THE BATTAILE OF AGINCOVRT.
FOVGHT BY HENRY THE FIFT of that name, King of England, against the whole power of the French: vnder the Raigne of their CHARLES the sixt, Anno Dom. 1415.
The Miseries of Queene MARGARITE, the infortunate Wife, of that most infortunate King HENRY the sixt.
NIMPHIDIA, the Court of Fayrie.
The Quest of CINTHIA.
The Shepheards SIRENA.
The Moone-Calfe.
Elegies vpon sundry occasions.
By MICHAELL DRAYTON, Esquire.
LONDON, Printed by A. M. for WILLIAM LEE, and are to be sold at the Turkes Head in Fleete-Streete, next to the Miter and Phaenix. 1631.
TO you those Noblest of Gentlemen of these Renowned Kingdomes of Great Britaine: who in these declining times, haue yet in your braue bosomes the sparkes of that sprightly fire, of your couragious Ancestors; and to this houre retaine the seedes of their magnanimitie and Greatnesse, who out of the vertue of your mindes, loue and cherish neglected Poesie, the delight of [Page] Blessed soules, And the language of Angels. To you are these my Poems dedicated.
By your truely affectioned Seruant, MICHAELL DRAYTON.
THE VISION OF BEN. IOHNSON, ON THE MVSES OF HIS FRIEND M. DRAITON.
IT hath beene question'd MICHAEL, if I be
A Friend at all; or, if at all, to thee:
Because, who make the question, haue not seene
Those ambling visits, passe in verse, betweene
Thy Muse, and mine, as they expect. 'Tis true:
You haue not writ to me, nor I to you;
And, though I now begin, 'tis not to rub
Hanch against Hanch, or raise a riming Club
About the towne: this reck'ning I will pay,
Without conferring symboles. This's my day▪
It was no Dreame! I was awake and saw!
Lend me thy voice, O FAME, that I may draw
Wonder to truth! and haue my vision ho [...]rld,
Hot from thy trumpet, round about the world▪
I saw a Beauty from the Sea to rise,
That al Earth look'd on; & that earth, all Eyes!
It cast a beame as when the chear-full Sun
Is fayre got vp, and day some houres begun!
And fill'd an Orbe as circular as heauen!
The Orbe was cut foorth into Regions sea [...]
[Page]And those so sweet, & well proportion'd parts,
As it had bin the circle of the Arts!
When, by thy bright Ideas standing by,
I found it pure, and perfect Poesy,
Ther read I, streight, thy learned Legends three,
Heard the soft airs, between our swains & thee,
Which made me thinke, the old Theocritus,
Our Rurall Virgil come, to pipe to vs!
But then, thy▪epistolar Heroick Songs,
Their loues, their quarrels, iealousies & wrongs
Did all so strike me, as I cry'd, who can
With vs be call'd, the Naso, but this man?
And looking vp I saw Mineruaes fowle,
Pearch'd ouer head, the wise Athenian Owle:
I thought thee thē our Orpheus, that wouldst try
Like him, to make the ayre, one volary:
And I had stil'd thee Orpheus, but before
My lips could forme the voyce, I heard that rore,
And rouze, the marching of a mighty force,
Drums against drums, theneighing of the horse,
The fights, the cryes, & wondring at the iarres
I saw, and read, it was thy Barons Warres!
O, how in those, dost thou instruct these times,
That Rebels actions, are but valiant crimes!
And caried, though with shout, & noise cōfesse
A wild and an authoriz'd wickednesse!
[Page]Sayst thou so, Lucan? But thou seornst to stay
Vnder one title. Thou hast made thy way
And flight about the Ile, well neare, by this
In thy admired Periegesis,
Or vniuersall circumduction
Of all that reade thy Poly-Olbyon.
That reade it? that are rauish'd! such was I
With euery song, I sweare, and so would dye:
But that I heare, againe thy Drum to beate
A better cause, and strike the brauest heate
That euer yet did fire the English blood!
Our right in France! if rightly vnderstood.
There, thou art Homer! Pray thee, vse the stile
Thou hast deseru'd: And let me read the while
Thy Catalogue of Ships, exceeding his,
Thy list of aydes, and force, for so it is:
The Poets act! and for his Country's sake
Braue are the Musters, that the Muse wil make.
And whe he ships thē where to vse their Arms
How do his trūpets breath! What loud alarms!
Looke, how we read the Spartans were inflamd
With bold Tyrtaeus verse, when thou art nam'd
So shall our English Youth vrge on, and cry
An Agin-court, an Agin-court, or dye.
This booke! it is a Catechisme to fight,
And will be bought of euery [...]ord and Knight,
That can but read; who cannot, may in prose
[Page]Get broken pieces, and fight well by those.
The miseries of Margaret the Queene
Of tender eyes will more be wept, then seene:
I feele it by mine owne, that ouerflow,
And stop my sight, in euery line I goe.
But then refreshed by thy Fayrie Court,
I looke on Cynthia, and Syrenas sport,
As on two flowry Carpets, that did rise,
And with their grassy green restor'd mine eyes
Yet giue mee leaue, to wonder at the birth
Of thy strange Moon-Calfe, both thy straine of mirth
And Gossip-got acquaintāce, as to vs,
Thou hadst brought Lapland or old Cobalus,
Empusa, Lamia, or some Monster more
Then Affricke knew, or the full Grecian store!
I gratulate it to thee, and thy Ends,
To all thy vertuous and well chosen Friends,
Onely my losse is, that I am not there:
And till I worthy am to wish I were,
I call the world, that enuies me, to see
If I can be a Friend, and Friend to thee▪
VPON THE BATTAILE OF AGINCOVRT, VVRITTEN BY HIS DEARE FRIEND MICHAEL DRAYTON Esquire.
HAd Henryes name beene only met in Prose,
Recorded by the humble wit of those
Who write of lesse then Kings: who Victory,
As calmely mention, as a Pedigree,
The French alike with vs, might view his name
His actions too, and not confesse a shame:
Nay, grow at length, so boldly troublesome,
As to dispute if they were ouercome.
But thou hast wakt their feares: thy fiercer hand
Hath made their shame as lasting, as their land.
By thee againe they are compeld to know
How much of Fate is in an English foe.
They bleed afresh by thee, and thinke the harme
Such; they could rather wish, t'were Henries arme,
Who thankes thy painefull quill; and holds it more
To be thy Subiect now, then King before.
[Page]By thee he conquers yet; when eu'ry wora
Yeelds him a fuller honour, then his sword.
Strengthens his actions against time: by thee,
He Victory, and France, doth hold in fee,
So well obseru'd he is, that eu'ry thing,
Speakes him not only English, but a King.
And France, in this, may boast her fortunate,
That she was worthy of so braue a hate.
Her suffering is her gayue. How well we see
The Battaile labour'd worthy him, and thee,
Where we may Death discouer with delight,
And entertaine a pleasure from a fight.
Where wee may see how well it doth become
The brau'ry of a Prince to ouer come.
What Povver is a Poet: that can add
A life to Kings, more glorious, then they had
For what of Henry, is vnsung by thee,
Henry doth want of his Eternity.
I. Vaughan.
TO MY VVORTHY FRIEND Mr. MICHAELL DRAYTON vpon his Poems.
SONNET.
VVHat lofly Trophyes of eternall Fame,
England may vaunt thou do'st erect to her,
Yet forced to confesse, (yea blush for shame,)
That she no honour doth on thee confer
How't would become her, would she learne to know
Once to requite thy Heauen-borne Art and zeale,
Or at the least her selfe but thankefull showe
Her ancient Glories that do'st still reueale:
Sing thou of Loue, thy strains (like powerful charmes)
Enrage the bosome with an amorous fire,
And when againe thou lik'st to sing of Armes
The Coward thou with courage do'st inspire:
But when thou com'st to touch our Sinfull Times,
Then Heauen farre more then Earth speakes in thy (Rimes.)
Iohn Reynolds.
THE BATTAILE OF AGJN COVRT.
CEas'd was the Thunder of those Drums view,
which wak'd,
Th'affrighted French their miseries to
At Edwards name, which to that houre
still quak'd,
Their
The law Salique was, that women should no [...] i [...] herite; wh [...] law Edward the third [...] his right to [...] the Crowne by his mot [...] cancelled w [...] his sword: so much as at that ti [...] made way his clarme, though in France th [...] law bee inviolable.
Salique Tables to the ground that threw,Yet were the English courages not slak'd,
But the same Bowes, and the same Blade [...] they drew,
With the same Armes those weapons to aduance,
Which lately lopt the Flower de liz of France.
Henry the fift, that man made out of fire,
Th'Imperiall Wreath plac'd on his Princely browe;
His Lyons courage stands not to enquire
Which way old Henry came by it; or how
At Pomfret Castell Richard should expire:
What's that to him? he hath the Garland now;
Let
Henry th [...] so named [...] Town in L [...] colne Shi [...] where he borne.
Bullenbrooke beware how he it wan,For
Henry the fift borne Munmou [...] in W [...].
Munmouth meanes to keepe it if he can.That glorious day, which his great Father got,
Dowglas in that battaile [...]ew three in the Kings [...]oat A [...]mo [...]
Vpon the Percies; calling to their ayde
The Valiant Dowglas, that Herculian Scot,
When for his Crowne at Shrewsbury they playde,
Had quite dishartned eu'ry other plot,
And all those Tempests quietly had layd,
That not a cloud did to this Prince appeare,
No former King had seene a skie so cleere.
Yet the rich Clergy felt a fearefull Rent,
In the full bosome of their Church (whilst she
A Monarchesse, immeasurably spent,
Lesse then she was, and thought she might not be:)
Wickliffe a learned Diuine, and the greatest Propestant of those times.
By Wickliffe and his followers; to preuent
The growth of whose opinions, and to free
That foule Aspersion, which on her they layd,
She her strong'st wits must stir vp to her ayde.
When presently a Parliament is cal'd
To set things steddy, that stood not so right,
But that thereby the poore might be inthral'd,
Should they bee vrg'd by those that were of might,
That in his Empire, equitie enstaul'd,
It should continue in that perfect plight;
Wherefore to Lester, he t [...]' Assembly drawes,
A Parliament at Leicester.
There to Inact those necessary Lawes.
In which one Bill (mongst many) there was red,
Against the generall, and superfluous waste
Of temporall Lands▪ (the Laity that had fed)
Vpon the Houses of Religion caste,
[Page 3]Which for defence might stand the Realme in sted▪
Where it most needed, were it rightly plac'd;
Which made those Church-men generally to feare,
For all this calme, some tempest might be near.
And being right skilfull, quickly they foresawe,
No shallow braines this businesse went about:
Therefore with cunning they must cure this flawe;
For of the King they greatly stood in doubt,
Lest him to them, their opposites should drawe;
Something must be thrust in, to thrust that out:
And to this end they wisely must prouide,
One, this great Engine, Clearkly that could guide.
Chichley, that sate on Canterburies See,
Henry Chichly succeeding Arund [...]ll (late dec [...] sed) in that See.
A man well spoken, grauely stout, and wise,
The most select (then thought of that could be,)
To act what all the Prelacy deuise;
(For well they knew, that in this bus'nesse, he
Would to the vtmost straine his faculties;)
Him lift they vp, their maine strēgth, to proue
By some cleane slight this
So they termed it as unworthy of a better title.
libell to remoue.His braine in labour, gladly foorth would bring
Somewhat, that at this needfull time might fit,
The sprightly humour of this youthfull King,
If his inuention could but light of it;
His working soule pro [...]cteth many a thing,
Vntill at length out of the strength of wit,
He found a warre with France must bee the vvay
To dash this Bill, else threatning their decay.
Whilst vacant minds sate in their breasts at ea [...]
And the remembrance of their Conquests past,
Vpon their fansies doth so strongly sease,
As in their teeth their Cowardise is cast,
Rehearsing to them those victorious dayes▪
The deeds of which, beyond their names should la [...]
That after ages, reading what was thei [...]s,
Shall hardly thinke, those men had any Heires.
And to this point, premeditating well,
A speech, (which chanc'd, the very point to cleau [...]
Aym'd, whatsoeuer the successe befell
That it no roomth should for a second leaue,
More of this Tittle then in hand to tell,
If so his skill him did not much deceiue,
And 'gaiust the King in publike should appeare [...]
Thus frames his speech to the Assembly there.
PA [...]don my boldnes, my Liedge Soueraigne L [...]
The Archbishop of Canterburies Oration, to t [...] King [...] [...]nd Parliament at Lecester [...] in the [...] following Stanzaes.
Nor your Dread presence let my speech offer
Your milde attention, fauourably affoord,
Which, such cleere vigour to my spirit shall lend,
That▪ it shall set an edge vpon your Sword,
To my demand▪ and make you to attend,
Asking you, why▪ men train'd to Armes you [...]
Your right in France yet suffering still to sleep [...]
Can such a Prince be in an Iland pent,
An [...] poorely thus shut vp within a Sea.
When as your right includes that large extent,
To [...] Alpes your Empire forth to lay,
[Page 5]Can he be English borne▪ and is not bent
To follow you, appoint you but the way,
We' [...]e wade if we want ships, the waues to climme,
In one hand hold ou [...] swords, with th'other swim.
What time cōtrouls your braue great grādsirs claim
The Cr [...] of France descended vpon Edward the third, from Isabell [...]u Mother, Daughtar and su [...] [...]ing heire, to King Philip of France named the faire.
To th'Realme of France, from Philip nam'd the faire
Which to King Edward by his mother came,
Queene Isaebel; that Philips onely heire,
Which this short intermission doth not maime,
But if it did, as he, so yours repaire;
That where his blood in right preuailed not,
In spight of hell, yet by his Sword he got.
What set the Conquerour, by their Salique Lawes,
Those poore decrees their Parliaments could make,
He entred on in iustnesse of his Cause,
To make good, what he dar'd to vndertake,
And once in Action he stood not to pause,
But in vpon them like a Tempest brake,
And downe their buildings with such fury bare,
That they from mists dissolued were to ayre.
As those braue Edwards, Father, and the Sonne▪
[...] Conquer'd Cressy▪ with successefull lucke,
Where first all France (as at one game) they wonne,
Neuer two Warriours, such a Battaile strucke,
That when the bloody dismall fight was done,
Here in one heape, there in another Rucke
Princes and peasants lay together mixt,
The English Swords, no difference knew betwixt.
There Lewe [...] King of Beame was ouerthrowne,
With valiant Charles, of France the yonger brother
Iames, Daulp [...] of Viennoies. The Dukes of L [...]raine & Burbon. The Earles of Aumerl [...], Savoye, Mountbilliard Flaunders, Nevers, & [...]arcourt. King Iohn of France and Philip his son taken by the Blacke Prince, at the Battaile of Poyteers, brought Prisoners to [...] land. Iohn of Cleumount. Peter of Burbon. Examples of such as haue aduan [...]d themselues to the Crowne of France, against the strict letter of the lawe Salique, in two following Stanzaes.
A Daulphine and two Dukes, in pieces hewen;To them sixe Earles lay slaine by one another;
her the grand Prior of France, fetcht his last groa [...]
Two Archbishops the boistrous croud doth smothe [...]
There fifteene thousand of their Gentrie dy'de▪
With each two Souldiers, slaughtered by his sid [...]
Nor the Blacke Prince at Poyters battaile fough [...]
Short of his Father, and himselfe before,
Her King and Prince, that prisoners hither broug [...]
From forty thousand, weltring in their gore,
That in the worlds opinion it was thought,
France from that instant could subsist no more,
The * Marshall, and the * Constable, there [...]laine,
Vnder the Standard, in that battaile ta'ne.
Nor is this claime for women to succeed,
(Gainst which they would your right to France de [...] ba [...]
A thing so new, that it so much should need
Such opposition, as though fetcht from farre,
By Pepin this is prou'd, as by a deed,
Deposing Cheldricke, by a fatall warre,
By Blythyld dat'd his title to aduance,
Daughter to Clothar, first so nam'd of France.
Hugh Capet, who from Charles of Lorayne too [...]
The Crown of France, that he in peace might raig [...]
As heire to Lingard to her title stooke,
Who was the daughter of King Charlemaine,
[Page 7]So holy Lowes poring on his booke,
Whom that Hugh Capet made his heire againe,
From Ermingard his Gra [...]da [...], claimd the crown,
Duke Charles his caughter, wrongfully put down.
Nor thinke my Liege a fitter time then this,
You could haue found your title to aduance,
[...]t the full height, when now the faction is,
[...]'wixt Burgoyne, and the house of Orleance,
Your purpose you not possibly can misse,
[...] for my Lord so luckily doth chance,
That whilst these two in opposition stand,
You may haue time your Army there to land.
And if my fancy doe not ouerpresse,
[...]y visuall sence, me thinkes in euery eye
[...] see such cheere, as of our good successe
[...] France hereafter seemes to Prophecie;
Thinke not my Soueraigne, my Alegiance lesse
Quoth he; my Lords nor doe you misaply
My words: thus long vpon this subiect spent,
Who humbly here submit to your assent.
THis speech of his, that powerful Engine prou'd
Then e'r our Fathers got▪ which rais'd vs hier,
The Clergies feare that quietly remou'd,
And into France transferd our Hostile fier,
[...] made the English through the world belou'd,
[...]hat durst to those so mighty things aspire,
And gaue so cleare a luster to our fame,
That neighboring nations trembled at our name.
When through the house, this rumor scarsely r [...]
That warre with France propounded was againe▪
In all th'assembly there was not a man,
But put the proiect on with might and maine,
So great applause it generally wan,
That else no bus'nesse they would entertaine,
As though their honour vtterly were lost,
If this desine should any way be crost.
So much mens minds now vpon France were s [...]
That euery one doth with himselfe forecast,
What might fall out this enterprise to let,
As what againe might giue it wings of hast,
And for they knew▪ the French did still abet
The Scot against vs, (which we vs'd to tast)
It question'd was if it vvere fit or no;
To conquer them, ere we to France should goe▪
Which Raulph then Earle of Westmerland propo [...]
Ralph Neuill then warden of the Marches betwixt England and Scotland. An [...] adag [...] He that will France wi [...] ▪ must with Scotland first beginne. The Duke of Excester the Kings owne [...].
Quoth he with Scotland let vs first begin,
By which we are vpon the North inclos'd,
And lockt with vs, one Continent within,
Then first let Scotland be by vs dispos'd,
And with more ease, yee spatious France may win [...]
Else of our selues, ere we our ships can cleere,
To land in France; they will invade vs here.
Not so braue Neuill, Excester replies,
For that of one tvvo labours were to make,
For Scotland wholly vpon France relies;
First Conquer France, and Scotland yee may take▪
That stopt, asunder quickly ye shall shake,
The French and Scots; to France then first say I,
First, first, to France then all the commons cry.
And instantly an Embassy is sent,
The first brea [...]h with France.
To Charles of France, to will him to restore
[...]hose Territories, of whose large extent,
The English Kings were owners of before;
Which if he did not, and incontinent,
The King would set those English on his shore,
That in despight of him, and all his might,
Should leaue their liues there, or redeeme his right.
First Normandy, in his demaund he makes,
With Aquitane, a Dutchy no lesse great,
Aniou, and Mayne, with Gascoyne which he takes,
Cleerely his owne, as many an English seat:
The Countries demanded by the King of England.
With these proud France, he first of all awakes,
[...]or their deliuery, giuing power to treat;
For vvell he knew, if Charles should these restore,
No King of France was euer left so poore.
The King, and Daulphin, to his proud demand,
[...]at he might see they no such matter ment,
[...] a thing sitter for his youthfull hand;
[...] Tunne of Paris Tennis Balls him sent,
The King and Daulphine of France, d [...] deth the King of England.
[...]tter himselfe to make him vnderstand,
[...]riding his ridiculous intent:
[...] And that was all the answere he could get,
Which more the King doth to this Conquest [...]he [...].
That answering the Ambassadour, quoth he,
Thanks for my Bals, to Charles your Soueraign gi [...]
Henry the fist answered for the Tennis Balles.
And thus Assure him, and his sonne from me,
I'le s [...]nd him Bals, and Rackets if I liue,
That they such R [...]c [...]et shall in Paris see,
When ouer line with B [...]dies I shall driue,
The language of Tennis.
As that before the set be fully done,
France may (perhap) into the H [...]zzard runne▪
So little doth luxurious France fore see
By her disdaine, vvhat shee vpon her drew:
In her most brau [...]y s [...]e [...]ing then to bee,
The punishment that shortly should ensue,
Which so incenst the English King, that he,
For full reuenge into that fury grew:
That those three horro [...]s, Famine, Sword, and F [...]
Could not suffice to satisfie his ire.
In all mens mouthes novv was no word but w [...]
As though no thing had any other name;
And folke would aske of them ariu'd from farre,
What forces were preparing whence they came [...]
Gainst any bus'nesse 'twas a lawfull barre
To say for France they were; and 'tvvas a shame
For any man to take in hand to doe
Ought, but something that did belong thereto [...]
Old Armours are drest▪ vp, and new are made [...]
Iacks are in vvorking, and strong shirts of Male,
He scovvers an * old Foxe, he a
Blades accounted of the best▪ tem [...]er▪
bilbow blade,Novv Shields and Targets onely are for sale;
[Page 11]Who works for wa [...]re, now▪ thriueth by his Trade▪
The brown-Bill, and the Battle-Axe preuaile:
The curious Fletcher fits his well-strung Bowe,
And his barb'd Arrow which he sets to showe.
Tents and Pauillions in the fields are pitcht,
( [...] full wrought vp their Roomthynesse to try)
Windowes, and Towers, with Ensines are inricht,
With ruffing Banners, that doe braue the skie,
Wherewith the wearied Labourer bewitcht
To see them thus hang wauing in his eye:
His toylsome burthen from his back doth throw,
And bids them work that wil, to France hee'l go.
Rich Sadles for the Light-horse and the Bard,
Armed at all poynts▪
For to be brau'st ther's not a man but plyes,
Plumes, Bandroules, a [...]d Caparizons prepar'd;
Whether of two, and men at Armes diuise,
The
Armings for the thigh and legge-
Greaues, or * Guyses were the surer guard,The
Armings for the arme and shoulder.
Vambrasse, or the Pouldron, they should prize,And where a stand of Pikes plac't close, or large,
Which way to take aduantage in the Charge,
One traynes his Horse, another trayles his Pike.
He with his Pole▪ Axe, practiseth the fight,
The Bowe-man (which no Country hath the like)
With his sheafe Arrow, proueth by his might,
How many score off, he his Foe can strike,
Yet not to draw aboue his bosomes height:
The Trumpets sound the Charge and the Retreat,
The bellowing Drum, the March again doth beat,
Cannons vpon their Carriage mounted are,
Whose Battery France must feele vpon her Walls,
The Engineer prouiding the Petar,
To breake the strong Percullice, and the Balls
Of Wild fire deuis'd to throw from farre,
To burne to ground their Pallaces and Halls:
Some studying are, the Scale which they had got,
Great Ordnance then [...]u [...] newly in [...].
Thereby to take the Leuell of their Shot.
The man in yeares preacht to his youthfull so [...]
Prest to this Warre, as they sate by the fire,
What deedes in France were by his Father done,
To this attempt to worke him to aspire,
And told him there, how hee an Ensigne vvonne,
Which many a yeare was hung vp in the Quire:
And in the Batrell, where he made his way,
How many French-men he struck down that day [...]
The good old man with teares of ioy would tell,
In Cressy field, vvhat prizes Edward play'd,
As what at Poycteers the Blacke Prince befell,
How like a L [...]on hee about him layd:
In deedes of Armes, how Audely did excell,
For their olde sins▪ how they the French-men paid [...]
How brauely Basset did be haue him there:
Hovv Oxford charg'd the Van, Warwick the reare
And Boy, quoth he, I haue heard thy Grandsire s [...]
That once he did an English Archer see,
Who shooting at a French twelue score away,
Quite through the body, stucke him to a Tree;
[Page 13]Vpon their strengths a [...]ng his Crowne might lay:
Such wer [...] the men of that braue age quoth hee,
When with his [...] he at his foe did driue,
Murrian and scalpe down to the teeth could riue,
The scarlet Iudge might now set vp his Mule,
With neighing Steeds the Street so pestred are,
For where he went in Westminster to rule,
On his Tribunall seate the man of vvarre,
The Lawyer to his chambe [...] doth recule,
For hee hath now no bus'nesse at the barre:
But to make Wills, and Testaments for those,
That were for France, their substance to dispose▪
By this, the Councell of the War had met,
And had at large of euery thing discust;
And the graue Clergie had with them beene set,
To warrant vvha they vndertooke was iust,
And as for monies that to be no let,
They, bad the King for that to them to trust:
The Church to pawn, would see her chalice laid,
E'r she would leaue one Pyoner vnpayd.
From Milford Hauen, to the mouth of Tweed,
Halfe th [...] cutt of the Island, from the Spanish to the German Ocean.
Ships of all burthen to Southampton brought,
For there the King the Rendeuous decreed
To beare abroad his most victorious fraught:
The place from whence he with the greatest speed,
Might land in France▪ (of any that was thought)
And with successe vpon that lucky shore,
VVhere his great Grandsire landed had before.
Edward the third.
But for he found those vessels were too few,
That into France his Army should conuay:
He sent to Belgia, whose great store he knew,
Might now at need supply him euery way,
His bounty ample; as the vvindes that blew,
Such Barkes for Portage out of eu'ry bay
In Holland, Zeland, and in Flanders, brings;
As spred the wide
The Soa betwixt France and England [...] called. A Catalogue of the S [...]ps in [...] Stanzaes.
sleeue with their canuase wings▪But first seuen Ships from Rochester are sent,
The narrovv Seas, of all the French to sweepe;
All men of vvar with scripts of Mart that went,
And had command, the Coast of France to keepe:
The comming of a Nauie to preuent,
And view what strength was in the Bay of Deepe:
And if they found it like to come abroad,
To doe their best to fire it in the Road.
The Bonauenture, George, and the Expence,
The names of the Kings 7. Ships of War
Three as tall ships, as e'r did Cable tewe,
The Henry Royall, at her parting thence,
Like the Huge Ruck from Gillingham that flevv:
An Indian Bird so great, that she is able to carrie an Elephant.
The Antilop, the Elephant, Defence,
Bottoms as good as euer spred a clue:
All hauing charge, their voyage hauing bin,
Before Southampton to take Souldiers [...].
Tvvelue Merchants ships, of mighty burthen all,
New of the [...]tocks, that had beene rig'd for Stoad,
Riding in Thames, by Lymehouse, and Blackwall,
That ready were their Merchandize to load,
[Page 15]Straightly commanded by the Admirall,
At the same Port to settle their aboad▪
And each of these a Pinnis at command.
To put her fraught conueniently to land.
Eight goodly Ships, so Bristow ready made,
Which to the King they bountifully [...]ent,
With Spanish Wines which they for ballast lade,
In happy speed of his braue Voyage ment,
Hoping this Conquest should enlarge their Trade,
And there▪ withall a rich and spacious Tent:
And as this Fleete the Seuerne Seas doth stem,
Fiue more from Padstowe came along with them.
The Hare of Loo a right good ship well knowne,
The yeare before that twice the straits had past,
Two wealthy Spanish Merchants did her owne,
Who then but lately had repair'd her wast;
For from her Decke a Pyrate shee had blowne,
After a long Fight, and him tooke at last:
And from Mounts Bay sixe more, that stil in sight
Walted with her before the Ile of Wight.
From Plymmouth next came in the Blazing Star,
And fiery Dragon to take in their fraught;
With other foure, especiall men of warre,
The Bay of Portugal [...] of the high working S [...] that is know [...].
That in the Bay of Portugall had fough,
And though returning from a Voyage farre,
Stem'd that rough sea, whē at the high'st it wroght▪
With these of Dertmouth seu'n good ships ther were
The golden Cressant in their tops that beare▪
So Lyme, three Ships into the Nauy sent,
Of which the Sampson scarce a mon'th before,
Had sprung a Planke, and her maine Mast had spent▪
With extreme perill that shee got to shore;
Wich them fiue other out of Waymouth went,
Which by Southampton, vvere made vp a score:
With those that rode (at pleasure) in the Bay,
And that at Anchor before Portsmouth lay.
Next these, Newcastle furnisheth the Fleet
With nine good Hoyes of necessary vse;
The Danish Pyrats▪ valiantly they beet,
Offring to Sacke them as they sayl'd from Sluce:
Sixe Hulks from Hul at Humbers mouth them meet,
Which had them oft acompanied to
A country [...]ng vpon [...]e [...]ast Sea, ordering vpon Poland. [...]amous for [...]erring fishng.
Pruce,Fiue more from * Yurmouth falling them among▪
That had for fishing beene prepared long.
The Cow of Harwitch neuer put to flight,
For Hides and Furres, late to Musco [...]ia bound,
Of the same Port, another nam'd the Spight,
That in her comming lately, from the Sound,
After a two dayes-still▪ continued fight,
Had made three Flemings run themselues on ground;
With three neat Flee-boats which with thē do tak [...]
Sixe ships of Sandwich vp the Fleet to make.
Nine ships for the Nobility were there,
[...]ydes to the [...]ing by the [...]obility.
Of able men, the enterprize to ayde,
VVhich to the King most liberally they lent,
At their owne charge, and bountifully payd,
Fourescore at Armes a peece, themselues, and layd
At [...]ix score Archers each, as Suffolke showes,
Twenty tall men at Armes, with forty Bowes.
Warwicke, and Stafford leauied at no lesse,
Then Noble Suffolke, nor doe offer more,
Of men at Armes, and Archers which they presse▪
Of their owne Tenants Arm'd wite their own store;
Their forwardnesse foreshewes their good successe,
In such a Warre▪ as had not beene before:
And other Barrons vnder Earles that were,
Yet dar'd with them an equall charge to beare.
Darcy, and Camois, zealous for the King,
Louell, Fitzwater, Willoughby, and Rosse,
Berkely, Powis, Burrell, fast together cling;
Seymor and Saint-Iohn for the bus'nesse closse,
Each twenty Horse, and forty foote doe bring,
More, to nine hundred mounting in the grosse
In those nine Ships, and [...]itly them bestow'd,
Which with the other fall into the Road.
From Holland, Zeland, and from Flanders won,
By weekely pay, threescore twelue Bottoms came,
From fifty vpward; to fiue hundred Tunne;
For eu'ry vse a Marriner could name,
Whose glittering Flags against the Radient Sunne,
[...]how'd as the Sea had all beene of a flame;
For Skiffes, Crays, Scallops, & the like, why these
From eu'ry small Creeke, couer'd all the Seas.
The man whose way from London hap'd to lye,
By those [...]e met might guesse the generall force,
Dayly encountred as he passed by,
Now with a Troupe of Foote, and then of Horse,
To whom the people still themselues apply,
Bringing them victuals as in meere remorce▪
And still the acclamation of the presse▪
Saint George for England, to your good successe.
There might a man haue seene in euery streete,
The Father bidding farewell to his Sonne:
Small Children kneeling at their Fathers feete:
The Wife with her deare Husband ne'r had done,
Brother his Brother, with adieu to greet:
One Friend to take leaue of another runne:
The Mayden with her best belou'd to part,
Gaue him her hand, who tooke away her heart▪
The nobler Youth the common ranke aboue,
On their coructing Coursers mounted faire,
One ware his Mistris Garter, one her Gloue,
And he a locke of his deare Ladies haire;
And he her Collours, whom he most did loue,
There was not one but did some Fauour weare:
And each one tooke it, on his happy speed,
To make it famous by some K [...]ightly deed.
The cloudes of dust, that from the wayes arose,
Which in their March the trampling troups do rear [...]
When as the Sunne their thicknesse doth oppose,
In his descending, shining wonderous cleare,
[Page 19]To the beholder far off standing showes,
Like some besieged towne, that were on fire,
As though fore-telling e'r they should returne,
That many a City yet secure must burne.
The well-rigd Nauy falne into the Road,
For this short Cut with victuall fully stord,
The King impatient of their long aboad,
Commands his Army instantly aboard,
Casting to haue each company bestow'd,
As then the time conuenience could afford;
The Ships appointed wherein they should goe,
And Boats prepar'd for wastage to and fro.
To be imbarqu'd when euery band comes down,
Each in their order as they mustred were,
Or by the difference of their
A blazon of the Ensignes of the seueral Shire [...] in 14. Stanzas following.
Armings knowne,Or by their Collours; for in Ensignes there,
[...]ome wore the Armes of their most ancient towne,
Others againe their owne Diuises beare.
There was not any▪ but that more or lesse,
Somthing had got, that somthing should expresse.
FIrst, in the
Expressing their freedome, as still retaining their ancient liberties, by surprizing the Conqueror like a mouing wood.
Kentish Stremer was a Wood,Out of vvhose top, an arme that held a sword,
As their right Embleme; and to make it good,
They aboue other onely had a word,
Which was; Vnconquer'd; as that freest had stood.
An expression of King Harolds deat [...] slaine with an Arrow i [...] the head, at [...] the Ba [...]ta [...] of Hastings fighting against the Conquerour.
Sussex the next that was to come AboardBoare a blacke Lyon Rampant sore that bled,
With a Field-Arrow darted through the head.
The men of
The first famous Earle of that country.
Surry, Checky Blew and gold▪Which for braue Warren their first Earle they w [...]
In many a Field, that honour'd was of old)
And Hamshiere next, in the same collours bore,
Three Lyons Passant, th'Armes of Benis Bold,
Who through [...]he Wo [...]ld, so famous was of yore▪
A siluer
Expressing the pleasantnesse of the scituation of that country, lying vpon the French Sea
Tower, Dorsets Red Banner bearesThe Cornishmen two Wrestlers had for theirs.
The
At lying the fittest to expell or fore▪warne. Inua [...]on.
Deuonshire Band, a Beacon set on fire,Sommerset
Express [...]ng the delica [...]y of the Bath, their chiefe City.
a Virgine Bathing in a Spring,Their Cities Armes the men of Glostershire,
In Gold▪ three Bloudy Cheuernells doe bring,
Wiltshire [...] Crowned * Piramed; As higher
Then any other to match to the King;
Barkeshire, a * Stag, vnder an Oake that stood,
Oxford, a White Bull wading in a Flood.
h The Armes of the ancient Family of Clare Earle of Gloster borne by the City. Stonidge being the first wonder of England, standing in Wiltshire: An old Em [...]l [...]m [...] of B [...] [...]c [...], or [...]rkshire.
The mustred men for
A [...]adge of the ancient Family of the Staffords, Dukes of that place.
Buckingham, are gone,Vnder the Swan, the Armes of that old Towne;
The Londoners, and Middlesex as one,
Are by the Red Crosse, and the Dagger knowne▪
The Men of
Queene [...] Founder-of the Crosse, wife to Constantine, and daughter to King Co [...]ll, builder of Colches [...] Essex.
Essex ouermatcht by none,Vnder Queene Hellens Image Marching downe;
Suffolke the most Easterly of the English shieres.
Suffolke a Sunne halfe ris [...]n from the brack,For the br [...]: prospect to [...] Germaine Ocean.
Norfolke a Triton on a Dolphins backe.The souldiers sent from Cambridgeshire, a Bay
a Hauing relation to that famous Vniuersity their Shire townes.
Vpon a Mountaine watred with a shower:
Hartford
The Armes of the Town [...] somewhat alluding to th [...] name.
two Harts that in a riuer play:Bedford an Eagle pearcht vpon a Tower,
And
The Armes of the towne of Hunting▪don, first so named of a place where Hunters met▪
Huntington a people proud as they,Nor giuing place to any for their power,
A youthfull Hunter with a Chap [...]et Crown'd,
In a pyde Lyam leading foorth his Hound.
Northampton
The Armes of the towne.
with a Castle seated high,Supported by two Lyons thither came,
The men of
From the aboundance of wool in that tract.
Rutland, to them marching nie;In their rich Ensigne beare an Ermine Ram,
And
A sport more vsed in that shire from ancient time▪ then in any other.
Lestershire that on their strength relye,A Bull and Mastiue fighting for the game,
Lincolne
For the length that it hath vpon the German Ocean.
a ship most neatly that was lim'd,In all her sailes with Flags and Pennons trim'd.
Sto [...]
The Bear and ragged Staffe, th [...] Ancient Armes of that Earledome.
Warwickshire, her ancient badg the Beare,W [...]rster
For the abundance of fruite more there then in any other tract.
a Peare-tree laden with the fruit,A Golden fl [...]ce and
The fine [...] of the Wooll of Lemster in that shire
Hereford doth weareStafford▪
Many Hermites liued there in the woods in ti [...] pas [...], it being all forrestrie.
A Hermet in his homely sute,Shropshire
Expressing the loftinesse of the mountaines in that S [...] on which many Hawkes were wont [...] ay [...]y.
a Falcon towring in the ayre,And for the Shire whose surface seemes most brute,
Darby, an Eagle sitting on a Roote,
A swathed infant holding in her foote.
Olde
That famous out▪law [...]ed [...]ch in▪ that Country, and is yet by many places there Celebrated.
Nottingham an Archer clad in greene,Vnder a Tree with his drawne bowe that stood,
Which in a checkquer'd Flagge farre off was seene
It was the picture of old Robin Hood,
And
A [...]c [...]nted o [...]r the best Archers of England.
Lancashire not as the least I weene,Thorough three Crowns, three arrows smeard wi [...] blood
Cheshire a Banner very square & broad,
Wherein a man vpon a Lyon rode.
A flaming Lance, the
For their [...] with the sp [...]are, & [...] of their Nagg [...].
Yorkeshir [...] men for the [...]As those for Durham neere againe at hand,
A Myter crowned with a Diadem:
An armed man▪ the men of
Being ready stil in Armes against the Scots
Cumberland:So
Expressing the s [...]it [...] ther [...]f [...]uting ou [...] into those dangerous S [...], betwixt England and Ireland
Westmerland link'd with it in one Stem,A ship that wrackt lay fierd vpon the sand:
Northumberland
Their [...] conflicts ( [...]) with the Scots, expr [...]ss [...]d in the fight between [...] golden & [...]d Lyon▪
with these com'n as a broth [...]Two Lyons fighting tearing one another.
Thus as themselues the English men had show'd [...]
Vnder the Ensigne of each seuerall Shiere,
The natiue Welch who no lesse honour ow'd,
To their owne King, nor yet lesse valiant were;
In one strong Reg'ment had themselues bestow'd,
And of the rest, resumed had the Reare:
To their owne Quarter marching as the rest,
As neatly Arm'd, and brauely as the best,
Milford Hauen in Penbrooke▪shi [...], one of the [...] harbours in the kno [...] world, therefore not vnaptly so expressed.
