wee Amber, so likewise out of the Ligustick deepe, a part of the Mediterrin Sea, a greenish stalke is gathered, which hardned in the ayre becomes to be Corall either white or red. Am­ber notwithstanding is thought to drop out of trees, as appeares by Martials Epigram.

Et latet, et lucet Phaethontide condita [...],
Vt videatur apis necture clausa sub,
Dignum [...] pretium tulit ille laborum,
Credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori.

To behold a Bee inclosde in Electrum, is not so rare as that a Boyes throat should be cut with the fall of an Icesickle, the which Epigram is excellent, the 18, lib. 4. He calls it Phaethontis gutta, because of that fable which Ouid rehearseth, concerning the Helia­des, or Phaetons Sisters metamorphozed into those trees, whose gum is Amber, where Flies alighting, are often times tralucently imprisoned.

¶ The Epistle of Shores wife, to King Edward the Fourth.

AS the weake chyld, that from the Mothers wing,
Is taught the Lutes delicious fingering,
At euery strings soft touch, is mou'd with feare,
Noting his Maisters curious listning eare;
VVhose trembling hand, at euery straine bewrayes,
In what doubt hee; his new set lesson playes;
As this poore chylde, so sit I to indite,
At euery word still quaking as I write.
VVould I had led an humble Shepheards life,
Nor knowne the name of Shores admired wife,
And liu'd with them in Country fields that range,
Nor seene the golden Cheape, nonglittering Change,
To stand a Cometgaz'd at in the skyes,
Subiect to all tongues, obiect to all eyes.
Oft haue I heard my beauty praisd of many,
But neuer yet so much admir'd of any;
A Princes Eagle eye to finde out that,
vvhich vulgar sights doe sildome wonder at,
Makes mee to thinke affection flatters sight,
Or in the obiect some-thing exquisite.
To housed beauty, sildome stoopes report,
Fame must attend on that which liues in Court.
VVhat swanne of great Apollos brood doth sing,
To vulgar loue, in courtly Sonetting?
O what immortall Poets sugred pen,
[Page 58]Attends the glory of a Citizen;
Oft haue I wondred what should blinde your eye,
Or what so farre seduced Maiestie,
That hauing choyce of beauties so diuine,
Amongst the most to choose this least of mine;
More glorious sunnes adorne faire Londons pride,
Then all rich Englands continent beside;
vvho takes in hand to make account of this,
May number Rumneys flowers, or Isis fish;
vvho doth frequent our Temples, walks, and streets,
Noting the sundry beauties that hee meets,
Thinks not that Nature left the wide world poore,
And made thys place the Chequer of her store?
As heauen and earth were lately fallne at larrs,
And growne to vying wonders, dropping starrs.
That if but some one beautie should incite,
Some sacred Muse, some rauisht spirit to write,
Heere might he fetch such true Promethian fire,
As after ages should his lynes admire;
Gathering the honny from the choysest flowers,
Scorning the wither'd weedes in Countrie bowers.
Heere in thys Garden (onely) spings the Rose,
In euery common hedge the Bramble growes,
Nor are we so turn'd Neapolitan,
That might incite some foule-mouth'd Mantuan,
To all the world to lay out our defects,
And haue iust cause to rayle vpon our sex;
To pranck old wrinkels vp in new attire,
To alter natures course, proue tyme a lyer,
Abusing fate, and heauens iust doome reuerse,
On beauties graue to set a Crimson hearse;
vvith a deceitfull foyle to lay a ground,
To make a glasse to seeme a Diamond.
[Page]Nor cannot without hazard of our name,
In fashion follow the Venetian Dame,
Nor the fantastick French to imitate,
Attir'd halfe Spanish, halfe Italionate;
Nor wast, nor curle, body nor brow adorne,
That is in Florence, or in Genoa borne.
But with vaine boasts how witlesse [...] am I,
Thus to draw on mine owne indignity [...]
And what though married when I was but young,
Before I knew what dyd to loue belong;
Yet he which now's possessed of the roome,
Cropt beauties flower when it was in the bloome,
And goes away enriched with the store,
vvhilst others gleane, where he had reapt before,
And he dares sweare that I am true and iust,
And shall I then deceiue his honest trust?
Or what strange hope should make you to assaile,
vvhere strongest battery neuer could preuaile?
Belike you thinke that I repulsd the rest,
To leaue a King the conquest of my brest,
Or haue thus long preseru'd my selfe from all,
A Monarch now should glory in my fall.
Yet rather let mee die the vilest death,
Then lyue to draw such sinne-polluted breath;
But our kinde harts, mens teares cannot abide,
And we least angry oft, when most we chyde;
Too vvell know men what our creation made vs,
And nature too well taught them to inuade vs.
They know but too well, how, when, what, and where,
To write, to speake, to sue, and to forbeare,
By signes, by sighes, by motions, & by teares,
vvhen vowes should serue, when othes, when smiles, when praiers,
VVhat one delight our humors most doth moue,
[Page 59]Onely in that you make vs nourish loue.
If any naturall blemish blot our face,
You doe protest it giues our beautie grace;
And what attire we most are vsd to vveare,
That (of all other) excellent'st you sweare;
And if we vvalke, or sit, or stand, or lye,
It must resemble some one Dietie;
And what you know vve take delight to heare,
That are you euer sounding in our eare;
And yet so shamelesse when you tempt vs thus,
To lay the fault on beauty, and on vs:
Romes wanton Ouid did those rules impart;
O that your nature should be help'd by Art.
VVho would haue thought, a King that cares to raigne,
Inforc'd by loue, so Poet-like should faine?
To say that Beautie, Times sterne rage to shun,
In my cheekes (Lillies) hid her from the sun;
And when she meant to triumph in her May,
Made that her East, and heere shee broke her day,
And swear'st that Sommer still is in my sight,
And but where I am, all the world is night:
And that the fayr'st, ere since the world began,
To me, a sunne-burnt, base Egyptian;
But yet I know more then I meane to tell,
(Oh would to God you knew it not too well.)
That vvomen oft theyr most admirers raise,
Though publiquely not flattering theyr owne praise.
Our churlish husbands, which our youth enioyd,
vvho with our dainties haue their stomacks cloyd,
Doe lothe our smooth hand with theyr lips to feele,
T'enrich our fauours, by our beds to kneele;
At our commaund to waite, to send, to goe,
As euery hovvre our amorous seruants doe;
[Page]vvhich makes a stolne kisse often wee bestow,
In earnest of a greater good wee owe;
vvhen hee all day torments vs with a frowne,
Yet sports with Venus in a bedde of Downe;
vvhose rude imbracement, but too ill beseemes,
Her span-broade wast, her white and daintie limmes;
And yet still preaching abstinence of meate,
vvhen he himselfe, of euery dish will eate.
Blame you our husbands then, if they denie
Our publique walking, our loose libertie,
If with exception still they vs debarre,
The circuite of the publique Theater;
To heare the smooth-tongu'd Poets Syren vaine,
Sporting in his lasciuious Comick scene:
Or the young wanton wits, when they applaude
The [...] perswasions of some subtile [...];
Or passionate Tragedian in his rage,
Acting a loue-sicke passion on the stage;
vvhen though abroad restraining vs to rome,
They very hardly keepe vs safe at home,
And oft are touch'd with feare, and inward griefe,
Knowing rich prizes soonest tempt a theefe.
VVhat sports haue we, whereon our minds to set?
Our dogge, our Parrat, or our Marmuzet;
Or once a weeke to walke into the field;
Small is the pleasure that these toyes doe yeeld.
But to this griefe, a medicine you apply,
To cure restraint with that sweet libertie;
And soueraigntie; (ô that bewitching thing,)
Yet made more great, by promise of a King:
And more, that honour which doth most intice
The holiest Nunne, and shee that's nere so nice.
Thus still wee striue, yet ouer-come at length,
[Page 60]For men want mercy, and poore women strength:
Yet graunt, that we, could meaner men resist
vvhen Kings once come, they conquer as they list.
Thou art the cause Shore pleaseth not my sight;
That his embraces giue me no delight;
Thou art the cause, I to my selfe am strange.
Thy comming, is my full, thy set, my change.
Long VVinter nights be minuts, if thou heare,
Short minutes if thou absent be a yeare.
And thus by strength thou art become my fate,
And mak'st me loue, euen in the midst of hate.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Would I had led an humble Sheepheards life,
Nor [...] the name of Shores admired wife.