Pembrooke, a Boat wherein a Lady stood,Rowing herselfe within a quiet Bay;
Those men of South-wales of the
Partly Dut [...], partly English, partly Welch.
mixed bloodHad of the Welch the leading of the way:
Ca [...]rmardin
Me [...] i [...], by whose birth and knowledg that towne [...] ma [...] f [...]mous
in her collours beare a Rood,Whereon an old man lean'd himselfe to stay,
At a Starre poynting; which of great renowne,
Was skilfull M [...]lin, namer of that towne.
A watch Tower or pharus, hauing the scituation wh [...] Seuor [...] beginneth to [...] widden, as when Pirats haue come in to gi [...]e warning to the other Maritine Countryes.
Glamorgan men, a Castell great and hie,From which, out of the battlement aboue,
A flame shot vp it selfe into the skie:
The men of
For the glory it hath attained to be the Kings birth-place, and to ex [...]sse his principalities.
Munmouth (for the ancient loueTo that deare Country neighboring them so nie)
Next after them in Equipage that moue,
Three Crownes Imperiall which supported were
With three Arm'd Armes, in their proud Ensigne (beare.)
The men of
The Armes of Brecknocke.
Brecknock brought a Warlik Tent,Vpon whose top there sate a watchfull Cocke,
Radnor,
Lying towards the mi [...]st of W [...]l [...] [...] for abundance of Sheepe liuing on those high mountaines.
a mountaine of an high ascent,Thereon a shepheard keeping of his Flocke,
As
Lying towards the mi [...]st of W [...]l [...] [...] for abundance of Sheepe liuing on those high mountaines.
Cardigan the next to them that went,Came with a Meremayd sitting on a Rocke,
And
For the abundance of G [...]ate [...] [...] those inac [...]essible Mountaines.
Merioneth beares (as these had done)Three dancing goates against the rising Sunne.
h Expressing the scituation [...] Sh [...]r [...], lying on the Maritine part vpon the Irish Sea.
Those of
The shiere breeding the best Horses of Wales
Montgomery, beare a prancing Stee [...]Denbeio [...]
As [...] it selfe to the great North or Deucal [...] donian Sea. in Expressing the abundance of Corn and grasse, in that little Tract.
a Neptune with his three-fork'd MaceFlintshire (m) a Workemayd in her Summer wee [...]
with Sheafe and Sickle (with a warlike pace)
Those of Caernaruon not the least in speed,
Though marching last (in the maine Armies face)
Three golden Eagles in their Ensigne brought,
Vnder which oft braue Owen Guyneth fought,
The Seas amazed at that fearefull sight,
Of Armes and Ensignes that abroad were brought
Of Streamers, Banners, Pennons▪ Ensignes pight,
Vpon each Pub, and Prowe; and at the fraught,
So full of terror, that it hardly might
Into a naturall course againe be brought,
As the Vaste Nauie which at Anchor rides,
Proudly presumes to shoulder out the Tides.
The Fleete then full and floating on the maine
The numerous Masts, with their braue topsails s [...]
When as the wind a little doth them straine,
Seeme like a Forrest bearing her proud head▪
Against some rough flaw, that foreruns a raine:
A Simile of the Nauy.
So doe they looke from euery lofty sted,
Which with the surges, tumbled to and fro,
Seeme (euen) to bend, as trees are seene to doe
From euery Ship when as the Ordnance ror [...]
Of their depart that all might vnderstand,
The braus solemnity of the departing of the [...]l [...]et
When as the zealous people from the shore,
Againe with fires salute them from the Land,
[Page 25] [...]or so was order left with them before,
[...]o watch the Beacons with a carefull hand,
Which being once fierd, the people more or lesse,
Should all to Church, to pray for their successe.
They shape their course into the Mouth of Seyne,
The Nauy Landing in the mouth of Seyne.
[...]hat destin'd Flood those Nauies to receiue,
[...]efore whose fraught, her France had prostrate laine
[...]s now shee must this, that shall neuer leaue,
[...]ntill the Ensignes that it doth containe,
[...]to the ayre her heightned walls shall heaue;
Whose stubborne Turrets had refus'd to bow,
To that braue Nation that shall shake them now.
Long Boats with Scouts are put to land before,
[...]pon light Naggs the countrey to disery,
Whilst the braue Army setting is on shore,)
[...] vievv what strength the enemy had nie,
[...]essing the bosome of large France so sore,
[...]at her pale Genius, in affright doth flye
To all her Townes, and warnes them to awake,
And for her safety vp their Armes to take▪
At Paris, Roane, and Orleance, she calls,
[...]d at their gates with groanings doth complaine:
[...]en cries she out, O get vp to your walles:
[...]e English Armies are return'd againe,
[...]hich in two Battailes gaue those fatall falls,
Cressy, and at Poyteers, where lay slaine,
Our conquered Fathers, which with very feare,
Quake in their graues to feele them landed here.
The King of France now hauing vnd [...]rstood,
Of Henryes entrance. (but too wel unprou'd,)
He cleerely saw that deere must be the blood,
That it must cost [...]e' [...] he could be remou'd,
He sends to make his other s [...]a Townes good,
Neuer before, so much it him behou'd,
In euery one a Garison to lay,
Fearing fresh powers from England eu'ry day.
To the high'st earth whilst awfull Henry gets,
From whence strong Harflew he might easiest see,
With sprightly words, & thus their courage whe [...]
The br [...]ue encouragement of a [...]o [...]ragious King.
In yonder walls be Mines of gold (quoth hee)
He [...]'s a poore slaue that thinkes of any debts;
Ha [...]flew sh [...]ll p [...]y for all, it ours shall bee,
This ayre of France doth like me wonderous we [...]
Lets burne our ships, for here we meane to dw [...]
But through his H [...]ast he first of all proclai [...]
In paine of death no English man should take,
From the Religion [...] aged, or the maym'd,
A charitable Proclamation made by the King.
Or women that could no resistance make;
To gaine his owne for that he only aym'd;
No [...] would haue such to suffer for his sake:
Which in the French (when they the same did he [...]
Bred of this braue King, a religions feare.
His arm [...] rang'd, in order fitting war,
The Kings mayne Standard (for the p [...]nderousnes thereof,) eu [...] borne vpon a Carriage.
Each with some greene thing doth his Murrian cro [...]
With his mayne standard fixt vpon the Carre;
Comes, the great King before th'intrenched to [...]
[Page 27]Whilst from the walles the people gazing are,
[...] all their sights he sets an army downe,
Not for their shot he careth not a pin.
But seekes where he his battery may begin.
And into three, his Army doth diuide,
The King makes his aproches on three parts.
[...]is strong approaches on three parts to make;
[...]imselfe on th'one, Clarence on th'other side,
[...]o Yorke, and Suffolke he the third doth take,
[...]he Mines the Duke of Glocester doth guide,
[...]hen caus'd his Ships the riuer vp to Stake,
That none with victual should the Town relieue,
Should the sword faile, with famin them to grieue.
From his pauillion where he sate in State,
[...]rm'd for the siedge, and buckling on his Shield,
[...]raue Henry sends his Herauld to the Gate,
The King summons Harflew.
[...]y trumpets sound to summon them to yeeld,
[...]nd to accept his mercy e'r too late,
[...]r else to say, ere he forsooke the field,
Harflew should be but a meere heape of Stones,
Her buildings buried with her owners bones.
France on this suddaine put into a fright,
[...]ith the sad newes of Harflew in distresse,
[...]hose inexpected, miserable plight,
[...]ee on the suddaine, knew not to redresse,
[...]t vrg'd to doe, the vtmost that she might,
[...]e peoples feares and clamours to suppresse,
Raiseth a power with all the speed she could,
[...]om what thereby to loose King Henryes hold.
The Marshall and the Constable of France,
Charles de A [...]bert, and Iohn Boweequalt.
Leading those Forces lev [...]ed for the turne,
By which they thought their Titles to aduance,
And of their Countrey endlesse praise to earne,
But it with them farre otherwise doth chance,
For when they saw the villages to burne,
And high-towr'd Harflew round ingi [...]t with fire
They with their power to Cawdebeck retire.
Like as a Hinde when she her Calfe doeth see,
A Simile of the French power.
Lighted by chance into a Lyons pawes,
From which should shee aduenture it to free,
Shee must her selfe fill his deuouring Iawes,
And yet her young one, still his prey must bee,
(Shee so instructed is by Natures Lawes:)
With them so fares it, which must needs go dow [...]
If they would figh [...]; and yet must loose the Tow [...]
Now doe they mount their Ordnance for the da [...]
A discription of the siege of Harflewe, in the 19 following Stanzaes.
Their scaling Ladders rearing to the walls,
Their battering Rams against the gates they lay,
Their brazen slings send in the wild-fire balls,
Baskets of twigs now carry stones and clay
And to th'assault, who furiously not falls;
The spade and Pick-Axe working are below;
Which then vnfelt, yet gaue the greatst blow.
Rampiers of earth the painfull pyoners raise,
With the walls equall, close vpon the Dike,
To passe by which the souldier that assayes,
On plankes thrust ouer, one him downe doth strike
[Page 29]Him with a mall a second English payes,
[...] second French transpearc'd him with a pike
That from the height of the embattel'd Towers,
Their mixed blood ran down the wals in showers.
A French-man b [...]ke into the towne doth fall,
With a sheafe Arrow shot into the head,
An English man in scalling of the wall,
From the same place, is by a stone strucke dead,
Tumbling vpon them logs of wood, and all,
That any way for their defence might sted:
The hills at hand re-echoing with the din,
Of shouts without, and feareful shrikes within.
When all at once the English men assaile,
The French within all valiantly defend,
And in a first assault, if any faile,
They by a second striue it to amend:
Out of the towne come
Crosbowe Arrowes.
quarries thicke as haile;As thicke againe their Shafts the English send:
The bellowing Canon from both sides doth rore,
With such a noyse as makes the thunder poore.
Now vpon one side you shall heare a cry,
And all that Quarter clowded with a smother,
The like from that against it by and by;
As though the one were eccho to the other,
The King and Clarence so their turnes can ply:
And valiant Gloster showes himselfe their brother;
Whose Mynes to the besieg'd more mischiefe do,
Then with th'assaults aboue the other two.
An old man sitting by the fier side,
Decrepit with extreamity of Age,
Stilling his little Grand-childe when it cride,
Almost distracted with the Batteries rage:
Sometimes doth speake it faire, sometimes doth chide
As thus he seekes its mourning to asswage,
By chance a bullet doth the chimney hit,
Which falling in doth kill both him and it.
Whilst the sad weeping Mother sits her downe,
To giue the little new-borne babe the Pap,
A lucklesse quarry leuel [...] Towne,
Kills the sweete baby sleeping in her lap,
That with the fright shee falls into a swoone,
From which awak'd, and mad with this mishap,
As vp a Rrampire shreeking she doth clim,
Comes a great shot, and strikes her lim from lim,
Whilst a sort runne confusedly to quench,
Some Pallace burning, or some fired Street,
Cal'd frō where they were fighting in the Trench:
They in their way with Balls of wild-fire met,
So plagued are the miserable French,
Not aboue head, but also vnder feete,
For the fierce English vowe the Tovvne to take,
Or of it soone a heape of stones to make.
Hot is the siege the English comming on;
As men so long to be kept out that scorne,
Carelesse of wounds as they were made of stone,
As with their teeth the walls they would haue torn:
[Page 31] [...]nto a breach who quickly is not gone,
[...] by the next behinde him ouer-borne:
So that they found a place that gaue them way,
They neuer car'd what danger therein lay.
From euery Quarter they their course might ply,
As't pleas'd the King them to th'assault to call:
Now [...]n the Duke of Yorke the charge doth lye:
To Kent and Cornewall then the turne doth fall:
Then Huntingdon vp to the walles they cry:
Then Suffolke, and then Excester; which all,
In their meane Souldiers habits vs'd to goe,
Taking such part as them that own'd them [...]e,
The men of Harflew rough excursions make,
Vpon the English in their watchfull Tent,
Whose courages they to their cost awake,
With many a wound that often backe them sent,
So proud a Sally that durst vndertake,
And then the Chasepell mell amongst them went,
For on the way such ground of them they win,
That some French are shut out, some English in.
Nor idely sit our men at Armes the while,
Foure thousand Horse that eu'ry day goe out,
And of the Field are Masters many a mile,
By putting the rebellious French to rout,
No peasants them with promises beguile:
Another bus'nesse they were come about;
For him they take, his ransome must redeeme,
Onely French Crownes, the English men esteeme.
Whilst English Henry lastly meanes to trye;
By three vast Mines, the walls to ouerthrow,
The French men their approches that espy,
By countermynes doe meete with them below,
And as opposed in the workes they lye:
Vp the Besieged the besiegers blow,
That stifled quite, with powder as with dust,
Longer to walls they found it vaine to trust.
Till Gaucourt then, and Tuttiuile that were
The townes commanders, (with much perill) find
The Resolution that the English beare;
As how their owne to yeelding were enclinde,
Summon to parly, offring franckly there;
If that ayde came not by a day assignde,
To giue the town vp, might their liues stand freee:
As for their goods, at Henryes will to be.
And hauing wonne their conduct to the King,
Those hardy chiefes on whom the charge had laine▪
Thither those well-fed Burgesles doe bring,
What they had off'red strongly to maintaine,
In such a case, although a dangerous thing,
Yet they so long vpon their knees remaine:
That fiue days respight from his Grant they haue
Which was the most, they (for their liues) durst craue
The time prefixed comming to expire,
And their reliefe ingloriously delay'd,
Nothing within their fight but sword, and fire;
And bloody Ensignes eu'ry where display'd,
[Page 34]The English still within themselues entire,
When all these things they seriously had way'd,
To Henryes mercy found that they must trust,
For they perceiu'd their owne to be vniust.
The Ports are opened, weapons layd aside,
And from the vvalles th'artillery displac'd,
The Armes of England are aduanc'd in pride:
The watch tower, with Saint Georges banner grac'd
Liue England Henry, all the people cry'd:
Into the streets the vvomen run in hast,
Bearing their little children, for whose sake,
They hop'd the King would the more mercy take.
The gates thus widned vvith the breath of vvar;
Their ample entrance to the English gaue.
There was no doore that then had any bar,
For of their owne not any thing they haue:
The King of England entreth Harflew in triumph.
When Henry comes on his Emperiall Carre:
To whom they kneele their liues alone to saue.
Strucken with wonder, when that face they saw,
Wherein such mercy was vvith so much avve.
And first themselues the English to secure,
Doubting what danger might yet be within,
The strongest Forts, and Citadell make sure,
To shovve that they could keepe as vvell as winne,
And though the spoyles them wonderously allure.
To fall to pillage e'r they will beginne,
They shut each passage, by which any power,
Might be brought on to hinder, but an hower.
That Conquering King which entring at the g [...]
Borne by the presie as in the ayre he swamme:
Vpon the suddaine layes aside his state,
And of a Lyon is become a Lambe:
He is not now what he was but of late:
But on his bare feete to the Church he came:
By his example, as did all the presse,
To giue God thanks, for his first good success [...]
And sends his Herauld to King Charles to say,
That though he thus was setled on his shore,
Yet he his Armes was ready downe to lay,
His ancient right if so he would restore;
But if the same he wilfully denay,
To stop th'effusion of their Subiects gore;
Hing Henry offereth to decade his right by single combat.
He frankly off'reth in a single fight,
With the yong Daulphine to decide his right▪
Eight dayes at Harflew he doth stay to heare,
What answere back, his Harauld him would b [...]
But when he found that he was ne'r the neere,
And that the Daulphine meaneth no such thing,
As to fight single; nor that any were
To deale for composition from the King:
He casts for Callice to make foorth his way.
And take such townes as in his iourney lay,
But first his bus'nesse he doth so contriue,
To curbe the Townes-men, should they chanc [...] st [...]
Of Armes, and office, he doth them depriue,
And to their roomes the English doth preferre;
[Page 35] [...]ut of the ports all Vagrants he doth driue,
[...]nd therein sets his Vncle Excester:
This done, to march he bids the thundring Drums,
To scourge proud France when now her conqueror comes.
The King and Daulphine hauing vnderstood,
[...]ow on his way this haughty Henry was,
[...]uer the Soame, which is a dangerous flood;
[...]uckt down the bridges that might giue him passe,
[...]nd euery thing, if fit for humane food,
[...]us'd to be forrag'd; (to a wonderous masse,)
And more then this, his iourneys to fore-slow,
He scarce one day vnskirmish'd with doth goe,
But on his march, in midst of all his foes,
[...]e like a Lyon keeps them all at bay,
[...]nd when they seeme him strictly to inclose;
[...]et through the thick'st he hewes him out a way:
[...]or the proud Daulphine dare him to oppose;
[...]hough off'ring oft his Army to fore-lay:
Nor all the power the enuious French can make,
Force him one foote, his path (but) to forsake.
And each day as his Army doth remoue,
[...]arching along vpon Soams Marshy side,
A f [...]d found in the riuer of Soame.
[...]is men at Armes on their tall Horses proue,
[...]o find some shallow, ouer where to ride,
[...]ut all in vaine against the Streame they stroue,
[...]ill by the helpe of a laborious guide,
A Ford was found to set his Army ore
Which neuer had discouered bene before.
The newes divulg'd that he had waded Soame▪
And safe to shore his Caridges had brought,
Into the Daulphines bosome strooke so home,
And on the weakenesse of King Charles so wrou [...]
That like the troubled Sea, when it doth Foame,
As in a rage, to beate the Rocks to nought;
So doe they storme, and curse on curse they hea [...]
Gainst those which should the passages haue ke [...]
And at that time, both resident in Roan,
Thither for this assembling all the Peeres,
Whose counsailes now must vnder prop their thro [...]
A counsill held at Roan against the King of England.
Against the Foe; which not a man but feares;
Yet in a moment confident are growne,
When with fresh hopes each one his fellow chee [...]
That ere the English to their Callis got,
Some for this spoyle should pay a bloody shot,
Therefore they both in solemne Counsaile sat [...]
With Berry and with Britane their Allies;
Now speake they of this course, and then of that,
As to insnare him how they might deuise;
Something they faine would do, but know not w [...]
At length the Duke Alanzon vp doth rise,
And crauing silence of the King and Lords,
Against the English, brake into these words,
HAd this vnbridled youth an Army led,
A speech of the Duke Alanzon against the English.
That any way were vvorthy of your feare▪
Against our Nation that durst turne the head,
Such as the former English forces were,
[Page 37]This care of yours, your Countrey then might sted,
To tell you then, who longer can forbeare,
That into question you our vallour bring,
To calla counsaile for so poore a thing.
A Route of tatter'd Rascals starued so,
As forced through extremity of need,
To rake for scraps on Dunghils as they goe,
And on the Berries of the Shrubs to feed,
Besides with fluxes are enfeebled so,
And other foule diseases that they breed,
That they disabled are their Armes to sway,
But in their march doe leaue them on the way.
And to our people but a handfull are,
Scarse thirty thousand, when to land they came,
Of which to England dayly some repaire,
Many from Harflew carried sicke and lame,
Fitter for Spittles, and the Surgions care,
Then with their swords on vs to winne them fame,
Vnshod, and without stockings are the best,
And those by Winter miserably opprest.
To let them dye vpon their March abroad,
And foules vpon their Carkaises to feed,
The heapes of them vpon the common road,
A great infection likely were to breed,
For our owne safeties see them then bestow'd,
And doe for them this charitable deed,
Vnder our swords together let them fall,
And on that day they dye be buried all▪
This bold invectiue forc'd against the Foe,
Although it most of the assembly seas'd,
Yet those which better did the English know,
Were but a little with his speeches pleas'd,
And that the Duke of Berry meant to show:
Which when the murmure somewhat was appeas [...]
After a while, their listning silence breakes,
And thus in answere of Alanzon speakes.
MY Liedg, quoth he, & you my Lords & pee [...]
The Duke of Berrys answere to Alanzon.
Whom this great businesse chiefly doth co [...] ce [...]
By my experience, now so many yeres,
To know the English [...] am not to learne,
Nor I more feeling haue of humane feares,
Then fitteth Manhood, or do [...] hope to earne
Suffrage from any; but by zeale am wonne,
To speake my mind here, as the Duke hath do [...]
Th'euents of War are various (as I know,)
And say, the losse vpon the English light,
Yet may a dying man giue such a blow,
As much may hinder his proud conquerours might▪
It is enough our puissant power to showe,
To the weake English, now vpon their flight,
When want, and winter, strongly spurre them [...]
You else but stay them, that would faine be go [...]
I like our Forces their first course should hold▪
To skirmish with them vpon euery stay,
But fight by no means with thē, though they wo [...]
Except they find them forraging for pray,
[Page 39]So still you haue them shut vp in a foold,
And still to Callis keepe them in their way,
So Fabius wearied Haniball, so wee,
May English Henry, if you pleased be.
And of the English rid your Countrey cleane,
If on their backs, but Callis walles they winne,
Whose Frontier Townes you easily may maintaine,
With a strong Army still to keepe them in,
Then let our Ships make good the mouth of Seyne,
And at your pleasure Harflew you may winne,
E [...]e with supplyes againe they can inuade,
[...]pent in the Voyage lately hither made▪
That day at Poyteers, in that bloody Field,
The sudden turne in that great Battell then,
Shall euer teach me, whilst I Armes can weeld,
Neuer to trust to multitudes of men;
[...] was the first day that ere I wore a Shield,
Oh let me neuer see the like agen
Where their Blacke Edward such a Battell won,
As to behold it might amaze the Sunne.
There did I see our conquered Fathers fall,
Before the English on that fatall ground,
When as to ours their number was but small,
And with braue Spirits France ne'r did more abound
[...]et oft that Battaile into minde I call,
Whereas of ours, one man seemd all one wound,
I instance this; yet humbly here submit,
My selfe to fight, if you shall thinke it fit.
The Marshall and the Constable about,
To second, what this sager Duke had sayd:
The youthfull Lords into a cry brake out,
Yong mens counsails ofttimes proue the vtter subuersion both of themselues and others.
Gainst their opinions, so that ouer-sway'd,
Some seeming of their Loyalties to doubt;
Alanzon as an Oracle obey'd,
And not a French then present, but doth sweare
To kill an English, if ynow there were.
A Herault posted presently away,
The King of England to the field to dare,
To bid him cease his spoyle, nor to delay,
The French King sendeth [...]o dare the King of England to Battaile.
Gainst the French power his forces but prepare:
For that King Charles determin'd to display
His bloody Ensignes, and through France declare,
The day and place, that Henry should set dow [...]
In which their Battails, should dispose the cro [...]
The newes to Henry by the Herault brought,
As one dispassion'd soberly (quoth he)
Had your King pleas'd, we son [...]r might haue fou [...]
For now my souldiers much enfeebled bee:
Nor day, nor place, for Battaile shall be sought,
The King of Englands modest answere.
By English Henry: but if he seeke me,
I to my vtmost will my selfe defend,
And to th'Almighties pleasure leaue the end,
The brute of this intended Battaile spred,
The coldnesse of each sleeping courage warmes,
And in the French that daring boldnesse bred:
Like casting Bees that they arise in swarmes,
[...] past that day ne'r more to rise in Armes.
T'ext rpe the name, if possible it were,
At least not after to be heard of there.
As when you see the enuious Crow espie,
[...]omething that she doth naturally detest,
A Simily of the rising of the French.
[...]ith open throat how she doth squall and cry,
[...]nd from the next Groue she doth call the rest,
[...]nd they for those beyond them bawling flye,
[...]ll their foule noyse doe all the ayre infest:
Thus French, the French to this great Battaile call,
Vpon their swords to see the English fall.
And to the King when seriously one told,
[...]ith what an host he should encountred be,
[...]m noting well, the King did him behold,
Dauid Ga [...] a great Captaine in that Warre.
[...] the reporting; Merrily (quoth hee).
[...]y Liedge I'le tell you if I may be bold,
[...]e will diuide this Army into three,
One part we'll kill, the second prisoners stay,
And for the third, we'll leaue to runne away.
But for the Foe came hourely in so fast,
[...]st they his Army should disordred take;
[...]e King who wisely doth the worst forecast,
[...]s speedy march doth presently forsake,
[...]o such forme and his Battalion cast;
[...]t doe their worst, they should not eas'ly shake;
For that his scouts which Forrag'd had the coast,
Bad him at hand expect a puissant Host▪
On which ere long the English Vauward light,
The Duke of Yorke.
Which Yorke, of men the brauest doth command,
When either of them in the others sight,
He caus'd the Army instantly to stand,
As though preparing for a present fight,
And rideth foorth from his couragious Band,
To view the French, whose numbers ouer spread
The troubled countrey on whose earth they tre [...]
Now were both Armies got vpon that ground
As on a stage, where they their strengths must try
Whence from the wydth of many a gaping wou [...]
Ther's many a soule into the ayre must fly,
Meane while the English that some ease had found,
By the aduantage of a Village nie,
There set them downe the Battell to abide,
When they the place had strongly fortiside,
Made drunk with pride the haughty French dis [...]
The French scorning the English being so few in respect of their mighty power.
Lesse then their owne, a multitude to view,
Nor aske of God, the victory to gaine,
Vpon the English wext so poore and few,
To stay their slaughter thinking it a paine,
And lastly to that insolence they grew,
Quoyts, Lots, and Dice for Englishmen to cast,
And sweare to pay the Battaile being past.
For knots of corde to eu'ry towne they send,
The Captiu'd English that they caught to bind,
For to perpetuall slau'ry they intend:
Those that aliue they on the Field, should find,
[Page 43] [...]o much as that they fear'd lest they should spend,
[...]oo many English wherefore they assignd,
Some to keep [...] fast those, faine that would be gon,
After the Fight, to try their Armes vpon.
One his bright sharp edg'd Semiter doth showe,
Off'ring to lay a thousand crownes (in pride)
[...]hat he two naked English at one blowe,
[...]ound backe to backe will at the wasts diuide,
[...]ome bett his sword will do't, some others no,
[...]fter the Battaile, and they'll haue it tride:
Another wafts his Blade about his head,
And shews them how their hāstrings he will shread
They part their prisoners, passing them for debt,
[...]nd in their Ransome ra [...]ibly accord,
[...]o a Prince of ours, a Page of theirs they set,
[...]nd a French Lacky to an English Lord,
[...]s for our Gentry them to hyre they'll let,
[...]nd as good cheape as they can them afford,
Branded for slaues, that if they hapt to stray,
Knowne by the marke, them any one might stay.
And cast to make a Chariot for the King,
[...]ainted with Antickes, and ridiculous toyes,
[...] which they meane to Paris him to bring,
[...]o make sport to their Madames, and their boyes,
[...]nd will haue Rascalls, Rimes of him to sing,
[...]de in his mock'ry; and in all these ioyes,
They bid the Bells to ring, and people cry,
Before the Battaile, France and Victory.
And to the King and Daulphine sent away.
(Who at that time residing were in Roane)
To be partakers of that glorious day:
Wherein the English should be ouerthrowne,
Lest that of them ensuing dayes should say;
That for their safety they forsooke their owne,
When France did that braue victory obtaine,
That shall her lasting'st Monument remaine.
The poore distressed Englishmen the whiles,
Not dar'd by doubt, and lesse appaul'd by dread,
Of their Arm'd pikes, some sharpning are the pyle
The Archer grinding his barb'd Arrow head:
Their Bils & blades, some whetting are with File
And some their Armours strongly Reuited,
Some poynting stakes to sticke into the groun [...]
To guard the Bow-men, & their Horse to woun [...]
The night fore-running this most dreadfull da [...]
The French that all to iollity incline;
Some fall to dancing, some againe to play:
The ryot in the French Campe the night before the Battell.
And some are drinking to this great Designe:
But all in pleasure spent the night away,
The tents with lights, the fields with bon-fires shi [...]
The common Souldiers free-mens catches sing [...]
With shouts and laughter al the Camp doth ri [...]
The wearied English watchfull o'r their Foes,
(The depth of night then drawing on so fast,
That faine a little would themselues repose,
With thankes to God, doe take that small repast,
[Page 45]Which that poore Village willingly bestowes:
Pondering in hu thoughts hu Fathers comming to the crowne by deposing of the rightfull King. Henry the fift caused the body of King Richard to be taken vp, where it was meanly buried at Langly, and to be layd in Westminster by his first. Wife, Queene Anne.
And hauing plac'd their Sentinels at last,
They fall to prayer, and in their Cabins blest,
T'refresh their spirits, then tooke them to their rest
In his Pauillion Princely HENRY lay'd,
Whilst all his Army round about him slept:
His restlesle head vpon his Helmet stay'd,
For carefull thoughts his eyes long waking kept:
Great God (quoth he) withdraw not now thy ayde,
Nor let my Father HENRIES sinnes be heapt
On my transgressions, vp the Summe to make,
For which thou may'st me vtterly forsake.
King Richards wrongs to mind, Lord do not call,
Nor how for him my Father did offend,
From vs alone deriue not thou his fall,
Whose odious life caus'd his vntimely end,
That by our almes be expiated all:
Let not that sinne on me his Sonne descend,
When as his body I translated haue,
And buried in an honourable graue.
These things thus pondring, sorrow-ceasing sleep,
From cares to rescue his much troubled mind,
Vpon his Eye-lids stealingly doth creepe,
And in soft slumbers euery sense doth blind,
(As vndisturbed euery one to keepe)
When as that Angell to whom God assign'd,
The guiding of the English, gliding downe,
The silent campe doth with fresh courage crown.
His glittering wings he gloriously displayes,
Ouer the [...]ost as euery way it lyes,
With [...]olden Dreames their trauell, and repayes,
This Herault from the Rector of the skies,
In Vision wa [...]nes them not to vse delayes,
But to the Battell cheerefully to rise,
And be victorious for that day at hand,
He would amongst them for the English stand.
The dawne scarse drew the curtaines of the East▪
But the late wearied Englishmen awake,
And much refreshed with a little rest,
Themselues soone ready for the Battaile make,
Not any one but feeleth in his breast,
That sprightly fire which courage bids him take,
For cre the Sunne next rising went to bed,
The French by them in triumph should be led,
And from their Cabins, ere the French arose,
(Drown'd in the pleasure of the passed night)
The English cast their Battailes to dispose,
Fit' or the ground whereon they were to fight:
Foorth that braue King couragious Henry goes,
An hower before that it was fully light,
The great are of a wise [...]nd p [...]litike aptaine.
To see if there might any place be found,
To giue his Host aduantage by the ground.
Where twas his hap a Quickset hedge to view,
Well growne in heigh; and for his purpose thin,
Yet by the Ditch vpon whose banke it grew,
He found it to be difficult to winne,
[Page 47] [...]specially if those of his were true,
[...]mongst the shrubs that he should set within,
By which he knew their strēgth of horse must come
If they would euer charge his Vanguard home.
And of three hundred Archers maketh choice,
This S [...]rat [...] gem the ouerthrow of the French.
Some to be taken out of euery Band,
The strongest Bowmen▪ by the generall voyce,
Such as beside were valiant of their hand,
And to be so imployed, as would reioyce,
Appointing them behind the hedge to stand,
To shrowd themselues from sight, and to be mute,
Vntill a signall freely bad them shoote.
The game some Larke now got vpon her Wing,
As twere the English early to awake,
And to wide heauen her cheerefull notes doth sing,
As she for them would intercession make,
Nor all the noyse that from below doth spring,
Her ayrie walke can force her to forsake,
Of some much noted, and of others lesse,
But yet of all presaging good successe.
The lazie French their leisure seeme to take,
And in their Cabins keepe themselues so long,
Till flocks of Rauens them with noyse awake,
Ouer the Army like a cloud that hong,
Which greater hast inforceth them to make,
When with their croaking all the Country rong,
Which boaded flaughter as the most doe say,
But by the French it turned was this way.
That this diuining Foule well vnderstood,
The French mis-interpre [...] the flight of Rauens [...]ouering ouer there owre [...]
Vpon that place much gore was to be spill'd,
And as those Birds doe much delight in blood,
With humane flesh would haue their gorges fill'd,
So waited they vpon their swords for food,
To feast vpon the English being kil'd,
Then little thinking that these came indeed,
On their owne mangled Carkases to feed.
When soone the French preparing for the Field,
Their Armed troupes are setting in array,
Whose wondrous numbers they can hardly weeld,
The place too little whereupon they lay,
They therefore to necessity must yeeld,
And into order put them as they may.
Whose motion sounded like to Nilus fall,
That the Vast ayre was deafned therewithall,
The Constable, and admirall of France,
With the grand Marshall, men of great command▪
The Dukes of Burbon, and of Orleance,
Som for their place, some for their birth-right stand,
The Daulphine of Auerney (to aduance,
His worth and honour) of a puissant hand:
The Earle of Ewe in Warre that had bene bred,
These mighty men the mighty Vauward led.
The maine brought forward by the Duke of Bar▪
[...] Marshal [...] of the [...]ch Ar [...]y▪ [...]ontai [...]g three [...].
Neuers and Beamont, men of speciall name,
Alan Zon thought, not equall'd in this Warre,
With them Salines, Rous, and Grandpre came,
[Page 49] [...]heir long experience, who had fetcht from farre,
Whom this expected Conquest doth enflame,
Consisting most of Crosbowes, and so great,
As France her selfe it well might seeme to threat.
The Duke of Brabant of high valour knowne,
[...]he Earles of Marle, and Faconbridge the Reare,
[...]o Arthur Earle of Richmount's selfe alone,
[...]hey leaue the right wing to be guided there:
Lewes of Burbon, second yet to none,
[...]ed on the left; with him that mighty Peere
The Earle of Ʋandome, who of all her men,
Large France entytled, her great Master then.
The Duke of Yorke the English Vauward guides,
The Marshal ling of the English Army containing fiue Stanzaes.
Of our strong Archers, that consisted most;
Which with our horse was wing'd on both the sides,
[...]affront so great and terrible an host;
[...]here valiant Fanhope, and there Beamont rides,
With Willoughby which scowred had the Coast,
That morning early, and had seene at large,
How the Foe came, that then they were to charge,
Henry himselfe, on the mayne battell brings,
Nor can these Legions of the French affright,
This Mars of men, this King of earthly Kings:
Who seem'd to be much pleased with the sight,
As one ordayn'd t'accompish mighty things;
Who to the field came in such brau'ry dight:
As to the English boades succesfull lucke,
Before one stroke, on either side was strucke.
In Warlike State the Royall Standard borne,
The brauery of King Henryes ow [...]e Person.
Before him as in splendrous Armes he road,
Whilst his coruetting Courser seem'd in scorne,
To touch the earth whereon he proudly troad;
Lillyes and Lyons quarterly adorne,
His shield, and his Caparison doe load:
Vpon his Helme a crowne with Diamonds dec [...]
Which through the field, their Radient fires ref [...]e [...]
The Duke of Glocester neere to him agen,
T'assist his Brother in that dreadfull day,
Oxford, and Suffolke both true Marshall men,
Ready to keepe the battell in Array,
To Excester there was appointed then,
The Reare; on which their second succours lay,
Which were the youth most of the Noblest blo [...]
Vnder the Ensignes of their names that stood.
Then of the stakes he doth the care commend,
To certaine troupes that actiue were and strong,
Onely deuis'd the Archers to defend,
Poynted with Iron and of fiue foote long,
To be remou'd still which way they should bend,
Wher the French horse shold thick'st vpō thē thro [...]
Which when the host to charge each other went▪
Show'd his great wit that first did them inuent.
Both armies fit, and at the point to fight,
The French assuring of themselues the day,
The scornfull message of the French to the King of England▪
Send to the King of England (as in spight,)
To know what he would for his Ransome pay,
[Page 51]Who with this answere doth their scorne requite:
The Kings answer to the French.
[...]pray thee Herault wish the French to stay,
And e'r the day be past, I hope to see.
That for their Ransomes they shall send to mee.
The French which found how little Henry makes
[...]f their vaine boasts, as set therewith on fire,
Whilst each one to his Ensigne him betakes,
The Constables Oration to the French
[...]he Constable to raise his spleene the hyer,
[...]hus speaks: Braue friēds, now for your Grandsires saks,
[...]our countrys honor, or what may inspire,
Your souls with courage, strain vp all your power
To make this day victoriously ours.
Forward stout French, your vallours and aduance,
[...]y taking vengeance for our Fathers slaine,
[...]nd strongly fixe the Diadem of France,
Which to this day vnstead [...] doth remaine:
Now with your swords their Traitors bosoms lance
[...]nd with their bloods wash out that ancient staine,
And make our earth drunke with the English gore,
Which hath of ours oft surfetted before,
Let not one liue in England once to tell,
[...]hat of their King, or of the rest became:
Nor to the English what in France befell,
But what is bruted by the generall fame:
But now the Drums began so loud to yell,
As cut off further what he would declame:
And Henry seeing them on so fast to make,
Thus to his Souldiers comfortably spake.
THinke but vpon the iustnesse of our cause,
The King of Englands Oration [...]o the English.
And he's no man their number that will w [...]
Thus our great Grandsire purchas'd his applause
The more they are, the greater is our prey,
We'll hand in hand wade into dangers iawes,
And let report to England this conuey
That it for me no ransome e'r shall rayse,
Either Il'e Conquer, or here end my dayes,
It were no glory for vs to subdue▪
Them, then our number, were the French no mo [...]
When in one battaile twice our Fathers flew,
Three times so many as themselues before,
But to doe something that were strange and new▪
Wherefore (I aske you) Came we to this shore▪
Vpon these French our Fathers wan renow [...]
And with their swords we'l hew yan forrest d [...]
The meanest Souldier if in fight hee take,
The greatest Prince in yonder Army knowne,
Without controule shall him his prisoner make,
And haue his ransome freely as his owne:
Now, English, lyes our honour at the stake,
And now or neuer be our valour showne:
God & our cause, Saint George for England sta [...]
Now charge them English, fortune guide yo [...] ha [...]
When hearing one wish all the valiant men,
The high [...] of the King of England.
At home in England, with them present were,
The King makes answere instantly againe,
I would not haue one man more then is here:
[Page 53] [...]e subdue, lesse should our praise be then:
[...]euer come, lesse losse shall England beare:
And to our numbers we should giue that deed,
Which must from Gods own powerfull hand proceed.
The dreadful charge the drums & trumpets sound
With hearts exalted, though with humbled eyes,
When as the English kneeling on the ground,
Extend the [...]r hands vp to the glorious skies,
Then from the earth as though they did rebound:
[...]iue as fire immediatly they rise:
And such a shrill shoute from their thr [...]ats they sent,
As made the French to stagger as they went.
Wherwith they stopt, when Erpingham which led
Sir Thomas Erpingham gaue the signall to the English.
[...]e Army, saw, the shout had made them stand,
[...]ting his warder thrice about his head,
[...]e cast it vp with his auspitious hand,
[...]hich was the signall through the English spread,
[...]hat they should charge: which as a dread cōmand,
Made them rush on, yet with a second rore,
Frighting the French worse then they did before,
But when they saw the enemy so slowe,
[...]hich they expected faster to come on,
[...]e scattering shot they sent out as to showe,
[...] their approach they onely stood vpon,
[...]hich with more feruour made their rage [...]o glow,
[...] much disgrace that they had vnder-gone,
Which to amend with Ensignes let at large,
Vpon the English furiously they charge,
At the full Moone looke how th'vnweldy Tyde▪
A Simily of the French charging the English.
Shou'd by some Tempest that from Sea doth rise,
At the full height, against the ragged side,
Of some rough Cliffe (of a Giganticke sise)
Foming with rage impetuously doth ride,
The angry French (in no lesse furious wise)
Of men at Armes vpon their ready Horse,
Assayle the English to disperse their force.
When as those Archers there in ambush layd,
Hauing their broad side as they came along,
With their barb'd Arrows the French Horses pay▪
And in their [...]lankes like cruell Hornets stong:
The three hundred Ar [...]h [...]rs lay a in ambush, disorder the French men [...] Armes at the first encounter.
They kick and cry, of late that proudly nay de:
And from their seates their Armed riders flong,
They ranne together flying from the Dike,
And make their riders one another strike.
And whilst the front of the French vanguard ma [...]
Vpon the English thinking them to Route,
Their Horses runne vpon the Armed stakes,
And being wounded turne themselues about,
The bit into his teeth the Courser takes,
And from his Ranke flyes with his Master out,
Who either hurts or is hurt of his owne,
If in the throng not both together throwne.
Tumbling on heapes, some of their Horses cast▪
With their foure feete all vp into the ayre,
Vnder whose backs their Masters breath their last▪
Soe breake their rains, and thence their riders b [...]
[Page 55] [...]ome with their feete sticke in the stirrups fast,
[...]y their fierce Iades and trayled here and there,
Entangled in their bridles, one backe drawes,
And pluckes the bit out of anothers iawes,
With showers of shafts yet still the English ply,
[...]he French so fast vpon the poynt of flight,
[...]ith the mayne Battell yet stood Henry by,
[...]or all this while had medled in the fight,
[...]pon the Horses as in chase they fly,
[...]rowes so thicke, in such abundance light,
[...]hat their broad buttocks men like buts might see,
Whereat for pastime bow-men shooting bee.
When soone De Lannies and Sureres hast,
[...]ayde their friends put to this shamefull foyle,
Two wings of French horse defeated.
[...]ith two light wings of Horse which had beene plac't,
[...]ill to supply where any should recoyle,
[...]t yet their forces they but vainely waste,
[...]r being light into the generall spoyle,
Great losse De Linnies shortly doth sustaine,
Yet scapes himselfe; but braue Surreres slaine.
The King who sees how well his Vanguard sped,
[...]ds his command that instantly it stay,
[...]esiring Yorke so brauely that had led,
[...] hold his souldiours in their first array,
[...]r it the Conflict very much might sted,
[...]mewhat to fall aside, and giue him way,
Till full vp to him he might bring his power,
And make the Conquest compleat in an hower.
Which Yorke obayes, and vp King Henry comes,
When for his guidance he had got him roome,
The dreadful bellowing of whose straitbracd dru [...]
The English Va [...]ard and [...] Bas [...]e charge [...]he French [...] at [...].
To the French sounded like the dreadfull doome,
And them with such stupidity benummes,
As though the earth had groaned from her wombe,
For the grand slaughter ne'r began till then,
Couering the earth with multitudes of men.
Vpon the French what Englishman not falls,
(By the strong Bow-men beaten from their stee [...]
With Battle-axes, Halbers, Bils, and Maules.
Where, in the slaughter euery one exceeds,
Where euery man his fellow forward calls,
And showes him where some great born French [...] bleed [...]
Whilst Scalps about like broken pot-sherds fly,
And kill, kill, kill, the Conquering English cry.
Now wexed horror to the very height,
And scarse a man but wet-shod went in gore,
As two together are in deadly fight,
And to death wounded, as one tumbleth ore,
This Frenchman falling, with his very weight,
Doth kill another strucken downe before,
As he againe so falling, likewise feeles,
His last breath hastned by anothers heeles,
And whilst the English eagerly pursue,
The fearefull French before them still that fly,
The points of Bils and Halberts they imbrue
In their sicke bowels, beaten downe that lye,
[Page 57] [...]o man respects how, or what blood he drew,
[...]or can heare those that for their mercy cry,
[...]ares are damn'd vp with howles & hellish sounds,
One fearefull noyse, a fearefuller confounds,
When the couragious Constable of France,
Charles de [...] Constable of F [...]
[...]h'vnluckly Vanguard valiantly that led,
[...]we the day turn'd by this disastrous chance,
[...]nd how the French before the English fled;
[...] stay (quoth he) your Ensignes yet aduance,
[...]nce more vpon the enemy make head:
Neuer let France say, we were vanquisht so,
With our backs basely turn'd vpon our Foe,
Whom the Chattillyon hapned to accost,
The A [...]
[...]d seeing thus the Constable dismayd:
[...]ift Noble Lord (quoth he) the day is lost,
[...]the whole world vpon the match were layd,
[...]cannot thinke but that Blacke Edwards Ghost,
[...]ists the English, and our Horse hath frayde,
If not, some Deuils they haue with them then,
That fight against vs in the shapes of men.
Not I my Lord, the Constable replies:
[...] my best soule, the field I will not quit:
[...]hilst two braue Battailes are to bring supplies,
[...]ither of which one stroke haue strucken yet,
[...]y (quoth Dampier) I doe not this aduise,
[...]re then your selfe, that I doe feare a whit:
Spurre vp my Lord, then side to side with mee,
And that I feare not you shall quickly see.
They strucke their Rowels to the bleeding sid [...]
Of their fierce▪ Steeds into the ayre that sprong▪
And as their fury at that instant guides:
They thrust themselues into th [...] murth'ring thro [...]
Where such bad fortune these braue Lords betide [...]
The Admirall from off his Horse was stong,
Th [...] A [...]mi [...]all fl [...]
For the sterne English downe before them beere
All that withstand, the Peasant and the Peere.
Which when the Noble Constable with griefe
Doth this great Lord vpon the ground behold,
In his account so absolute a Chiefe▪
Whose death through France he knew would bee condo [...]
Like a braue Knight to yeeld his friend reliefe,
Doing as much as possibly hee could,
Both Horse and man is borne into the mayne▪
And from his friend not halfe a furlong flaine.
The Constable flaine.
Now Wil [...]ough by vpon his well-Arm'd Horse,
Into the midst of this Battalion brought,
And valiant Fanhope no whitlesse in force,
Himselfe hath thither through the squadrons ra [...]
Whereas the English without all remorce,
(Looking like men that deepely are distraught)
Smoking with sweat, besmear'd with dust & b [...]
Cut into Cantles all that them withstood.
Yet whilst thus hotely they hold vp the Cha [...]
Vpon the French, and had so high a hand▪
The Duke of Burbon to make good his place▪
Inforc'd his troupes (with much adoe) to stand▪
[Page 59]To whom the Earle of Suffolke makes apace,
Bringing a fresh and yet vnfought-with band:
Of valiant Bill-men, Oxford with successe,
Vp with his Troupes doth with the other presse.
When in comes Orleance; quite thrust off before,
By those rude crowdes that from the English ran,
Encouraging stout Burbons Troupes the more,
[...]'affront the Foe that instantly began:
[...]aine would the Duke (if possible) restore,
[...]Doing as much as could bee done by man)
Their Honour lost, by this their last defeate,
And caused onely by their base Retreat,
Their men at Armes their Lances closely locke,
One in another, and come vp so round,
That by the strength and horrour of the shocke,
They forc't the English to forsake their ground,
[...]hrinking no more then they had bene a Rocke,
Though by the shafts receiuing many a wound,
As they would show, that they were none of those
That turn'd their backs so basely to their Foes.
Panting for breath his Murrian in his hand,
[...]oodhouse comes in as backe the English beare,
The [...]ag [...] of Woodhouse remark [...]able.
My Lords (quoth he) what now inforc't to stand,
When smiling Fortune offereth vs so faire,
[...]he Frenchly yonder like to wreakes of sand,
[...]nd you by this our glory but impaire:
Or now, or neuer, your first fight maintaine,
Chattillion and the Constable are flaine.
Hand ouer head pell mell vpon them ronne,
If you will prooue the Masters of the day,
Ferrers and Greystocke haue so brauely done,
That I enuy their glory, and dare say,
From all the English they the Gole haue wonne,
Either let's share, or they'll beare all away,
This spoke, his Axe about his head he flings,
And hasts away, as though his heeles had win [...]
The Incitation of this youthfull Knight,
Besides amends for their retrayte to make,
Doth re-enforce their courage, with their might,
A second charge with speed to vndertake;
Neuer before were they so mad to fight,
When valiant Fanhope thus the Lords be spake,
Suffolke, and Oxford as braue Earles you be,
Once more beare vp with Willoughby and me.
Why now, me think's I heare braue Fanhope sp [...]
Quoth noble Oxford, thou hast thy desire,
These words of thine shall yan battalion breake,
And for my selfe I neuer will retire,
Vntill our Teene vpon the French we wreake,
Or in this our last enterprise expire:
This spoke, their Gauntlets each doth other g [...]
And to the charge as fast as they can driue,
That slaughter seem'd to haue but stayd for [...] de [...]
To make the horrour to insue the more,
With hands be smear'd with blood when meager
Looketh more grisly then he did before,
[Page 61] [...]o that each body seem'd but as a sheath,
[...]o put their swords in to the Hilts in gore:
As though that instant were the end of all,
To fell the French or by the French to fall.
Looke how you see a field of standing Corne,
A Simily [...] the appearance of the Battell.
When some strong wind in Summer haps to blow,
[...]t the full height, and ready to be shorne,
Rising in waues, how it doth come and goe,
Forward and backward so the crowds are borne,
Or as the Edie turneth in the flow,
And aboue all the Bils and Axes play,
As doe the Attom's in the Sunny ray.
Now with mayne blowes their Armours ore vnbras'd,
And as the French before the English fled,
With their brown Bils their recreāt backs they bast
And from their shoulders their faint armes do shred,
One with a gleaue neere cut off by the waste,
Another runnes to ground with halfe a head:
Another stumbling falleth in his flight,
Wanting a legge, and on his face doth light.
The Duks who found their force thus ouerthrown,
And those few left them ready still to route,
Hauing great skill, and no les [...]e courage showne;
Yet of their safeties much began to doubt,
For hauing few about them of their owne,
And by the English so impal'd about,
Saw that to some one they themselues must yeeld,
Or else abide the fury of the field
They put themselues on those victorious Lord
The Duke of Burben and [...]ri [...]ance to [...] prisoners.
Who led the Vanguard with so good successe,
Bespeaking them with honourable wordes,
Themselues their prisoners freely and confesse,
Who by the strength of their commanding sword [...]
Could hardly saue them from the slaught'ring pre [...]
By Suffolkes ayde till they away were sent,
Who with a Guard conuayd them to his Tent.
When as their Souldiers to eschew the sacke,
Gainst their owne Battell beating in their flight,
By their owne French are strongly beaten backe:
Lest they their Ranks, should haue disord'red quig [...]
So that those men at Armes goe all to wracke.
Twixt their own friends & those with whom the [...] fig [...]
Wherein disorder and destruction seem'd,
To striue, which should the powerfullest be d [...]em' [...]
And whilst the Daulphine of Auerney cryes,
[...] of some Guis [...]ard the Daulphine of A [...]ag [...]n.
Stay men at Armes, let Fortune doe her worst,
And let that Villane from the field that flies,
By Babes yet to be borne, be euer curst:
All vnder Heauen that we can hope for, lyes
On this dayes battell, let me be the first,
That turn'dye backe vpon your desperate Foe [...]
To saue our Honours, though our liues we lose.
To whom comes in the Earle of Ewe, which long
Had in the Battaile ranged here and there,
A thousand Bills, a thousand Bowes among,
And had seene many spectacles of feare,
[Page 63]And finding yet the Daulphins spirit so strong,
By that which he had chancd from him to heare,
Vpon the shoulder claps him▪ Prince quoth he,
Since I must fall, Oh let me fall with thee.
Scarse had he spoke, but th'English them inclose,
And like to Mastiues fiercely on them flew,
Who with like courage strongly them oppose,
When the Lord Beamont, who their Armings knew,
Their present perill to braue Suffolke shewes,
Quoth he, lo where Dauerney are and Ewe,
In this small time, who since the Field begun,
Haue done as much, as can by men be done.
Now slaughter ceaze me, if I doe not grieue,
Two so braue Spirits should be vntimely slaine,
Lies there no way (my Lord) them to releeue,
And for their Ransomes two such to retaine:
Quoth Suffolke, come, weele hazzard their repreeue,
And share our Fortunes, in they goe amaine,
And with such dāger through the presse they wade
As of their liues but small account they made.
Yet ere they through the clustred clouds could get
Oft downe on those, there trod to death that lay,
The valiant Daulphine had discharg'd his debt,
The Daulphine of Auerney slaine. The Earle [...] Ewe taken prisoner.
Then whom no man had brauelier seru'd that day,
The Earle of Ewe, and wondrous hard beset:
Had left all hope of life to scape away:
Till Noble Beamont and braue Suffolke came,
And as their prisoner seas'd him by his name.
Now the maine Battaile of the French came on▪
The Vauward vanquisht, quite the field doth fly,
And other helpes besides this, haue they none,
But that their hopes doth on their mayne rely,
And therefore now it standeth them vpon,
To fight it brauely, or else yeeld, or dye:
For the fierce English Charge so home and sort▪
As in their hands Ioues thunderbolts they bore.
The Duke of Yorke who since their fight begun
The Duke of Yorke slaine.
Still in the top of all his troopes was seene,
And things well-neere beyond beleefe had done,
Which of his fortune, made him ouer weene,
Himselfe so farre into the maine doth runne,
So that the French which quickly got betweene
Him and his succours, that great Chieftaine slue
Who brauely fought whilst any breath he drew.
The newes soone brought to this couragious King
Orespred his face with a distempred Fire,
The King [...] of the Duk of Yorks [...].
Though making little shew of any thing,
Yet to the full his eyes exprest his Ire,
More then before the Frenchmen menacing,
And hee was heard thus softly to respire:
Well, of thy blood reuenged will I bee,
The Kings solution.
Or ere one houre be past Ile follow thee.
When as the frolike Caualry of France,
That in the Head of the maine Battaile cam [...]
Perceiu'd the King of England to aduance,
To charge in person; it doth them inflame,
[Page 65] [...]ch one well hoping it might be his chance,
[...] sease vpon him, which was all their ayme,
Then with the brauest of the English met,
Themselues that there before the King had set,
When th'Earle of Cornewall with vnusuall force,
The bloody scuffle betweene the French and English, at the ioyning of the two maine Battailes in fiue S [...]anzaes.
[...]counters Grandpre (next that came to hands)
[...] strength his equall, blow for blow they scorce,
[...]eelding their Axes as they had bene wands,
[...]ll the Earle tumbles Grandpre from his Horse▪
[...]er whom strait the Count Salines stands,
And lendeth Cornewall such a blow withall▪
Ouer the crupper that he makes him fall▪
Cornewall recouers, for his Armes were good,
[...]d to Saline▪ maketh vp againe,
[...]ho chang'd such boy strous buffers, that the blood
[...]th through the ioints of their strong Armor strain
[...] Count Salines sunke downe where he stood▪
[...]mount who sees the Count Salines slaine,
[...]traight copes with Cornewal beaten out of breath
[...] Till Kent comes in, and rescues him from death.
Kent vpon Blamount furiously doth fly,
[...] at the Earle with no lesse courage strucke,
[...]d one the other with such knocks they ply,
[...]at eithers Axe in th'others Helmets stucke,
[...]hilst they are wrastling, crossing thigh with thigh
[...]eir Axes pikes, which soonest out should plucke:
They fal to ground like in their Casks to smother,
With their clutcht Gantlets [...]uffing one another.
Couragious [...]l [...]e [...] grieued at the sight,
Called Cl [...]e [...] of Brabant.
Of his friend Blamounts vnexpected fall,
Makes in to lend him all the ayde he might;
Whose cōming seem'd the stout Lord Soales to cal [...]
Betwixt whom then began a mortall fight,
When instantly fell in Sir Phillip Hall,
Gainst him goes Roussy, in then Louell ran,
Whom next Count Morveyle chuseth as his m [...]
Their Curates are vnreuited with blowes,
With Horrid wounds their breasts and faces slas [...]
There drops a cheeke, and there falls off a nose,
And in ones face his fellowes braines are dasht;
Yet still the better with the English goes.
The earth of France with her owne blood is wash [...]
They fall so fast, she scarce affords them roome [...]
That one mans trunke becomes anothers tom [...]
When Suffolke chargeth Huntingdon with slo [...]
The Earle of Suffolke chargeth the Earle of Huntington with brea [...]h of promise.
Ouer himselfe too wary to haue bin,
And had neglected his fast plighted troth,
Vpon the Field, the Battaile to begin,
That where the one was, there they would be both [...]
When the stout Earle of Huntingdon, to win,
Trust with his friends; doth this himselfe inlar [...]
To this great Earle who dares him thus to charg [...]
My Lord (quoth he) it is not that I feare,
More then your selfe, that so I haue not gone;
But that I haue beene forced to bee neare,
The King, whose person I attend vpon,
[Page 67] [...]d that I doubt not but to make appeare,
[...]ow, if occasion shall but call me on;
Looke round about my Lord, if you can see,
Some braue aduenture worthy you and me.
See yan proud Banner of the Duke of Barres,
A desp [...] attempt by the Earle of Huntingdon.
[...] think'st it wasts vs, and I heare it say,
[...]her's that couragious Englishman that dares,
[...] enture, but to carry me away,
[...]is were a t [...]ing now worthy of our warres;
[...] true, quoth Suffolke, by this blessed day,
On, and weele haue it, sayst thou so indeed,
Quoth Huntingdon, then Fortune be our speed,
[...]nd through the rancks then rushing in their pride
[...]ey make a Lan [...]; about them so they lay,
[...]ote goes with foote, and side is ioynde to side,
[...]ey strike downe all that stand within their way,
[...]d to direct them, haue no other guide,
[...] as they see the multitude to sway;
And as they passe, the French as to defie,
Saint George for England and the King they cry,
By their examples, each braue English blood,
One braue [...] pl [...]ie [...] begerteth another?
[...] the Frenchmen for their Ensignes runne,
[...]e there as trees within a well-growne wood;
[...]ere great Atchieuements instantly were done,
[...]inst them roughly whilst that Nation stood,
[...]ô what man his destinie can shunne,
That Noble Suffolke there is ouerthrowne,
The Earle of Suffolk [...]
[...]hen [...]e much vallour sundry wayes had showne.
Which the proud English further doth pro [...]
Who to destruction bodily were bent,
That the maine battaile instantly they broke,
Vpon the French so furiously they went,
And not an English but doth scorne a stroake,
The English kill she French with their owne Weapons.
If to the ground it not a Frenchman sent,
Who weak with wounds, their weapons frō th [...] thr [...]
With which the English fearefully them slew.
Alanzon backe vpon the Reareward borne,
By those vnarm'd that from the English fled,
All further hopes them vtterly forlorne,
His Noble heart in his full bosome bled,
VVhat fate, quoth he, our ouerthrow hath sworne
Must France a prisoner be to England led,
VVell, if she be so, yet Ile let her see,
Shee beares my carkasse with her, and not me.
And puts his Horse vpon his full Careere,
When with the courage of a valiant Knight,
(As one that knew not, or forgot to feare,)
He tow'rds King Henry maketh in the fight,
And all before him as he downe doth beare,
Vpon the Duke of Glocester doth light:
Which on the youthfull Chiualry doth brin [...]
Scarse two piks length that came before the [...]
Their Staues both strongly reuetted with s [...]
The Duke of Glocester [...] [...] by the Duke of Alanzon.
At the first stroke each other they astound,
That as they staggering from each other reele▪
The Duke of Glocester falleth to the ground,
[...]hinking to lend him his last deadly wound,
In comes the King, his brother [...] life to saue,
And to this braue Duke a fresh on▪ set gaue.
When as themselues like thunderbolts they shot,
One at the other, and the lightning brake
Out of their Helmets, and againe was not,
[...]'r of their stroake the eare a sound could take,
[...]etwixt them two, the conflict grew so hot,
[...]hich those about them so amaz'd doth make,
That they stood still as wondring at the [...]ight,
And quite forgot that they themselues must fight
Vpon the King Alanzon prest so sore,
[...]hat with a stroke (as he was wondrous strong)
The King of England in dan [...]e [...] to be slan [...] by the Duke of Alanzon.
[...]e c [...]eft the Crowne which on his Helme he wore,
[...]nd tore his Plume that to his heeles it hong:
[...]hen with a second brus'd his Helme before,
[...]hat it his forehead pitifully wrung:
As some that saw it certainely had thought,
[...]he King therewith had to the ground bin brought
But Henry soone Alanzons Ire to quit,
[...]s now his valour lay vpon the Racke)
Alanzon betten downe by the King of England.
[...]on'th face the Duke so strongly hit,
[...] in his Saddle layd him on his backe,
[...]d once perceluing that be had him split,
[...]llow'd his blowes redoubling thwack on thwack
[...] Till [...]e had lost his stirrups, and his head
Hung where his Horse was like thereon to tread.
When soone two other seconding their Lord,
The King kil le [...]o two Gentlemen that aduenture to [...]resene the Duke.
His kind companions in this glorious prize,
Hoping againe the Duke to haue restor'd
If to his feet his Armes would let him rise:
On the Kings Helme their height of fury scor'd;
Who like a Dragon fiercely on them flies,
And on his body slew them both, whilst he,
Recouering was their ayde againe to be.
The King thus made the master of the fight:
The Duke calls to him as he there doth lye,
Henry I'le pay my ransowe, doe me right:
I am the Duke Alanzon, It is I,
The King to saue him putting all his might,
Yet the rude souldiers with their shout and cry,
Quite drownd his voyce, his Helmet being shut,
The Duke Alanzon slaine.
And that braue Duke into small pieces cut.
Report once spred, through the distracted Host,
Of their prime Hope, the Duke Alanzon slaine,
That flower of France, on whom they trusted most,
They found their valour was but then in vaine,
Like men their hearts that vtterly had lost,
Who slowly fled before, now runne amaine,
Nor could a man be found, but that dispaires,
Seeing the Fate both of themselues and theirs.
The Duke Neuers, now in this sad retreat,
The Duke Neuers taken prisoner.
By Dauid Gam and Morrisby pursude,
(Who throughly chas'd, neere melted into sweat,
And with French blood their Pollaxes imbrud)
[Page 71]They sease vpon him following the defeat,
Amongst the faint and fearefull multitude,
Morrisby and Gam a [...] contention for the Duke of Neueres.
When a contention fell betweene them twaine.
To whom the Duke should right [...]u [...]ly pertaine,
I must confesse thou hadst him first in chase,
Quoth Morrisby; but lefts him in the throng,
[...]hen put I on, quoth Gam hast thou the face,
[...]nsulting Knight to offer me this wrong;
Quoth Morrisby, who shall decide the case,
[...]t him confesse to whom it doth belong,
Let him (quoth Gam) but if't be not to mee,
For any right you haue, he may goe free,
With that couragious Morrisby grew hot,
Morrisby [...] b [...]auey [...] Knigh
[...]ere not sayd he his ransome worth a pin,
[...]ow by these Armes I were, thou gett'st him not,
[...]r if thou dost thou shalt him hardly win:
Dauid Ga [...] oft mentioned in this P [...]
[...]am whose Welch blood could hardly brooke this blot,
[...]o bend his Axe vpon hi [...] doth begin,
He his at him, till the Lord Beamont came,
Their rash attempt, and wisely thus doth blame.
Are not the French twice trebl'd to our power,
[...]nd fighting still, nay, doubtfull yet the day:
[...]i [...]ke you not th [...]se vs fast enough deuoure:
[...]t that your braues the Army must dismay:
[...]ought but good befall vs in this houre:
[...]is be you sure your liues for it must pay:
Then first the end of this dayes Battaile see,
And then decide whose prisoner he shall be,
Now Excester with his vntaynted Reare,
The Duke of Excester commeth in with the Reare.
Came on, which long had labour'd to come in,
And with the Kings mayne battell vp doth beare,
Who still kept off, till the last houre had bin:
He cryes and clamours eu'ry way doth heare:
But yet he knew not which the day should win:
Nor askes of any what were fit to doe,
But where the French were thick'st he falleth to.
The Earle of Vandom certainely that thought,
The English fury some what had beene stayd:
Weary with slaughter as men ouer-wrought,
Nor had beene spur'd on by a second ayd:
For his owne safety, then more fiercely fought,
Hoping the tempest had bin somewhat layd:
And he thereby (though suff'ring the defeate)
Might keepe his reareward whole in his retreat [...]
On whom the Duke of Excester then fell,
Reare with the Reare now for their valoursvy,
Ours finde the French their liues will dearely sell,
And th'English meane as dearely them to buy:
The English follow, should they run through hell,
And through the same the French must, if they fly,
When too't they goe, deciding it with blowes,
With th'one side now, then with th'other't g [...]
But the sterne English with such lucke and mig [...]
(As though the fates had sworn to take their part
Vpon the French preuailing in the Fight,
With doubled hands, and with re-doubled heart [...]
[Page 77]The more in perill still the more in plight,
Gainst them whom fortune miserably thwarts:
Disabled quite before the foe to stand,
But fall like grasse before the Mowers hand.
That this French Earle is beaten on the field,
The Earle of Vandome slaine.
His fighting souldiers round about him slaine,
And when himselfe a Prisoner he would yeeld,
And beg'd for life, it was but all in vaine:
Their Bils the English doe so easily weeld,
To kill the French as though it were no paine:
For this to them was their auspicious day,
The more the English fight, the more they may,
When now the Marshall Boucequalt, which long
Had through the Battell waded euery way,
Oft hazzarded the murthered troupes among,
Encouraging them to abide the day:
Finding the Army which he thought so strong,
Before the English faintly to dismay,
Brings on the wings which of the rest remain'd,
With which the battaile stoutly he maintain'd.
Till old Sir Thomas Erpingham at last,
Sir Thomas Erpingham getteth in with his three hundred A [...] [...]hers.
[...]ith those three hundred Archers commeth in,
[...]hich layd in ambush not three houres yet past,
[...]ad the Defeat of the French Army bin,
[...]ith these that noble souldier maketh hast,
[...]t other from him should the honour win:
Who as before now stretch their wel-waxt strings,
At the French Horse then comming in the wings.
The soyle with slaughter euery where they lo [...]
Whilst the French stoutely to the English stood,
The drops from eithers emptied veynes that flow
Where it was lately firme had made a flood,
But Heau'n that day to the braue English ow'd;
The Sunne that rose in water, set in blood:
Nothing but horror to be look'd for there,
And the slought Marshall vainely doth but fe [...]
His Horse sore wounded whilst he went aside,
The Marshal of France slaine.
To take another still that doth attend,
A shaft that some too-lucky hand doth guide,
Piercing his Gorget brought him to his end,
Which when the proud Lord Falkonbridge espide,
Thinking from thence to beare away his friend,
Strucke frō his Horse with many a mortal wou [...]
Is by the English nayled to the ground.
The Marshals death so much doeth them affrig
That downe their weapons instantly they lay,
And better ye [...] to fit them for their flight,
Their weightier Armes they wholly cast away,
Their hearts so heauy makes their heeles so light,
That there was no intreating them to stay,
Ore hedge and ditch distractedly they take, [...]
And happiest he the greatest hast could make,
When Ʋadamount now in the conflict met,
Co [...] Vadamount.
With valiant Brabant, whose high valour show [...]
That day did many a blunted courage whet,
Ere long before that from the field had flowne,
To death like to be troden by our owne,
My Lord of Brabant, what is to be done?
See how the French before the English runne.
Why let them runne, and neuer turne the Head,
A bitter exclamation of the Duke of Brabant against the French.
Quoth the braue Duke, vntill their hatefull breath,
Forsake their bodies, and so farre haue fled,
That France be not disparag'd by their death,
Who trusts to Cowards ne'r is better sped,
Be he accurst, with such that holdeth faith,
Slaughter consume the Recreants as they fly,
Branded with shame, so basely may they dye.
Ignoble French, your fainting cowardize craues
The dreadfull curse of your owne mother earth,
Hardning her breast, not to allow you graues,
Bee she so much ashamed of your birth;
May he be curst that one of you but saues,
And be in France hereafter such a dearth,
Of courage, that men from their wits it feare,
A Drum or Trumpet when they hap to heare.
From Burgundy brought I the force I had,
Anthony Duke of Brabant sonne to the Duke of Burgundy.
To fight for them, that ten for one did fly,
It splits my breast, O that I could be mad;
To vexe these Slaues who would not dare to dye:
In all this Army is there not a Lad,
Th'ignoble French for cowards that dare cry:
If scarse one found, then let me be that one,
The English Army that oppos'd alone.
This [...]Spand [...] pu [...] his Horse vpon his speed,
And in like [...]ing on the English flew:
[...] sonne he made to bleed,
W [...]st [...] with much astonishment they view:
Where hauing [...]cted many a Knight-like deed,
H [...] and his Horse they all too peeces hewe:
Yet he that day more lasting glory wan,
Except Al [...]nzon then did any man.
The valiant Duke of Brabant slaine.
When as [...] great King Henry came,
Of a vast ro [...] which [...]om the Battaile [...]ed,
(Amongst the French men of most speciall name)
But the stoute English fiercely followed;
Ha [...] for [...]h [...]i [...] safety, (much though to their sha [...]e)
Many of the French in [...]hotr flight get [...]to an old Fort.
Got in their flight into so strong a sted,
So fortifi'd by nature (as 'twas though [...])
They might no [...] thence, but with much blood be brought
An aged Rāpire, with huge Ruines heapt▪
Which seru'd for Shot, gainst those that should [...]
Whose narrow entrance they with crosbowes kept
Whose sharpned quarres came in show [...]'s like haile
The Kings slight answere.
Quoth the braue King first let the field be swept,
And with the rest we well enough shall deale;
Which though some heard & so shut vp their [...]are
Yet relish't not with many souldiers there,
Some that themselues by Ransomes would in r [...]
(To make their pray of Pesants yet despise)
Felt as they thought their bloody palmes to 'tch,
To be in action for their wealthy prize,
[Page 77]Others whom onely glory doth bewitch,
Rather then life would to this enterprize:
Most men seem'd willing, yet not any one,
Would put himselfe this great exployt vpon.
Which Woodhouse hearing merrily thus spake,
Woodhou [...] [...]eereth at the attempt.
One that right wel knew, both his worth and wit)
A d [...]ng [...]ous thing it is to vndertake,
A fort, where Souldiers be defending it,
[...] path [...] sleepe, and if they should awake,
With [...]ones, or with their shafts they may vs hitt,
And in our Conquest whilst so well we fare,
It were meere folly, but I see none dare.
Which Gam or'hearing (being neere at hand,)
Braues passe between Gam and Woodhouse.
Not dare quoth he, and angerly doth frowne,
I tell thee Woodhouse, some in presence stand,
Dare propp the Sunne if it were falling downe,
Dare graspe the bolt from Thunder in his hand,
And through a Canon leape into a Towne,
I tell thee, a resolued man may doe,
Things that thy thoughts yet neuer mounted to.
I know that resolution may doe much,
Woodhouse replyes, but who could act my thought,
With his proud Head the pole might easily tuch,
And Gam quoth he, though brauely thou hast fought
Yet not the Fame thou hast attain'd to, such,
But that behind as great is to be bought,
And yonder tis, then Gam come vp with mee,
Where soone the King our Courages shall see [...]
Agreed quoth Gam, and vp their troups they [...]
Hand ouer head, and on the French they ranne,
And to the fight couragiously they fall,
When on both sides the slaughter soone began;
Fortune a while indifferent is to all,
These what they may, and those doe what they ca [...]
Woodhouse and [...]am, vpon each other vye,
By Armes their manhood desperatly to try.
To clime the Fort, the Light-arm'd English strin [...]
And some by Trees there growing to ascend;
The French with flints let at the English driue,
Themselues with shields the Englishmen defend,
And faine the fort down with their hands would r [...]
Thus either side their vtmost power extend,
Till valiant Gam sore wounded, drawne aside,
Ca [...]tain [...] Gam [...]ai [...]e.
By his owne souldiers, shortly after dy'de,
Then take they vp the bodyes of the slayne,
For this seruice done by Woodhouse▪ there was an addition of honour giuen him which was a hand holding [...] club: with the word, Frappe Fort, which is borne by the Family of the Woodhouse of Norfolke to t [...] day.
Which for their Targets ours before them beare,
And with a fresh assault came on againe,
Scarse in the Field yet such a fight as there,
Cros-bowes, and Long-bowes, at it are amaine,
Vntill the French their massacre that feare,
Of the fierce English▪ a cessation craue,
Offring to yeeld, so they their liues would saue▪
Lewis of Burbon in the furious heat,
Of this great Battaile, hauing made some stay
Who with the left Wing suffred a [...]d feate,
In the beginning of this lucklesse day,
[Page 79]Finding the English forcing their retreat,
And that much hope vpon his valour lay,
Fearing lest he might vndergoe some shame,
That were vnworthy of the Burbon name.
Hath gathered vp some scattered troops of horse,
That in the Field stood doubtfull what to doe,
Though with much toyle, which he doth reinforce,
With some small power that he doth adde thereto,
Proclaiming still the English had the worse,
And now at last, with him if they would goe,
He dares assure them Victory, if not,
The grearest fame that euer Souldiers got.
And being wise, so Burbon to beguile,
The French, (preparing instantly to fly)
A deuis [...] [...] Burbons to giue incouragement to the French.
Procures a Souldier by a secret wile,
To come in swiftly and to craue supply,
That if with courage they would fight a while,
It certaine was the English all should dye,
For that the King had offered them to yeeld,
Finding his troupes to leaue him on the field,
When Arthur Earle of Richmount comming in,
With the right wing that long staid out of sight,
Hauing too lately with the English bin,
But finding Burbon bent againe to fight,
His former credit hoping yet to winne,
(Which at that instant casily he might)
Comes close vp with him, and puts on as fast,
Brauely resolu'd to fight it to the last.
And both encourag'd by the newes was braug [...]
Of the ariuing of the Daulphine: power;
Whose speedy Van, their Reare had almost raug [...]
(From Agin Court discouered from a Tower)
Which with the Norman Gallantry was fraught,
And on the suddaine comming like a shower;
Would bring a deluge on the English Hoast,
Whilst yet they stood their victory to boast.
And on they come, as doth a rowling tide,
Forc'd by a wind, that shoues it foorth so fast,
A Simily of the, French.
Till it choke vp some channell, side to side,
And the crab'd banks doth downe before it cast,
Hoping the English would them not abide,
Or would be so amaz [...]d at their hast,
That should they faile to route them at their w [...]
Yet of their blood, the fields should drinke their f [...]
When as the English whose o'r-wearied Armes,
Were with long slaughter lately waxed sore,
These inexpected, and so fierce Alarmes,
To their first strength doe instantly restore,
And like a Stone their st [...]ff [...]ned sinewes warmes,
To act as brauely as th [...] did before;
And the proud French as stoutly to oppose,
Scorning to y [...]e [...]d one foote despight of blowes,
The figh [...] is fearefull, for stout Burbon brings,
His f [...]esh [...] forces on with such a shocke,
That they were like to cut the Archers strings,
E're they their Arrowes handsomely could nock,
[...]emselues so fast into the English locke,
That th'one was like the other downe to beare,
In wanting roomth to strike, they stood so neare.
Till staggering long they from each other reel'd,
[...]lad that themselues they so could disingage:
[...]d falling backe vpon the spacious field,
[...]or this last Sceane, that is the bloody Stage)
[...]here they their weapons liberally could weeld,
[...]hey with such madnesse execute their rage,
As though the former fury of the day,
To this encounter had bene but a play.
Slaughter is now desected to the full,
[...]ere from their backs their batter'd Armorsfall,
[...]er [...] a [...]left shoulder, there a clouen scull,
[...]here hang his eyes ou [...] beat [...]n with a [...]mall,
[...]ntill the edges of their Bill [...] grow dull,
p [...]n each other they so spend their gall,
Wilde sh [...]t [...]s and clamors all the ayre doe fill,
The French cry [...]tue, and the English kill.
The Duke of Barre in this vast spoyle by chance;
[...]ith the Lord Saint-Iohn on the field doth meete,
[...]ow'rds whom that braue Duke doth himselfe aduāce
[...]ho with the like encoūter him doth greet,
[...]his English Barron, and this Peere of France,
[...]rapling together, falling from their feet,
With the rude crowds had both to death beene crusht,
[...]n for their safety, had their friends not rusht.
Both againe rais'd, and both their souldiers shift
To saue their liues if any way they could:
But as the French the Duke away wouldlift,
Vpon his Armes the English taking hold,
(Men of that sort, that thought vpon their thrift)
Knowing his Ransome dearely would be sould:
Dragge him away in spight of their defence,
Which to their quarter would haue borne him thence,
Meane while braue Burbon from his stirring hors [...]
Gall'd with an Arrow to the earth is throwne,
By a meane souldier seased on by force,
Lewis of Burbon taken prison [...] by a meane souldiour.
Hoping to haue him certainely his owne,
Which this Lord holdeth better so then worse:
Since the French fortune to that ebbe is growne,
And he perceiues the souldier doth him deeme,
To be a person of no meane esteeme.