TWo or three poems written by sundry men, haue magnified this womans beauty: whom that ornament of England and Londons more particuler glory, Sir Thomas Moore very highly hath praysed for her beauty, she beeing aliue in his time, though being poore and aged. Her stature was meane, her haire of a darke yellow, her face round and full, her eye gray, delicate [...] being betwixt each parts proportion, & each proportions [...], her body fat, white, and smooth, her countenance cheerefull, and like to her condition. That picture which I haue seene of [...], was such as she rose out of her bed in the morning, hauing no­thing on but a ritch Mantle cast [...] one [...] her shoul­der, and sitting in a chaire on which her naked arme did lye. What her Fathers name was, or where shee was borne is not certainly knowne: but Shore a young man of right good person, wealth, and behauiour, abandond her bed after the King had made her his Concubine. Richard the third causing her to doe open penance in Paules Churchyard, [...] that no man should releeue her, which the tyrant did not so much for his hatted to sinne, but that by making his Brothers life odious, he might couer his hor­rible treason the more cunningly.

[Page]
May number Rumneys flowers, or Isis fish.

Rumney is that famous Marsh in Kent, at whose side [...] an Hauen-towne dooth stand. Heereof the excellent English Anti­quarie Maister Camden, and Maister Lumbert in his perambulation doe make mention and Marishes are commonly called those low grounds, which abut vpon the Sea, and from the Latine word are so denominated. Isis heere is vsed for Thamesis by a Senec­dochicall kinde of speech, or by a poeticall liberty in vsing one for another, for it is sayd that Thamesis is compounded of Tame; and Isis, making when they are met, that renowned water running by London, a Citty much more renowned [...] that water: which being plentifull of fish, is the cause also why all things else are plentifull therein. Moreouer I am perswaded that there is no Ri­uer in the world beholds more stately buildings on eyther side cleane through, then the Thames. Much is reported of the Graund Canale in Venice, for that the Fronts on eyther side are so gorgeous.

That might incite some foule-mouth'd Mantuan.

[...] Mantuan a pastorall Poet, in one of his Eglogs bitterly enueieth against woman-kinde, some of the which by way of an Appendex, might be heere inserted, seeing the fantastick and insolent humors of many of that sexe deserue much sharper phisick, were it not that they are grown wiser, then to amend, for such an idle Poets speech as Mantuan, yeh, or for Euripides himselfe, or Senecas inflexible [...].

The circuite of the publick Theater.

[...] a most fit Author for so dissolute a Sectarie, calls that place [...], for though Shores wife wantonly plead for liberty, which is the true humor of a Curtizan, yet much more is the prayse of modesty then of such liberty. Howbeit the Vestall Nuns had seats assigned them in the Roman Theater, whereby it should appeare, it was counted no impeachment to modestie, though they offending therein were buried quicke: a sharpe lawe for them, who may say as Shores wife dooth,

When though abroad restraining vs to rome,
They very hardly keepe vs safe at home.
FINIS.

To the Right Worshipfull Henrie Goodere, of Powlesworth Esquire.

SIR, this Poeme of mine, which I imparted to you, at my beeing with you at your lodging at London in May last, brought at length to perfection, (emboldened by your wonted fauours) I aduenture to make you Patron of. Thus Sir you see I haue aduentred to the worlde, with what like or dislike, I know nor, if it please (which I much doubt of) I pray you then be pertaker, of that which I shall esteeme not my least good: if dislike, it shall lessen some part of my griefe, if it please you to alow but of my loue: howsoe­uer, I pray you accept it as kindly as I offer it, which though without many [...], yet (I assure you) with much desire of your honour. Thus vntill such time as I may in some more larger measure make knowne my loue to the hap­py & generous family of the Gooderes, (to which I confesse my selfe to be beholding to, for the most part of my educati­on) I wish you all happines.

Michaell Drayton.

Marie the French Queene, to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolke.

* The Argument.

Mary, the daughter of that renowned Prince King Henry the seauenth, beeing very young at her Fathers death, after by ber Brother King Henry the eyght, was giuen in marriage to Lewes King of Fraunce, being a man old and decrepite; This faire and beautifull Lady, long before had placed her affection on Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolke, a braue and couragious young Gentleman, and an especiall fauorite of the King her Brother, and a man raised by him. King Lewes, the husband of this beautifull Queene, lyued not long after bee was married: and Charles Brandon hauing commission from the King to bring her backe to England, but beeing delayed by some sinister meanes, the French Queene writeth this Epistle, to hasten the Duke forward on his intended voyage to Fraunce.

SVch health from heauen my selfe may wish to mee,
Such health fro Fraunce, Queene Mary sends to thee.
Brandon, how long mak'st thou excuse to stay;
And know'st how ill we women brooke delay;
If one poore Channell thus can part vs two,
Tell mee (vnkinde) what would an Ocean doe?
Leander had an Hellespont to swim,
Yet thys from Hero could not hinder him.
[Page 62]His Barke (poore soule) his brest, his armes his oars,
But thou a shyp, to land thee on our shores;
And opposite to famous Kent doth lie,
The pleasant fields of famous Pickardie,
vvhere our [...] Callice, walled in her sands,
In kenning of the cliffie Douer stands.
Heere is no Beldame nurse to pout or lower,
vvhen wantonning, we reuell in my Tower;
Nor neede I top my Turret with a light,
To guide thee to mee, as thou swimm'st by night;
Compar'd with mee, wert thou but halfe so kind,
Thy sighes should stuffe thy sayles, though wanting wind;
But thy breast is becalm'd, thy sighes bee slack,
And mine too stiffe, and blow thy broade sayles back.
But thou wilt say, that I should blame the flood,
Because the winde so full against thee stood;
Nay blame it not, it did so roughly blow,
For it did chyde thee, for thou wast so slow:
For it came not to keepe thee in the Bay,
But came from mee, to bid thee come away.
But that thou vainely lett'st occasion slide,
Thou might'st haue wasted hether with the tyde,
If when thou com'st, I knit mine angry brow,
Blame me not Brandon, thou hast broke thy vow.
Yet if I meant to frowne, I might be dombe,
For this may make thee stand in doubt to come,
Nay come, sweet Charles, haue care thy ship to guide;
Come my sweet hart, in faith I will not chide.
VVhen as my Brother and his louely Queene
In sad attire for my depart were seene,
The vtmost date expired of my stay,
vvhen I from Douer did depart away,
Thou know'st what woe I suffred for thy sake,
[Page]How oft I fain'd of thee my leaue to take;
God and thou know'st with what a heauie hart
I tooke my farewell when I should depart:
And being shypp'd, gaue signall with my hand,
Vp to the Cliffe where I did see thee stand,
Nor could refraine in all the peoples view,
But cried to thee, sweet Charles adiew, adiew.
Looke how a little infant that hath lost,
The thing where-with it was delighted most,
vveary with seeking, to some corner creepes,
And there (poore soule) it sits it downe, and weepes;
And when the Nurse would faine content the mind,
Yet still it mourns for that it cannot finde:
Thus in my carefull Cabin did I lye,
vvhen as the shyp out of the roade did flie.
Think'st thou my loue was faythfull vnto thee,
vvhen young Castile to England su'd for mee:
Be iudge thy selfe, if it were not of power,
vvhen I refusd an Empyre for my dower.
To Englands Court, when once report did bring,
How thou in Fraunce didst reuell with thy King,
vvhen hee in tryumph of his victorie,
[...] a rich imbrodered Canapie,
[...] proude Tournay, which did [...] stand,
To beg for mercy at his conquering hand;
To heare of his enderements, how I ioy'd?
But see, this calme was suddainly destroy'd,
VVhen Charles of Castile there to banquet came,
vvith him his sister, that ambitious Dame,
Sauoys proude Dutches, knowing how long shee,
By her loue sought to winne my loue from mee;
Fearing my absence might thy vowes acquite,
To change thy Mary for a Margarite.
[Page 63]VVhen in King Henries Tent of cloth of gold,
Shee often did thee in her armes enfold;
vvhere you were feasted more diliciously,
Then Cleopatra did Marke Anthonie;
vvhere sports all day did entertaine your sight,
And then in Masks you pass'd away the night:
But thou wilt say, It proper is vnto vs,
That we by nature all are iealious.
I must confesse, t'is oft found in our sexe,
But who not loue, not any thing suspects?
True loue doth looke with pale suspitions eye,
Take away loue, if you take iealousie.
VVhen Henry, Turwyn, and proude Tournay wonne,
Little thought I the end when thys begunne;
VVhen Maximilian to those warrs adrest,
vvare Englands Crosse on his imperiall brest,
And in our Armie let his Eagle flie,
And had his pay from Henries treasurie,
Little thought I, when first beganne these warrs,
My marriage day should end these bloody iarrs;
From which I vow, I yet am free in thought,
But thys alone by VVoolseys wit was wrought.
To hys aduise the King gaue free consent,
That will I, nill I, I must be content.
My virgins right, thy state could not aduaunce,
But now enriched with the dower of Fraunce;
Then, but poore Suffolks Dutchesse had I beene,
Now, the great Dowger, the most Christian Queene.
But I perceiue where all thy griefe doth lie,
Lewes of Fraunce had my virginitie:
He had indeede, but shall I tell thee what,
Beleeue mee Brandon, he had scarcely that;
Good feeble King, he could not doe much harme,
[Page]But age must needes haue some-thing that is warme;
Small drops (God knowes) doe quench that heatles fire,
vvhen all the strength is onely in desire.
And I could tell, if modestie might tell,
There's some-what else that pleaseth Louers well,
To rest his cheeke, vpon my softer cheeke,
vvas all he had; and more he did not seeke.
So might the little babie clip the nurse,
And it content, shee neuer a whit the worse;
Then thinke thys Brandon, if that make thee frowne,
For mayden-head hee, on my head set a Crowne,
vvho would exchange a kingdome for a kisse,
Hard were the hart that would not yeeld him this;
And time yet halfe so swiftly doth not passe,
Not full fiue months yet elder then I was.
VVhen thou to Fraunce conducted was by fame,
vvith many Knights which from all Countries came,
Installed at S. Dennis in my throne,
vvhere Lewes held my coronation;
vvhere the proude Dolphin, for thy valure sake,
Chose thee at tilt his princely part to take;
vvhen as the staues vpon thy caske did light,
Grieued there-with, I turn'd away my sight;
And spake aloude, when I my selfe forgot,
[...] my sweet Charles, my Brandon, hurt him not,
But when I fear'd the King perceiued this,
Good silly man, I pleasd him with a kisse;
And to extoll his valiant sonne began,
That Europe neuer bred a brauer man:
And when (poore King) he simply praysed thee,
Of all the rest I ask'd which thou should'st be:
Thus I with him, dissembled for thy sake,
Open confession now a mends must make.
[Page 64]VVhilst this old King vpon a pallet lyes,
And onely holds a combat vvith mine eyes;
Mine eyes from his, by thy sight stolne away,
vvhich might too well theyr Mistres thoughts bewray.
But vvhen I savv thy proude vnconquered Launce,
To beare the prize from all the flower of Fraunce,
To see vvhat pleasure did my soule imbrace,
Might easily be discerned in my face.
Looke as the devv vpon a Damaske-Rose,
Hovv through that cleerest pearle his blushing showes,
And when the soft ayre breathes vppon his top,
From those svveet leaues falls easily drop by drop;
Thus by my cheeke, downe rayning from mine eyes,
One teare for ioy, anothers roome supplies.
Before myne eye (like Touch) thy shape did proue,
Mine eye condemn'd my too too partiall loue;
But since by others I the same doe try,
My loue condemns my too too partiall eye.
The precious stone most beautifull and rare,
vvhen vvith it selfe vve onely doe compare,
vvee deeme all other of that kinde to be,
As excellent as that we onely see;
But vvhen vve iudge of that with others by,
Too credulous wee doe condemne our eye,
vvhich then appeares more orient, and more bright,
As from their dimnes, borrowing greater light.
Alansoon, a fine timbered man, and tall,
Yet wants the shape thou art adorn'd withall;
Vandom, good carridge, and a pleasing eye,
Yet wants my Suffolks Lyons maiestie;
Couragious Burbon, a sweet manlie face,
But yet he wants my Brandons courtly grace.
Proude Longauile, our Court iudg'd had no peere,
[Page]A man scarce made (was thought) whilst thou wast heere.
Countie S. Paule, brau'st man at Armes in Fraunce,
vvould yeeld himselfe a Squire to beare thy Launce;
Galleas and Bounarme, matchlesse for theyr might,
Vnder thy towring blade haue couch'd in fight.
If with our loue my Brother angry be,
Ile say for his sake I first loued thee;
And but to frame my liking to his minde,
Neuer to thee had I beene halfe so kind.
Should not the sister like as doth the brother,
The one of vs should be vnlike the other.
VVorthy my loue, the vulgar iudge no man,
Except a Yorkist, or Lancastrian;
Nor thinke that my affection should be set,
But in the line of great Plantaginet.
I passe not what the idle Commons say,
I pray thee Charles make hast, and come away.
To thee what's England, if I be not there;
Or what to mee is Fraunce, if thou not here;
Thy absence makes me angry for a while,
But at thy presence I must needsly smile.
VVhen last of mee his leaue my Brandon tooke,
Hee sware an oath, (and made my lyps the booke)
Hee would make hast, which now thou doost denie,
Thou art for sworne, ô wilfull periurie.
Sooner would I with greater sinnes dispence,
Then by intreatie pardon thys offence.
But yet I thinke, if I should come to shriue thee,
Great were the fault that I should not forgiue thee;
Yet wert thou here, I should reuenged be,
But it should be with too much louing thee.
The vtmost date expired of my stay,
When I from Douer did depart away.