Berkely and Burnell, two braue English Lords,
Flesht with French blood & in their Valours pride▪
Aboue their Arm'd heads brandishing their swords,
As they tryumphing through the Army ride,
Finding what prizes fortune her affords,
To eu'ry Souldier, and more wistly eyde,
This gallant prisoner, by this Arming see,
Of the great Burbon family to be.
And from the Souldier they his prisoner take,
Of which the French Lord seemeth wondrous faine▪
Thereby his safety more secure to make,
Which when the souldier finds his hopes in vaine,
[Page 83] [...] rich a booty forced to forsake,
Lewis of Burbon st [...]bd by a Souldier that tooke him prisoner,
[...] put himselfe and prisoner out of paine,
He on the suddaine stabs him, and doth sweare,
Would th'aue his Ransome, they should take it there▪
When Rosse and Morley making in amaine,
[...]ing the Lord Darcy vp with them along,
[...]hose Horse had lately vnder him beene slaine,
[...]d they on foote found fighting in the throng,
[...]ose Lords his friends remounting him againe,
[...]ing a man that valiant was and strong:
They altogether with a generall hand,
Charge on the French that they could find to stand.
And yet but vainely as the French suppos'd,
[...]th'Earle of Richmount forth such earth had foūd,
[...]at on two sides with quick- [...]et was inclos'd,
[...]d the way to it by a rising ground,
which a while the English were oppos'd,
euery Charge which else came vp so round,
As that except the passage put them by,
The French as wel might leaue their Armes and fly.
Vpon both parts it furiously is fought,
[...]d with such quickn [...]sse riseth to that height,
[...]t horror needs no further to be sought:
[...]nely that might satisfie the sight,
[...]o would haue fame full d [...]er [...]ly here i [...] bought,
[...] it was sold by measure and by weight,
And at one rate the price still certaine stood,
An ounce of honour cost a pound of blood,
When so it hapt that Dampier in the Van,
The Lords Dampier an [...] Sauesses tataken prisoners.
Meetes with stoute Darcy, but whilst he him pr [...]
Ouer and ouer commeth Horse and man,
Of whom the other soone himselfe possest:
When as Sauesses vpon Darcy ran,
To ayde Dampier, but as he him adrest;
A Halbert taking hold vpon his Greaues,
Him from his Saddle violently heaues,
VVhen soone fiue hundred Englishmen at Arme
That to the French had giuen many a Chase,
And when they couered all the field with swarmes
Yet oft [...] hat day had brauely bid them base:
Now at the last by raising fresh alarmes;
And comming vp with an vnusuall pace,
Made them to know that they must run or yee [...]
Neuer till now the English had the Field.
Where Arthur Earle of Richmount beaten dow [...]
Arthur Earle of Richmount taken prisoner.
Is left (suppos'd of euery one for dead)
But afterwards awaking from his swoone,
By some that found him, was recouered:
So Count Du Marle was likewise ouerthrowne,
The Count du Marle slaine.
As he was turning meaning to haue fled,
VVho fights the cold blade in his bosme feele [...],
VVho flyes, still heares it whisking at his heel [...]
Till all disrank'd, like siely sheepe they runne,
By threats nor prayers, to be constrain'd to stay▪
For that their hearts were so extreamely done,
That fainting oft they fall vpon the way,
[Page 85]Or when they might a present perill shunne,
They rush vpon it by their much dismay;
That from the English should they safely flye,
Of their owne very feare, yet they should dye.
Some they take prisoners, other some they kill,
[...]s they affect those vpon whom they fall:
For they as Victors may doe what they will:
For who this Conquerour to account dare call,
[...]n gore the English seeme their soules to swill,
And the deiected French must suffer all;
Flight, cords, and slaughter, are the onely three,
To which themselues subiected they doe see.
A shoolesle Souldier there a man might meete,
The misery of the French.
Leading his Mounsier by the Armes fast bound:
Another, his had shackled by the feete;
Who like a Cripple shu [...]fled on the ground;
Another three or foure before him beete,
Like harmefull Cattell driuen to a pound,
They must abide it, so the Victor will,
Who at his pleasure may, or saue, or kill.
That braue French Gallant when the fight began,
Whose lease of Lackies ambled by his side,
Himselfe a Lacky now most basely ran,
Whilst a rag'd souldier on his Horse doth ride,
That Rascall is no lesse then at his man,
Who was but lately to his Luggadge tide;
And the French Lord now courtsies to that slaue,
Who the last day his Almes was like to craue.
And those few English wounded in the fight,
The French forced to beare the wounded English on their backs.
The force the French to bring with them away,
Who when they w [...]re depressed with the weight▪
Yet dar'd not once their burden downe to lay,
Those in the morne, whos [...] hopes wer at their h [...]ig [...]
Are fallne thus lowe [...]re the departing day,
With picks of Halberts pric [...]t in stead of goa [...]
Like tyred Horses labouring with their Loads▪
But as the English from the field returne,
Some of those French who when the fight b [...]gan,
Forsooke their friends, and hoping yet to earne,
Pardon, for that so covvardly they ran,
Ass [...]h English C [...]rri'ges to burne.
Which to defend them scarcely had a man;
For that their keepers to the field were got,
To picke such sp [...]yles, as chance should then▪ al [...]
The Captaines of this Rascall cowardly Ro [...]t [...]
Were Isa [...]ret of Agincourt at hand,
A [...] of ras [...]al French [...] the King Englands [...]
Riflant of [...]lunasse a Dorpe there about,
And for the chiefe in this their base command.
Was Robin [...]t of Burn [...]le; throughout,
The country knowne, all order to withstand,
These with fiue hundred Peasants they had ra [...]
The English Tents vpon an instant seas'd.
For setting on those with the Luggadge left,
A few poore Sutlers with the Campe that went,
They basely fell to pillage and to theft,
And hauing [...]ifled euery Booth and Tent,
[Page 87] [...]ome of the sillyest they of life bereft,
[...]he feare of which, some of the other sent,
Into the Army, with their suddaine cryes,
Which put the King in feare of fresh supplies.
For that his Souldiers tyred in the fight,
The [...].
[...]heir prisoners more in number then they were,
[...]e thought it for a thing of too much weight,
[...]oppose fresh fo [...]c [...]s, and to guard them there,
[...]he Daulphines Powers, yet stan [...]ing in their sight,
[...]nd Burbons Fo [...]ces of the fi [...]ld n [...]t cleere,
These yearning cr [...]es that [...]rom the caridge came
His blood yet hot, more highly doth i [...]flame,
And in his rage he instantly commands,
The English kill [...] p [...] soners.
[...]hat euery English should his prisoner [...]ill,
[...]cept some few in some g [...]at Captaines hands,
[...]hose Ransomes might his emptied C [...]fers fill,
[...]lls one whose loose, or who is now in bonds,
[...]oth must one way it is the Cōqu [...]rours wil,
Those who late thought, smal ransoms them might free
Saw onely death their Ransoms now must be.
Accu [...]sed French, and could it not suffize,
Ex [...]ion.
[...]hat ye but now bath'd in your natiue gore;
[...]ut ye must now infortunately rise,
[...]o draw more plagues vpon ye then before,
[...]nd gainst your selfe more mischiefe to deuise,
[...]hen th'English could haue, and set wide the doore,
To vtter ruine, and to make an end,
Of that your selues, which others would▪ not spend.
Their vtmost rage the English now hath breath' [...]
And their proud hearts gan somewhat to relent,
Their bloody swords they quietly had sheath'd,
And their strong bowes already were vnbent,
To easefull rest their bodies they bequeath'd,
Nor farther harme at all to you they ment,
And to that paynes must ye then needsly put,
The French [...]ause of their owne massa [...]hre. A discripti [...]n of the Massacre in the foure following Stanzaes.
To draw their [...]niues once more your throats [...] cut
That French who lately by the English stood,
And freely ask'd what ransome he should pay,
Who somewhat coold, and in a calmer moode,
Agreed with him both of the summe and day,
Now findes his flesh must be the present foode,
For wolues and rauens, for the same that stay,
And sees his blood on th'others sword to flow,
E'r his quicke sense could apprehend the blow▪
Whilst one is asking what the bus'nesse is,
Hearing (in French) his country-man to cry:
He who detaines him prisoner, answeres this:
Mounsier, the King commands that you must die▪
This is plaine English, whilst he's killing his:
He sees another on a French man flye,
And with a Poleax pasheth out his braines,
Whilst he's demanding what the garboile mea [...]
That tender heart whose chance it was to haue▪
Some one, that day who did much valour showe,
Who might perhaps haue had him for his Slaue:
But [...] all Lots had fate pleas'd to bestow:
[Page 89]Hee who his prisoner willingly would saue,
Lastly constrain'd to giue the deadly blowe,
That sends him downe to euerlasting sleepe:
Turning his face, full bitterly doth weepe.
Ten thousand French that inwardly were well,
Saue some light hurts that any man might heale,
Euen at an instant, in a minute fell,
And their owne friends their deaths to them to deale,
Yet of so many, very few could tell,
Nor could the English perfectly reueale,
The desperate cause of this disastrous hap.
But euen as Thunder kil'd them with a clap,
How happy were those in the very height,
Of this great Battaile, that had brauely dyde,
When as their boyling bosomes in the fight,
Felt not the sharpe steele thorow them to slide;
But these now in a miserable plight,
Must in cold blood this massacre abide,
Caus▪d by those Villanes (curst aliue and dead,)
That from the field the passed morning fled.
When as the King to Crowne his glorious day,
Now bids his souldiers after all this toyle,
No forces found that more might them dismay)
Of the dead French to take the gen'rall spoyle,
Whose heapes had well neere stopt vp eu'ry way,
For eu'n as Clods they cou'red all the soyle,
Commanding none should any one controule,
Catch that catch might, but each man to his dole.
They fall to groping busily for gold,
Of which abou [...] them [...] st [...]re,
They find as much as w [...]ll their hands can hold,
Wh [...] [...]ad but siluer, him they counted po [...]re,
Sc [...]fes, Chaines▪ an [...] Bracel [...]s, were not to be told
So rich as th [...]se [...] souldiers were before;
Who got a Ring, would scarcely put it on,
Except therein there were some Radiant stone.
Out of rich sates the Noblest French they strip,
An [...] leaue their bodies naked on the ground,
And each one fill his Knapsack, or his Scrip,
W [...]some rare th [...]ng that on the Field i [...] found:
About his bus'n [...]ss [...]t he [...]bly Skip,
T [...] vpon him m [...]ny a c [...]u [...]ll wound:
And where they found a French not out-right slain [...]
They [...]im a prisoner con [...]antly retaine.
Who scars [...] a Shirt had but the day before,
No [...] a whole S [...]cking to keepe out the cold,
Hath a whole Wardrop at commend in store)
In th [...] French fash [...]on flanting it in gold,
And in the [...]auerne, in his C [...]ps doth rore,
Chocking his Crowns and growes thereby so bo [...]
That proudly he a Captaines name asiumes,
In his gilt Gorget with his tossing Plumes.
[Page 91]Wagons and Carts are laden till they cracke▪
With Armes and Tents there taken in the field;
For want of [...]arridge on whose tops are pac [...],
Ensignes, Coat-Armours, Targets, Speares, & Shields
Nor need they conuoy f [...]a [...]ing to be sack [...];
For all the country to King Henry yeelds,
And the poore peasant helpes along to beare,
What late the goods of his proud Landlords were.
A Horse well furnisht for a present Warre:
For a French Crowne might any where be bought,
But if so be that he had any scarre,
Though n [...]'r so small he valew'd was at naught;
With spoyles so sated the proud English are;
Amongst the slaine, that who for pillage sought,
Except some rich Caparison he found,
For a steele Saddle would not stoope to ground.
And many a hundred beaten downe that were,
Whose wounds were mortal, others wondrous deep
When as our English ouer▪past t [...]ey heare▪
And no man left a Watch on them to keepe,
[...]to the Bushes, and the Ditches neare,
[...]pon their weake hands and their knees doe creepes
But for their hurts tooke a [...]re▪ and were vndrest,
They were found dead and buried with the rest▪
Thus when the King saw that the coast was clear'd▪
And of the French who were not flaine were fled,
Nor in the field not any then appear'd,
That had the power againe to make a head:
This Conquerour exceedingly is cheer'd,
Thanking his God that he so well had sped,
And so towr'ds Callice brauely marching on,
Leaueth sad France her losses to bemoane,
FINIS. The Battaile of Agin-Court.
THE MISERIES OF QVEENE MARGARITE.
I Sing a woman, and a powerfull Queene,
Henry the Sixt, the King of Englands Wife,
The beautious Margarite, whose
misgouern'd spleene
So many sorrowes brought vpon her life▪
As vpon womans neuer yet were seene,
In the beginning of that fatall strife,
The family of Yorke sough [...] under hand to promoue their title about that time.
(Th' [...]nlucky season) when the Yorkists saught,
To bring the Line of Lancaster to naught.
It was the time of those great stirres in France,
Their ancient Right that th'English had regain'd,
By the proud French attributing to chance,
What by meere Manhood stoutly ours obtain'd,
After the second conque [...] of France by Henry the [...]ift.
Their late-falne Ensignes labour'd to aduance,
The Streets with blood of either Nation stain'd:
These striue to hold, those to cast off the yoake,
Whilst forts, & towns flew vp to heauen in smoke
The neighboring Princes greatly pittying the [...]
The Christian Princes seeke to [...] a peace between [...] and France.
The Christian blood in that long quarrel shed,
Which had d [...]ur'd such multitudes of m [...]n.
[...] the full a [...]th could scarsely keepe he [...] dead;
Yet for [...]ach English of her Nat [...] ten:
In zeale to [...] these neighbouring Princes l [...]d▪
At Tours in Tourayne set them downe a Dyet,
(Could it [...] don [...] ▪ these clamorous fi [...]uds to quiet▪
From th'Emperour there Am [...]e,
The Kings of Denmarke, Hungary, and Spayne,
And that each thing the [...]p [...]ly might cont [...]iue,
And both the King there largely might complaine,
The Duke of O [...]l [...]ance for the French doth striue,
To show his grie [...]a [...]ce; William Poole againe,
The Earle of Suffolke do [...]h [...]o [...] England st [...]d,
Who st [...]er'd the state then [...]i [...] a powerful hand
For eighteene moneths they ratifie a peace,
A [...] 18 moneths.
Tw [...]xt these proud Real [...]s▪ which Suffolk doth pursue
With al his powers, with hope stil to encrease,
The same expir'd, that it should soone renew,
For by his meanes if so th [...] wars might cease,
Poo [...]e in this time of [...]eac [...] [...]our [...]th [...] [...]onclud [...] a Mar [...]age be [...]ixt th [...] Lady Margarire and the King his Master.
[...]e had a plot of which they neuer knew,
To his intent, if all things went aright,
Heele make the dull world to admire his might,
For hauing seene faire Margarite in France,
(that tim's brightst beauty) being then but yong,
Her piercing eyes with many a subtill glance,
His mighty heart so for [...]ibly had stung,
[Page 99]As made him thinke if that he could aduarce,
Poole taken with the ex [...]ding [...] [...]y of the Princesse.
This nortall wonder, onely that among,
His rising Fortunes should the greatest proue,
If to his Queene, he could aduance his loue,
Her eyes at all points Arm'd with those deceits,
That to her sexe are naturall euery way,
Which vvith more Art, she as inticing baits,
For this great Lord doth with aduantage lay,
As he againe that on her bosome waits,
Had found that there, which could he come to sway
He would put faire as euer man did yet,
Vpon the height of Fortunes wh [...]ele to sit.
Loue and Ambition spurre h [...] in such sort,
As that (alone t'accomplish h [...] desire,
To fall with Phaeton he would thinke it sport,
Though he should set the Vnl [...]s [...] on [...]ire,
Nor recks he what the world of him report,
He must scorne that, who will dare to aspier,
For through the aire his wings him way shal make
Though in his fall the frame of heauen he shake.
Reyner descended from the Royall stem
He had only the title of these Kingdomes without any l [...] lyhoo [...]
Of France, the Duke of An [...]o [...], stiled King
Of Naples, Cicil, and Ierusalem,
Although in them he had not any thing,
But the poore title of a Diadem;
Seing by Suffolke greater hopes to spring;
Puts on his Daughter that great Lord to please,
Margarite Duk Reyners Daughter.
Of Englands Counsailes who kept all the keyes.
But strange encounters strongly him oppose,
In his first entrance to this great Designe,
Those men were mighty that against him rose,
And came vpon him with a Countermine,
That he must now play cunningly, or lose▪
Cunning they were against him that combine,
Plot aboue plot, doth straine aloft to tower▪
The conflict great, twixt pollicy and power,
For Humfrey Duke of Gloster, stil'd the good,
A [...] of a [...] Amba [...]our with [...]e [...] of [...] onely daughter.
Englands Protector sought a match to make,
[...]th a faire Princesse, of as Royal blood,
The Daughter of the Earle of Arminake,
And h [...] crown'd Nephew▪ but stout Suffolke stood▪
Still for his Mistresse, nor will her forsake,
But make her Henryes Queene in spight of all:
Or she shall rise, or Suffolke sweares to fall.
By the French faction when she vp is cryde;
The high praises of the Princesse Margarites beauty.
Of all Angellique excellence the Prime,
Who was so dull that her not Deifide,
To be the onely Master-piece of time:
The prayse of her extended is so wide,
As that thereon a man to heauen might clime:
All tongues and eares inchanted with delite,
When they doe talke, or heare of Margarite.
And those whom Poole about his Prince had plac'd
Poole [...] followers placed about the King to work [...] owne ends.
And for his purpose taught the tricks of Court,
To this great King, and many a time had grac'd,
To make his eares more apt for their report,
[Page 97] [...]auing the time most diligently trac'd,
[...]nd saw these things successiuely to sort:
Strike in a hand and vp together beare,
To make faire Margarite Musicke in his eare.
Aniou a Dutchy, Mayne a Countrey great,
The prouinces of France giuen to Duke Reyner for [...] Daughter.
Of which the English long had beene possest▪
[...]nd Mauns a city of no small receite,
[...]o which the Duke pretended interest:
[...]or the conclusion▪ when they came to treate,
[...]nd things by Poole were to the vtmost prest,
Are to Duke Reyner reudred vp to hold,
To buy a Hellen, thus a Troy was sold.
When of an Earle, a Marquesse Poole is made,
Poole created first from an Earle, Marque [...] and afte [...] Duke of Suffolke.
[...]hen of a Marquesse is a Duke created,
[...]or he at east in Fortunes lap was layd,
[...]o glorious actions wholly consecrated:
Hard was the thing that he could not perswade,
[...]n the Kings fauour he was so instated;
Without his Suffolke who could not subsist,
So that he ruled all things as he list.
This with a strong astonishment doth strike,
The people exceedingly r [...]pin [...] for the giuing a [...]ay of the Prouinces.
[...]h'amazed world which knew not what to say,
What liuing man but did the act mislike,
[...]f him it did not vtterly dismay,
[...]hat what with blood was bought at push of pike,
Got in an age, giu'n in an houre away:
Some largely speake, and some againe are dumbe,
Wōdring what would of this strāge world become
As when some dreadfull Comet doth appeare,
Athwart th [...] h [...] a [...]ē tha [...] throws his threatning light
The peaceful people that at quiet were,
Stand with wild g [...]z [...]s wond'ring at the sight,
Some War, some Pl [...]gues, so [...] fa [...]in greatly feare▪
A Simily.
Some falls of Kingdomes, or of [...] of mig [...]t:
The grieued people thus their iudgements spend
Of these strange Actions what should be the end▪
When Suffolke Procurator for the King,
S [...]ffolke Procurator for the King.
Is s [...]p'd for France, t' [...]spouse the beautious Bride▪
And fitted to the full of euery thing▪
Followed with Englands Gallant [...]y and pride,
(As fresh as is the brauery of the Spring)
The marriage solem [...]zed [...] the city of Towers.
Comming to Towers, there sumpt [...]o [...]sl▪ affide:
This one, whose like no age had seene before,
Whose eyes out-shone the Iewels that she wore
Her reucrent Parents ready in the place,
As one [...]ioy'd this happy day to s [...]e,
The King and Queene the Nuptials there to grace▪
The great concourse to honour the Sol [...]nization.
On them three Dukes as then attend [...]nts be,
Seuen Earles [...] Barrons in their [...]qu [...]pace,
And twenty Bishops▪ wh [...] that onely she,
Like to the Ro [...] morning towards the rise,
Cheeres all the Church, as it doth cheere the ski [...]
T [...]umpha [...]l A [...]ches the glad Towne doth raise,
And s [...]lts and Tur [...]ys are [...] at Court,
Conceited Masks, [...] Banq [...]e [...]s, witty playes,
[...] them many a pretty sport,
[...]ntill mens eares were cloyd with the report,
Of either sexe, and who doth not delight,
Margaret in French signif [...]th a Days [...]e
To weare the Daysie for Queene Margarite.
The Tryumphs ended, he to England goes
With this rich Gem allotted him to keepe,
[...]ill entertained with most sumptuous showes,
The Queene brauely ente [...] tained in passing through Normandy.
[...]n passing thorough Normandy to Di [...]pe▪
Where like the Sea the concourse dayly flowes,
[...]or her departure whilst sad France doth weepe:
And that the ships their crooked Anchors waide,
By which to England she must be conuayd.
And being fitted both for Winde and Tide,
The King stayeth for the [...] at Port [...]mouth.
Out of the Harbour flyes this goodly Fleet,
[...]nd for faire Portsmouth their straight course they plyd,
Where the King stayd his louely Bride to meete;
[...]onder she comes when as the people cryd,
Busie with Rush [...]s strev [...]ing euery streete,
The brainelesse Vulgar little vnderstand,
The Horrid plagues that ready were to La [...]d.
Which but to soone all-seeing heauen foretold,
Great and fearefull Tempests at the comming in of the Que [...]ne.
For shee was scarsely safely put a Shore,
[...]t that the skies (ô wondrous to behold)
Orespred with lightning hideously doth rore,
The furious winds with one another scold,
Neuer such Tempests had beene seene before,
With sudden floods whose villages were drown'd
Steeples with earthquaks tumbled to the ground.
VVHē to their purpose thīgs to pass wer broght
And these two braueābitious spirits wer me
The Queene and Duke now frame their working though
Into their hād [...] the Soueraignty to get:
For soon they found the King could not be wrought
Vp to their ends, nature so low had set,
His humble heart; that what they would obtaine
Tis they must do' [...], by collour of his Raigne.
And for they found the grieued commons grutc [...]
A [...] this which Suffolke desperately had done,
Who for the Queene had parted with so much,
Thereby yet nothing to the Realme had wonne,
And those that spur'd the people on, were such,
As to oppose them openly begunne;
Therefore by them some great ones down must go
Which if they mist of, they themselues must so▪
Yorke then which had the Regency in France,
The Duke of Yor [...] discharged of hi [...] Regency in France, and the Duke of Sommerset in h [...] place.
They force the King, ignobly to displace,
Thereto the Duke of Summerset t'aduance,
Their friend, and one of the Lancastrian Race;
For they betwixt them turnd the wheele of Chan [...]
Tis they cry vp tis they that doe abase,
He's the first man they purpos'd to remoue,
The onely Minion of the peoples loue.
This opened wide the publike way whereby,
Ruine rusht in vpon the troubled Land,
Vnder whose weight it hapned long to lye,
Quite ouerthrowne with their il-guiding hand;
[Page 101]For their Ambition looking ouer-hie,
Could in no measure aptly vnderstand,
Vpon their heads the danger that they drew,
Whose force too soone, they, and their faction knew
For whilst this braue Prince was imploid abroad,
Th'affaires of France his minde vp wholly tooke,
But being thus disburthen'd of that load,
Which gaue him leave into himselfe to looke,
The course he ranne in, euidently show'd,
His late Allegeance that he off had shooke,
And vnder hand his Title set on foote,
To plucke their Red-Rose quite vp by the roote,
Thus hauing made a Regent of their owne,
By whom they meane great matters to effect,
For by degrees, they will ascend the throane,
And but their owne all ayde they else neglect,
As with a tempest he to ground is blowne,
On whom their rage doth any way reflect;
Which good Duke Humfrey first of all must taste
Whose timelesse death intemperately they haste.
This Henryes Vncle, and his next of blood,
A Charract [...] of the Duke of Glocester▪
Was both Protector of the Realme, and King,
Whose meekenesse had instiled him the Good,
Of most especiall trust in euery thing;
One to his Country constantly that stood,
As Time should say, I foorth a man will bring,
So plaine and honest, as on him Ile rest,
The age he liu'd in, as the onely best▪
This graue Protector who both Realms had sway
Whilst the Kings nonage his sound counsels crau' [...]
In his great wisedome when he throughly way'd,
How this French Lady here her selfe behau'd,
To make her Game againe, how Suffolke play'd,
The Realmes from ruine, hoping to haue sau'd,
Lost his deare life within a little space.
Which ouerthrew the whole Lancastrian race▪
This Prince▪ who still dar'd stoutly to oppose,
Those whom be sawe▪ all but their owne to hate,
Then found the league o his inueterate soes,
To come vpon him wi [...]h the power of Fate,
And things to that extremitie still rose,
The certaine signe of the declining State,
As that their Faction euery day grew strong,
Perceiu'd his vertues like to suffer wrong.
Fierce Margarits malice propt with mighty me
The greatest persons of the Queenes Fa [...].
Her darling Suffolke, who her forward drew,
Proud Sommerset of France the Regent then,
And Buckingham his power too well that knew,
The Cardinall Bewfort, and with him agen,
Yorks great Arch-Prelate, to make vp the crue,
By accusations doing all their best,
From the good Duke all Gouernment to wrest▪
Who then compell the peacefull King to call,
Parliament their grieuances to heare,
[...] the Duke that to inforce his fall,
[...]y might haue something that might Collour be [...]
[Page 103] [...]ut then they doubt his answere, and withall,
[...]he murmuring people they farre more doe feare,
As their owne liues, who lou'd him, therefore they,
Must cast to make him secretly away,
And therefore with the Parliament proceed,
A Parliamentat Saint Edmunds-Bury.
[...]aint▪ Edmunds-bury the appointed place,
Whereas they ment to doe the fatall deed,
Which with much quicknesse should decide the case
The cruell manner soone they had de [...]reed,
And to the Act they hasten them apace,
On this good Prince their purpose ro effect,
Then, when the people nothing should suspect.
No sooner was this great assembly met,
The Duke of Gloster ares [...] ed by the high Marshall of England.
[...]ut the high Marshall doth the Duke arrest,
And on his person such a guard they set,
That they of him were certainely possest,
His seruants were from their attendance lett,
And either sent to prison or supprest;
The Duke murthered.
So that their Lord lef [...] in this piteous plight,
Lay'd in his bed, was strangled in the night.
Then giue they out, that of meere griefe he dyde,
To couer what they cruell, had done,
But this blacke deede, when once the day discride,
The frantique people to his Lodging runne,
[...]ome rayle, some curse, yea little children chide,
The p [...]p [...] mutiny.
Which forc'd that faction the faire streets to shun,
Some wish proud Suffolke sunke into the ground,
Somebid a plague the cruell Queene confound.
Thus their Ambition would not let them see,
How by his death they hastened their decay▪
Nor let them know that this was only he,
Who kept the Yorkists euermore at bay,
But of this man they must the murtherers be,
The death o [...] the Duk was the vtter [...]row of the house of L [...]caster.
Vpon whose life their safety onely lay,
But his deare blood, them nothing could suffice,
When now began Queene Margarites Miserie [...] ▪
In either Kingdome all things went to wracke▪
Which they had thought they could haue made to thi [...]
The affaires of England fall t [...] ruin [...] [...]pon the death of the Duke.
His noble Coūsells when they came to lacke,
Which could them with facility contriue,
Nor could they stay them in their going backe,
One mischiese still another doth reuiue;
As heauen had sent an host of horrors out:
Which all at once incompast them about.
Out flie the Irish, and with sword and fire,
The Irish rebell▪
Vnmercied hauocke of the English made,
They discontented here at home conspire,
To stirre the Scot the borders to inuade:
The faithlesse French then hauing their desire,
To see vs thus in Seas of troubles wade,
In euery place outragiously rebell,
The French [...]re vp in A [...]s.
As out of France the English to expell.
The sturdy Normans with high pride in flamd,
Shake off the yoke of thei [...] subi [...]ction quite.
Nor will with patience heare the English nam'd,
Except of those that speake of them in spight,
[Page 105]But as their foes them publikely proclaim'd,
The Norman r [...]uolt.
And their Alyes to open Armes excite;
In euery place thus Englands right goes downe,
Nor will they leaue the English men a Towne.
New-castle, Constance, Maleon, and Saint lo,
Town [...] in Normandy y [...]elded to th [...] enemy. There had been a form [...] ▪ contract betwene the King and th [...] Earle of Arminacks only Daughter but being by▪ the Duke o [...] Suffolke annulled, cause [...] [...]he Earle [...] after to be [...] vowed ene [...] [...] the Englis [...]
With Castel-Galliard, Argenton, and Roane,
P [...]nteu-de-mer with Forts and Cities moe,
Then which that Country stronger holds had none,
Set ope their gates and bad the English goe,
For that the French should then p [...]s [...]sse their owne,
And to the Armies vp the Forts they yeeld,
And turne the English out into the Field.
And that great Earle of Arminacke againe,
A puistant peere, and mighty in estate,
Vpon iust cause, who tooke in high disdaine,
To haue his Daughter so repudiate,
(His countreys bordering vpon Aquitane,)
Pursues the English nation with such hate,
As that he entred with his Armed powers,
And from that Dutchy, draue all that was o [...]rs,
The commons charg [...] [...]he Duke of Sommerset▪ with th [...] ▪ loss [...] of Normand▪
Th'inraged commons ready are to rise,
Vpon the Regent, to his charge and layd,
That from his slacknesse and base cowardize,
These Townes were lost, by his neglect of ayde,
Then follow Suffolke with confused cryes,
With Maine, and Aniou, and doe him [...]pbrayd,
And vow his life shall for their losses pay,
Or at the stake their goods and liues to lay.
In th'open Session and Articulate,
Articles of Treason put into the Parliament against the Dukes o [...] Sommerset [...]nd Suffolke.
S [...]uen [...]uerall Treasons vrg'd against them both,
As most p [...]tious members of the State,
Which was confirmed by the commons oath,
So that the King who sa [...] the peoples hate,
(In his owneselfe though he were very loath)
[...]o both the houses la [...]ly doth assent,
To [...]et on Suffolke fiue yeares banishment.
The Duke of Suf [...]olke [...]an [...] [...]ea for sine y [...]res.
His Soueraigne Lady Suffolke thus must leaue,
And she her seruant to her soule so deare,
Yet must they both conceale what they conceiue,
Which they would [...]ot if any h [...]lpe there were,
Yet of all comfort they c [...]nnot bereaue,
Her, but his hope her pensiue h [...]art doth cheere,
That he in France shall haue his most resort,
And liue securely in her Fathers Court.
His mighty minde nor can this doome molest,
But kicks the earth in a disda [...]n [...]full scorne,
If any thing do corrosiue his brest
I [...] was, that he was in base England borne,
He curst the King and Kingdome, but he blest,
The Queene, but if in any thing forlorne,
Twas that he should her happ [...] presence misse,
The endlesse Summe of all his earthly bl [...]sse▪
His Sentence scarse in Parliament had past,
But that the rascall multitude arise,
The extreame hate the people had to the Duke.
Plucke downe his houses, lay his Lordships wast,
And search how they his person may surprize,
[Page 107]That he from England instantly must hast,
Coue [...]'d by night, or by some strange disguise,
And to some small Port secretly retyre,
And there some poore Boate for his passage hire,
From Harwitch Hauen, and embarqu'd for France,
This ship was (as our hystories report) called the Nicholas o [...] th [...] tower, a ship that belongd to the Duke of Excest [...]r, of whom [...]n [...] Water was the Captaine.
As he for Callice his straight course doth steere,
[...]O here behold a most disastrous chance,)
A man of Warre the Seas that scoured there,
One at his actions that still look't asc [...]nce,
And to this Duke did deadly hatred beare,
After a long chase tooke this little Cra [...]e,
Which he suppos'd him safely should conuay.
And from the fisher taking him by force,
He vnder Hatches straightly him bestow'd,
And towards his country steering on his course,
He runnes his vessell into Douer roade,
Where rayling on him without all remorse,
Him from the ship to all the people show [...],
And when no more they could the Duke de [...]e,
They cut his head off on the Cock-boat-side.
SVffolke thus dead and Summerset disgrac'd,
His title Yorke more freely might preferre,
The Commons loue, when cunningly to taste,
Lest ouerweening he perhaps might erre,)
He first subbornes a villane that imbrac'd,
The Nobler name of March borne Mortimer,
The sub [...]ll policie of the Duke of Yorke.
Which in the title of the house of Yorke,
Might set the monstrous multitude a worke,
His name was Cade, his natiue country Kent,
Who, though of birth, and in estate but poore,
Yet for his courage he was eminent,
The character of Iacke Cads.
(Which the wise Duke well vnderstood before,)
He had a minde was of a large extent,
The signe whereof on his bould brow he bore,
Sterne of behauiour, and of body strong,
Witty, well spoken, cautilous, though yong.
But for th [...] Duke his title must deriue,
Deriuing his title from Phillip the onely Daughter and heire of Lyonel Duke of Clarence the third sonne of Ed the 3 wedded to Edmund Mortimur Earle of March.
Out of the blood which beare that honored name,
Therefore must cast and cunningly contriue,
To see how people relished the same,
And if he found it fortuned to thriue,
Then at the marke he had a further ayme,
To show himselfe his title good to make,
And raise him friends and power, his part to take
All opposition likewise to preuent,
The crafty Duke his meaning doth conceale,
And Cade doth rise t'informe the gouernment,
And base abuses of the Publique Weale,
To which he knew the commons would consent,
Which otherwise his Treason might reueale:
Which rightly tooke, for by this collour hee,
Drew twenty thousand on his part to be.
From Sussex, Surry, and from Kent that rose,
Whom hope of spoyle doth to this Act perswade,
Which still increase his Army as it goes,
And on Blacke Heath his Rendauous he made,
[Page 109]Where in short time it to that vastnesse growes,
[...]s it at once the Kingdome would inuade,
And he himselfe the Conquest could assure,
Of any power King Henry could procure.
And did in fight that generall force defeate,
Sent by the King that Rebell to pursue,
When vnder collour of a fram'd retreat,
He made as though he from the Army flew,
The Stafford [...] slaine by th [...] Rebels▪
The slaughter of the souldiers must be great,
When he those Staffords miserably slew,
Captaines select and chosen by the Queene,
To lead the powers that should haue wreakt her teene.
When for a Siege he to the city came,
Assaults the Bridge with his emboldned power,
And after oft repulsed takes the same,
Makes himselfe Master of the towne and Tower,
Iacke Cade takes London▪
Doing such things as might the Deuill shame,
Destroyes Records, and Virgines doth deflower,
Robs, ransacks, spoyles, and after all this stirre,
Lastly beheaded the Lord Treasurer,
These things by Yorke being plotted vnderhand,
Wise as he was, as one that had not knowne,
Ought of these Treasons, hasts to Ireland,
To tame those
The Vulgar▪
Kerne, rebellious that were growne,He knew it was not in the barren Sand,
That he this subtill poysonous seed had sowne,
Which came it on (as very well it might)
It would make way for his pretended right.
Whilst these rebellions are in England broac [...]d,
As though the Fa [...]es should enujo [...]sly conspire,
Our vtter Ruine; which too fast approacht,
About our eares, was Aquitaine a fire,
Their Conquest so vpon our Townes incroach't,
That Charles the French King then had his desire.
To see these troubles tyre vs here within,
That he the whilst in France from vs might winn [...]
To add to Margarites miseries againe,
The Valiant Talbot slaine.
Talbot in France so brauely that had done:
Who many a yeere had aw'd proud Aquitaine,
And many a Fort, and famous Battaile wonne,
At Shatiloon (O endlesse griefe) was slaine,
With the Lord Lyle his ouer valiant Sonne,
When all the Townes that he had got before,
Yeelded, nor would for England be no more,
Yorke in the nike from Ireland comming in,
Finding the Kingdome cumbred in this wise,
Thinks with himselfe twere time he did begin,
But by no meanes he gainst the King must rise,
O such a thought in any man were sinne,
But that he would proud Summerset surprise,
Yet wāting strēgth gainst the whole state to stand
He beares his businesse with a moderate hand,
And first to mighty Salsbury doth sue,
And his sonne Warwicke, and doth them intreate,
Richard Neuill the Father, and Richard Neuill the sonne.
With equall eyes they would be pleas'd to view,
His rightfull Title: these two Neuils great,
[Page 111] [...] power, and with the people, whom he knew,
Deadly the Duke of Somerset to hate,
By his large offers he doth winne at last,
In his iust quarrell to cleaue to him fast.
Thus his Ambition hauing strongly back't,
With these two fatall firebrands of Warre;
To his desires, there very little lackt,
He and the Earles all three so popular,
To aduance himselfe he no occasion slackt,
[...]or nought he sees him from his ends to barre,
Tis no small tempest that he needs to feare,
Whom two such Collumnes vp betwixt thē beare.
And by their strengths encourag'd doth not sticke
The others actions boldly to o'relooke,
And for the season that the King was sicke,
Vpon himselfe the Regency he tooke,
[...]or now his hopes vpon him came so thicke,
His entrance doores from off the hinges shooke,
[...]e with a nodde the Realme seem'd to direct,
Who's he but bow'd, if this great Prince but beckt
And in the Queenes great chamber doth arest,
The Duke of Sommerset arested.
Great Summerset, and sendeth him to ward,
And all his followers suddenly supprest,
Such was the number of his powerfull guard,
With the proud Queene, this Prince as proud contests
[...]or for her frowne one friend of hers he spar'd,
Lucks on his side, while such stand by to bett,
Heel'e throw at all that any one dares set,
THe Queen who saw, which way the factiō we
And that these wrongs must stil reflect on he
The Duke of Yorke to her destruction bent,
Thought with her selfe it was full time to stirre,
And if his plots she euer would preuent,
Must with the wisest of her friends conferre,
Their busie braynes and must together beate,
To lessen him▪ like else to grow too great.
His pride a while yet patiently endure,
The Kings▪ recouery only to attend,
Of which themselues they hardly could assure,
Who once they thought had hastned to his end,
The King re [...]uired of a dangerous sicknesse.