KIng Henry the 8. with the Queene and Nobles, in the 6. yeare of his raigne, in the month of September, brought this Lady to Douer, where she tooke shipping sor Fraunce.

Think'st thou my loue was faithfull vnto thee,
When young Castile to England sued for me.

It was agreed and concluded twixt Hen. the 7, and Phillip King of Castile, Sonne to Maximilian the Emperour, that Charles eldest Sonne of the said Phillip, should marry the Lady Mary, Daughter to King Henry, when they came to age: which agreement was af­terward in the 8. yeare of Hen. the 8. annihilated.

When he in tryumph of his victory
Vnder a rich embrodred Canapy,
Entred proud Turnay which did trembling stand, &c.

Henry the 8. after the long seege of Turnay, which was deliue­red to him vpon composition, entred the Citty in tryumph, vn­der a Canapy of cloth of gold, borne by foure of the cheefe and most noble Cittizens: the King himselfe mounted vppon a gal­lant Courser barded with the Arms of England, Fraunce, and Ire­land.

When Charles of Castile there to banquet came,
With him his Sister that ambitious Dame.
Sauoys proud Dutches.

The King beeing at Turnay: there came to him the Prince of Castile, and the Lady Margarit Dutches of Sauoy his Sister, to whom King Hen. gaue great entertainment.

Sauoys proud Dutches knowing how long she
By her loue sought to winne my loue from [...].

At this time there was speech of a marriage to be concluded, betweene Charles Brandon then L. Lisle, & the Dutches of Sauoy, the L. Lisle being highly fauored, and exceedingly beloued of the Dutches.

When in King Henryes Tent of cloth of gold.

The King caused a ritch Tent of cloth of gold to be erected, where he feasted the Prince of Castile, and the Dutches: and en­tertayned them with sumptuous maskes and banquets during their aboade.

[Page]
When Maximilian to those warres adrest,
Wore Englands Crosse on his imperiall brest.

The Emperour Maximilian with all his Souldiours, which ser­ued vnder King Henry, wore the crosse of Saint George, with the Rose on their breasts.

And in our Army let his Eagle flye.

The blacke Eagle is the badge imperiall, which heere is vsed for the displaying of his ensigne or standard.

And had his pay from Henries treasurie.

Henry the 8, at his warres in Fraunce, retayned the Emperour and all his Souldiours in wages, which serued vnder him during those warres.

But this alone by VVoolseys wit was wrought.

Thomas Woolsey, the Kings Almoner, then Bishop of Lincolne, a man of great aucthority with the King, and afterward Cardinall, was the cheese cause that the Lady Mary was married to the old French King, with whom the French King had dealt vnder hand to befriend him in that match.

When the proud Dolphin for thy valure sake,
Chose thee at tylt his princely part to take.

Frauncis Duke of Valoys, and Dolphin of Fraunce, at the ma­riage of the Lady Mary, in honour thereof proclaimed a Iusts, where he chose the Duke of Suffolke, and the Marques Dorset for his aydes, at all Martiall exercises.

Galeas, and Bounarme matchles for their might.

This County Galeas at the Iusts ranne a course with a Speare, which was at the head 5. inches square on euery side, and at the But 9. inches square, whereby hee shewed his wonderous force and strength. This Bounarme, a Gentleman of Fraunce, at the same time came into the field armed at all poynts with 10. Speares [...] him: in each [...], 3, vnder each thigh one, one vnder his left arme, and one in his hand, and putting his horse to the carere, neuer stopped him till he had broken euery staffe. Hall.

Charles Brandon Duke of Suf­folke, to Mary the French Queene.