But when they found his Physicke to procure,
His former health, then doth the Queene extend,
Her vtmost strength, to let the world to know,
Queene Margarite yet must not be mastred so,
With smiles and kisses when she woes the King
That of his place the Duke he would discharge,
Which being done, the next especiall thing,
She doth the Duke of Summerset inlarge,
The Queene preuailing against the Duke of York.
And him of Callice giues the gouerning,
Whither his friends she caus'd him to imba [...]dge,
Doubting the loue and safeguard of the Towne,
Thus doth the Queen turne al things vpside dow [...]
Which so incenst the angry Duke to ire,
With those two Earles vpon his part that take,
Kindling in all that fierce reuenge full fire,
Which the deare blood of Summerset must slake,
[Page 113] [...]at into Wales they instantly retire:
The Duke of Yorke [...]seth an army in the Marches of Wales.
[...]nd in the Marches vp an Army make,
And there by Oath were to each other tyde,
By dint of sword the quarrell to decide.
And whilst these Lords be busied in the West,
Of March-men mustring a rebelling Band,
[...]enry againe his Southerne people prest:
[...]nd settles there their forces to withstand:
Then Bowes and Bills were only in request:
[...]uch rage and madnesse doth possesse the Land,
Set vpon spoyle, on either part they were,
Whilst the Weale▪ publique they in pieces teare.
On either part when for this Warre prepard,
[...]pon their March they at Saint Albans met,
Where drums and Ensignes one the other dar'd,
The first Battaile at Sa [...] Albans.
Whilst they in order their Battalions set,
[...]nd with his fellow euery souldier shar'd,
Brauely resolu'd to death to pay his debts:
When if that euer horrour did appeare,
On th' English earth, it certainely was there,
That day the Queenes-lou'd Sommerset was slaine
There tooke the stout Northumberland his end:
There Staffords bloud the pauement did distaine:
Humfrey Earle of Stafford, eldest sonne to the Duke of Buckingham.
There Clifford fell, King Henryes constant friend,
The Earle of Warwicke who brought on the Mayne:
All downe before him to pale Death doth send,
Antwessell, Bapthorpt, Zouch, and Curwen, all,
King Henryes friends before the Yorkists fall,
Whilst this distressed miserable King,
Amazed with such fury of the fight,
And perill still his person menacing:
His liuing friends inforc't to take their flight,
He as a needlesse and neglected thing▪
In a poore Cottage hides him out of sight:
The King crept into a poore Cottage
Who found by Yorke was as a prisoner led,
Though with milde words the Duke him coforted
And of his person being thus possest
They in his name a Parliament procure,
For with his Regall power they will inuest
Themselues, supposing to make all things sure,
That if their violent actions should be prest,
In after time they better might endure,
The censuring, the worst, and so preuent,
To show them done by Act of Parliament,
And cause the King to take into his hands,
The lawlesse [...]surpation of the York [...]st [...] ▪
What to the Crowne did anciently pertaine,
Besides all Honors▪ Offices and Lands,
Granted since the beginning of his Raigne;
And not a Fee, though [...]e'r so little stands;
And are call'd in, and let who will complaine,
And all his friends from counsaile are remou'd,
None must sit there, but those of them belou'd,
The silly King a sipher set aside▪
What was in him, that in great Yorke was not▪
Amongst themselues all places they diuide,
Salsbury made Ch [...]
And to be Chancellor Salsbury hath got,
[Page 115]Hee is the man must take the Law to guide,
Warwicke Captaiue of Ca [...]ce.
And Callice falls to warlike Warwickes lot,
And not a man at these must looke awry.
They make an Act their acts to iustifie.
This done the Duke had more to doe then this,
Something it seem'd more secretly to lurke,
In which such power (though from appearance) is,
As yet once more would fret the Duke of Yorke,
And let him know, he of his ends might misse;
For now the Queene doth set her wits to worke.
To play the Game that must renowne her skill,
And shew the Law that rested in her will.
And from the roote of Summerset late slaine,
Another stem to stand for her arose,
Henry for Edmond▪ of his Fathers straine,
Henry Beufo [...] Duke of Summerset, after the decease of his▪ father Edmond.
(One of whose life she knew she could dispose)
Of a strong iudgement, and a working braine,
Great Buckingham and Excester are those,
She meanes to worke by, and by these restore,
Her to that height from whence she fell before.
These were the men to whom shee trusted most,
To whom that faction much despight had done,
For at Saint Albans Summerset had lost,
His loued Sire, and Buckingham his Sonne:
And Excester pursude from Coast to Coast;
From them enforc'd to Sanct'ary to runne:
The Duke of Excester taken out of the Sanctuary a [...] Westminster.
Fetcht thence by them▪ and to cold Pumfret sent,
And in a dungeon miserably pent.
Equall in enuie, as in pride and power,
With eu'ry ayde to their disignement fraught,
Taking their turnes at eu'ry fitting houre;
They on the Kings much easinesse so wrought,
As that they seem'd him wholly to deuoure,
Vntill to passe their purposes they brought,
Lifting vp still his spirit that was so poore,
Once more to doe as he had done before.
For which at Greenewich he a Councell held,
The Duke of Yorke, the Earles of Salsbury and Warwicke put out of office.
Where with th'opinion of those friends supplide,
Those three which late with glorious titles sweld,
Are from their seu'rall places put aside;
Yet more to seeke their safety are compeld,
At this prodigious turning of the tide:
For now the wind was strangely come about,
And brings them in who lately were shut out.
The cruell Queene and cunningly had cast,
The Queene had plotted to haue the Duke murthered at Couentry,
At Couentry to cause them to appeare,
With shew to pardon all that had beene past,
If they (but then) would their Allegiance sweare▪
Which had they done, that day had beene their last
For she had plotted to destroy them there:
Of which forewarnd, immediatly they fled,
Which then their safety only promised.
Yet whilst one wrong, thus from another rose,
Twixt them at last a meeting was ordain'd,
All former strife and quarrels to compose,
Which but too long betwixt them had remain'd,
[Page 117]Which to the world though handsomely it showes,
Yet in plaine truth, all was but meerely fain'd,
To outward seeming, yet are perfect friends,
"But diuelish folke, haue still their diuelish ends.
And in procession solemnly they goe,
In generall ioy one smiling on the other,
A Yorkist and Lancastrian make vp two,
A solemne procession in Pauls by both the faction [...].
Enuie and mallice, brother, like to brother,
[...]n mind farre sundred, although coupled so,
Bloody reuenge, and in their brests they smother;
Ill's the procession (and fore runs much losse,)
"Wherein men say, the Deuill beares the Crosse.
These Rites of peace religiously perform'd,
To all mens thinking the enraged Queene,
At Warwicks greatnesse inwardly yet storm'd,
The Queene inwardly g [...]uching at Warwickes greatnesse▪
▪Which euery day still more and more was seene,)
Against the King, who Callice so had Arm'd,
As it his owne inheritance had beene,
Which towne she saw that if he still should hold▪
That she by him must hourely be controul'd.
For which his murther shee pursu'd so fast,
As that she soone and secretly had layd,
[...]h to assault him as the streets he past,
Warwick in perill to hau [...] bin slaine▪ passing th [...] street.
As if his braue name had not brought him ayd,
He of her vengeance had beene sure to tast,
The Tragique Sceane so furiously was playd,
That he from London was inforc't to fly,
Like a rough [...]e [...] her malice grew so hye,
And towards the Duke his speedy iour [...]y takes▪
Who then at Middleham made his most aboad,
Which Salsbury his habitation makes,
Whereas their time together they bestew'd,
Whose courages the Earle of Warwicke wakes,
When he to them his suddaine danger show'd,
With a pale v [...]sage, and doth there disclose,
Her brands set on him both in wounds & blowe
This wrong in counsell when they had discust,
And way'd the danger wherein still they were,
Continuall Treasons shrouded in their trust,
Nor other hopes else likely to appeare,
They find that this might make a war seeme iust,
And giue their cause vp to the world so cleare,
To rise in Armes when they resolue at last,
To raise them force, and wisely thus forecast,
To muster vp their Tenants and their friends,
Not as a War vpon the land to bring,
Nor to aduance their owne sinister ends,
Nor wrong a Subiect in the smallest thing,
Onely to guard them (as their case then stands)
Till they had show'd their grieuance to the King,
And giue their power to Salsbury to guide,
That wi [...]h the King the bus'nesse should decide
With this distinction Salsbury is sent▪
Warwi [...]ke to Callice (with what ha [...] he may,)
By his much speed a mischiefe to preuent,
Fearing the Towne might else be giuen away,
[Page 119]The Duke of Yorke by generall consent,
[...]t Middleham Castell they allot to stay;
To raise a second power (if need should be)
To reinforce them, or to set them free.
The Queene who heard by such as were her own)
With that false Earle how those of Cheshire sided,
[...]s in short time how powerfull he was growne,
Thinks with her selfe the shire might be diuided,
[...]f that her loue to some of them were knowne,
Which eas'ly might be, were her pleasure guided,
By some such person, of whose valour they,
Had an opinion, which she thus doth lay.
Causing the King to giue a large command,
To Iames Lord Awdley, powerfull in those parts,
To Raise him force those Rebels to withstand;
[...]uch to their Soueraigne as had loyall hearts,
And to make Captaines ouer eu'ry band▪
Men of the best blood, as of best desarts,
Which he so laboured till that he had brought,
That th'halfe of one house gainst the other fought
So that two men arising from one bed,
The men of Cheshire [...]pan [...] [...]n the quarre [...].
Falling to talke, from one another flye:
This weares a white Rose, and that weares a Red;
And this a Yorke, that Lancaster doth cry:
He wisht to see that Awdley well had sped:
He prayes againe to prosper Salsbury:
And for their farewel when their leaues they take
They their sharpe swords at one another shake.
This fire in euery family thus set,
Ou [...] go the Brown bills with the well strung bow [...]
Till a [...] ▪ Blore heath these boy strous souldiers met,
The [...]
For there [...] chanc'd the Armies then to close,
This [...] not liue if that hee stroue to let;
Neuer such friends yet ere became such soes,
With down-right strokes they at each other [...]
No word for Cheshire was, but kill and slay,
The Sonne (as some report) the Father flue,
A great [...]
In opposition as they stoutly stood,
The Nephew seene the Vnckle to pursue,
Bathing his sword in his owne naturall blood,
The Brother in his brothers gore imbrue
His guilty hands, and at this deadly food:
Kinsman kills Kinsman, and together fall,
As hellish fury had possest them all.
There noble Tutch [...]t the Lord Audl [...]y dyde,
The Lord A [...]
(Whose Father wan him such renowne in Franc [...]
And many a Cheshire Gentleman beside,
Fell at this field by warres vncertaine chance:
These miseries Queene Margarite must abide,
Whilst the proud Yorkists doe themselues aduance
And poore King Henry on a pallet lay,
And scarcely ask'd which side had got the day
Thus valiant Audl [...]y at this Battaile slaine,
And all those friends to the Lancastrians lost:
Cheshire by her such d [...]mage to sustaine:
So much deere blood had this late Conflict cost:
[Page 121]Wherfore the grieued Queene with might & main
Labours for life to raise a second Host:
No [...] time therein she meaneth to fo [...]slow,
Either shee'll get all, or will all forgoe.
And whilst their friends them forces gathering were▪
The neighbouring Realmes of this great bus'nesse ring,
The Duke & those, that to his part adhere,
[...]roclaimed Traytors; pardon promising,
To those at Blore that Armes did lately beare:
[...]o they would yet cleaue to their lawfull King,
Which driue in many to their part againe,
To make their full, they York [...]sts in their wane.
Yorke who perceiu'd the puissant Host prepar'd,
With his deare Neuils, Counsels what to doe,
[...]or it behou'd him to make good his guard,
With both their strengths and all too little too,
[...]nd in the Marches he no labour spar'd
[...]o winne his friends along with him to goe:
With expedition which he could not g [...]t,
On the Kings side the Commons were so set.
And being to meete so absolute a power,
[...]t wanting much his party good to make;
[...]d Henryes proclamations euery houre:
[...]s Souldiers win their Generall to forsake,
[...]sides the storme which rais'd this sudden shower:
[...]m all in sunder likely was to shake:
He saw his safety to consist in flight,
Thus e'r he wist, o'rmastred in his might,
All on the spurre for li [...] away they post,
Their homes too [...] nor there they might abide▪
E [...]rd Earl of March, eldest sonne to [...] Duke t [...] Ea [...] and Warwicke.
The thre [...] [...]aue Earls soon reacht the western coa [...]
[...] whēce to Callice their [...]raight course they pli [...]
The Duke to Wales being there befriended most:
Yet for more safety, he [...]o Ireland hyde:
So others ship themselues from eu'ry bay,
And happiest he that [...]oon'st could get away,
As when a Route of raue'nous wolues are met▪
T'assey [...] some Heard the desart p [...]sturing neare,
A Simily.
T [...] watchfull Clownes which ouer them are set,
Of [...] taught before their [...]iranny to feare.
With dogges, with st [...]u [...]s, and shouts together g [...]
No [...] neuer leaue till they their Cattell cleare:
So the Kings power the Yorkists still pursue,
Which like▪ those wolues before those Heards m [...] fl [...]
They gone the King at Couentry begun,
A Parli [...] [...]ent at [...]
A Parliament, by good aduice, wherein,
The Duke of Yorke, with th'Earle of March his so [...]
With Sal [...]bury and Warwicke who had bin
Conspirators, much mischiefe and had done,
And by whose helpe [...]e hapt so much to win:
He there attaints▪ of Treason, and bestowes,
All that was theirs, vpon his friends, their foes,
When now those Earles in Callice still that [...]
The charge whereof proud Warwicke on him too [...]
In their intended bus'nesse neuer slept:
Nor yet their former enterprise forsooke,
[Page 123]In t'Henryes Counsailes who had those that crept,
And did each day his actions ouerlooke,
From whom as their aduertisements still are,
So they their strengths accordingly prepare.
And in meane time the Kingdome to embroyle,
That with lesse noise their friēds might raise an host,
They pl [...]gue the seas with Piracy and spoyle:
And rob the Hauens all along the Coast:
They ne'r take pitty of their Natiue soyle:
For that they knew this would auayle them most,
That whilst the State was busied there about▪
Armes might be rais'd within, by those without.
And slaughtring many that were set toward,
Th'especiall Ports; th'vnweldy Anchors wayde,
Of the Kings ships, whose fraught as prize they sharde
And them to Callice carefully conuayd,
With their sto [...]n [...] Fleet, and his great Nauy darde,
As late by land, so now by Sea they sway'd:
All in Combustion, and their bloody rage,
Nor Sea, nor Land, can possibly asswage.
Then haue they Forces rais'd for them in Kent,
Their next and most conuenien place to land,
(Where should the aduerse power their hopes preuēt
In Douer Road yet were their ships at hand)
And by their Posts still too and fro that went,
They certainly were let to vnderstand,
That Kent was surely theirs, and onely stayd▪
To rise in Armes the Yorkists▪ power to ayde,
When Falconbridge, who second Brother was
To Salsbury, they send away before,
To see no ships should out of Sandwich passe,
To hinder them from comming to the shore,
There of Munition tooke a wondrous Masse,
Heapt in that Towne, that with abundant store,
He Armed many at their comming in,
Which on their side would scarcely else haue bin▪
That they no sooner setled were on land,
The men of Kent rise with the Torkists.
But that in Armes th'rebellious Kentish rose,
And the Lord Cobham with a mighty band,
With their Calicians presently doth close,
That now they sway'd all with a powerfull hand,
And in small time so great their Armie growes,
From Sussex, Surry, and those parts about,
That of her safety, London well might doubt,
But yet at last the Earies shee in doth let,
To whom the Clergy comming day by day,
From further sheers them greater forces get,
Whē towards Northampton making forth their way
Where the sad King his Army downe had set,
And for their comming onely made his stay,
With all the force his friends could him afford,
And for a fight with all things fitly stor'd
Who in his march the Earle doth oft molest,
(By their Vauntcurrers hearing how he came)
In many a straight, and often him distrest,
By stakes and trenches that his Horse might lame,
[Page 125]But the stout Yorkists still vpon them prest:
The name of Warwicke fearefull to hu enemies.
And still so fearefull was great Warwicks name,
That being once cryde on, put them oft to flight
On the Kings Army till at length they light.
When th'Earle of March thē in the pride of blood
His Virgin valour on that day bestowes,
And furious Warwicke like a raging flood,
Beares downe before him all that dare oppose,
Old Salsbury so to his tackling stood,
And Fauconbridge so sayes amongst his foes,
That euen like leaues, the poore Lancastrians fall,
And the proud Yorkists beare away the Ball.
There Humphrey Duke of Buckingham expir'd,
A great pa [...] of the Nobility slaine at Nerthampton
King Henrys comfort and his causes friend,
There Shrewsbury (euen of his foes admir'd,
For his high courage) his last breath doth spend,
Braue Beamout there, and Egremount lay tyr'd
To death, there▪ Lucy had his lucklesse end,
And many a noble Gentleman that day,
Weltring in gore, on the wild Champion lay,
The wretched King, as Fortunes onely sonne,
His souldiers slaine, and he of all forsaken,
Left in his Tent; of men the most forlorne;
(The second time) a prisoner there is taken;
The wofull Queene out of the Battaile borne,
In a deepe swound; and when she doth awaken,
Nothing about her heares, but howles, and cryes,
Was euer Queenes like Margarites miseries?
YOrke comming in from Ireland [...]n the end,
And to his hands thus finds the Battaile won [...]
By the high Prowesse of his faithfull friend,
Great Warwicke, and that valiant March his son,
H [...]s present hopes the former so transcend,
That the proud Duke immediatly begun,
By his bold Actions to expresse his thought,
Through so muc [...] blood, which he so long had sought▪
The Kings Command'ment daring to deny,
His Soueraigne Lord being cal'd to waite vpon,
The Duke of Yorke [...] insolence.
And on his Fortune beares himselfe so hi [...],
That he in State presumes t'ascond his Throane;
From the Kings lodgings puts his [...]u [...]n [...]s by,
And placeth in them such as were his owne:
So infinitely insolent the growes,
As he the Crowne at pleasure would dispose,
When he procures a Parliament with speed,
In which himselfe Protector he doth make,
And only Heire apparent to succe [...]d,
The King▪ when death him from the world doth take
And what had bene at Couentry decreed,
He there Annulls, from him and his to shake
The seruile yoke of all subiection quite,
Downe goes the red Rose, and vp goes the white▪
And he with Fortune that this while doth sport,
Seeing the Southern▪ to him still were sure;
Thinks to the North, if he should but resort,
He to his part the Northerne should procure,
[Page 127]Seeking all wayes his greatnesse to support;
Nor would an equall willingly endure:
Downe into Yorkshire doth to Sandall ride,
Whose lofty scyte well suted with his plide.
The vexed Queene whose very soule forgot,
The Quee [...] impatient [...] the Dukes pride.
That such a thing as patience it had knowne,
And but shee found her friends forsooke her not,
As madde as euer Hecuba had grovvne,
Whilst both her wrongs, and her reuenge were hot,
Her mighty mind so downe could not be throvvne,
But that once more the bloody set sheele play,
With Yorke, ere so he beare the Crovvne away.
And dovvne to Sandall doth the Duke pursue,
With all the povver her friends could her prouide,
Led by those Lords that euer had been true,
And had stood fast vpon King Henryes side,
With that most valiant and selected crue,
This brau'st of Queenes, so vvell her businesse plide,
That comming soone to Sandals lofty sight,
Into the Field she dares him foorth to fight▪
And for this Conflict there came on with her,
Her hope Prince Henry, her deare only Sonne,
Stout Somerset, and noble Excester,
Dukes that for Margarite mighty things had done,
Devon and Wilt▪ Earles vsing to conferre,
With this vvise Queene, when danger she vvould shun,
Vndaunted Clifford, Rosse in vvar vp brought,
Barrons as braue as ere in battaile fought▪
When this stout Duke who in his Castle stood,
The Dukes oft [...] ruine.
With Salsbury (who beat them all at Blore,)
Both which were flesht abundantly with blood,
In those three But a [...]les they had wonne before,
Thought in their pride, it would be euer Flood,
No [...] gainst Queen Margarite that they needed more
For they [...]d▪ Fortune chain'd with them about,
Th [...]t of the [...] conquest none but fooles could doubt.
And for the Field soone Marshalling their force,
All poore delayes they scornefully defie,
Nor will the Duke stay for those troupes of Horse,
With which his Sonne him promist to supply,
Inspight of Fate they'll giue their foe the worse,
On their owne valour they so much rely,
And with fiue thousand marshald well they come,
Meaning to charge the Queenes maine Battaile home.
But in her Host she hauing those that were▪
Expert in all the Stratagems of Warre,
To fight with him doe cause her to forbeare,
Till from his Castle she had got him farre,
Whilst in an ambush shee had placed there,
Wiltshire and Clifford with their strengths to barre,
Him from his home, in off'ring to retire,
Or wound his backe euen as they would desire,
When too't they fell vpon an easie plaine,
At the hill foote, where furiously they fought,
Vpon both sides where there were many slaine:
But for the Queene, foure to his one had brought:
[Page 129]The Duke of Yorke for all his pride was faine.
Backe to recoyle were hee was finely caught,
For Wilt and Clifford that in Ambush were,
The Van thus rowted, ouerthrew the Reare.
Where Yorke himselfe, who proudly but of late,
With no lesse hope then of a kingdome fed,
Vpon this field before his Castle gate,
Mangled with wounds on his owne earth lay dead,
Vpon whose body Clifford downe him sate,
Stabbing the corpes, and cutting off his head,
Crown'd it with paper, (and to wreake his teene)
Presents it so to his victorious Queene,
His Bastard Vnckles both couragious Knights,
Sir Iohn and Sir Hugh Mortimer so sped,
Hall, Hastings▪ Neuill▪ who in sundry Eights,
Had show'd their valour, on the field found dead:
And Salsbury amongst these Tragicke sights,
Who at Blore-heath so much deere blood had shed,
The E [...]rle [...] Salsbury b [...] heade [...] ▪
Taken aliue, to Pomfret sent with speed,
And for their bloods, himselfe there made to bleed
Some climbe vp Rocks, through hedges other run
Their foes so roughly execute their rage,
Where th'Earle of Rutland the Dukes yongest son,
The end of young Rutland.
Then in his childhood and of tender age,
Comming in hope to see the Battaile wonne,
Clifford whose wrath no rigour could asswage.
Takes, and whilst there he doth for mercy kneele,
In his soft bosome sheathes his sharpned steele.
Edward of March, the Duke his Father slaine,
Succeeding him▪ whilst things thus badly sort,
Gathering an Army, but yet all in vaine,
To ayde his Father, for he came too short,
Hearing that Penbrooke with a Warlike trayne,
Was comming tow' [...]ds him, touch'd with the report,
His valiant Marchers for the field prepares,
To meet the Earle, if to approach he dares.
Iaesper by birth halfe Brother to the King,
On bright Queene Katherine got by Owen Tether▪
Whom Henrys loue did to this Earledome bring,
And as from Wales descended sent him thither,
And of South-wales gaue him the gouerning,
Where in short time he got an Host together,
Cleauing to Henry who did him preferre,
As an Alye to th'House of Lancaster.
Vpon their March when as they lastly mer,
Neere to the Crosse that Mortimer is nam'd,
The Battaile [...] Morti [...]s Crosse.
Where they in order their Battalions set,
The Duke and Earle with equall rage enflam'd,
With angry eyes they one the other threat▪
Their deadly Arrowes at each other aym'd:
And there a fierce and deadly fight begin,
A bloodier Battell yet there had not bin▪
The Earle of Ormond, an Associate then,
With this young Tudor, for the King that stood▪
Came in the Vanguard with his Irish men▪
With Darts, and Skaines▪ those of the Brittish blood
[Page 131]With Shaftes and Gleaues them seconding againe,
And as they fall, still make their places good,
That it amaz'd the marchers to behold,
Men so ill arm'd vpon their Bowes so bold.
Now th'Welch and Irish so their weapons weeld,
As though themselues they conquerors meant to c [...]l
Then are the Marchers masters of the field,
With their browne Bills the Welchmen so they mall,
Now th▪one▪ now th'other likely were to yeeld,
These like to fly, then those were like to fall,
Vntill at length (as fortune pleas'd to guide)
The Conquest turn'd vpon the Yorkists side.
Three Suns were seem that instant to appeare,
Three s [...]n [...]ey seene▪ at one time.
Which soone againe shut vp themselues in one,
Ready to buckle as the Armies were,
Which this braue Duke tooke to himselfe alone,
His drooping hop [...]s which somwhat seemd to cheere
By his mishaps▪ neere lately ouerthrowne.
So that thereby encouraging his men,
Once more he sets the white Rose vp agen.
Penbrooke, and Ormond, saue themselues by slight,
Foure thousand souldiers of both Armies dead,
But the great losse on the Lancastrians light,
So [...]ll the [...]riends of poore King Henry sped;
Where Owen Tudor taken in the flight,
This yong Earles father by Queene Katherines bed
Owen Tudor [...] end.
At Hereford not farre away from thence,
Where others with him dyde for their offence.
THis while the Queen, the gole at Sandal gain
Leades on tow'rds London her victorious H [...]
Whose blades she showes, with blood of Yorkists stain' [...]
Nor of her Cōquest can she leaue to boast,
But to her side, whilst lucky fortune lean'd,
Come, what can come, she means to cleare the co [...]
Of those she knew in Yorks reuenge would rise▪
Found she not meanes, their Forces to surprise.
And at Saint Albans finding on her way,
Iohn Duke of Norfolke, and her diuelish foe:
Fierce Warwicke who there with an Army lay,
Which two, deceased Yorke when he should goe
King Henry left before to the keeping of the Duke of Norfolke, and the Earle of Warwicke.
To Sandall, left them as his onely kay,
To keepe King Henry (which they not foreslow)
Lest by the Queene & hers he might be wroug▪
T'annull their late past Parliament for nought▪
For which to Counsell, calling vp her Lords,
Well to consider what was to be done,
Who cheere her vp with comfortable words,
And would in no wise she her▪ way should shunne:
For they would make her entrāce with their swo [...]
Here what was lost, might here againe be wunn [...],
Assuring her their minds them strongly gaue▪
That of this Field the glory she should haue.
And soone their Army ordering for the grou [...]
Whereof a view they e [...]'ry way doe take:
When for Assault they bid their Trumpets sound,
And so their entry on the Towne they make:
[Page 133] [...]ut comming to the market place they found,
[...] shower of shafts, as from a cloud it brake,
Which backe againe made them so fast to beare,
As that their Van, was like to route their Reare,
But thus repuls'd, another way they prooue,
How in vpon their enemy to get,
Which maks their foes, that they their force remoue
To stop that passage wherein they were set,
[...]hat whilst, they▪ shafts into each other shoue,
[...]or a long while it was an euen bet,
Death being thus dealt, and both so deepely in,
Whether proud Warwicke, or the Queene should winne
But by the Queene constrained to recoyle,
[...]heir ground from them they absolutely wonne,
When they the Yorkists miserably spoyle,
[...]nd in with them on their mayne Battaile runne:
Which being greatly straitned by the soyle,
[...]hey could not doe what else they might haue done:
The Queene getteth the day at Saint Albans.
Through thick & thin, o'r hedge & ditch that take,
And happiest he the greatest hast could make.
Whilst Warwicke cryes, ye Southerne cowards stay,
[...]nd once more turne your faces to your foes,
[...]is feare, not danger doth yee thus dismay:
[...] proue the former fortune of your Bowes,
[...]hinke but vpon the late-wonne glorious day,
[...]ot in this place; the fame whereof you lose,
By your base flight; but he his breath might spare
He might as well haue call'd vpon the Ayre▪
Scatter'd like sheep by wolues that had bin scar' [...]
The Yorkists Army dis [...]omfited at this second Batt [...]ll at Saint Albans
So runne the Yorkists; which, when Norfolke saw,
He calls to Warwicke scarcely then prepar'd,
Himselfe out of this danger to withdraw:
My Lord (quoth he) you see that all is mard:
Fortune hath sworne to keepe vs in her awe:
Our liues are gone if longer here wee stay,
Loose not your selfe, though we haue lost the d [...]
And for they found the Foe came on so fast,
The King by them to this lost battell brought,
And vnder guard in his pauillion plac't,
Th'are forc'd to leaue (which late they little thoug [...]
For ther were those which made thē make such has [...]
They could not stay to haue their Soueraign sough [...]
King Henry of no account
But since the Battell had such ill successe,
That lost, they thought their losse of him the less [...]
The foe thus fled, they quickly found the King,
From whom a speedy messenger is sent,
His Wife and Sonne, away to him to bring,
Who with their Lords arriuing at his Tent,
The King [...]et [...] with the Queene and her [...]
Where after many a fall, and many aspring,
Of teares of ioy vpon each other spent,
With strict embraces they each other straine,
No one had need a gladnesse there to faine.
Like as you see when Partriges are flowne,
(In Falconers termes which we the Couy call)
[...]
By the sharpe Hawke, and into thickets throwne,
There drops downe one, there doth another fall,
[Page 135] [...]et when they heare the questing Spaniels gone,
They in the euening get together all▪
With pretty iugging and each other greet.
Glad as it were they once againe should meete.
But the fierce Queene, her full reuenge to take,
Of those she thought the Yorkists well that meant.
[...]he stout Lord Bonvile for King Henry, sake,
The cruelty of the Queen
[...]nd Thomas Kerrill, a braue Knight of Kent,
Who the Kings Guard stroue euer long to make,
[...]ll threatning perill thereby to preuent,
And for their safety had his Soueraigne word,
That cruell woman putteth to the sword.
This wel might warne great Warwick not to trust
[...]oo much to Fortune, which so soone reueales,
[...]er whorish lightnesse, like an Auerse gust,
[...]nd on the suddaine makes him strike his Sayles,
Which when he most beleeued her to be iust,
[...]is forward hopes then most of all she fayles
All his accounts, and teach him thus to summe,
▪None ouercomes, but may be ouercome,
Some thinke that Warwicke had not lost the day,
[...]ut that the King into the Field he brought,
[...]or with the worse, that side still went away,
King Henry most [...]
Which had King Henry with thē when they fought
[...]pon his birth so sad a curse they lay,
[...]s that he neuer prospered in ought,
The Queene wan two, amongst the losse of many▪
Her husband absent, present, neuer any▪
But whilst her selfe with further hopes shee fed,
The Queene still watchfull, wisely vnderstands,
That Warwicke late, vvho at Saint Albans fled▪
(Whereas his heeles seru'd better then his hands)
Had met the Duke of Yorke, and made a head,
Of many fresh, and yet vnfought-with bands,
At Chipping-norton for more forces stay'd,
From whence towards London they their mar [...] had lay [...]
The Londoners deny the Queene victuaile for her Army.
And for shee saw the Southerne to adhere,
Still to the Yorkists, who againe relyde,
Much on their ayde, as London she doth feare,
A small reliefe which lately her denyde,
She can (at all conceiue) no comfort there,
With any succours, nor to be supply'd,
But to the North her speedy course directs,
From whence fresh aydes she euery day expect [...]
Not foure dayes march yet fully on her way,
The Duke of Yorke entreth London with applause of the people.
But Yorke to London with his Army comes,
And neere the walles his Ensignes doth display,
Deaffing the city with his clamoorus Drummes,
His Title so the multitude doth sway,
That for his souldiers they prouide him Summes,
And those prouisiōs they Queene Margarite o [...]
Taken from hers, they on the Duke bestow'de.
The Gates set open to receiue him in,
They with applause his gracious entrance greet,
His presence so the Peoples hearts doth vvinne,
That they come flocking in from euery street,
[Page 137]Kneeling before him, as he Crownd had bin,
And as he rode along they kist his feete,
Whilst good King Henry towards the North is gone,
The poore Lancastrians damn'd by euery one.
Whither (at once) doe presently repaire,
The spirituall Lords, & Temporal, who would haue,
Him take the Crowne, who farre more ready are,
[...]o giue, then he their suffrages to craue:
The Commons take him so into their care,
Vpon his name that dotingly they raue,
And being ask'd who should their Soueraigne be,
They cry King Edward and no man but hee.
Thus to his height this puissant Prince they heaue,
The seate Imperiall; where then sitting downe,
Their fealty they force him to receaue,
Which on his head might firmely fixe his Crowne,
And in his hand the Regall Scepter leaue:
Edward the fourth proclaim'd in eu'ry Towne,
Edward m [...] King by the suffrage of the Commons▪
With all the pompe that they could thinke vpon,
They then adorne his Coronation.
THis newes too quickly in Queene Margarites eare,
What by the Lords at London had beene done,
Euen at the point to fall into despaire,
Ready she was on her owne death to runne;
With her faire fingers [...]ents her golden haire,
Cursing that houre when first she saw the Sunne.
With rage she faints; reuiuing and doth call,
Vpon high heauen for vengeance on them all,
To ayde her right yet still excites her friends,
By her faire speech inchanted (as by charmes)
Scarce any man on any Lord depends,
That followes her, that riseth not in Armes:
The spacious North such plenteous succour sends,
That to her side the souldiers come in swarmes:
Thus day by day she addeth more and more,
To that full Army, which she had before.
Not long it was but Edward vnderstood,
Of this great power prepared in the North,
When he to make his Coronation good,
Calls to his ayde his friends of greatest worth,
With whom then rising like a raging flood:
King Edward [...] from [...] to [...]
This forward King breakes violently foorth,
That with the helpe of Tributary flowes,
Extends his breadth still onward as he goes.
Nor Henryes Army needed to be sought,
For euery man could tell him where it lay,
In twelue dayes march which Edward eas'ly rough
Without resistance keeping on his way,
Neere fifty thousand in his Host he brought,
Whose brandish'd Ensignes seem'd to braue the day
And vnder Pomfret his proud Tents he pight▪
Prouiding hourely for a deadly fight.
Of Henrys Host, when they who had command,
On whom the Queene imposed had the care,
Great Sommerset, and stout Northumberland,
And Clifford, whom no danger yet could dare:
[Page 139]The walles of Yorke first hauing throughly man'd,
There plac'd the King, when quickly they prepare,
To range their Battell which consisted then,
Of threescore thousand valiant Northerne men.
From Edwards Host the Lord Fitzwater went,
The Lord Fitzwater and Bastard Neuill slam [...]
And valiant Neuill, Warwickes Bastard brother,
At Ferry-bridge the passage to preuent,
From comming ouer Eyre, to keepe the other;
Gainst whom the aduerse, the Lord Clifford sent,
Who taking night his enterprise to smother:
The dawne yet dusky, passing through a Ford,
Puts them, and all their souldiers to the sword▪
At the shrill noyse, when Warwicke comming in,
And finds his Brother and Fitzwater dead,
Euen as a man distracted that had bin:
Out of his face the liuely colour fled,
Warwicke [...]w [...] to re [...]snge his brothers death.
[...]oth cruell Clifford thus (quoth he) begin,
For eu'ry drop of blood that he hath shed,
This day I'le make an enemy to bleed,
Or neuer more in Battaile let me speed.
And to the King returning in this mood,
[...] Liege (quoth he) all mercy now defie,
[...]elay no longer to reuenge their blood;
Whose mangled bodies breathlesse yonder lye:
[...]nd let the man that meanes King Edwards good,
[...]and fast to Warwicke, who no more shall flie:
Resolu'd to winne, or bid the world a due,
Warwickes de [...]era [...]e [...] s [...]luti [...]
Which spoke, the Earle his sprightly courser s [...]e▪
This resolution so extremely wrought,
Vpon King Edward that he gaue command,
No quarter [...]e [...]t at Towton.
That on his side who willingly not fought,
Should haue his leaue, to quit him out of hand;
That eu' [...]y one should kill the man he cought,
To keepe no Quarter, and who meant to stand,
In his iust cause, rewarded he would see,
This day hee'll rise, or this day ruin'd be.
When neere to Towton on the spacious playne▪
Towton field.
These puissant Armies on Palme-Sunday me▪
Wher down right slaughter angry heauē doth rain [...]
With clouds of rage the Element is set:
The wind [...]s breath fury, and the earth againe,
With the hot gore of her owne Natiues wet,
Sends vp a smoke▪ which makes the mall so mad,
Of neither part that mercy could be had.
One horrid sight another doth appall:
One fearefull cry another doth confound,
Murthers so thicke vpon each other fall,
That in one shreeke anothers shreeke is drownd,
Whilst blood for blood [...]ncessantly doth call,
From the wide mouth of many a gaping wound;
Slaughter so soone grows big, that cōmn to birt [...]
The monstrous burthen ouer-loads the earth▪
This bloody Tempest ten long houres doth last▪
Whilst neither side could to it selfe assure
The victory; but as their lot was cast,
With wounds and death they stoutly it indure,
[Page 141]Vntill the valiant Yorkists at the last,
Although in number neere ten thousand fewer:
In their long fight their forces manage so,
That they before them lay their conquer'd foe.
Couragious Clifford first here fell to ground,
Into the throat with a blunt Arrow strucke:
A miserable defect of the Queenes friends.
Here Westmerland receiu'd his deadly wound:
Here dy'd the stout Northumberland that stuck
Still to his Soneraigne; Wells, and Dacres found,
That they had lighted on King Henrys luck:
Trowluph & Horne, two braue commanders dead
Whilst Summerset and Excester were fled.
Thirty two thousand in this battaile flaine,
The greate [...] slaughter in all that ciui [...] Warre.
Many in strayts lye heap'd vp like a wall [...]
The restlye scatter'd round about the playne,
And Cocke a Riuer, though but very small,
Fill'd with those flying doth so deepely staine,
The Riuer Wharfe, int'which this Cocke doth fall,
As that the fountaine which this flood doth feed,
Besides their blood, had seem'd for them to bleed.
King Henrys hopes thus vtterly forlorne,
By the late losse of this vnlucky day:
He feeles the Crown (euen) from his temples torn,
On his sword point, which Edward beares away:
And since his fall the angry Fates had sworne,
He findes no comfort longer here to stay:
But leauing Yorke, he post to Barwicke goes,
With's Queene & Son, true partners in his woes▪
The King for Scotland, and for France the Queene,
The King and Queen forced to forsake the Land
Diuided hence, since them thus Fortune thwarts,
Before this time there seldome had beene seene,
Two to be seuer'd with so heauy hearts,
The Prince their son then standing them betweene,
Their song is sorrow▪ and they beare their parts:
He to the King of Scots, to get supplies▪
She to the French King, and her Father flies.