BVt that thy fayth commaunds mee to forbeare,
The fault thine owne, if I impatient were;
VVere my dispatch such as should be my speed,
I should want time thy louing lines to reed.
Heere in the Court, Camelion like I fare,
And liue (God knowes) of nothing but of ayre;
All day I waite, and all the night I watch,
And starue mine eares to heare of my dispatch;
If Douer were th'Abydos of my rest,
Or pleasant Callice were my Maryes Cest,
Thou should'st not need, faire Queene to blame me so,
Did not the distance to desire say no;
No tedious night from trauell should be free,
Till through the waues, with swimming vnto thee,
A snowy path I made vnto thy Bay,
So bright as is that Nectar-stayned way,
The restlesse sunne by trauailing doth vveare,
Passing his course to finish vp his yeere.
But Paris locks my loue within the maine,
And London yet thy Brandon doth detaine;
Of thy firme loue thou put'st me still in mind,
But of my fayth, not one word can I finde.
VVhen Long auile to Mary was affied,
And thou by him wast made King Lewis bride,
How oft I wish'd that thou a prize mights bee,
[Page]That I in Armes, might combat him for thee,
And in the madnes of my loue distraught,
A thousand times his murther haue fore-thought;
But that th'all-seeing powers which sit aboue,
Regard not mad mens oathes, nor faults in loue;
And haue confirm'd it by the graunt of heauen,
That louers sinnes on earth should be forgiuen;
For neuer man is halfe so much distrest,
As he that loues to see his loue possest.
Comming to Richmond after thy depart,
(Richmond, where first thou stol'st away my hart,)
Mee thought it look'd not as it did of late,
But wanting thee, forlorne, and desolate,
In whose faire walkes thou often hast been seene,
To sport with Katberine, Henries beautious Queene,
Astonishing sad-vvinter with thy sight,
As for thy sake, the day hath put back night;
That the Byrds thinking to approch the spring,
Forgot themselues, and haue begun to sing:
So oft I goe by Thames, so oft returne,
Mee thinks for thee, the Riuer yet doth mourne,
vvho I haue seene to let her streame at large,
vvhich like a Hand-mayde wayted on thy Barge;
And if thou hapst against the flood to row,
VVhich way it ebd before, now would it flow;
Letting her drops in teares fall from thy oares,
For ioy that shee had got thee from the shoares.
The siluer swannes, with musicke that those make,
Ruffing theyr plumes, come glyding on the lake,
As the fleet Dolphins, by Arions strings,
vvere brought to land with musicks rauishings;
The flocks and heards that pasture neere the flood,
To gaze vpon thee, haue forborne theyr foode;
[Page 67]And sat downe sadlie, mourning by the brim,
That they by nature were not made to swim.
VVhen as the Post to Englands royall Court,
Of thy hard passage brought the true report;
Hovv in a storme thy well rigg'd shyps were tost,
And thou thy selfe in danger to be lost,
I knew twas Venus loth'd that aged bed,
vvhere beautie so should be dishonoured,
Or fear'd the Sea-Nymphs haunting of the Lake,
If thou but seene, theyr Goddesse should forsake.
And whirling round her Doue-drawne Coach about,
To view thy Nauie nowe in launching out,
Her ayrie mantle loosly doth vnbind,
vvhich fanning forth a rougher gale of vvind,
vvafted thy sayles with speede vnto the land,
And runnes thy shyp on Bullens harboring strand.
How should I ioy of thy arriue to heare?
But as a poore sea-faring passenger,
After long trauaile, tempest-torne and wrack'd,
By some vnpittying Pyrat that is sack'd;
Heares the false robber that hath stolne his wealth,
Landed in some safe harbor, and in health;
Enriched with inualuable store,
For which he long hath traueled before.
VVhen thou to Abaile held'st th'appointed day,
vve heard how Lewes met thee on the way;
vvhere thou in glittering Tissue strangly dight,
Appear'dst vnto him, like the Queene of light,
In Cloth of siluer all thy virgine traine,
In beautie sumptuous, as the Northerne waine;
And thou alone the formost glorious starre,
vvhich lead'st the teame of that great VVagoner.
VVhat could thy thought be, but as I doe think,
[Page]VVhen thine eyes tasted, what mine eares did drinke?
A Cripple King layd bedrid long before,
Yet at thy comming crept out of the dore,
T'was well he rid, he had no legs to goe,
But this thy beauty forc'd his body to;
For whom a cullice had more fitter beene,
Then in a golden bed a gallant Queene.
To vse thy beauty as the miser gold,
vvhich hoards it vp but onely to behold,
Still looking on it with a iealous eye,
Fearing to lend, yet louing vsurie;
O Sacriledge, (if beauty be deuine,)
The prophane hand should tuch the halowed shrine.
To surfet sicknes on the sound mans dyet,
To rob Content, yet still to liue vnquiet,
And hauing all, to be of all be guild,
And yet still longing like a little child.
VVhen Marques Dorset and the valiant Grayes,
To purchase farme first crost the narrow Seas,
vvith all the Knights that my associates went,
In honour of thy riuptiall turnament,
Thinkst thou I ioy'd not in thy Beauties pride?
vvhen thou in tryumph didst through Paris ride;
VVhere all the streets as thou didst pace along
vvith Arras, Bisse, and Tapestry were hong.
Ten thousand gallant Cittizens prepar'd,
In ritch attire thy Princely selfe to guard,
Next them three thousand, choise religeous men,
In golden vestments followed them agen;
And in precession as they came along,
vvith [...] sang thy marriage song.
Then fiue [...] Dukes, as did their places fall,
To each [...] a Princely Cardinall,
[Page 68]Then thou on thy imperiall Chariot set,
Crown'd with a rich imperled Coronet,
vvhilst the Parisian Dames, as thy trayne past,
Their precious Incence in aboundance cast.
As Cinthia from the waue-embatteld shrouds,
Opening the west, comes streaming through the clouds,
vvith shining troupes of siluer-tressed starres
Attending on her, as her Torch-bearers,
And all the lesser lights about her throne,
vvith admiration stand as lookers on;
VVhilst she alone in height of all her pride,
The Queene of light, along her spheare doth glide.
vvhen on the tylt my Horse like thunder came;
No other signall had I but thy name,
Thy voyce my Trumpet, and my guide thine eyes,
And but thy beauty, I esteem'd no prize.
That large-limd Almaine of the Gyants race,
vvhich bare strength on his breast, feare in his face,
vvhose senewed armes, with his steele-tempered blade,
Through plate and male, such open passage made,
Vpon whose might the French-mens glory lay,
And all the hope of that victorious day,
Thou saw'st thy Brandon beate him on his knee,
Offring his shield a conquered spoile to thee.
But thou wilt say, (perhaps) I vainly boast
And tell thee that, which thou already knowest,
No sacred Queene, my valure I deny,
It was thy beauty, not my chiualry:
One of thy tressed Curles which falling downe,
As loth to be imprisoned in thy Crowne,
I saw the soft ayre sportiuely to take it,
To diuers shapes and sundry formes to make it,
Now parting it, to foure, to three, to twayne,
[Page]Now twisting it, and then vntwist againe;
Then make the threds to dally with thine eye,
A sunny candle, for a golden flie.
At length from thence one little teare it got,
vvhich falling downe, as though a starre had shot,
My vp-turnd eye pursues it with my sight,
The which againe redoubleth all my might.
Tis but in vaine, of my descent to boast,
vvhen heauens Lampe shines, all other lights be lost,
Faulcons looke not, the Eagle sitting by,
vvhose broode doth gaze the sunne with open eye;
Else might my blood finde issue from his force,
In Bosworth plaine, beat Richard from his horse;
vvhose puissant Armes, great Richmond chose to weeld.
His glorious Colours, in that conquering feeld;
And with his sword, in his deere soueraignes sight,
To his last breath, stood fast in Henries right.
Then beautious Empresse, thinke thys safe delay,
Shall be the euen to a ioyfull day;
Fore-sight doth still on all aduantage lye,
vvise-men must giue place to necessitie;
To put backe ill, our good we must forbeare,
Better first feare, then after still to feare.
Tweare ouer-sight in that at which we ayme,
To put the hazard on an after game;
vvith patience then let vs our hopes attend,
And tell I come, receaue these lines I send.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

When Longauile to Mary was affied.

THE Duke of Longauile which was prisoner in England, vpon the peace to be concluded betweene England and Fraunce, was [Page 69] deliuered, and married the Princesse Mary for Lewes the French King his Maister.

How in a storme thy well-rigd ships were tost,
And thou, &c.

As the Queene sayled for Fraunce, a mighty storme arose at Sea, so that the Nauy was in great danger, and was seuered, some driuen vpon the Coast of Flaunders, some on Britaine: the ship wherein the Queene was, was driuen into the Hauen at Bullen with very great danger.

When thou to Abuile heldst th'apoynted day.

King Lewes met her by Abuile, neere to the Forrest of Arders, and brought her into Abuile with great solemnity.

Appear'dst vnto him like the Queene of Light.

Expressing the sumptuous attire of the Queene and her traine: attended by the cheefe of the Nobility of Kngland, with 36. La­dies all in cloath of siluer, theyr Horses trapped with Crimson veluet.

A Cripple King layd bedrid long before.

King Lewes, was a man of great yeares, troubled much with the goute, so that he had had of long time before little vse of his legs.

When Marques Dorset and the valiant Grayes.

The Duke of Suffolke, when the proclaimation came into Eng­land, of Iusts to be holden in Fraunce at Paris: he for the Queenes sake his Mistres obtayned of the King to goe thether: with whom went the Marques Dorset and his foure Brothers, the Lord Clyn­ton, Sir Edward Neuill, Sir Gyles Capell, Tho. Cheyney: which went all ouer with the Duke as his assistants.

When thou in tryumph didst through Paris ride.

A true discription of the Queenes entring into Paris, after her [...] performd at Saint Denis.

Then fiue great Dukes as did their places fall.

The Dukes, of Alansoon, Burbon, Vadome, Longauile, Suf­folke, with fiue Cardinalls.

That large-limd Almayne of the Gyants race.

Frauncis Valoys, the Dolphin of Fraunce [...] the glory, that the English-men had obtayned at the tilt, brought in an Almayne secretly, a man thought almost of incomparable strength, which incountred Charles Brandon at Barriers, but the Duke [...] [Page] with him, so beate him about the head with the pomell of his sword, that the blood came out of the sight of his Caske.