Which well might shew a Princes slippery state,
For when she hither at the first came in,
England and France did her congratulate,
Then in two battailes she had Conqueror bin,
Seeming to tread vpon the Yorkists hate,
As from that day she had beene borne to winne:
Now to sayle backe with miseries farre more,
Then were her Tryumphs landing here before.
This cruell blow to the Lancastrians lent,
At fatall Towton that Palme-Sunday fight,
Where so much blood they prodigally spent,
To France and Scotland as inforc'd their flight,
Lifts vp the Yorkists to their large extent,
And Edward now to see his Crowne set right,
Pro [...]d in his spoyles, to London doth repaire,
And re-annoynted mounts th'Imperiall Chaire,
Where he a speedy Parliament doth passe,
T'annull those Lawes which had beene made before▪
Gainst his succession, and dissolue the Masse,
Of Treasons heapt on his, them to restore:
[Page 143]Whereby King Henry so much lesned was,
As after that he should subsist no more,
Little then thinking Lancaster againe,
Now but an exile ouer him should raigne.
Where he attaints as Traitors to his Crowne,
The Earle of Oxford and [...] Sonne attainted.
Iohn Earle of Oxford and h [...]s valiant sonne,
A [...]brey De Ʋere, with whom likewise went downe
Mountgomery, Terrill, Tudenham who were done,
To death; so Heau'n on Henry seemes to frowne,
And Summerset King Edwards wrath to shunne,
Himselfe submitting is receiu'd to grace,
Such is Queene Margarites miserable case.
Henry in Scotland▪ the sad Queene the while,
Is left to France, to Lewis there to sue,
To lend her succour; scorning her exile,
In spight of Fate she will the warre renew,
Queene Margarit a womā of an [...]ndainted spirit.
She will tempt Fortune till againe she smile▪
In such a pitch her mighty spirit still flew;
That should the world oppose her, yet that strengh,
She hopes shall worke vp her desires at length.
And with fiue thousand valiant Volunteers,
Of natiue French, put vnder her command,
With Armes well sitted she towards Scotland steeres
With which before she possibly could land,
The wrath of Heauen vpon this Queene appeares,
The Queene in euery enterprise most vnfor [...]nate.
And with fierce Tempests striue her to withstand,
The winds make warre against her with her Foe,
Which Ioin'd together worke her ouerthrowe.
Her Forces thus infortunatly lost,
Which she in Scotland hop'd to haue encreast,
And in this tempest she herselfe so tost,
As neuer Lady; yet she here not coast,
But since she found her enterprise thus crost,
She to the Scottish her faire course adrest,
Nor would desist till she had rais'd agen,
Ten thousand valiant well-appointed men.
And in vpon Northumberland doth breake,
Rowzing the Siuggish villages from fleepe,
Bringing in Henry though a helpe but weake,
But leaues her Son in Barwicke safe to keepe;
Her ratling Drums so rough a language speakes,
Queene Margarite raiseth [...] new Army.
The ruffling Scots, and all the Country sweepe;
Which rumour run so fast with through the ayre,
That Edward thought it shooke his very Chaire.
And Somerset receiu'd to grace before,
With Sir Raulph Percy from that fatall day,
S [...]me that [...]ad submitted themselues to King Edward [...]e [...]olt at king Henrys comming.
At Towton; found each minute more and more,
How sad [...] fate on the Lancastrians lay,
Y [...] hoping now King Henry to restore,
Who they suppos'd had new found out the way,
Reuolt from Edward, and in Henrys name,
Call in their friends, to ayde him as he came.
THis noyse of Warre arising from the North,
In Edwards eares re-ecchoing bidds him stirre,
And rumour [...]ells him if he made not foorth,
Queene Margarite comm'n he must resigne to her,
[Page 145]For they were Captaines of especiall worth,
On whom she did this mighty charge conferre,
For that her Ensignes she at large displai'd,
And as she came, so still came [...]n her ayd,
For which his much lou'd Mountacute he sends,
With Englands valiant Infantry his Pheres:
To whose wise guidance, he this Warre commends,
His souldiers expert pickt in sundry sheeres,
His vtmost strength King Edward now extends,
Which he must doe, or drag'd downe by the eares,
From his late-gotten, scarsely-setled Thro [...]e,
And on his shoulders she remount thereon.
And Mountacute had scarsely march'd away,
But he himselfe sets forward with an Host,
And a strong Nauy likewise doth puruay,
Kin Edward prouideth to resist Queen [...] Margarites comming in.
To scoure the Seas and keepe the Brittish coast,
Fearing from France fresh succours euery day,
To ayd Queene Margarit which perplext him most
For he perceiu'd his Crowne sate not so sure,
But might be shak'd should she her Powers procure▪
Now is the Northfild with refulgent Armes,
Edwards and English Scots Queene Margarit brings,
The Norths co [...] this [...]reat con [...]ourse warms
Their Quarrell [...]f two great Kings,
Which oft b [...] wrought each others harms,
And from that R [...] horrour dayly springs,
And though [...]od [...]ey both had spēt before
Yet not so much, but that there must be more.
At Hegly-heath their skirmishes begin,
The Conflict at Hegly-More.
Where two bold Barrons Hungerford and Resse,
With Sir Ralph Percy, he who had lately bin▪
Leagu'd with King Edward, but then gotten lose,
(Striues by all meanes to expiate that sinne)
To the Lancastrian faction cleaues so close,
That when those Barrons from that conflict fly,
In Henrys right, he brauely dares to dye.
Which leades along as Tragicall an Act,
As since the Warres had euer yet beene playd,
For Mountacute b'ing fortunately backt,
By braue King Edwards comming to his ayde:
As of their force King Henry little lackt,
The plaine call'd Liuells where the sceane was layd:
The Bot [...]aile▪ of Exh [...].
Not farre from Exham neere to Dowills flood,
That day discolloured with Lancastrians blood,
There struck they battell, Bowmen Bowmen plide▪
Northerne to Southerne, slaughter ceaseth all;
Long the Fight lasted e'r that either side,
Could tell to which the Victory would fall:
But to the Yorkists fortune is so tide,
That she must come when they shall please to call,
And in his Cradle Henry had the curse,
That where he was, that side had still the worse.
This lucklesse day by the Lancastrians lost,
Was Summerset surprized in his flight,
And in pursuing of this scattered Host,
On Mullins, Rosse, and Hungerford they light,
[Page 147]Which this dayes worke e'r long full dearely cost▪
Queene Margarites [...] goes still [...] [...]wrack [...].
[...]nd with these Lords were taken many a Knight,
Nor from their hands could Henry hardly shift,
Had not his guide beene as his Horse was swift.
Still must Queene Margarites miseries endure,
This Masse of sorrow markt out to sustaine:
For all the aydes this time she should procure,
Are either taken, put to flight, or slaine;
Of nothing else she can her selfe assure,
That she will leaue her losses to complaine:
For since she sees that still her friends goe downe,
She will curse Fortune if she doe not frowne.
Henry to flye to Scotland backe is faine,
King Henry and the Queane [...]
[...]o get to France, the wofull Queene is glad,
[...]here with her Sonne inforced to remaine,
[...]ill other aydes might thence againe be had;
[...]o them that hard necessities constraine,
[...]o set them downe that it doth make me sad,
Neuer so thicke came miseries I weene,
Vpon a poore King▪ and a woefull Queene.
This done King Edward▪ his strong Army sends
[...]o take those Castles which not long before,
[...]ad beene deliuered to King Henrys friends,
Which he by sieges makes them to restore,
[...]nd on the borders watchfully attends,
[...]o Henryes ayde that there should come no more,
But ô behold as one ordain'd to ill,
The Fate that followes haplesse Henry still▪
At Hegly-heath their skirmishes begin,
The Conflict at Hegly-More.
Where two bold Barrons Hungerford and Rosse,
With Sir Ralph Percy, he who had lately bin,
Leagu'd with King Edward, but then gotten lose,
(Striues by all meanes to expiate that sinne)
To the Lancastrian faction cleaues so close,
That when those Barrons from that conflict fly,
In Henrys right, he brauely dares to dye.
Which leades along as Tragicall an Act,
As since the Warres had euer yet beene playd,
For Mountacute b'ing fortunately backt,
By braue King Edwards comming to his ayde:
As of their force King Henry little lackt,
The plaine call'd Liuells where the sceane was layd:
The Bot [...]aile. of Exham.
Not farre from Exham neere to Dowills flood,
That day discolloured with Lancastrians blood,
There struck they battell, Bowmen Bowmen plide
Northerne to Southerne, slaughter ceaseth all;
Long the Fight lasted e'r that either side,
Could tell to which the Victory would fall:
But to the Yorkists fortune is so tide,
That she must come when they shall please to call,
And in his Cradle Henry had the curse,
That where he was, that side had still the worse.
This lucklesse day by the Lancastrians lost,
Was Summerset surprized in his flight,
And in pursuing of this scattered Host,
On Mullins, Rosse, and Hungerford they light,
[Page 147]Which this dayes worke e'r long full dearely cost;
Queene Margarites perty goes still to [...] wracke.
And with these Lords were taken many a Knight,
Nor from their hands could Henry hardly shift,
Had not his guide beene as his Horse was swift.
Still must Queene Margarites miseries endure,
This Masse of sorrow markt out to sustaine:
For all the aydes this time she should procure,
Are either taken, put to flight, or slaine;
Of nothing else she can her selfe assure,
That she will leaue her losses to complaine:
For since she sees that still her friends goe downe,
She will curse Fortune if she doe not frowne.
Henry to flye to Scotland backe is faine,
King Henry and the Queene par [...].
To get to France, the wofull Queene is glad,
There with her Sonne inforced to remaine,
Till other aydes might thence againe be had;
So them that hard necessities constraine,
To set them downe that it doth make me sad,
Neuer so thicke came miseries I weene,
Vpon a poore King, and a woefull Queene.
This done King Edward, his strong Army sends
To take those Castles which not long before,
Had beene deliuered to King Henrys friends,
Which he by sieges makes them to restore,
And on the borders watchfully attends,
To Henryes ayde that there should come no more,
But ô behold as one ordain'd to ill,
The Fate that followes haplesse Henry still,
For out of some deepe melancholly fit,
King Henry▪ comming dis, guised into England, is discouered and taken prisoner.
Or otherwise, as falne into despaire,
Or that he was not rightly in his wit,
Being safe in Scotland and still succour'd there;
Vpon the suddaine he abandons it,
And into England Idly entring, where
He is surprizd, and (in his enemies power)
Is by King Edward shut vp in the Tower.
This hap had Henry, who when he was borne,
King Henry was borne the greatest of Christian Kings.
Of Christian Kings the greatest then aliue,
Now he the Crowne full forty yeeres had worne,
Doth all his Regall Soueraignety suruiue;
Of all men liuing and the most forlorne,
So strange a thing can destiny contriue:
So many sundry miseries as he,
No King before, had euer liu'd to see.
To heare all this Queene Margarite must end [...]
Yet sadly to her fathers Court confin'de,
And now King Edward held himselfe secure,
When things fell out so fitly to his minde,
But when of rest he did himselfe assure,
Vpon a suddaine rose so rough a wind,
In his strong hand, which shooke his Scepter mo [...]
Then all the stormes that ere had blowne before
For then in minde to league himselfe with Fr [...]
The pollicie of King Edward.
Which he perceiu'd would be the surest way,
His questiond Tytle highly to aduance:
And at his need should serue him for a kay,
[Page 149] [...]o open him their policies; vvhose chance,
[...]as then in casting, and the next to play,
For Margarite still the French King Lewis prest,
For second aydes, nor would she let him rest,
Wherefore he sends a marri'ge to entreat,
[...]ith beautious Bona (with whose rich report,
[...]ame was opprest with, and a taske too great)
[...]he French Queenes sister, and with her in Court,
Warwick sent into France to intreat for a marriage betwixt King Edward and Bona the French Queens sister. The Dutchesse of Bedford after Iohn her husbands deceas [...] was w [...]dded [...] ▪ Sir Richard Wooquile. Knight, whos [...] daughter [...] Lady was.
[...]arwicke the man chose foorth to worke the feat,
[...] is sent thither in such sumptuous sort,
And in short time so well his businesse plyes,
That she was like to proue an English prize,
In the meane while this youthful King by chance
[...]omming to Grafton where the Dutchesse lay,
[...]hen stil'd of Bedford; his eye haps to glance,
[...] her bright Daughter the faire Widdow Gray,
[...]se beauties did his senses so intrance,
[...] stole his heart so suddainly away,
That must he lose his Crowne, comeweale, come woe,
She must be his, though all the world say no,
Her lookes like Lethe make him to forget,
[...]on what businesse he had Warwicke sent,
[...] this Lady he his loue so set,
[...]at should his Crowne from off his head be rent,
[...]his rebellious people rise, to let,
[...]s choyse of his, they should it not preuent,
For those pure eyes his bosome that had pierc'd,
Had writ alaw there, not to be reuers'd,
What lesse amends this Lady can I make,
Her husband slain at Saint Albans on the [...]g [...] part.
For her deere husband in my quarrell slaine;
Then lawfull marri'ge which for iustice sake,
I must performe (quoth hee) lest she complaine,
For a iust Prince, so me the world shall take:
Soothing himselfe vp in this amorous vaine,
With his affections in this sort doth play,
Till he a Queene made the faire Lady Gray.
This Act of Edwards com'n to Warwicks eare,
And that the sequell show'd it to be true,
In his sterne eyes, it eas'ly might appeare,
His heart too great for his strait bosome grew,
He his Commission doth in piece-meale [...]eare,
Breakes the broad Seale, and on the ground it th [...]
And prayes blest heau'n may curse him if that [...]
For this disgrace reuenged would not be,
Haue I (quoth hee) so lifted thee [...]
[...] King [...]
That to thy greatuesse I the scorne am growne,
Haue I for thee aduentur'd beene so oft▪
In this long Warre, as to the world is knowne,
And now by thee thus basely am I scoft,
By this disgrace vpon me thou hast throwne:
If these thy wrongs vnpunish'd slightly passe,
Hold Warwicke base, and falne from what he was,
Know tw'as the Nevills forthy Title stood,
Else long e'r this, layd lower then the ground,
And in thy cause my Father shed his blood,
None of our house, for thee, but beares a wound,
[Page 151]And now at last to recompence this good,
[...] for me this Guerdon hast thou [...]ound;
[...] proud head, this h [...]d shal pluck thy crown,
Or if thou stand then [...] Warwick down.
Yet he to England peaceably repaires,
Warwicke deeply di [...] bles his dis [...].
And with a smooth browe smother [...] his intent,
And to the King [...] the French affaires,
[...] what in Court had past there since he went:
His spleene he for a fitter season spares,
[...] he the same more liberally might vent:
Calme was his countenance, and his language faire
But in his brest a deepe revenge he bare.
MEane while Queene Margarit (a poore exile heares,)
How things in England (in her absence) went,
[...] halfe burst heart, which but a little cheeres:
[...] from her head she felt the Crowne was rent,
[...]et though fare off a little glimpse appeares,
[...] seeming hope▪ and though it fain [...]ly lent,
It might hau [...] said had not the F [...]es said no,
These stormes at home, might her some profit blow.
[...] heares how Warwicke cunningly had wrought,
[...] Duke of
George second brother to King Edward, and by him [...] Duke of Clarence.
Clarence from his brothers side, [...] that braue Youth at Callice hauing caught,
[...] eldest daughter had to him affide,
[Page 152]How to rebell, the
Warwicke by his Agents had stirred vp this rebellion in the North, he himselfe being at Calli [...], th [...] it might s [...] not to be done by him, they had to their Captaines, Henry Fitz-Hugh Henry Neuil and Sir Iohn Coniers.
Northerne men were brou [...]And who by Warwicke poynted was their guide▪
A [...] on the
The Ear [...]e of Penbroke and h [...] brother Richard Herbert ouerthrowne at Banbury field
W [...]l [...]h he had a mighty hand,By Edward rais'd those rebels to withstand,
Of new
These R [...] b [...]ls had to their Captain one whom they termed Robin of Rids dale.
Rebellions at Northampton rais'd,And to despight the King, what they had done,
How they at Grafton the Earle
The Earle Riuers was Father to the Lady Gray, then Queene of England.
Riuers seas'd,And Sir Iohn Wooduile his most hopefull Sonne,
Who with their heads could hardly be appeas▪d,
And of the fame by puissant Warwicke wonne:
Who hauing taken
The Earle [...]aketh the King prisoner at [...]lney in Warwickeshir [...], entring open this campe [...] the [...]ght.
Edward in his Tent,His King his prisoner into York [...]shir [...] sent.
Then heares againe how Edward had escapt▪
And by his friends a greater power had got,
How he the men of
They had to their Captaine Robert W [...]lls, sonn [...] to the Lord W [...]lles, T [...] field.
Lincolneshire intrapt,Who neere to Stamford pay'd a bloody shot,
And when the Earle his course for Callice shapt,
When England lastly grew for him to hot,
The Lord Vaucleere a Gascoyne borne.
Vaucleere who there his Deputy he put,The Ports against his late grand Captaine shut.
Lastly, shee heares that he at
A knowne Port Towne of Normandy
Deepe ariues▪And lately com'n to
A Towne where the French King lay.
Amboyes to the Court, [...]ereas King Lewis to his vtmost striues,
[...]o entertaine him in most Princely sort:
When the wise Queene her businesse so contriues,
That she comes thither, small what though her port,
Yet brings along the sweet yong Prince her son [...]e,
To proue what good with Warwick might be done
Wen both in
[...]
Court, and presence of the King,Their due respect to both of them that gaue,
[...] will'd them in so pertinent a thing,
That they the like should of each other haue▪
The teares began from both their eyes to spring,
That each from other Pitty see [...]'d to craue,
In gracefull manner when the grieued Queene,
Thus to that great Earle, gently breaths her spleene.
Warwicke, saith shee, how mercilesse a Foe,
The Queene [...] speech to the Earle in the soure following Stanzaes▪
[...]st thou beene still to my poore child and mee,
[...]hat villaine Yorke which hast aduanced so,
Which neuer could haue risen but for thee,
[...]hat Valour thou on Edward didst bestow,
[...] hadst thou show'd for him, thou here dost see,
Our Damaske Roses had adorn'd thy Crest,
And with their wreathes thy ragged Staues bene drest.
First at Saine Albans, at Northampto [...] then,
[...] fatall Towt [...]n that most fearefull fight,
[...] many, nay, what multitudes of men,
[...] fierce Warwicke slaine and put to flight;
[Page 154]O if thy Sword that euer stood for [...]en,
Had but beene drawne for Henry and his right,
He should haue built thee Trophyes euery wh [...]
Wrought with our Crowne▪ supported by th [...] Be [...]
What glory had it wonne the Neuils name,
To haue vpheld the right succeeding race,
Of that fift Henry, hee that was of [...]ame,
The onely Mineon; whom thou now dost trace,
Barron [...]ulco [...] bringe was brother to Richard Ne [...]ll Earle of Salsbury, and Richard Earl of Warwicke, & Iohn Marquesse Moun [...]acute were Sonnes to the sayd Earle.
But Salsbury the first against vs came▪
Then Falconbridge, and Mount [...]cute, ô base,
To aduance a [...]ra [...]tor to his [...]oueraigne thus,
But to our Cr [...]ne your name is ominous,
How many a braue Peere thy too-neere Allies▪
(Whose losse the Babe that's yet vnborne shall [...]e,
Haue▪made themselues a willing Sacrifice;
In our iust quarrell who it rightly knevv,
Whose blood gainst Yorke and his adherents cr [...]es
(Whom many a sad cu [...]se euer shall pursue:)
O Warwicke▪ Warwicke, expiat this gilt,
By shedding their [...] for whom our blood was [...]
When in like language, this great Earle agai [...]
Regreets the Queene, and vvoes her to forbeare,
Of former gree [...]e one thought to [...]ntertaine▪
Warwickes reply in the two following Stanzaes.
Things are not now quoth he, as once they were,
To talke of these past helpe, it is in vaine,
What though it ease your heart; & please your ea [...]
This is not it▪ no▪ [...]t must be our Swords,
Must right our vvrongs (deare Lady) not our w [...]
Madam (quoth he) by this my vexed heart,
On Edwards head, which oft hath wish'd the Crown
[...]t but Queene Margarit cleaue to VVarwicks part,
[...]his hand that heau'd him vp shall hew him downe,
[...]nd if from Henry, Richard Neuill start,
Vpon my house let Heauen for euer frowne,
Of backe the Crown to this yong Prince ile bring,
Or not be VVarwicke if he be not King,
When they accord, Prince Edward should affye,
Prince Edward affyed to Anne the Earle of Warwicks daughter.
Anne the Earles Daughter, to confirme it more,
By Sacrament themselues they strictly tye,
By Armes againe King Henry to restore,
Or in the Quarrell they would liue and dye,
[...]ptising likewise in the oath they swore,
That th'Earle and Clarence should Protectors be,
When they King Henry and the Prince should free.
When soone great VVarwicke into England sends,
Warwicke makes preparation for a [...]w Warre.
[...]o warne his friends that they for Warre prepare,
[...]g Henrys Title, and to them commends,
[...]at they should take his cause into their care,
[...]ow is the time that he must try his friends,
[...]hen he himselfe gainst Edward must declare;
And vvhen much strife amongst the cōmons rose,
Whom they should ayde, and whom they should oppose.
Furnish'd with all things well be fitting Warre,
[...] great King Lewis to Queene Margarite lent,
[...]arwicke (vvhose name Fame sounded had so far,
[...]t men with Wonder view'd him as he went,
[Page 156]Of all men liuing the most popular,)
Warwicke so famous that he was seene with wonder.
Thought eu'ry houre to be but idely spent,
On Englands troubled earth vntill he were,
To view the troupes attending for him there.
And in his Army tooke with him along,
Oxford, and Penbrooke, who had beene destroy'd▪
By Edward, sworne now to reuenge their wrong,
By Burgoyne the French Admirall conuoy'd,
At whose A [...]iue the shores with people throng:
At sight of Warwicke, and so ouerioy'd,
That eu'ry one, a VVarwicke, VVarwicke cryes,
Well may the Red-Rose by great VVarwicke ri [...]
Like some black cloud, which houering lately hu [...]
Thrust on at last by th'windes impetuouspower,
The groues and fields, comes raging in among,
As though both foules and flockes it would deuoure
A Simile.
That those abroad make to the shelters strong,
To saue themselues from the outragious shower;
Sofly the Yorkists before VVarwicks Drummes,
Like a sterne Tempest roaring as he comes,
When Edward late who wore the costly Crowne,
Himselfe so high and on his Fortunes bore,
Then heard himselfe in euery place cry'd downe,
And made much lesse, then he was great before,
Nor dares he trust himselfe in any Towne,
For in the In-lands as along the shore,
Their Proclamations him a Traytor make,
And each man charg'd against him Armes to tak [...]
For which the VVashes he is forc'd to wade,
Warwick driueth King Edward out of the Kingdome.
And in much perill lastly gets to Lin,
To saue himselfe such shift King Edward made,
For in more danger he had neuer bin,)
Where finding three Dutch Hulkes which lay for trade,
[...]he great'st of them he hires to take him in;
Richard his brother, Hastings his true friend,
Scarse worth one sword their person [...] to defend.
When VVarwicke now the only Prince of power,
Edward the fourth out of the Kingdome fled,
Commands himselfe free entrance to the Tower,
And sets th'Imperiall wreath on Henrys head,
Warwicke takes Ki [...] Henry the T [...]
Brings him through London to the Bishops bower,
By the applanding people followed,
Whose sh [...]ill re-ecchoing shouts resounds from far,
A VVarwicke, VVarwicke, long liue Lancaster,
And presently a Parliament they call,
King Edward and his adherents ai [...]ai [...] ted by act of Parliament.
In which they attaint King Edward in his blood,
The lands and goods made forf [...]itures of all,
That in this quarrell, with proud Yorke had▪ stood,
Their friends in their old honours they install,
Which they had lost now by an act made good,
Intayle the Crovvne, on Henry and his heyres,
The next on Clarence should they fayle in theirs,
Whilst VVarwicke thus King Henry doth aduance,
[...]ee but the Fate still following the sad Queene,
[...]uch Stormes and Tempests in that season chance,
[...]efore that time as seldome had bin seene,
[Page 158]That twice from Sea she was forc'd back to France,
As angry Heauen had put it selfe betvvene
Her and her loyes, and would a witnesse be,
That naugh [...] but sorrow, this sad Queene must see
This might haue lent her comfort yet at last,
So many troubles hauing vndergone,
Queene Margarite neuer sees any thing that might giue her comfort.
And hauing through so many perils past,
T'haue seene her husband setled on his Throne,
Yet still the skies with clowds are ouercast,
Well might shee heare, but of this sees she none,
Which from far off, as flying newes doth greet her
Naught but mischance, when she comes in, must meet her,
But all this while King Edward not dis [...]ay'd,
His brother Charles of Burgondy so plyes,
The Duke of Burgondy brother in Law to King Edward, so was [...]he [...] King Henry by his Grand mother being the daughter of Iohn of Gaunt.
That though the subtill Duke on both side play'd,
Edward and Henry both his neere Allies;
Vpon the Duke King Edward yet so layd,
(Hauing his sisters furtherance, who was wise,)
That Vnderhand▪ his strength he sorestores,
As that he dar'd t'attempt the English shores.
With foureteene Ships from th'Easterlings being hir'd,
And foure Burgonians excellently man'd,
After some time with stormes and tempests tyr'd,
He neere the mouth of Humber haps to land,
Where though the Beacons at his sight were fir'd,
Yet few or none his entrance doe withstand,
For that his friends had giuen it out before,
He sought the Dukedome, and he would no more.
Vpon his march when forward as he came,
Resolu'd to trye the very worst of Warre,
Torke yeelded vp to King Edward.
He Summons Yorke (where of he bare the name)
To him her Duke, her Gates that doth vnbarre,
And comming next to Rocke-rear [...] Nottingham,
Mountgomery, Borough, Harrington and Par,
Succours [...]on [...] [...]ing into Edward.
Bring him their power▪ at Lecester againe,
Three thousand came, to Hastings that retaine.
To Couentry and keeping on his way,
(Sets downe his Army in the Cities sight,)
King Edward sets downe h [...] Army beso [...] Couentry, daring Warwicke to the field.
Whereas that time the Earle of Warwicke lay,
To whom he sends to dare him out to fight,
Which still the Earle deferrs from day to day,
Perceiuing well, that all things went not right,
For with his succours Clarence came not in,
Whom to suspect he greatly doth beginne,
And not in vaine, for that disloyall Lord,
Taking those forces, he had leuied, leaues
The Earle, and with his Brother doth accord,
Clarence [...] his father in Law the Earle of Warwicke.
Which of all hope braue VVarwicke so bere [...]ue [...]
[...]hat now King Edward hopes to be restor'd,
Which then too late the credulous Earle perceiues,
Edward towards London with an Army sped,
To take the Crown once more from Henrys head.
The Queene in France this woful newes that heard
How farre through England▪ Edward thus had past;
As how by Glarence (whom she euer fear'd,)
VVarwicke behind-hand mightily was cast▪
[Page 160]This most vndaunted Queene her hopes yet cheer'd,
By those great perills she had lately past▪
And from King Lewis doth three thousand prest▪
To ayde her friends in England in distresse,
Whilst she is busie gathering vp those aydes,
(In so short time) as France could her afford,
Couragious VVarwicke basely thus betray'd,
By Clarence lewdly falsifying his word,
The most couragious Earle no whit dismayd,
Warwicke followes the King towards London.
But trusting still to his successefull Svvord,
Follovves the King towards London march' [...] before,
Each day his Power increasing more and more.
But Edward by the Londoners let in,
Who in their Gates his Army tooke to guard,
VVarwicke this while that trifling had not bin,
But with a povver sufficiently prepar'd,
T'approach the City brauely doth begin,
To dare the King, vvho lately him had dar'd,
Who then from London his Arm'd forces leades,
King Edward [...]ts [...] of London [...].
Towards where his march ambitious VVarwicke tread [...]
From London this, that from Saint Albans set,
These two grād souldiers shoul [...]ring for the Crown,
They in the mid-way are at Barnet met,
The Armies meet at Bar [...]t.
Where then they set their puissant Armies downe,
VVarwicke as neere as euer hee could get,
But Edward onely taketh vp the Towne;
Betwixt whose [...]ents a Heath call'd Gladmore lyes,
Where they prepare to act this bloody prize.
With Drums and Trumpets they awake the day,
[...]uffled in mists her lowring selfe that showes,
To stop their madnesse doing all it may,
[...]howing what blood her light was like to lose:
But hope of slaughter beares so great asway,
That with the Sunne their rage still higher growes,
Full were their hands of death, so freely dealt,
That the most mortal wounds, the least were felt.
The aduerse Ensignes to each other waue,
(As t'were) to call them forward to the field,
The King the Earle, The Earle the King doth braue,
Nor cares he for the
The Armes of England.
Leopards in his shield,And whilst one friend another striues to saue,
He's slaine himselfe if not enforc'd to yeeld,
In either Army there is not one eye,
But is spectator of some Tragedy.
Those wrongs the King had from the Earle receiu'd
[...]pulst the Kingdome onely by his power,
[...]en to the height his powerfull hand vp heau'd,
[...]or full'reuenge in this vnhappy houre,
And by the King the Earle his hopes bereau'd,
[...]heltred by him from many a bloody shower,
Spurres vp reuenge, and with that violent rage,
That scarsely blood their fury could asswage.
VVarwicke who sees his Souldiers had the worse,
Warwickes high [...]
And at a neere point to be put to flight,
Throwing himselfe from o [...] his Armed Horse,
Thrusts in on foote into the deadliest fight,
[Page 162] Edward againe with an vnusuall force,
In his owne person in the Armies sight,
Puts for the Garland, which if now he lose,
Warwicke his Crowne at pleasure would dispos [...]
To Edwards side, but fortune doth encline,
Warwickes high valour then was but in vaine;
His noble soule there destin'd to resigne,
Braue Mountacute his valiant Brother slaine;
The Earle of Warwicke & [...]is brother Marquesse Mountacute [...]aine.
Here Sommerset (with them that did combine)
Forced to flye, and Exceste [...] is faine,
To saue himselfe by Sanctuary; this day
Edward's victorious, and beares all away,
THis fatall field vnluckily thus lost,
[...]hat very day [...]hat Warwick [...]as slaine the Queene [...]ands.
That very day so Destiny contriues,
That the grieu'd Queene at Sea turmoyl'd and tost,
Neere twenty dayes, in Weymouth Road ariues,
Where scarcely landed, but Post after Post,
Brings her this ill newes, vvhich so farre depriues▪
Her of all comfort, that shee curst and band,
Those plaguy winds that suffered her to land:
Wert thou (quoth shee) so fortunate in fight,
[...]he Queenes [...]eech hea [...]ng of Warwicks defeat [...] the three [...]ollowing [...]anzaes.
O noble VVarwicke, when thou wert our foe,
And now thou stood'st in our indoubted right,
And should'st for Henry thy high valour show,
Thus to be slaine; what power in our despight,
Watcheth from heau'n vpon our ouerthrow?
Th'vnlucky Starres haue certainly made lawes▪
To marke for death the fauourers of our cause,
O vvhat infernall brought that Edward backe,
[...] late expel'd by VVarwickes powerfull hand,
Was there no way his rotten Ship to wracke▪
Was there no Rock? was there no swallowing sand?
And too, the wretched Subiects were so slacke,
To suffer him so traiterously to land;
Surely whole heau'n against vs haue conspir'd,
Or in our troubles they had else beene tyr'd,
Was I for this so long detayn'd in France,
From ragefull Tempests, and reseru'd till now,
That I should land, to meete with this mischance:
[...]t must needes be the Powers haue made a vowe,
Vp to that height my sorrowes to aduance,
That before mine all miseries shall bowe:
That all the sorrow mortalls can surmise,
Shall fall far short o [...] Margarites miseries.
These vvords scarse spoke, her halfe-slaine heart to ease
[...]t the least breath of comfort to preuent,
[...]he next ill newes, in rushing after these,
[...]as that King Henry to the Tower was sent,
Cause of new sorrow to the Queene.
As though it selfe (euen) Destiny should please,
[...] wretched Margarites heauy discontent,)
Thrunging so thick as like themselues to smother,
Or as one ranne to ouertake another,
Those scattered Troopes from Barnet that escap'd,
The remnant of the Army which escaped a [...] Barnet resort to the Queene.
[...]earing the Queene thus landed with her power,
[...]ugh much dismay'd with what had lately hapt,
[...] Gore▪ drown'd Gladmore in that bloody shower
[Page 164]And fearing by the foe to be entrapt:
Through vntrod grounds▪ in many a tedious how [...]
Flocke to her dayly, till that by her ayde,
Equall with Edwards they her Army made,
When Somerset, and Devonshire came in,
The Queene encouraged by her friends
To the sad Queene, and bad her not dispaire,
Though they of late infortunate had bin,
Yet there vvas helpe that Ruine to repaire,
What they had lost they hop'd againe to win,
And that the way lay open yet, and faire,
For that the West would wholly with her rise,
Besides from VValles assur'd her of Supplyes,
And euery day still adding to their Force,
As on their Host tow'rds Glocester they guide,
When Edward finding their intended course,
Againe for Battell strongly doth prouide,
Both Armies they supply vvith Foote and Horse,
By both their friends, as they affect the side,
And in their march at T [...]wkesbury they met,
The Armies meete at Tukesbury.
Where they in Order their Battalions set.
Ill was her choyse of this vneuen ground,
A place ill [...]osen on the Queenes part
Lucklesse the place, vnlucky vvas the howre,
The Heauens vpon her so extreamely frownd,
As on her head their plagues at once to powre;
As in a Deluge here her hopes were drown'd,
Here sees she death her faithfull friends deuoure,
The earth is fil'd with grones, the aire with cry [...]
Horrour on each side doth enclose her eyes,
Neuer did death so terribly appeare,
[...]e first their Armes the English learnt to weeld,
[...]ho would see slaughter, might behold it heere;
[...] the true shape vpon this fatall field,
[...] vaine was valour, and in vaine was feare,
A bloody battell.
[...] vaine to fight, in vaine it was to yeeld,
In vayne to flye; for destiny discust,
By their owne hands, or others, dye they must.
Here her deare Deuonshire noble Courtney dyde,
[...]er faithfull friend great Somerset here fell,
[...]lnes, Leukn [...]r, Hamden, Whittingham beside,
The Queene [...] Army ouerthrowne.
O Margarite, who thy miseries can tell,
[...]harp were those swords which made their wounds so, wide
Whose blood the soy [...]e did with abundance swell,
Other her friends into the Towne that fled,
Taken, no better then the former sped.
But the amazing misery of all,
[...] heauen the great'st vntill the last had kept.
[...] it would say, that after this none shall
[...] mortall eyes be worthy to be wept,
The Prince her sonne who sees his friends thus fall,
And on each side their [...]arkases lye heapt,
Making away in this most piteous plight,
Prince Edward taken prisoner. Vpon the Kings Proclamation of a great reward to him that could bring him [...]
[...]s taken prisoner in his tardy flight,
And forth by Cr [...]fts▪ before the con [...] or brought
[...]is Proclamation cleering euery doubt▪
[...]he youths safety▪ liuing where he caught,
[...] a reward to him should bring him out,
[Page 165]But when they once had found him whō they soug [...]
As also of the Princes safety, Sir Richard Crosts is won to discouer his prisoners. Prince Edward stabd to death.
Hearing his answeres, Princely, wise, and stout,
Those bloody brothers, Hastings and the rest,
Sheath'd their sharpe ponyards in his many br [...]
Queene Margarite thus of mortalls most forlo [...]
Her sonne now slaine, her army ouerthrowne,
Left to the world, as fortunes only scorne,
And not one friend to whom to make her moane,
(To so much wo was neuer woman borne)
This wretched Lady wandring all alone,
Gets to a homely Cell not farre away,
If possibly to hide her from the day.
Queene Margarite gets into a poore Cell.
But wretched woman quickly there bewray'd,
She thence is taken and to Prison sent,
Meanely attended, miserably array'd,
The people wondring at her as she went,
Of whom the most malicious her vpbray'd,
With good Duke Humphries death, her heart to rent
Whilst her milde lookes, and Gracefull gesture drue▪
Many a sad eye, her miseries to rue,
Till by Duke Rayner Ransomed at last,
Her tender Father, who a Prince but poore,
Borrow'd great Summes of Lewis, with much wast
Lewis of France.
Which for he was not able to restore,
Prouince and both the Cicils, to him past,
Duke Rayner [...]d [...]th himselfe to rans [...] his Daughter.
With fruitfull Naples which was all his store;
To bring her backe from earthly ioyes exil'd,
The vndon Father helpes the vndone Child.
And though enlarg'd ere she could leane the land.
[...]king a long yeere of each short-liu'd houre,
[...]e heares that by Duke Richards murthering hand,
The Earle of Gloster after Richard the third.
[...]he King her husband suffers in the Towre,
As though high heauen had layd a strict command,
Vpon each starre, some plague on her to powre:
And vntill now that nothing could suffice,
Nor giue a period to her miseries.
FINIS.
[...]
[...]
NIMPHIDIA THE COVRT OF FAYRIE.
OLde Chaucer doth of Topas tell,
Mad Rablais of Pantagruell,
A latter third of Dowsabell,
With such poore trifles playing:
Others the like haue laboured at
Some of this thing, and some of that,
And many of they know not what,
But that they must be saying,
Another sort there be that will,
Be talking of the Fayries still,
Nor neuer can they haue their fill,
As they were wedded to them;
No tales of them their thirst can slake,
So much delight in them they take,
And some strange thing they faine would make,
Knew they the way to doe them,
Then since no Muse hath bin so bold,
Or of the Latter, or the old,
Those Eluish secrets to vnfold,
Which ly from others reeding,
[Page 169] [...]y actiue Muse to light shall bring,
The court of that proud Fayry King,
And tell there of the Reuelling
Ioue prosper my proceeding,
And thou Nimphidia gentle Fay,
Which meeting me vpon the way,
These secrets didst to me bewray,
Which now I am in teiling:
My pretty light fantasticke mayde,
[...]here inuoke thee to my ayde,
That I may speake what thou hast sayd,
In numbers smoothly swelling,
This Pallace standeth in the ayre,
By Negromancy placed there,
That it no Tempests needes to feare,
Which way so ere it bloweth,
And somewhat Southward tow'rd the Noone,
Whence lyes a way vp to the Moone,
And thence the Fayrie can as soone,
Passe to the earth below it.