Else might my blood finde issue from his force,
In Bosworth, &c.

Sir William Brandon standerd-bearer to the Earle of Richmond, (after Henry the 7,) at Bosworth field, a braue and gallant Gentle­man: who was slaine by Richard there, this was Father to this Charles Brandon, after Duke of Suffolke.

FINIS.

To the modest and vertuous Gentlewoman, Mistres Frauncis Goodere, Daughter to Sir Henry Goodere Knight, and wife to Henry Goodere Esquire.

My very gracious and good Mistres, the loue and duty I bare to your Father whilst hee liued, now after his decease is to you hereditary: to whom by the blessing of your birth he left his vertues. Who bequeathed you those which were hit, gaue you what so euer good is mine, as deuoted to his, he being gone, whom I honored so much whilst he liued: which you may iustly cha­lenge by al lawes of thankfulnes. My selfe hauing been a wit­nes of your excellent education, and milde disposition (as I may say) euer from your Cradle, dedicate this Epistle of this vertuous and goodly Lady to your selfe: so like her in all perfection, both of wisedom and learning: which I pray you accept till time shall enable me to leaue you some greater mo­nument of my loue.

Michaell Drayton.

The Lady Iane Gray, to the Lord Gilford Dudley.

* The Argument.

After the death of that vertuous young Prince King Edward the sixt, the sonne of that famous King Henry the eyght. Iane, the daughter of Henry Gray, Duke of Suffolke, by the consent of Iohn Dudley Duke of Northumberland, was proclaimed Queene of England: beeing married to Gil­ford Dudley, the fourth sonne of the foresayde Duke of Northumberland; which match was concluded by theyr ambitious Fathers, who went about by this meanes to bring the Crowne vnto theyr Children, and to dispossesse the Prin­cesse Mary, eldest daughter of King Henry the eyght, heire to King Edward her Brother. Queene Mary rising in Armes to clayme her rightfull Crowne, taketh the sayd Iane Gray, and the Lorde Gilford her husband, beeing lodged in the Tower for theyr more safety, which place being lastly theyr Pallace, by this meanes becomes their prison: where being seuered in sundry prisons, they write these Epistles one to another.

MIne owne deere Lord, sith thou art lock'd frō mee.
In this disguise my loue must steale to thee,
Since to renew all loues, all kindnes past,
This refuge scarcely left, yet this the last.
My Keeper comming, I of thee enquire,
[...] with thy greeting, aunswers my desire;
[Page 71]vvhich my tongue willing to returne againe,
Griefe stops my words, and I but striue in vaine;
VVhere-with amaz'd, away in hast he goes,
vvhen through my lips, my hart thrusts forth my woes;
vvhen as the doores that make a dolefull sound,
Driue backe my words, that in the noyse are drownd;
vvhich some-what hush'd, the eccho doth record,
And twice or thrice reiterats my word,
vvhen like an aduerse wind in Isis course,
Against the tyde bending his boystrous force;
But when the flood hath wrought it selfe about,
Hee following on, doth headlong thrust it out:
Thus striue my sighes, with teares ere they begin,
And breaking out, againe sighes driue them in.
A thousand formes present my troubled thought,
Yet proue abortiue when they forth are brought,
From strongest woe, we hardly language wrest,
The depth of griefe, with words is sounded least.
As teares doe fall, and rise, sighes come and goe,
So doe these numbers ebb, so doe they flow.
These briny teares, doe make my Inke looke pale,
My Inck clothes tears in thys sad mourning vaile,
The Letters mourners, weepe with my dim eye,
The paper pale, greeu'd at my misery.
Yet miserable our selues, why should we deeme?
Sith none is so, but in his owne esteeme;
vvho in distresse, from resolution flies,
Is rightly sayd to yeeld to miseries;
That life is onely miserable and vile,
From which faire patience doth it selfe exile.
They which begot vs, did beget this sinne,
They first begun, what dyd our griefe begin;
VVee tasted not, t'was they which dyd rebell,
[Page]Not our offence, but in theyr fall we fell;
They which a Crowne would to my Lord haue linck'd,
All hope, all life, all libertie extinct;
A subiect borne, a Princesse to haue beene,
Hath made me now, nor subiect, nor a Queene.
Ah vile ambition, how doost thou deceaue vs,
VVhich shew'st vs heauen, and yet in hell doost leaue vs?
Sildome vntouch'd doth innocens escape,
vvhen error commeth in good counsailes shape,
A lawfull title counterchecks proude might,
The weakest things become strong props to right;
Then my deere Lord, although affliction grieue vs,
Yet let our spotlesse innocens relieue vs.
Death but an acted passion doth appeare,
vvhere truth giues courage, and the conscience cleere,
And let thy comfort thus consist in mine,
That I beare part of what so ere is thine;
As when we liu'd vntouch'd with these disgraces,
vvhen as our kingdome was our sweet embraces;
At Durham Pallace, where sweet Himen sang,
vvhose buildings with our nuptiall musick rang?
vvhen Prothalamions praysd that happy day,
vvherein great Dudley match'd with noble Gray,
vvhen they deuisd to linck by wedlocks band,
The house of Suffolke to Northumberland;
Our fatall Dukedome, to your Dukedome bound,
To frame this building on so weake a ground;
For what auailes a lawlesse vsurpation?
vvhich giues a scepter, but not rules a nation,
Onely the surfit of a vaine opinion;
vvhat giues content, giues more then all dominion.
VVhen first mine eares were persed with the same,
Of Iane proclaimed by a Princes name,
[Page 72]A suddaine fright my trembling hart appalls,
The feare of conscience entreth yron walls.
Thrice happy for our Fathers had it beene,
If what we fear'd, they wisely had fore-seene,
And kept a meane gate in an humble path,
To haue escap'd these furious tempests wrath.
The Cedar-building Eagle beares the winde,
And not the Faulcon, though both Hawkes by kind;
That kingly byrd doth from the cloudes commaund,
The fearefull foule that moues but neere the land.
Though Mary be from mighty Kings descended,
My blood not from Plantaginet pretended;
My Grandsire Brandon, did our house aduaunce,
By princely Mary, dowager of Fraunce;
The fruite of that fayre stocke which did combine,
And Yorks sweet branch with Lancasters entwine,
And in one stalke did happily vnite,
The pure vermilion Rose, with purer white;
I, the vntimely slip of that rich stem,
vvhose golden bud brings forth a Diadem.
But oh forgiue me Lord, it is not I;
Nor doe I boast of this, but learne to die.
VVhilst we weare as our selues conioyned then,
Nature to nature, now an alien.
The purest blood, polluted is in blood,
Neerest contemnd, if soueraignty withstood;
A Diadem once dazeling the eye,
The day too darke to see affinitie;
And where the arme is stretch'd to reach a Crowne,
Friendshyp is broke, the deerest things thrown downe;
For what great Henry most stroue to auoyd,
The heauens haue built, what earth woulde haue destroyd,
And seating Edward on his regall throne,
[Page]Hee giues to Mary, all that was his owne,
By death assuring what by life is theyrs,
The lawfull clayme, of Henries lawfull heyres.
By mortall lawes, the bond may be diuorc'd,
But heauens decree, by no meanes can be forc'd,
The rule the case, when men haue all decreed,
vvho tooke him hence, knew well who should succeed.
In vaine be counsells, statuts, humaine lawes,
vvhen cheefe of counsailes pleads the iustest cause;
Thus rule the heauens in theyr continuall course,
That yeelds to fate, that doth not yeeld to force.
Mans wit doth build for tyme but to deuoure,
But vertu's free from tyme, and fortunes power;
vvhat vertue gets, once got, doth neuer wast,
And hauing this, thys thou for euer hast:
Then my kind Lord, sweet Gilford bee not greeu'd,
The soule is heauenly, and from heauen releeu'd;
And as we once haue plighted troth together,
Now let vs make exchange of mindes to eyther;
To thy faire breast take my resolued minde,
Arm'd against black Dispaire, and all her kind,
And to my bosome breathe that soule of thine,
There to be made as perfect as is mine:
So shall our fayths as firmely bee approued,
As I of thee, or thou of mee beloued.
Thys life, no life, wert thou not deere to mee,
Nor thys no death, were I not woe for thee;
Thou my deere husband, and my Lord before,
But truely learne to die, thou shalt be more.
Now lyue by prayer, on heauen fixe all thy thought,
And surely finde, what ere by zeale is sought;
For each good motion that the soule awakes,
A heauenly figure sees, from whence it takes,
[Page 73]That sweet resemblance, which by power of kind,
Formes (like it selfe) an Image in the mind,
And in our fayth the operations bee
Of that diuinenes, which by faith we see;
vvhich neuer errs, but accidentally,
By our fraile fleshes imbicillitie;
By each temptation ouer-apt to slide,
Except our spirit becomes our bodies guide;
For as our bodyes prisons be these Towers,
So to our soules, these bodies be of ours:
vvhose fleshly walls hinder that heauenly light,
As these stone walls depriue our wished sight,
Death is the key which vnlocks misery,
And lets them out to blessed liberty.
Then draw thy forces all vnto thy hart,
The strongest fortresse of thys earthly part;
And on these three let thy assurance lye,
On fayth, repentance, and humilitie;
Humilitie to heauen the step, the stayre,
Is for deuotion, sacrifice, and prayer;
The next place doth to true repentance fall,
A salue, a comfort, and a cordiall:
Hee that hath that, the keyes of heauen hath,
That is the guide, that is the port, the path;
Fayth is thy Fort, thy shield, thy strongest ayde,
Neuer controld, nere yeelded, nere dismayd;
vvhich doth dilate, vnfold, fore-tell, expresseth,
vvhich giues rewards, inuesteth, and possesseth.
Then thanke the heauen, preparing vs this roome,
Crowning our heads with glorious martirdome,
Before the black and dismall dayes begin,
The dayes of all Idolatry, and sinne,
Not suffering vs to see that wicked age,
[Page]VVhen persecution vehemently shall rage,
vvhen tiranny, new tortures shall inuent,
Inflicting vengeance on the innocent.
Yet heauen forbids, that Maries wombe shall bring,
Englands faire Scepter to a forraine King,
But vnto faire Elizabeth shall leaue it,
vvhich broken, hurt, and wounded, shall receaue it:
And on her temples hauing plac'd the Crowne,
Roote out the dregs Idolatry hath sowne;
And Syons glory shall againe restore,
Layd ruine, wast, and desolate before:
And from black sinders, and rude heapes of stones,
Shall gather vp the Martirs scattered bones,
And shall exterpe the power of Rome againe,
And cast aside, the heauy yoake of Spaine.
Farewell sweet Gilford, know our end is neere,
Heauen is our home, we are but strangers heere,
Let vs make hast to goe vnto the blest,
vvhich from these weary worldly labours rest,
And with these lines my dearest Lord, I greete thee,
Vntill in heauen thy Iane againe shall meete thee.