The Walles of Spiders legges are made,
Well mortized and finely layd,
He was the master of his Trade,
It curiously that builded:
The Windowes of the eyes of Cats,
And for the roofe, instead of Slats,
Is couer'd with the skinnes of Bats,
With Mooneshine that are guilded.
Hence Oberon him (port to make,
(Their rest when weary mortalls take)
And none but onely Fayries wake,
Descendeth for his pleasure.
And Mab his merry Queene by night,
Bestrids young Folkes that lye vpright,
(In elder Times the Mare that height)
Which plagues them out of measure.
Hence Shaddowes, seeming Idle shapes,
Of little frisking Elues and Apes,
To Earth doe make their wanton skapes,
As hope of pastime hasts them:
Which maydes thinkes on the Hearth they see,
When Fires well neere consumed be,
Their dauncing Hayes by two and three,
Iust as their Fancy casts them,
These make our Girles their sluttery rue,
By pinching them both blacke and blew,
And put a penny in their shue,
The house for cleanly sweeping:
And in their courses make that Round,
In Meadowes and in Marshes found,
Of them so call'd the Fayrie ground,
Of which they haue the keeping.
These when a Child haps to be got,
Which after proues an Ideot,
When Folkes perceiue it thriueth not,
The fault therein to smother,
[Page 171] [...]ome silly doting brainelesse Calfe,
[...]hat vnderstands things by the halfe,
[...]ay that the Fayrie left this Aulfe,
And tooke away the other.
But listen and I shall you tell,
[...] chance in Fayrie that be fell,
Which certainely may please you well,
In Loue and Armes delighting:
Of Oberon that iealous grew,
Of one of his owne Fayrie crue,
Too well (he fear'd) his Queene that knew,
His loue but ill requiting.
Pigwiggen was this Fayrie Knight,
One wondrous gracious in the sight
Of faire Queene Mab, which day and night,
He amorously obserued;
Which made King Oberon suspect,
His seruice tooke too good effect,
His saucinesse and often checkt,
And could haue wisht him starued.
Pigwiggen gladly would commend,
[...]ome token to Queene Mab to send,
[...]f Sea, or Land, him ought could lend,
Were worthy of her wearing:
[...]t length this Louer doth deuise,
[...] bracelet made of Emmotts eyes,
[...] thing he thought that shee would prize,
No whitt her state impayring.
And to the Queene a letter Writes,
Which he most curiously end [...]es,
Con [...]ring her by all the rites,
Of loue, she would be pleased,
To meete him her [...]ne Seruant, where
They might without suspect or feare,
Themselues to one another cleare,
And haue their poore hearts cased.
At mid night the appointed hower,
And for the Queene a fiering Bower.
(Quoth he) is th [...]t faire Cowslip flower,
On Hipcut hill that groweth,
In all your [...]raynether's not a Fay,
That euer went to gather May,
But shee hath made it in her way,
The tallest tuere that groweth.
When by Tom Thum a Fayry Page,
He sent it, and doth him engage,
By promise of a mighty wage,
It secretly to carry:
Which done the Queene her mayds doth call,
And bids them to be ready all,
Shee would goe see her Summer Hall,
She would no longer tarry,
Her Chariot ready straight is made,
Each thing therein is sitting layd,
That she by nothing might be stayd,
For naught must her be letting,
[Page 173]Foure nimble Gnats the Horses were,
Their Harnasses of Cossamere,
Flye [...]n [...]ion her Chariottere,
Vp [...]n the Coatch-boxe getting,
Her Chariot of a Snayles fine shell,
Which for the colours did excel:
The faire Queene Mab becomming well,
So liuely was the limming:
The feare the soft wooll of a Bee;
The couer (gallantly to see)
The wing of a pyde butter-flee,
I trowe t'was simple trimming.
The wheeles compos'd of Crickets bones,
And daintily made for the nonce,
For feare of ratling on the stones,
With Thistle-downe they shod it;
For all her Maydens much did feare,
If Oberon had chanc'd to heare,
That Mab his Queene should haue beene there,
He would not haue aboade it.
She mounts her Chariot with a trice,
Nor would she stay for no aduice,
Vntill her Maydes that were so nice,
To waite on her were fitted,
But ranne her selfe away alone;
Which when they heard there was not one,
But hasted after to be gone,
As she had beene diswitted,
Hop, and Mop, and Dryp so cleare,
Pip, and Trip, and Skip that were,
To Mab their Soueraigne euer deare:
Her speciall Maydes of Honour.
Fib, and Tib and Pinck and Pin,
Tick, and Quick and Iill, and lin,
Tit, and Nit, and Wap and Win,
The Trayne that wayte vp on her,
Vpon a Grashopper they got,
And what with Amble and with Trot,
For hedge nor ditch they spared not,
But after her they hye them.
A Cobweb ouer them they throw,
To shield the wind if it should blow,
Themselues they wisely could bestow,
Lest any should espie them.
But let vs leaue Queene Mab a while,
Through many a gate, o'r many a stile,
That now had gotten by this wile,
Her deare Pigwiggin kissing,
And tell how Oberon doth fare,
Who grew as mad as any Hare,
When he had sought each place with care,
And found his Queene was missing.
By grifly Pluto he doth sweare,
He rent his clothes and tore his haire,
And as he runneth here and there,
An Acorne cup he greeteth;
[Page 175]Which soone he taketh by the stalke,
About his head he lets it walke,
Nor doth he any creature balke,
But layes on all he meeteth.
The Thuskan Poet doth aduance,
The franticke Paladine of France,
And those more ancient doe inhance,
Alcides in his fury;
And others Aiax Telamon,
But to this time there hath bin non,
So Bedlam as our Oberon,
Of which I dare assure you,
And first encountring with a waspe,
He in his armes the Flye doth claspe,
As though his breath he foorth would graspe,
Him for Pigwiggin taking:
Where is my wife thou Rogue, quoth he,
Pigwiggen she is come to thee,
Restore her, or thou dy'st by me,
Whereat the poore Waspe quaking,
Cryes, Oberon, great Fayrie King,
Content thee, I am no such thing,
I am a Waspe behold my sting,
At which the Fayrie started:
When soone away the Waspe doth goe▪
Poore wretch was neuer frighted so,
He though his wings were much too slow,
O'r ioyd, they so were parted,
Hee next vpon a Glow-worme light,
(You must suppose it now was night,)
Which for her hinder part was bright,
He tooke to be a Deuill.
And furiously doth her. assayle,
For carrying fier in her tayle,
He thrasht her rough coat with his flayle,
The mad King fear'd no euill.
O quoth the Glow-worme hold thy hand,
Thou puissant King of Fayrie land,
Thy mighty stroaks who may withstand,
Hould, or of life despaire I:
Together then her selfe doth roule,
And tumbling downe into a hole,
She seem'd as blacke as any Cole,
Which vext away the Fayrie.
From thence he ran into a Hiue,
Amongst the Bees he letteth driue,
And downe their Combes begins to riue,
All likely to haue spoyled:
Which with their Waxe his face besmear'd,
And with their Hony daub'd his Beard,
It would haue made a man afeard,
To see how he was moyled,
A new aduenture him betides,
He met an Ant, which he bestrides,
And post thereon away he rides,
Which with his hast doth stumble;
[Page 177]And came full ouer on her snowte,
Her heeles so threw the durt about,
For she by no meanes could get out,
But ouer him doth tumble,
And being in this pitteous case,
And all be▪ slurried head and face,
On runs he in his Wild, goose chase,
As here, and there he rambles,
Halfe blind, against a molehill hit,
And for a Mountaine taking it,
For all he was out of his wit,
Yet to the top he scrambles,
And being gotten to the top,
Yet there himselfe he could not stop,
But downe on th'other side doth chop,
And to the foote came tumbling:
So that the Grubs the rein that bred,
Hearing such turmoyle ouer head,
Thought surely they had al bene dead,
So fearefull was the Iumbling,
And falling downe into a Lake,
Which him vp to the necke doth take,
His fury somewhat it doth slake,
He calleth for a Ferry;
Where you may some recouery note,
What was his Club he made his Boate,
And in his Oake [...] Cup doth float,
As safe as in a Wherry.
Men talke of the aduentures strange,
Of Don Quishot, and of their change,
Through which he Armed oft did range,
Of Sancha Panchas trauell:
But should a man tell euery thing,
Done by this franticke Fayrie King,
And them in lofty Numbers sing,
It well his wits might grauell.
Scarse set on shore, but therewithall,
He meeteth Pucke, which most men call,
Hobgoblin, and on him doth fall,
With words from frenzy spoken;
Hoh, hoh, quoth Hob, God saue thy grace,
Who drest thee in this pitteous case,
He thus that spoyld my soueraignes face,
I would his necke were broken;
This Pucke seemes but a dreaming dolt,
Still walking like a ragged Colt,
And oft out of a bush doth bolt,
Of purpose to deceiue vs,
And leading vs makes vs to stray,
Long Winters nights out of the way,
And when we sticke in mire and clay,
Hob doth with laughter leaue vs.
Deare Pucke (quoth he) my Wife is gone,
As ere thou lou'st King Oberon,
Let euery thing but this alone,
With vengeance, and pursue her.
[Page 179]Bring her to me aliue or dead,
Or that vild thiefe, Pigwiggins head,
That villaine hath defil'd my bed,
He to this folly drew her.
Quoth Puck, My Liege Ile neuer lin,
But I will thorough thicke and thinne,
Vntill at length I bring her in,
My dearest Lord nere doubt it:
Thorough Brake, thorough Brier,
Thorough Mucke, thorough Mier,
Thorough Water, thorough Fier,
And thus goes Pucke about it,
This thing Nimphidia ouer hard,
That on this mad King had a guard,
Not doubting of a great reward,
For first this businesse broching;
And through the ayre away doth goe,
Swift as an Arrow from the Bow;
To let her Soueraigne Mab to know,
What perill was approching.
The Queene bound with Loues powerfulst charme,
Sate with Pigwiggin arme in arme,
Her merry May des that thought no harme,
About the roome were skipping:
A Humble-Bee their Minstrell playd,
Vpon his Hobby; euery Mayde
Fit for this Reuells was arayde,
The Horne-pipe neately tripping.
In comes Nimphidia, and doth cry,
My Soueraigne for your safety flye,
For there is danger but too nie,
I posted to forewarne you:
The King hath sent Hobgoblin out,
To seeke you all the fields about,
And of your safety you may doubt,
If he but once discerne you.
When like an vprore in a Towne▪
Before them euery thing went downe,
Some tore a Ruffe, and some a Gowne,
Gainst one another iustling:
They flew about like Chaffe i'th winde,
For hast some left their Maskes behind,
Some could not stay their Gloues to finde,
There neuer was such bustling.
Foorth ranne they by a secret way,
Into a brake that neere them lay;
Yet much they doubted there to stay,
Lest Hob should hap to find them:
He had a sharpe and piercing sight,
All one to him the day and night,
And therefore were resolu'd by flight,
To leaue this place behind them,
At length one chanc'd to find a Nut,
In th'end of which a hole was cut,
Which lay vpon a Hazell roote,
There scattered by a Squirrell,
[Page 181]Which out the kernell gotten had;
When quoth this Fay deare Queene be glad,
Let Oberon be nere so mad,
Ile set you safe from perill.
Come all into this Nut (quoth she)
Come closely in, be rul'd by me,
Each one may here a chuser be,
For roome ye need not wrastle.
Nor need ye be together heapt;
So one by one therein they crept,
And lying dovvne they soundly slept.
As safe as in a Castle,
Nimphidia that this while doth watch,
Perceiu'd if Pucke the Queene should catch▪
That he would be her ouer-match,
Of which shee well bethought her;
Found it must be some powerfull Charme,
The Queene against him that must arme,
Or surely he would doe her harme,
For throughly he had sough her.
And listning if she ought could heare,
That her might hinder, or might feare:
But finding still the coast was cleare,
Nor creature had discride her;
Each circumstance and hauing scand,
She came thereby to vnderstand,
Puck would be with them out of hand,
When to her Charmes she hide her.
And first her Ferne seed doth bestowe,
The kernell of the Messletowe:
And here and there as Pucke doth goe,
With terrour to affright▪ him,
She Night-shade strawes to worke him ill,
There with her Veruayne and her Dill,
That hindreth Witches of their will,
Of purpose to despight him.
Then sprinkles she the iuce of Rue,
That groweth vnderneath the Yeu:
With nine drops of the midnight dewe,
From Lunarie distilling:
The Molewarps braine mixt therewithall;
And with the same the Pismyres gall,
For she in nothing short would fall;
The Fayrie was so willing.
Then thrice vnder a Bryer doth creepe,
Which at both ends was rooted deepe,
And ouer it three times shee leepe;
Her Magicke much auayling:
Then on Porserpina doth call,
And so vpon her Spell doth fall,
Which here to you repeate I shall,
Not in one tittle fayling,
By the crooking of the Frogge;
By the howling of the Dogge;
By the crying of the Hogge,
Against the storme arising;
[Page 183]By the Euening Curphewe Bell,
By the dolefull dying knell,
O let this my direfull Spell,
Hob, hinder thy surprising,
By the Mandrakes dreadfull groanes,
By the Lubricans sad moanes:
By the noyse of dead mens bones,
In Charnell houses ratling:
By the hyssing of the Snake,
The ru [...]ing of the fire-Drake,
[...] charge thee thou this place forsake,
Nor of Queene Mab be pratling.
By the Whirlewindes hollow sound,
By the [...]hunders dreadfull stound,
[...]ells of spirits vnder ground,
I charge thee not to feare vs:
By the Screech-owles dismall note,
By the Blacke Night-Rauens throate,
[...] charge thee Hob to teare thy Coate
With thornes if thou come neere vs.
[...]er spell thus spoke she stept aside,
[...]nd in a Chinke her selfe doth hide,
[...]see thereof what would betyde,
For she doth onely mind him:
[...]hen presently she Pucke espies,
[...]nd well she markt his gloating eyes,
[...]ow vnder euery leafe he pries,
In seeking still to find them.
But once the Circle got within,
The Charmes to worke doe straight begin,
And he was caught as in a Gin;
For as he thus was busie,
A paine he in his Headpeece feeles,
Against a stubbed [...]ree he reeles,
And vp went poore Hobgoblins heeles,
Alas his braine was dizzie,
At length vpon his feete he gets,
Hobgoblin fumes, Hobgoblin frets,
And as againe he forward sets,
And through the Bushes scrambles:
A stump doth trip him in his pace,
Downe comes poore Hob vpon his face,
And lamentably tore his case,
Amongst the Bryers and brambles.
A plague vpon Queene Mab, quoth he,
And all her maydes where ere they be,
I thinke the Deuill guided me,
To seeke her so prouoked;
Where stumbling at a piece of Wood,
He fell into a ditch of mudd,
Where to the very Chin he stood,
In danger to be choked.
Now worse then e're he was before:
Poore Puck doth yell, poore Puck doth rore,
That wak'd Queene Mab who doubted sore,
Some Treason had beene wrought her.
[Page 185]Vntill Nimphidia told the Queene,
What she had done, what she had seene,
Who then had well-neere crackt her spleene,
With very extreame laughter.
But leaue we Hob to clamber out:
Queene Mab, and all her Fayrie rout,
And c [...]me againe to haue about,
With Oberon yet madding:
And with Pigwiggin now distrought,
Who much was troubled in his thought,
That he so long the Queene had sought,
And through the fields was gadding.
And as he runnes he still doth cry,
King Oberon I thee defie,
And dare thee here in Armes to trye,
For my deare Ladies honour:
For that she is a Queene right good,
In whose defence Ile shed my blood,
And that thou in this iealous mood
Hast layd this slander on her,
And quickly Armes him for the Field,
A little Cockle-shell his shield,
Which he could very brauely weeld:
Yet could it not be pierced:
His Speare, a Bent both stiffe, and strong,
And well-neere of two Inches long;
The Pyle was of a Horse-flyes tong,
Whose sharpenesse nought reuersed.
And puts him on a Coat of Male,
Which was of a Fishes scale,
That when his Foe should him assayle,
No point should be preuayling:
His Rapier was a Hornets sting,
It was a very dangerous thing:
For if he chanc'd to hurt the King,
It would be long in healing.
His Helmet was a Beetles head,
Most horrible and full of dread,
That able was to strike one dead,
Yet did it well become him;
And for a Plume a Horses hayre,
Which being tossed with the ayre,
Had force to strike his Foe with feare,
And turne his weapon from him.
Himselfe he on an Earewig set,
Yet scarse he on his backe could get,
So oft and high he did coruct,
Ere he himselfe could settle:
He made him turne, and stop, and bound,
To gallop, and to trot the Round,
He scarce could stand on any ground,
He was so full of mettle.
When soone he met with Tomalin,
One that a valiant Knight had bin,
And to King Oberon of Kin;
Quoth he thou manly Fayrie.
[Page 187]Tell Oberon I come prepar'd,
Then bid him stand vpon his guard;
This hand his basenesse shall reward,
Let him be ue'r so wary,
Say to him thus, that I defie,
His slanders and his infamie,
And as a mortall enemie,
Doe publickly proclaime him;
Withall, that if [...] had mine owne,
He should not weare the Fayrie Crowne,
But with a vengeance should come downe,
Nor wee a King should name him.
This Tomalin could not abide,
To heare his Soueraigne vilefide:
But to the Fayrie Court him hide;
Full furiously he posted:
With euery thing Pigwiggen sayd:
How tit [...]e to the Crowne he layd,
And in what Armes he was arrayd,
As how himselfe he boasted.
Twixt head and foote, from poynt to poynt,
He told th'arming of each ioynt,
In euery piece, how neat and quaint,
For Tomalin could doe it:
How fayre he sat, how sure he rid,
As of the courser he bestrid,
How Mannag'd, and how well he did,
The King which listned to it,
Quoth hee, goe Tomalin with speede,
Prouide me Armes prouide my Steed,
And euery thing that I shall need,
By thee I will be guided:
To strait account call thou thy wit,
See there be wanting not a whit,
In euery thing see thou me fit,
Iust as my foes prouided.
Soone flew this newes through Fayrie land,
Which gaue Queene Mab to vnderstand,
The Combat that was then at hand,
Betwixt those men so mighty:
Which greatly she beg [...]n to [...]w,
Perceiuing that all Fayrie kn [...]w,
The first occasion from her grew,
Of these affaires so weighty.
Wherefore attended with her Maydes,
Through fogs, and mists, and damps, shee wades,
To Proserpine the Queene of shades,
To treat that it would please her:
The cause into her hands to take,
For ancient loue and friendships sake,
And soone thereof an end to make,
Which of much care would ease her.
A while, there let we Mab alone,
And come we to King Oberon,
Who Arm'd to meete his Foe is gone,
For proud Pigwiggin crying:
[Page 189]Who sought the Fayrie King as fast,
And had [...]o well his iourneys cast,
That he arriued at the last,
His puissant foe espying.
Stout Tomalin, came with the King,
Tom Thum doth on Pigwiggin bring,
That perfect were in euery thing,
To single fights belonging:
And therefore they themselues ingage,
To see them exercise their rage,
With faire and comely equipage,
Not one the other wronging.
So like in Armes, these champions were,
As they had bin a very paire,
So that a man would almost sweare,
That either had bin either:
Their furious Steeds began to nay,
That they were heard a mighty way,
Their staues vpon their rests they lay,
Yet e'r they flew together;
Their Seconds minister an oath,
Which was indifferent to them both▪
That on their Knightly faith aad troth,
No Magicke them supplyed:
And sought them that they had no charmes,
Wherewith to worke each others harmes,
But came with simple open armes,
To haue their causes tryed.
Together furiously they ran,
That to the ground came horse and man,
The blood out of their Helmets ran,
So sharpe were their incounters:
And though they to the earth were throwne,
Yet quickly they regain'd their owne,
Such nimblenesse was neuer showne,
They were two gallant mounters▪
When in a second course againe,
They forward came with might and maine,
Yet which had better of the twaine,
The seconds could not iudge it,
Their shields were into pieces cleft,
Their Helmets from their heads were reft,
And to defend them nothing left,
These Champions would not budge yet,
Away from them their staues they threw,
Their cruell swords they quickly drew,
And freshly they the sight renew;
They euery stroke redoubled:
Which made Proserpina take heed,
And make to them the greater speed,
For feare lest they too much should bleed,
Which wondrously her troubled▪
When to th'infernall Stix she goes,
She takes the Fogs from thence that rose,
And in a Bagge doth them enclose,
When well she had them blended,
[Page 191]She hyes her then to Lethe spring,
A bottell and thereof doth bring,
Wherewith she meant to worke the thing.
Which onely she intended.
Now Proserpine with Mab is gone,
Vnto the place where Oberon
And proud Pigwiggen one to one,
Both to be slaine were likely:
And there themselues they closely hide,
Because they would not be espide;
For Proserpine meant to decide
The matter very quickly.
And suddainly vntyes the Poke,
Which out of it sent such a smoke,
As ready was them all to choke,
So grieuous was the pother.
So that the Knights each other lost,
And stood as still as any post,
Tom Thum, nor Tomalin could boast,
Themselues of any other.
But when the mist gan somewhat cease,
Proserpina commandeth peace:
And that a while they should release,
Each other of their perill,
Which here (quoth shee) I doe proclaime,
To all in dreadfull Plutoes name,
That as yee will eschew his blame,
You let me heare the quarrell,
But here your selues you must engage,
Somewhat to coole your spleenish rage,
Your grieuous thirst and to asswage,
That first you drinke this liquor,
Which shall your vnderstanding cleare,
As plainely shall to you appeare;
Those things from mee that you shall heare,
Conceiuing much the quicker,
This Lethe water you must know,
The memory destroyeth so,
That of our weale, or of our woe,
It all remembrance blotted:
Of it [...] can you euer thinke,
For th [...]y [...] sooner tooke this drinke,
But nought into their braines could s [...]nke,
Of what [...]ad them besotted.
King O [...]eron forgotten [...]ad,
That [...]e for [...]a [...]ousie ranne madd:
But of his Queene was wonderous glad,
And ask'd how he came thither;
Pigwiggen likewise doth forget,
That he Queene Mab had euer mett
Or that they were so hard beset,
When they were found together.
Nor neither of them both had thought,
That e'r they had each other sought,
Much lesse that they a Combat fought,
But such a dreame were lothing;
[Page 193] Tom Thum had got a little sup,
And Tomalin [...]arse kist the Cup,
Yet had their braines so sure lockt vp,
That they remembred nothing.
Queene Mab and her light Maydes the while,
Amongst themselues doe closely smile,
To see the King caught with a wile,
With one another iesting:
And to t [...]e Fayrie Court they went,
With mickle i [...]y and merriment,
Which thing was done with good intent,
And thus I left them feasting.
FINIS.
THE QVEST OF CYNTHIA.
WHat time the groues were clad in greene,
The fields drest all in flovvers,
And that the sleeke-hayrd Nimphs were seene,
To seeke them Sommer Bowers.
Foorth rou'd I by the sliding Rills,
To find where Cynthia [...],
Whose name so often from the hilles,
The Ecchos wondred at.
When me vpon my Quest to bring,
That pleasure might excell,
The Birds stroue which should sweetliest sing,
The flowers which sweet'st should smell.
Long wandring in the Woods (sayd I)
Oh whther's Cynthia gone?
When soone the Eccho doth reply,
To my last word, goe on.
At length vpon a lofty Firre,
It was my chance to finde,
Where that deare name most due to her,
Was caru'd vpon the rynde.
Which whilst with Wonder I beheld,
The Bees their hony brought,
And vp the carued letters fild,
As they with gold were wrought,
And neere that trees more spacious roote,
Then looking on the ground,
The shape of her most dainty foote,
Imprinted there I found.
Which stucke there like a curious seale,
As though it should forbid,
Vs wretched mortalls, to reueale,
What vnder it was hid.
Besides the flowers which it had prest,
Appeared to my view,
More fresh and louely then the rest,
That in the meadowes grew:
The cleare drops in the steps that stood,
Of that delicious Girle,
The Nimphs amongst their dainty food,
Drunke for dissolued pearle,
The yielding sand, where she had troad,
Vnt [...]cht yet with the Winde,
By the faire posture playnely show'd,
Where he might Cynthi [...] finde,
When on vpon my waylesse walke,
As my desires me draw,
I like a madman fell to talke,
With euery thing I saw:
I ask'd some Lillyes why so white,
They from their fellowes were;
Who answered me that Cynthia's sight,
Had made them looke so cleare,
I ask'd a nodding Violet why
It sadly hung the head,
It told me Cynthia late past by,
Too soone from it that fled:
A bed of Roses saw I there,
Bewitching with their grace,
Besides so wonderous sweete they were,
That they perfum'd the place;
I of a Shrub of those enquir'd,
From others of that kind,
Who with such vertue them enspir'd,
It answer'd (to my mind▪)
As the base Hemblocke were we such,
The poysond' weed that growes,
Till Cynthia by her good-lucke tuch
Transform'd vs to a Rose,
Since when those Frosts that winter brings,
Which candy euery greene,
Renew vs like the Teeming Springs,
and wee thus fresh are s [...]ene.
At length I on a Fountaine light,
whose brim with Pincks was platted;
The Bank with Daffadillies dight,
with grasse like Sleaue was matted,
When I demanded of that Well,
What power frequented there;
Desiring, it would please to tell
What name it vs'd to beare.
It told me it was Cynthias owne,
Within whose cheerefull brimmes,
That curious Nimph had oft bin knowne,
To bath her snowy Limmes.
Since when that water had the power,
Lost Mayden-heads to restore,
And make one Twenty in an howre,
of Esons Age before,
And told me that the bottome cleere,
Now layd with many a fett
Of seed-pearle, ere she bath'd her there;
Was knowne as blacke as Iet,
And when she from the water came,
Where first she toucht the mould,
In balles the people made the same
For Pomander, and sold.
When chance me to an Arbour led,
Whereas I might behold
Two blest Elizeums in one sted,
The lesse the great enfold,
The place which she had chosen out,
Her selfe in to repose;
Had they com'n down the gods nodoubt
The very same had chose.
The wealthy spring yet neuer bore,
That sweet, nor dainty flower,
That damask'd not the chequer'd flore
Of Cynthias Summer Bower.
The Birch, the Mirtle, and the Bay,
Like friends did all embrace;
And their large branches did display,
To Canopy the place,
Where shee like Venus doth appeare,
Vpon a Rosie bed;
As Lillyes the soft pillowes were,
Whereon shee layd her head.
Heau'n on her shape such cost bestow'd,
And with such bounties blest,
No lim of hers but might haue made
A goddesse at the least.
The Flyes by chance mesht in her hayr [...],
By the bright Radience throwne,
From her cleare eyes, rich Iewels were,
They so like Diamonds shone.
The meanest weed the soyle there bare,
Her breath did so refine,
That it with Woodbynd durst compare,
And beard the Eglanti [...]e.
The dew which on the tender grasse,
The Euening had distill'd,
To pure Rose-water turned was,
The shades with sweets that fild.
The winds were husht, no leafe so small,
At all was seene to stirre:
Whilst turning to the waters fall,
The small Birds sang to her.
Where shee too quickly mee espies,
When I might plainely see,
A thousand Cupids from her eyes,
shoote all at once at mee▪
Into these secret shades (quoth she)
How dar'st thou be so bold,
To enter, consecrate to me;
Or touch this hallowed mold.
Those words (quoth she) I can pronounce,
Which to that shape can bring,
Thee, which the Hunter had, who once
Saw Dian in the spring,
Bright Nimph againe I thus replye,
This cannot me affright:
I had rather in thy presence dye,
Then liue out of thy sight.
I first vpon the mountaines hie,
Built Altars to thy name,
And grau'd it on the Rocks thereby,
To propagate thy Fame.
I taught the Shepheards on the downes,
Of thee to frame their Layes:
T'was I that fill'd the neighboring Townes,
With Ditties of thy prayse.
Thy collours I deuis'd with care;
Which were vnknowne before:
Which since that, in their brayded hayre,
The Nimphs and Siluans wore.
Transforme me to what shape you can,
I passe not what it bee,
Yea what most hatefull is to man:
So I may follow thee,
Which when shee heard, full pearly floods
I in her eyes might view:
(Quoth she) most vvelcome to these Woods,
Too meane for one so true,
Here from the hatefull world wee'll liue,
A den of meere despight,
To Ideots onely that doth giue,
Which be her sole delight.
To people the infernall pit,
That more and more doth striue,
Where onely Villany is wit:
And Diuels onely thriue.
Whose vildnesse vs shall neuer awe:
But here our sports shall be;
Such as the golden world first saw,
Most innocent and free.
Of Simples in these Groues that grow,
Wee'll learne the perfect skill;
The nature of each Herbe to know,
Which cures, and which can kill.
The waxen Pallace of the Bee,
Wee seeking will surprise,
The curious workemanship to see,
Of her full laden thighes.
Wee'll suck the sweets out of the Combe,
And make the gods repine:
As they doe feast in Ioues great roome,
To see with what we dine.
Yet when there haps a honey fall,
Wee'll licke the sirupt leaues;
And tell the Bees that their's is gall,
To this vpon the Greaues,
The nimble Squirrell noting here,
Her mossy Dray that makes,
And laugh to see the lusty Deere
Come bounding ore the brakes,
The spiders Web to watch weele stand,
And when it takes the Bee,
Weele helpe out of the Tyrants hand,
The Innocent to free.
Sometime weele angle at the Brooke,
The freckled Trout to take,
With silken Wormes, and bayte the hooke,
Which him our prey shall make,
Of medling with such subtill tooles,
Such dangers that enclose,
The Morrall is that painted Fooles,
Are caught with silken showes.
And when the Moone doth once appeare,
Weele trace the lower grounds,
When Fayries in their Ringlets there,
Doe dance their nightly Rounds,
And haue a Flocke of Turtle Doues,
A guard on vs to keepe,
As witnesse of our honest loues,
To watch vs till wee sleepe.
Which spoke I felt such holy fires,
To ouerspred my breast,
As lent life to my chast desires,
And gaue me endlesse rest.
By Cynthia thus doe I subsist,
On earth Heauens only pride,
Let her be mine, and let who list,
Take all the world beside.
FINIS.
THE SHEPHEARDS SIRENA.
DOrilus in sorrowes deepe,
Autumne waxing old and chill,
As he sate his Flocks to keepe,
Vnderneath an easie hill;
Chanc'd to cast his eye aside,
On those fields, where he had seene,
Bright Sirena, Natures pride,
Sporting on the pleasant greene:
To whose walkes the Shepheards oft,
Came her god-like foote to finde,
And in places that were soft,
Kist the print there left behind,
Where the path which he had troad,
Hath thereby more glory gayn'd,
Then in Heau'n that milky rode,
Which with Nectar Hebe stain'd:
But bleake Winters boystrous blasts,
Now their fading pleasures chid,
And so fill'd them with his wasts,
That from sight her steps were hid.
Silly Shepheard sad the while,
[Page 205]For his sweet Syrena gone,
All his pleasures in exile:
Layd on the cold earth alone,
Whilst his gamesome cur-tayld Curre,
With his mirthlesse Master playes,
Striuing him with sport to stirre,
As in his more youthfull dayes;
Dorilus his Dogge doth chide,
Layes his well-tun'd Bagpipe by,
And his Sheepe-hooke casts aside,
There (quoth he) together lye,
When a Letter foorth he tooke,
Which to him Syrena writ,
With a deadly downe-cast looke,
And thus fell to reading it.
Dorilus my deare (quoth shee)
Kind companion of my woe,
Though we thus diuided be,
Death cannot diuorce vs so:
Thou whose bosome hath beene still
Th'only closet of my care,
And in all my good and ill;
Euer had thy equall share:
Might I winne thee from thy Fold,
Thou shouldst come to visite mee,
But the Winter is so cold,
That I feare to hazzard thee:
The wild waters are waxt hie,
So they are both deafe and dumbe,
Lou'd they thee so well as I,
They would ebbe when thou shouldst come,
[Page 206]Then my coate with light should shine,
[...]urer then the Vest [...]ll fire:
Nothing here but should be thine,
That thy heart can well desire:
Where at large wee will relate,
From what cause our friendship grew,
And in that the varying Fate,
Since we first each other knewe:
Of my heauy p [...]ssed plight,
As of many a future feare,
Which except the silent night,
None but onely thou shalt heare;
My sad heart it shall releeue,
When my thoughts I shall disclose,
For thou canst not chuse but greeue,
When I shall recount my Woes;
There is nothing to that friend,
To whose close vncranied brest,
Wee our secret thoughts may send.
And there safely let it rest:
And thy faithfull counsell may
My distressed case assist,
Sad af [...]liction else may sway
Me a woman as it list:
Hither I would haue thee haste,
Yet would gladly haue thee stay,
When those dangers I forecast,
That may meete thee by the way,
Doe as thou shalt thinke it best,
Let thy knowledge be thy guide,
Liue thou in my constant b [...]e [...]
[Page 207]Whatsoeuer shall betide.
He her letter hauing red,
Puts it in his Scrip againe,
Looking like a man halfe dead,
By her kindnesse strangely slaine;
And as one who inly knew,
Her distressed present state,
And to her had still beene true,
Thus doth with himselfe delate.
I will not thy face admire,
Admirable though it be,
Nor thine eyes whose subtile fire,
So much wonder winne in me:
But my maruell shall be now,
(And of long it hath bin so,)
Of all woman kind that thou
Wert ordain'd to tast of vvoe;
To a beauty so diuine,
Paradise in little done,
O that fortune should assigne,
Ought, but what thou wel mightst shun,
But my counsailes such must bee,
(Though as yet I them conceale)
By their deadly wound in me,
They thy hurt must only heale,
Could I giue what thou doo'st craue,
To that passe thy state is growne,
I thereby thy life may saue,
But am sure to loose mine owne,
To that ioy thou do'st conceiue.
Through my he [...] the way doth lye,
[Page 208]Which in two for thee must cleaue,
Lest that thou shouldst goe awry,
Thus my death must be a toy,
Which my pensiue brest must couer;
Thy beloued to enioy,
Must be taught thee by thy Louer,
Hard the choise I haue to chuse,
To my selfe if friend I be,
I must my Syrena loose,
If not so, shee looseth mee.
Thus whilst he doth cast about,
What therein were best to doe,
Nor could yet resolue the doubt,
Whether he should stay or goe,
In those Fields not farre away,
There was many a frolike Swaine,
In fresh Russets day by day,
That kept Reuells on the plaine,
Nimble Tom, surnam'd the Tup,
For his Pipe without a peere:
And could tickle Trenchmore vp,
As t'would ioy your heart to heare,
Ralph as much renownd for skill,
That the Taber touch'd so well:
For his Gittern, little Gill,
That all other did excell,
Rocke and Rollo euery way,
Who still led the Rusticke Ging,
And could troule a Roundelay,
That would make the Fields to ring,
Collin on his Shalme so cleere,
[Page 209]Many a high▪pit [...]ht note that had,
[...]nd could make the Ecchos neere,
[...]hout as they were waxen mad,
Many a lustie Swaine beside,
[...]hat for nought but pleasure car'd,
[...]auing Dorilus espy'd,
[...]nd with him knew how it far'd,
[...]hought from him they would remoue,
[...]his strong melancholy fitt,
Or so, should it not behoue,
Quite to put him out of's wit;
Hauing learnt a Song, which h [...]e,
[...]ometime to Sirena sent,
[...]ull of Iollity and glee,
When the Nimph liu'd neere to Trent,
[...]hey behind him softly got,
[...]ying on the earth along,
[...]nd when he suspected not,
[...]hus the Iouiall Shepheards song,
NEare to the Siluer Trent,
Syrena dwelleth,
[...]hee to whom Nature lent
All that excelleth:
[...]y which the Muses late,
And the neate Graces,
[...]aue for their greater state,
Taken their places:
[...]wisting an Anadem,
Wherewith to Crowne her,
[...]s it belong'd to them
[Page 210]Most to renowne her.
Cho: On thy Bancke,
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swannes sing her,
And with their Musicke,
Along let them bring her.
Tagus and Pact [...]lus
are to thee Debter,
Nor for their gould to vs,
are they the better:
Hencefoorth of all the rest,
be thou the Riuer,
Which as the daintiest,
puts them downe euer,
For as my precious one,
o'r thee doth trauell,
She to Pearle Paragon
turneth thy grauell.
Cho: On thy Bancke,
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swanns sing her,
And with their Musicke
along let them bring her,
Our mournefull Philomell,
that rarest Tuner,
Hencefoorth in Aperi [...]
shall wake the sooner,
And to her shall complaine,
from the thicke couer,
[Page 211]Redoubling euery straine
ouer and ouer:
For when my Loue too long
her chamber keepeth;
As though it suffered wrong,
the morning weepeth,
[...]o: On thy Banke,
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swannes sing her,
And with their Musicke,
along let them bring her.
Oft haue I seene the Sunne,
to doe her honour,
Fix himselfe at his noone,
to looke vpon her,
And hath guilt euery Groue,
euery Hill neare her,
With his flames from aboue,
striuing to cheere her,
And when she from his sight
hath her selfe turned,
Hee as it had beene night,
In Clouds hath mourned:
[...]o: On thy Bancke,
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swannes sing her
And with their Musicke,
along let them bring her,
The Verdant Meades are seene [...]
when she doth view them,
[Page 212]In Fresh and gallant Greene,
straight to renew them,
And euery little Grasse
broad it selfe spreadeth,
Proud that this bony Lasse,
vpon it treadeth:
Nor flower is so sweete
In this large Cincture,
But it vpon her feete
Leaueth some Tincture,
Cho: On thy Bancke
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swanes sing her,
And with their Musicke
along let them bring her.
The Fishes in the Flood,
when she doth Angle,
For the hooke striue a good
Them to intangle;
And leaping on the Land,
from the cleare water,
Their Scales vpon the sand
lauishly scatter;
Therewith to paue the mould
whereon shee passes,
So her selfe to behold,
as in her glasses.
Cho: On thy Banke,
In a Ranke,
[Page 213] Let thy Swanns sing her,
And with their Musicke,
along let them bring her,
When shee lookes out by night,
The Starres stand gazing,
Like Comets to our sight,
Fearefully blazing,
As wondring at her eyes,
with their much brightnesse,
Which so amaze the skies,
dimming their lightnesse,
The raging Tempests are Calme,
when she speaketh,
Such most delightsome ba [...]me,
from her lips breaketh.