Notes of the Chronicle history.

They which begot vs, did beget this sinne.

SHewing the ambition of the two Dukes their Fathers, whose pride was the cause of the vtter ouerthrow of their children.

At Durham Pallace where sweete Hymen sang
The buildings, &c.

The Lord Gilford Dudley, fourth Sonne to Iohn Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, married the Lady Iane Gray, Daughter to the Duke of Suffolke at Durham house in the Strand.

[Page 74]
When first mine eares were pearced with the fame
Of Iane proclaimed by a Princesse name.

Presently vpon the death of King Edward, the Lady Iane was taken as Queene, conueyed by water to the Tower of London for her safety, and after proclaimed in diuers parts of the Realme: as so ordayned by King Edwards Letters-pattents, and his will.

My Grandsire Brandon did our house aduaunce
By Princely Mary Dowager of Fraunce.

Henry Gray, Duke of Suffolke, married Frauncis the eldest daugh­ter of Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolke, by the French Queene, by which Frauncis hee had this Lady Iane: this Mary the French Queene was Daughter to King Henry the seauenth, by Elizabeth his Queene, which happy marriage conioyned the two Noble families of Lancaster and Yorke.

For what great Henry most stroue to auoyde.

Noting the distrust that King Henry the eight euer had in the Princesse Mary his Daughter, fearing she should alter the state of Religion in the Land, by matching with a Stranger, confessing the right that King Henries issue had to the Crowne.

And vnto faire Elizabeth shall leaue it.

A Prophecie of Queene Maries barrennes, & of the happy and glorious raigne of Queene Elizabeth: her restoring of Religion, the abollishing of the Romish seruitude, and casting aside the yoake of Spaine.

The Lord Gilford Dudley, to the Lady Iane Gray.

THus from the strongest treble-walled Tower,
Swan-like I sing, before my dying hower;
O if there were such power but in my verse,
As in these woes, my wounded hart doe pierce,
Stones taking sence, th'obdurate flint that heares,
Should at my plaints dissolue it selfe to teares.
Lend mee a teare, Ile pay thee with a teare,
And interest to, if thou the stock forbeare;
vvoe, for a woe, and for thy interest lone,
I will returne thee franckly two for one;
Ile giue thee howers of woe, and yeares of sorrow,
And turne the day to night, the night to morrow.
And if thou think'st tyme yet doth passe to soone,
vvhen euening comes, wee'll make it but our noone;
And if a griefe proue weake, and not of force,
I will exchange a better for a worse;
And if thou thinke too quickly sorrowe ends,
Another twice so long shall make amends.
Perhaps thou'lt iudge, in such extreames as these,
That words of comfort might farre better please;
But such strange power, in thy perfection liueth,
As smyles in teares, and teares in gladnes giueth.
Yet thinke not Iane, that cowardly I faint,
As begging mercy by thys sad complaint;
Or yet suppose my courage daunted so,
That thou shouldst stand betwixt mee, and my foe,
[Page 75]That grym-aspected death should now controule,
And seeme fo fearefull to my parting soule,
For were one life, a thousand lifes to mee,
Yet were all those too few to die with thee;
vvhen thou thy woes so patiently doost beare,
As if in death, no cause of sorrow were,
And no more doost lyfes dissolution shun,
Then if colde age his longest course had run.
Thou which didst once giue comfort to my woe,
Now art alone, become my comforts foe;
Not that I leaue wherein I did delight,
But that thou art debarr'd my wished sight;
For if I speake, and would complaine my wrong,
Straightwayes thy name doth come into my tongue;
And thou art present as thou still didst lie,
Or in my hart, or in my lypps, or eye.
No euill plannet raigned at thy birth,
Nor was that hower prodigious heere on earth;
No fatall marke of froward destenie,
Could be diuin'd in thy natiuitie;
Tis onely I, that dyd thy fall deuise,
And thou by mee, art made a sacrifice;
As in the East, whereas the louing wiues,
Doe with theyr husbands euer end theyr liues,
And crown'd with garlands, in theyr brydes attire,
Goe with theyr husbands to that holy fire;
And shee vnworthy thought to liue of all,
vvhom feare of death, or danger doth appall.
I boast not of Northumberlands great name,
Nor of Ketts conquest, which adornes the same;
VVhen he to Norfolke led his troupes from farre,
And yok'd the Rebells in the chayne of warre,
vvhen our VVhite-beare, dyd furiously respire,
[Page]The flames that sing'd theyr Villages with fire,
And brought sweet peace in safetie to our dores,
Yet left our fame vpon the Easterne shores;
Nor of my princely Brothers, which might grace,
And plant true honour in the [...] race;
Nor of Grayes match, my chydren borne by thee,
Alied to Yorke and Lancaster should be;
But of thy vertues proudly boast I dare,
That shee is mine, whom all perfections are.
I crau'd no kingdome, though I thee did craue,
And hauing thee, I wish'd no more to haue.
Yet let me say, how ere thys fortune fell,
Mee thinks a Crowne should haue becom'd thee well,
Mee thinks thy wisedome was ordaind alone,
To blesse a scepter, beautifie a throne;
Thy lyps a sacred oracle retaine,
vvhere in all holy prophecies remaine;
More highly priz'd thy vertues were to mee,
Then Crownes, then Kingdoms, or then Scepters bee.
So chast thy loue, so innocent thy life,
A wifed virgine, and a mayded wife;
The greatest gifts that heauen could giue mee heere,
Nothing so sweet, so good, so pure, so deare.
Thys was the [...] of late,
Ere worldly cares [...],
Before these troubles [...] confound,
Or warre, or weapon, [...] wound;
Ere dreadfull Armies did [...] our shores,
Or walls were shaken with the [...] roars.
Suspect bewrayes our thoughts, betrayes our words,
One Crowne is guarded with a thousand swords;
To meane estate but common woes are showne,
But Crownes haue cares that euer be vnknowne;
[Page 76]And wee by them are to those dangers led,
Of which the least wee are experienced.
VVhen Dudley led his Armies to the East,
Of all the bosome of the Land possest,
vvhat earthly comfort was it that he lack'd,
That with a Counsells warrantie was back'd?
That had a kingdome, and the power of Lawes,
Still to maintaine the iustnes of his cause;
And with the Clergies helpe, the Commons ayde,
In euery place the peopled Kingdom sway'd.
But what (alas) can Parliaments auaile,
VVhen Maries might, must Edwards acts repeale?
VVhen Suffolks power, doth Suffolks hopes withstand,
Northumberland, doth leaue Northumberland.
And those which should our greatnes vnderprop,
Raze our foundation, ouerthrow our top.
Ere greatnes come, we wish it with our hart,
But beeing come, wee wish it would depart,
And indiscreetly follow that so fast,
vvhich when it comes, brings perrill at the last.
If any man doe pittie our offence,
Let him be sure to get him farre from hence,
Heere is no place, no comfort heere at all,
For any one that shall bewaile our fall,
And we in vaine of mercy should but thinke,
Our brinie teares the sullen earth doth drinke.
O that all teares for vs should be forlorne,
And all abortiue when they should be borne;
Mothers that should theyr chyldrens fortunes rue,
Fathers in death to kindly bid adew;
Friends of theyr friends, a kinde farewell to take,
The faythfull seruaunt mourning for our sake;
Brothers and sisters waiting on our Beere,
[Page]Mourners to tell what we were liuing heere;
Those eares are stopt which should bewaile our fall,
And we the mourners, and the dead and all;
And that which first our pallace was ordaind,
The prison, which our liberty restraind,
And where our Court we held in princely state,
There now alone, are left disconsolate.
Thus then resolu'd, as thou, resolu'd am I,
Die thou for me, and I for thee will die;
And yet that heauen Elizabeth may blesse,
Be thou (sweet Iane) a faithfull Prophitesse.
vvith that health gladly resaluting thee,
vvhich thy kind farewell, wish'd before to mee.

Notes of the Chronicle historie.

Nor of Ketts conquest which adornes the same.

I Ohn Duke of Northumberland, when before he was Earle of VVarwicke, in his expedition against Ket, ouerthrew the Re­bels of Norfolke and Suffolke, encamp'd at Mount Surrey in Nor­folke.

Nor of my Princely Brothers which might grace.

Gilford Dudley as remembring in this place the towardnes of his Brothers, which were all likely in deede to haue raysed that house of the Dudleys, of which he was a fourth Brother, if not suppressed by their Fathers ouerthrow.

Nor of Grayes match my children borne by thee.

Noting in this place the alliance of the Lady Iane Gray, by her Mother, which was Frauncis the Daughter of Charles Brandon, by Mary the French Queene, Daughter to Henry the seauenth, and Sister to Henry the eight.

To blesse a Scepter beautifie a [...].

Sildome hath it euer beene knowne of any woman endued with such wonderfull gifts, as was this Lady, both for her wisedome [Page 77] and learning, of whose skill in the tongues one reporteth by this Epigram.

Miraris Ianam Graio sermone valere,
Quo primum nata est tempore Graia fuit.
When Dudley led his Armies to the East.

The Duke of Northumberland prepared his power at London, for his expedition against the Rebels in Norfolk, and making hast away, appoynted the rest of his forces to meete him at Newmar­ket Heath: of whom this saying is reported, that passing through Shorditch, the Lord Gray in his company seeing the people in great numbers came to see him, he sayd, The people presse to see vs, but none bid God speede vs.

That with the Counsels warranty was back'd.

Iohn Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, when he went out a­gainst Queene Mary, had his Commission sealed for the general­ship of the Army, by the consent of the whole Counsell of the Land, in so much that passing through the Counsell Chamber at his departure: the Earle of Arondell wished that hee might haue gone with him in that expedition, and to spend his blood in the quarrell.

When Suffolks power doth Suffolks hopes withstand,
Northumberland doth leaue Northumberland.

The Suffolke men were the first, that euer resorted to Queene Mary in her distres, repayring to her succours, whilst she remained both at Keningall, and at Fremingham Castell, still encreasing her aydes, vntill the Duke of Northumberland, was left forsaken at Cambridge.

FINIS.

Faults escaped.

Folio.page,line,fault.correction.
9111for Let this,read Let these
1221for loue andread loue not
23214for expusd fromread expulsd from
35117for your censorread your censure
35225for loues sterneread warres sterne
36232for If Cadmusread Of Cadmus
42223for Aquillaread Aquila
46129for in the the timeread in the time
46210for was by theread by the
5621for daily stormesread daily starues
58122for onely spingsread onely springs
6317for It proper is vn to vs.read Tis proper vn­to vs.

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