Cho: On thy Banke,
In a Ranck,
Let thy Swanns sing her,
And with their Musicke, &c.
In all our Brittany
ther's not a fayrer,
Nor can you fitt any:
should you compare her.
Angels her eye-lids keepe;
all harts surprizing,
Which looke whilst she doth sleepe
like the Sunnes rising:
She alone of her kinde,
knoweth true measure,
[Page 214]And her vnmatched mind
is Heauens treasure:
Cho: On thy Bancke,
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swannes sing her,
And with their Musicke,
Along let them bring her.
Fayre Done and Darwine cleere
boast ye your beauties,
To Trent your Mistres here
yet pay your duties,
My loue was higher borne
tow'rds the full Fountaines,
Yet she doth Mooreland scorne,
and the Peake Mountaines;
Nor would she none should dreame,
vvhere she abideth,
Humble as is the streame,
Which by her slydeth,
Cho: On thy Bancke,
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swanns sing her,
And with their Musicke
along let them bring her,
Yet my poore Rusticke Muse,
nothing can moue her,
Nor the meanes I can vse,
[Page 215]though her true Louer,
Many a long Winters night
haue I wak'd for her.
Yet this my piteous plight,
nothing can stirre her,
All thy Sands siluer Trent
downe to the Humber,
The sighs that I haue spent
Neuer can number.
Cho: On thy Bancke
In a Rancke,
Let thy Swans sing her,
And with their Musicke
along let them bring her.
Taken with this suddaine Song,
Least for mirth when he doth looke,
His sad heart more deepely stong,
Then the former care he tooke,
At their laughter and amaz'd,
For a while he sate aghast,
But a little hauing gaz'd,
Thus he them bespake at last.
Is this time for mirth (quoth he)
To a man with griefe opprest,
[...]infull wretches as you be,
May the sorrowes in my breast,
[...]ight vpon you one by one,
[...]nd as now you mocke my woe,
[...]hen your mirth is turn'd to moane,
[Page 216]May your like then serue you so.
When one Swaine among the rest,
Thus him merrily bespake,
Get thee vp thou arrant beast,
Fits this season loue to make?
Take thy Sheephooke in thy hand,
Clap thy Curre and set him on,
For our fields ti's time to stand,
Or they quickly will be gon.
Rougish Swinheards that repine,
At our Flocks, like beastly Clownes,
Sweare that they will bring their Swine,
And will wroote vp all our Downes:
They their Holly whips haue brac'd,
And tough Hazell goades haue gott;
Soundly they your sides will baste,
If their courage faile them not,
Of their purpose if they speed,
Then your Bagpipes you may burne,
It is neither Droane nor Reed
Shepheard, that will serue your turne,
Angry Olcon sets them on,
And against vs part doth take,
Euer since he was out-gone,
Offring Rymes with vs to make,
Yet if so our Sheep-hookes hold,
Dearely shall our Downes be bought,
For it neuer shall be told.
Wee our Sheepe-walkes sold for naught,
And we here haue got vs dogges,
[Page 217]Best of all the Westerne breed,
Which though Whelps shall lug their Hogges,
Till they make their eares to bleed:
Therefore Shepheard come away;
When as Dorilus arose,
Whistles Cut-tayle from his play,
And along with them he goes.
FINIS.
THE MOONE-CALFE.
‘Stultorum plena sunt omnia.’
HElpe Neighbors helpe, for Gods sake need▪
come with speed,
For of your helpe there neuer was such
Midwiues ma [...] ▪ hast & dres ye as ye run,
Either come quickly, or w'are al vndon,
The World's in labour, her throwes come so thick,
That with the pa [...]gs she's waxt starke lunntick:
But whither, whither, one was heard to crye:
Shee that call'd thus, doth presently reply;
Doe yee not see in eu'ry street and place,
The generall world now in a piteous case,
Vp got the Gossips, and for very hast,
Some came without shoes, some came all vnlac'd,
As she had first appointed them, and found
The World in labour, dropt into a swound;
Wallowing she lay, like to a boystrous hulke,
Dropsied with ryots, and her big-swolne balke,
Stuff'd with infection, rottennesse, and stench;
Her blood so fierd, that nothing might it quench,
But the Aspes poyson, which stood by her still,
[Page 219]That in her drought she often vs'd to swill;
Clothed she was in a Fooles coate, and cap,
Of rich imbroydered Silks, and in her lap,
A sort of paper Puppets, Gawdes and Toyes,
Trifles scarce good enough for Girles and Boyes,
Which she had dandled, and with them had playd,
And of this trash her only God had made.
Out and alasse (quoth one) the rest among,
[...] doubt me Neighbours, we haue stayd too long:
Plucke off your Rings, lay me your bracelets by;
Fall to your bus'nesse, and that speedily,
Or else I doubt, her spirits consume so fast,
That e'r the birth, her strength will quite be past:
But when more wistly they did her behold,
There was not one (that once) durst be so bold
As to come neere her, but stood all amaz'd,
Each vpon other silently and gaz'd:
When as her belly they so bigge doe see,
As if a Tunne within the same should be,
And heard a noyse and rumbling in her wombe,
As at the instant of the generall doome:
Thunder and Earthquakes raging, and the Rocks
Tubling down from their scyts, like mighty blocks,
Rowl'd frō huge mountains, such a noise they make,
As though in sunder heau'ns huge Axtree brake;
They either Poles, their heads together pasht,
And all againe into the Chaos dasht;
Some of slight iudgement that were standing by,
Sayd, it was nothing but a Timpany:
Others sayd, sure she humane helpe did want,
And had conceiued by an Elephant;
[Page 220]Or some Sea-monster, of a horrid shape,
Committed with her by some violent rape:
Others more wise, and noting very well,
How her huge wombe did past all compasse swell,
Said certainly (if that they might confesse her)
It would be found some Diuell did possesse her.
Thus while they stood, and knew not what to doe,
Women (quoth one) why doe you trifle so:
I pray you thinke but wherefore ye came hether,
Shall wombe and burthen perish both together:
Bring foorth the Birth-stoole, no, let it alone,
She is so farre beyond all compasse growne:
Some other new deuise vs needs must sted,
Or else she neuer can be brought to bed.
Let one that hath some execrable spell,
Make presently her entrance into hell:
The Furies fetcha from hell to bring the World to [...]d.
Call Hecate, and the damn'd Furies hether,
And try if they will vndertake together:
To helpe the sicke World; one is out of hand
Dispatch'd for hell, who by the dread command
Of powerfull Charmes, brought Hecate away,
Who knowing her bus'nesse from herselfe doth lay
That sad aspect, shee wont to put on there,
In that blacke Empire; and doth now appeare,
As shees Lucina giuing strength and ayde,
In birth to women; mild as any Mayde,
Full of sweet hope her brow seem'd, and her eyes
Darting fresh comfort, like the morning skies.
A description of the furies
Then came the Furies with their bosomes bare,
Saue somewhat couer'd with their Snaky hayre,
In wreathes contorted, mumbling hellish Charmes,
[Page 221]Vp to the elbowes naked were their Armes,
Megera eld'st of this damn'd Femall Fiends,
Gnawing her wrists, biting her fingers ends,
Entred the first; Tisiphone the next,
As to reuenge her sister throughly vext,
In one hand bare a whip, and in the other,
A long sharpe knife; the third which seeme to smother,
Her manner of reuenge, cast such an eye,
As well neere turn'd to stone all that stood by,
Her name Alecto, which no plague doth rue,
Nor neuer leaues them whom she doth pursue.
The women pray the goddesse now to stand,
Auspicious to them, and to lend her hand
To the sick World, which willingly she granted;
But at the sight, as altogether danted,
From her cleare face the sprightly vigour fled,
And but she saw the Women hard bested
Out shee had gone, not one glance backe had shot,
Till heauen or hell she o'r her head had got,
Yet shee her selfe retires, next to the doore,
The Gossips worse then e'r they were before,
At their wits end, know not which way to take,
At length the World beginning to awake,
Out of the trance, in which she lay as dead,
And somewhat raising her vnweeldy head,
To bright Lucina call'd for helpe, that shee,
Now in her trauell would propitious be,
The Goddesse not from feeling of her woe,
Onely to see with what the World might goe,
As she is draded Hicate, hauing power,
Of all that keepe hells vgly▪ Balefull Bower,
[Page 222]Commands the Furies to step in and ayd her,
And be the Midwiues, till they safe had layd her,
To doe whose pleasure as they were about,
A sturdy Huswife pertly stepping out,
Cryes hold a while, and let the queane alone,
It is no matter let her lye and groane:
Hold her still to't wee'l doe the best we can,
To get out of her, certainely the man,
Which ownes the Bastard, for ther's not a Nation,
But hath with her committed fornication:
And by her base and common prosti [...]ution,
Shee came by this vnnaturall pollution;
There is a meane for women thus abus'd.
Which at this time may very well be vs'd:
That in this case when people doe desire,
To know the trueth, yet doubtfull of the Sire,
When as the woman most of life doth doubt her,
In grieuous throwes; to those that are about her,
He that is then at the last cast disclos'd,
The naturall Father is to be suppos'd:
And the iust law doth faithfully decide,
That for the nursing he is to prouide:
Therefore let's see, what in her pangs shee'll say,
Lest that this Bastard on the Land we lay:
They lik'd her counsell, and their helpe denyde,
And bad her lye and languish till she dyde;
Vnlesse to them she truly would confesse,
Who fill'd her belly with this foule excesse.
Alas (quoth shee) the Deuill drest mee thus,
[...]e Moone [...]lfe beg [...]t the diuell.
A midst my Ryot, whilst that Incubus
Wrought on my weakenesse, and by him beguilde,
[Page 223]Hee onely is the Father of the childe.
His Instrument my Apish imitation,
Of ev'ry monstrous and prodigeous fashion,
Abus'd my weakenesse: women it was she,
Who was the Bawd betwixt the Fiend and me:
That this is true, it on my death I take,
Then helpe me women euen for pitties sake,
The prodigious signs that foreran the birth of the Moone-Calfe.
When ominus signes to shew themselues began,
That now at hand this monstrous birth fore-ran:
About at noone flew the affrighted Owle,
And dogs in corners set them downe to howle:
Bitches and Wolues these fatall signes among,
Brought foorth most monstrous & prodigious yong
And from his hight the earth refreshing Sunne,
Before his houre his golden head doth runne,
Farre vnder vs, in doubt his glorious eye,
Should be polluted with this Prodigy,
A Panique feare vpon the people grewe,
But yet the cause, there was not one that knew,
When they had heard this; a short tale to tell,
The Furies straight vpon their bus'nesse fell,
And long it was not ere there came to light,
The most abhorrid, the most fearefull sight,
That euer eye beheld, a birth so strange,
That at the view, it made their lookes to change;
Women (quoth one) stand off, and come not neere it
The Diuell if he saw it, sure would feare it;
For by the shape, for ought that I can gather,
The childe is able to affright the Father;
Out cryes another, now for Gods sake hide it,
It is so vgly we may not abide it:
[Page 224]The birth is double, and grows side to side,
That humane hand it neuer can diuide;
A description of the Moon▪ Calfe.
And in this wonderous sort as they be Twins;
Like Male and Female they be Androgines,
The Man is partly Woman, likewise shee
Is partly Man, and yet in face they bee,
Full as prodigious, as in parts; the Twinne,
That is most man, yet in the face and skinne,
Is all meere vvoman, that which most doth take
From weaker woman: Nature seemes to make
A man in show, thereby as to define,
A Fem'nine man, a woman Masculine;
Before bred, nor begot: a more strange thing,
Than euer Nile yet into light could bring,
Made as Creation meer [...]ly to despight,
Nor man, nor woman, scarse Hermophradite,
Affricke that's said, Mother of Monsters is,
Let her but shew me such a one as this,
And then I will subscribe (to doe her due)
And sweare, that what is said of her is true,
Quoth one, tis monstrous, and for nothing fitt,
And for a Monster, quicke let's bury it:
Nay quoth another, rather make prouision.
If possibly, to part it by incision,
For were it parted, for ought I can see,
Both man, and woman it may seeme to bee:
Nay quoth a third, that must be done with cost,
And were it done, our labour is but lost,
For when w'haue wrought the vtmost that we can,
Hees too much woman, and shee's too much man;
Therefore, as'tis a most prodigious birth,
[Page 225]Let it not liue here to pollute the earth:
Gossip (quoth th'last) your reason I deny,
Tis more by law, then we can iustifie;
For Syer, and Dam, haue certainly decreed▪
That they will haue more comfort of their seed:
For he begot it, and t'was borne of her,
And out of doubt, they will their owne prefer:
Therefore good women, better be aduis'd,
"For precious things should not be lightly priz'd,
This Moon-Calfe borne vnder a lucky Fate,
May powerfull proue in many a wealthy State,
And taught the tongues about some few yeers hence
As now vv'are all tongue, and but little sence:
It may fall out for any thing you know,
This Moon-Calfe may on great imployments goe:
When learned men for noble action fit.
Idly at home (vnthought of once) may sit;
A Bawd, or a Proiector he may proue,
And by his purse so purchasing him loue,
May be exalted to some thriuing Roome,
Where seldome good men suffred are to come:
What will you say, hereafter when you see
The times so gracelesse and so mad to be;
That men their perfect humane shape shall flie,
To imitate this Beasts deformitie:
Nay, when you see this Monster, which you novv
Will hardly breath vpon the earth alow;
In his caroch with foure vvhite Freezelands drawn,
And he as pyde and garish as the Pavvne,
With a set face; in which as in a booke,
He thinks the World for grounds of state should looke,
[Page 226]Whē to sōe greater one, whose might doth awe him
He's known a verier iade, then those that draw him,
Nay at the last, the very killing sight,
To see this Calfe (as vertue to despight)
Aboue iust honest men his head to reare,
Nor to his greatnesse may they once come neere,
Each ignorant Sott to Honour seekes to rise;
But as for vertue who did first deuise
That title a reward for, hee's to be,
As most contemned and despised shee,
Goes vnregarded, that they who should owne her,
Dare not take notice euer to haue knowne her;
And but that vertue, when she seemeth throwne
Lower then Hell, hath power to raise her owne.
Aboue the World and this her monstrous birth!
She long e'r this had perish'd from the earth:
Her Fautors banish'd by her foes so hie,
Which looke so bigge as they would scale the skie:
But seeing no helpe, why should I thus complaine,
Then to my Moone-Calfe I returne againe,
By his deare Dam the World, so choicely bred,
To whom there is such greatnesse promised;
For it might well a perfect man amaze,
To see what meanes the Syer and Dam will raise,
T'exalt their Moon-Calfe, and him so to cherish,
That he shall thriue, when vertuous men shal perish▪
The Drunkard, Glutton, or who doth apply,
Himselfe to beastly sensuallity,
Shall get him many friends, for that there be,
Many in euery place iust such as hee;
The euill loue them that delight in ill,
[Page 127] Like haue clean'd to their like, and euer will:
But the true vertuous man (God knowes) hath fewe,
They that his straite and harder steps pursue,
Are a small number, scarcely knowne of any;
"God hath few friends, the Deuill hath so many,
But to returne that yee may plainly see,
That such a one he likely is to be,
And that my words for trueth that ye may trie,
Of the Worlds Babe thus doe I prophecy,
Marke but the more man of these monstrous Twins,
From his first youth, how tow'rdly he begins,
Whē he should learn, being learnd to leaue the schole
This arrant Moon-Calfe, this most beastly foole,
[...]ust to our English Prouerbe shall be seene,
"Scarcely so wise at fifty, as fifteene:
And when himselfe hee of his home can free,
He to the City comes, where then if he,
And the familiar butterflye his Page,
Can passe the Streete, the Ord'nary and Stage,
It is enough, and he himselfe thinks then,
To be the only absolut'st of men:
Then in his Cups you shall not see him shrinke,
To the grand diuell a carowse to drinke.
Next to his whore he doth himselfe apply,
And to maintaine his gotish luxurie,
[...]ates Capons Cookt at fifteene Crownes a peece,
With their fat bellies, stuff'd with Amber greece,
And being to trauell he sticks not to lay,
His Post Caroches still vpon his way:
[...]nd in some sixe dayes iourney doth consume,
Ten pounds in Suckets and the Indian Fume:
[Page 228]For his Attire, then Forraigne parts are sought,
He holds all vile in England that is wrought,
And into Flanders sen [...]eth for the nonce,
Twelue dozen of Shirts prouiding him at once,
Layd in the seames vvith costly Lace that be,
Of the Smocke fashion whole below the knee,
Then bathes in milke, in which when he hath bin,
He lookes like one for the prepostrous sinne,
Put by the wicked and rebellious Iewes,
To be a Pathique in a Malekind Stevves.
With the ball of's foot the ground he may not feel [...]
But he must tread vpon his toe and heele▪
Dublet and Cloake, vvith Plush, and Veluet linde,
Onely his head. piece, that is fil'd with Winde,
Rags, running Horses, Dogs, Drabs, Drink & dice,
The onely things that he doth hold in price:
Yet more then these, naught doth him so delight,
As doth his smooth-chind, plump-thigh'd, Catami [...]
Sodome for her great sinne that burning sanke,
Which at one draught the pit infernall dranke,
Which that iust God on earth could not abide,
Hath shee so much the Deuils terrifide:
As from their seate, them well neere to exile,
Hath Hell new spew'd her vp after this while:
Is she new risen, and her sinne agen,
Imbrac'd by beastly and outragious men.
Nay more he iests at Incest, as therein,
There were no fault, counts sacriledge no sin:
His blasphemies he vseth for his grace;
Wherewith he trueth doth often times outface:
He termeth vertue madnesse, or meere folly,
[Page 229]He hates all high things, and prophanes all holly.
Where is thy thunder god, art thou asleepe?
Or to what suff'ring hand giu'st thou to keepe
Thy wrath and vengeance; where is now the strength
Of thy Almighty arme, failes it at length?
Turne all the Starres to Comets, to out stare
The Sunne at noone-tide, that he shall not dare
To looke but like a G [...]oworme, for that hee
Can without melting these damnations see.
But this Ile leaue, lest I my pen defile:
Yet to my Moon-Calfe keepe I close the while,
Who by some knaue, perswaded he hath wit,
When like a braue Foole, he to vtter it,
Dare with a desperate boldnesse roughly passe
His censure on those bookes, which the poore Asse
Can neuer reach to, things from darkenesse sought,
That to the light with blood & sweat were brought:
And takes vpon him those things to controule,
Which should the brainelesse Ideot sell his soule,
All his dull race, and he can neuer buy
With their base pelfe, his glorious industry;
Knowledge with him is idle, if it straine
Aboue the compasse of his yestie braine:
Nor knowes mens worths but by a second hand,
For he himselfe doth nothing vnderstand;
He would haue something, but what tis hee showes not
What he would speake, nay what to think he knowes not
He nothingmore thē truth & knowledg loaths
And nothing he admires of mans but cloathes.
Now for that I thy dotage dare mislike▪
And seeme so deepe, into thy soule to strike;
[Page 230]Because I am so plaine thou likd'st not me,
Why know, poore Slaue, I no more thinke of thee,
Then of the Ordure that is cast abroad,
I hate thy vice more then I doe a Toade,
Poore is the spirit that fawnes on thy applause;
Or seekes for suffrage from thy Barbarous Iawes.
Misfortune light on him, that ought doth way,
Yee sonnes of Beliall, what yee thinke or say:
Who would haue thought whilst wit sought to aduance,
It selfe so high, damn'd beastly ignorance
Vnder the cloake of knowledge should creepe in,
And from desert should so much credit win:
But all this poysonous froth Hell hath let flie,
In these last dayes, at noble Poesie,
That which hath had both in all times and places,
For her much worth, so sundry soueraigne graces;
The language, which the Spheares and Angels speake,
In which their minde they to poore Mortals breake,
By Gods great power, into rich soules infus'd,
By euery Moone-Calfe lately thus abus'd:
Should all hells blacke inhabitants conspire,
And more vnheard of mischiefe to them hyer,
Such as high Heau'n were able to affright,
And on the noone sted bring a double night:
Then they haue done, they could not more disgrace her,
As from the earth (euen) vtterly terace her:
What Princes lou'd, by Peasants now made hatefull,
In this our age so damnably ingratefull:
And to giue open passage to her fall,
It is deuis'd to blemish her withall,
That th'hideous braying of each Barbarous Asse,
[Page 231]In Printed Letters freely now must passe,
In Accents so vntuneable and vile,
With other Nations was might damne our Ile,
If so our tongue they truely vnderstood,
And make them thinke our braines were meerely m [...]a,
To make her vile, and vgly to appeare,
Whose naturall beauty is Diuinely cleare;
That on the Stationers Stall, who passing lookes,
To see the multiplicity of Bookes,
That pester it, may well beleeue the Presse,
Sicke of a surfet spu'd with the excesse:
Which breedeth such a dulnesse through the land,
Mongst those one tongue which onely vnderstand,
Which did they reade those sinewie Poems writ,
That are materiall relishing of wit:
Wise pollicie, Morallity, or Story,
Well purtraying the Ancients and their glory,
These blinded Fooles, on their base Carrion feeding,
Which are (in trueth) made ignorant by reading,
In little time would growe to be asham'd,
And blush to heare these lowzie Pamphlets nam'd,
Which now they studie, naught but folly learning,
Which is the cause that they haue no discerning,
The good from bad, this ill, that well to know,
Because in ignorance they are nourish'd so:
Who for this hatefull trash should I condemne
They that doe vtter, or Authorize them:
O that the Ancients should so carefull be,
Of what they did impresse, and only wee
Loosely at randome, should let all things flie,
Though gainst the Muses it be blasphemy:
[Page 232]But yet to happy spirits, and to the wise,
All is but foolish that they can deuise,
For when contempt of Poesie is proudest,
Then haue the Muses euer sung the lowdest,
But to my Calfe, who to be counted prime,
According to the fashion of the time,
Him to associate some Buffoon doth get,
Whose braines he still with much expence must whet,
And euer beare about him as his guest,
Who comming out with some ridiculous iest,
Of one (perhaps) a god that well might be,
If but compar'd with such an Asse as hee,
His Patron rores with laughter, and doth cry,
Take him away, or presently I dye,
Whilst that Knaue-foole which well himselfe doth know
Smiles at the Coxecombe, which admires him so:
His time and wealth, thus lewdly that doth spend,
As it were lent him to no other end:
Vntill this Moone-Calfe, this most drunken puffe,
Euen like a Candle burnt vnto the snuffe:
Fierd with surfet, in his owne greace fries,
Sparkles a little, and then stinking dies.
The wealth his Father by extortion wonne,
Thus in the spending helps to damne the Sonne,
And so falls out indifferently to either,
Whereby in hell they iustly meete together;
And yet the World much ioyes in her behalfe,
And takes no little pleasure in her Calfe,
Had this declining time the Freedome now,
Which the braue Romane once did it allowe:
[Page 233] With wyer and Whipcord yee should see her payd,
Till the luxurious Whore should be afraid
Of prostitution and such lashes giuen,
To make her blood spirt in the face of Heauen;
That men by looking vpward as they goe,
Should see the plagues layd on her here below,
But now proceed we with the other Twin,
Which is most woman who shall soone begin
To shew her selfe; no sooner got the Teenes,
But her owne naturall beauty she disdaines,
With Oyles and Broathes most venomous and base,
She plaisters ouer her well-fauoured face;
And those sweet veines by nature rightly plac'd,
Wher with she seem'd that white skin to haue lac'd
She soone doth alter; and with fading blew,
Blanching her bosome, she makes others new,
Blotting the curious workemanship of nature;
That e're she be arriu'd at her full stature,
E're she be drest, she seemeth aged growne,
And to haue nothing on her of her owne:
Her black, browne, aburne or her yellow hayre,
Naturally louely, she doth scorne to weare,
It must be white to make it fresh to show,
And with compounded meale she makes it so:
With fumes and powdrings raising such a smoke,
That a whole Region able were to choke:
Whose stench might fright a Dragon from his den;
The sunne yet ne're exhal'd from any Fen
Such pestilentious vapours as arise,
From their French powderings and their Mercuries,
[Page 234]Ireland, if thou wilt able be alone,
Of thine owne power to driue out thy Tyrone▪
By heaping vp a masse of Coyne together▪
Sheere thy olde Wolues, and send their Fle [...]ces hether,
Thy white Goates hayre, Wales, dearer will be solde,
Then silks of Naples, or then Threed of gold,
Our Water-dogs, and slands here are shorne;
White haeyre so much of Women here is worne,
Nay more then this, they'll any thing endure,
And with large summes they sticke not to procure
Haire from the dead yea and the most vncleane,
To helpe their pride they nothing will disdaine.
Then in attyring her, and in her sleepe,
The dayes three parts she exercis'd doth keepe,
And in ridiculous visits she doth spend,
The other fourth part to no other end;
But to take note how such a Lady lyes,
And to gleane from her some deformities,
Which for a grace she holds and till she get,
She thinks her selfe to be but counterfet.
Our Merchants from all parts twixt either Inde,
Cannot get silke to satisfie her minde:
Nor natures perfect'st patterne can suffice,
The curious draughts for her embroderies:
She thinkes her [...]onour vtterly is lost,
Except those things doe infinitely cost,
Which shee doth weare; nor thinke they can her dre [...]
Except she haue them in most strange excesse,
And in her fashion she is likevvise thus,
In euery thing she must be monstrous:
[Page 235]Her Picadell aboue her crowne vp beares,
Her Fardingale is set aboue her eares:
Which like a broad sayle with the wind doth swell,
To driue this faire Hulke headlong into hell.
After againe, note, and you shall her see,
Shorne like a man, and for that she will be
Like him in all, her congies she will make,
With the mans curtsie, and her hat off take,
Of the French fashion, and weare by her side,
Her sharpe Stillato in a Ryband tyde,
Then gird he selfe close to the paps she shall,
Shap'd, breast and buttocke, but no waste at all.
But of this shee Calfe now to cease all strife,
[...]le by example lim her to the life,
Not long agone it was my chance to meete,
With such a Fury, such a female spright,
As neuer man saw yet, except twere shee,
And such a one as I'may neuer see
Againe I pray: but where I will not name,
For that the place might so partake her shame:
But when I saw her rampant to transcend
All womenhead, I thought her (sure) a friend,
And to my selfe my thoughts suggested thus,
That she was gotten by some Incubus,
And so remembring an old womans tale,
As shee sate dreaming o' [...] a pot of Ale,
[...]hat on a time she did the Deuill meete,
[...]nd knew him only by his clouen feete:
[...]o did I looke at hers, where she did goe,
[...]o see if her feete, were not clouen so▪
[Page 236]Ten long-tongu'd Tapsters in a common Inne,
When as the Guests to flocke apace begin,
When vp-staire one, downe-staire another hyes,
With squeaking clamours, and confused cryes;
Neuer did yet make such a noyse as she,
That I dare boldly iustifie, that he,
Who but an howre her loud clacke can endure,
May vndisturbed, safely and secure,
Sleepe vnder any Bells, and neuer heare,
Though they were rung the clappers at his eare,
And the long'st night with one sweet sleepe be guile
As though he dreamt of Musicke all the while.
The very sight of her, when she doth rore,
Is able to strike dumbe the boldest Whore,
That euer traded: shee'll not sticke to tell,
All in her life that euer her befell;
How she hath layne, with all degrees, and ages,
Her Plow-boyes, Scullians; Lackies, and some Pages▪
And sweare when we haue said all that we can,
That there is nothing worth a pin in man,
And that ther's nothing doth so please her mind,
As to see Mares, and Horses, doe their kind;
And when shee's Tipsey, how so e'r t'offend,
Then all her speech to Bawdry doth intend:
In womens secrets, and shee'll name ye all
Read to the Midwiues at the Surgeons Hall.
Were the poore Coxecombe, her dull husband de [...]
He that durst then this female Moone-Calfe wed▪
Should quite put down the Roman which once leep [...]
Into the burning Gulfe, thereby to keepe
[Page 237]His Country from deuouring with the flame:
Thus leaue we her, of all her sexe the shame.
Amongst the rest, at the Worlds labour there,
For good old Women, most especiall were,
Which had bene iolly Wenches in their dayes,
Through all the Parish, and had borne the prayse,
For merry Tales: one Mother Red-Cap hight,
And Mother Howlet somewhat ill of sight,
For she had hurt her eyes with watching late;
Them Mother Bumby a mad iocund Mate
As euer Gossipt, and with her there came
Olde Gammer Gurton, a right plesant Dame,
As the best of them; being thus together,
The bus'nesse done for which they had come thither:
Qaoth Iolly Mother Red-Cap at the last,
I see the night is quickly like to waste,
And since the World so kindly now is layd,
And the child safe, which made vs all afrayde:
Let's haue a night on't Wenches, hang vp sorrow,
And what [...]leepe wants now, take it vp to morrow,
Stirre vp the fire, and let vs haue our Ale,
And o'r our Cups, let's each one tell her Tale:
My honest Gossips, and to put you in,
Ile breake the Ice, and thus doth mine begin.
There was a certaine Prophesie of old,
Mother Red-Cap [...] tal [...].
Which to an Ile had anciently beene told,
That after many yeeres were com'n and gone,
Which then came out, and the set time came on;
Nay, more it told the very day and howre,
Wherein should fall so violent a showre;
[Page 238]That it new Riuers in the earth should weare,
And Dorps and Bridges quite away should beare:
But where this Ile is, that I cannot showe,
Let them enquire that haue desire to know:
The Story leaues out that, let it alone;
And Gossip with my Tale I will goe on:
Yet what was worse the Prophecy this spake,
(As to warne men defence for it to make)
That vpon whom one drop should chance to light,
They should of reason be depriued quite,
This Prophecy had many an Age beene heard,
But not a man did it one pin regard;
For all to folly did themselues dispose,
(On veryer Calues the Sunne yet neuer rose)
And of their laughter made it all their Theame,
By terming it the drunken Wizards dreame:
There was one honest man amongst the rest,
That bare more perfect knowledge in his breast;
And to himselfe his priuat houres had kept,
To talke with God, whilst others drunke or slept,
Who in his mercy to this man reueal'd▪
That which in Iustice he had long conceal'd
From the rude Heard but let them still run on
The ready way to their destruction.
This honest man the Prophecy that noted,
And things therein more curiously had quoted,
Found all those signes were truely come to passe,
That should fore▪showe this raine, and that it was
Neerely at hand; and from his depth of skill,
Had many a time fore-warn'd them of their ill,
[Page 239] [...]d Preach'd to them this Deluge (for their good)
[...]to th'old world Noe did before the Flood,
[...]t lost his labour, and since t'was in vaine,
[...]o talke more to those Ideots of the raine,
[...]e let them rest: and silent sought about,
[...]here he might finde some place of safety out,
[...]o shroud himselfe in, for right well he knew,
[...]hat from this shower, which then began to brew,
[...]o roofe of Tyle, or thatch he could come in,
[...]ould serue him from being wet to the bare skin.
[...] length this man bethought him of a Caue,
[...] a huge Rocke which likely was to saue
Him from the shower, vpon a hill so steepe,
[...]s vp the same a man could hardly creepe;
[...]o that except Noahs flood should come againe,
[...]e neuer could be raught by any raine;
[...]hither at length, though with much toyle he clome
[...]istning to heare what would thereof become.
It was not long e'r he perceiu'd the skies
[...]etled to raine, and a blacke cloud arise,
[...]hose foggy grosnesse so oppos'd the light,
[...]s it would turne the noone-sted into night,
When the winde came about with all his povver,
[...]nto the tayle of this approaching shovver,
And it to lighten presently began;
Quicker then thought, from East to West that ran:
The Thunder following did so fiercely raue,
And through the thick clouds vvith such fury draue
As Hell had beene set open for the nonce,
And all the Diuels heard to rore at once:
[Page 240]And soone the Tempest so outragious grew,
That it whole hedgerowes by th [...] rootes vp threw
So wondrously prodigious was the weather,
As heauen and earth had meant to goe together:
And downe the shower impetuously doth fall,
Like that which men the Hurricano call:
As the grand Deluge had bene come againe,
And all the world should perish by the raine,
And long it lasted; all which time this man
Hid in the Caue doth in his iudgement scan,
What of this inundation would ensue,
For he knew well the Prophecie was true:
And when the shower was somewhat ouerpast;
And that the skie began to cleare at last:
To the Caues mouth he softly put his eare,
To listen if he any thing could heare:
What harme this storm had done, and what became
Of those that had beene sowsed in the same,
No sooner he that nimble Organ lent,
To the Caues mouth; but that incontinent
There was a noyse as if the Garden beares
And all the Dogs together by the eares,
And those of Bedlam had enlarged bin,
And to behold the bayting had come in:
Which when he heard, he knevv too well alas,
That what had beene fore-told, was come to passe;
Within himselfe good man, he reasoned thus:
Tis for our sinnes, this plague is falne on vs.
Of all the rest, though in my wits I be,
(I thanke my Maker) yet it grieueth mee,
[Page 241] [...]o see my Country in this piteous case;
[...]oe's me that euer they so wanted grace,
[...]t vvhen as man once casts off vertue quite,
[...]nd doth in sin and beastlinesse delight,
[...]e see how soone God turnes him to a Sot:
[...]o show my selfe yet a true Patriot,
[...]e in amongst them, and if so that they
[...]e not a curst of God, yet, yet I may,
[...]y wholesome counsell (if they can but heare)
[...]ake them as perfect as at first they vvere,
[...]nd thus resolu'd goes this good poore man downe,
[...]hen at the entrance of the neighboring Towne,
[...]e meets 2 woman with her buttocks bate,
[...]ot vp a stride vpon a wall eyd Mare,
[...]orunne a Horse-race and was like to ride
[...]uer the goodman; but he stept aside;
[...]nd after her, another that bestroad
Horse of seruice, with a Lance she rode,
[...]rm'd, and behind her on a Pillian satt
[...]er frantique husband, in a broad brim'd Hat,
Maske and Safeguard; and had in his hand,
[...]s mad Wiues Distaffe for a rvding Wand:
[...]arse from these mad folke, had he gone so farre,
[...]s strong man will eas'ly pitch a Barre:
[...]t that he found a Youth in Tissue braue,
[...] daintier man one would not wish to haue)
[...]as courting of a loathsome meazeled Sow,
[...]d in his iudgement swore he must alowe
[...]s the prime Beauty, that he euer saw,
[...]s was she sued to (by that prating Daw)
[Page 242]Who, on a Dunghill in the loathsome gore
Had farrowed ten Pigs scarce an houre before,
At which this man in melancholly deepe,
Burst into laughter, like before to weepe,
Another foole, to fit him for the Weather,
Had arm'd his heeles with Corke his head with feather
And in more strange and sundry collours clad,
Then in the Raine-bowe euer can be had,
Stalk'd through the streets, preparing him to flie,
Vp to the Moone vpon an Embassie,
Another seeing his drunken Wife disgorge
Her pamperd stomacke, got her to a Forge,
And in her throat the Feauerous heat to quench
With the Smiths horne, was giuing her a Drench:
One his next neighbour haltred had by force,
So frantique, that he tooke him for a Horse,
And to a Pond was leading him to drinke;
It went beyond the wit of man to thinke,
The sundry frenzies that he there might see,
One man would to another married be:
And for the Curate taking the Towne Bull,
Would haue him knit the knot: another Gull
Had found an Ape was chained to a Stall,
Which he to worship on his knees doth fall;
To doe the like and doth his Neighbours get,
Who in a Chaire this ill-fac'd Munky set,
And on their shoulders lifting him on hie,
They in Procession beare him with a cry,
And him a Lord will haue at least if not,
A greater man; another sort had got
[Page 243] [...]bout a Pedlar, vvho had lately heard,
[...]ow with the mad men of this Ile it far'd:
[...]nd hauing nothing in his Packe but toyes,
[...]hich none except meere mad men, and fond boyes
[...]ould euer touch; thought verily that hee
[...]mongst these Bedlams, would a gayner be,
[...]r else loose all: scarce had he pitcht his packe,
[...]re he could scarcely say, what doe yee lacke:
[...]t that they throng'd about him with their money,
[...]s thicke as Flyes about a pot of hony:
[...]me of these Lunaticks, these frantique Asses,
[...]ue him Spurryalls for his farthing Glasses:
[...]here should you see another of these Cattell,
[...]i [...]e him a pound of filuer for a rattle;
[...]nd there another that would needsly scorse,
[...]costly Iewell for a Hobby▪ Horse:
[...]r Bells, and Babyes, such as children small,
[...]e euer vs'd to solace them withall:
[...]hose they did buy at such a costly rate,
[...]hat it was able to subuert a State;
[...]hich when this wise and sober man beheld,
[...] very griefe his eyes with teares were sweld.
[...]s, that ere I saw this day (quoth he)
[...]at I my Natiue country-men should see
[...] this state; when out of very zeale
[...]th to his natiue earth, and common weale,
[...] thrust amongst them, and thus frames his speech.
Dea [...] Country▪ men, I humbly yee beseech,
[...]are [...] a little, and but marke me well,
[...]s, it [...] not long since first yee fell,
[Page 244]Into this frenzie, these outragious fits,
Be not I pray ye so out of your wits:
But call to mind th'ineuitable ill
Must fall on yee, if ye continue still
Thus mad and frantique: therefore be not worse,
Then your bruite beasts to bring thereby a Curse
Vpon your Nephewes, so to taynt their blood,
That twenty Generations shall be woo'd,
And this braue Land for wit that hath bin fam'd,
The Ile of Ideots after shall be nam'd:
Your braines are not so craz'd, but leaue this ryot,
And tis no question, but with Temperate Dyet,
And counsaile of wise men, when they shall see
The desperate estate wherein you bee:
But with such med'cines as they will apply,
They'll quickly cure your grieuous malady,
And as he would proceed with his Oration,
One of the chiefest of this [...]edlam Nation:
Layes hold on him, and askes who he should bee,
Thou fellow (quoth this Lord) where had we thee,
Com'st thou to preach to vs that be so wise,
What wilt thou take vpon thee to aduise
Vs of whom all now vnderneath the skie,
May well be seene to learne frugalitie:
Why surely honest fellow thou art mad,
Another standing by, swore that the had
Seene him in Bedlam foureteene yeeres agoe:
O quoth a third this fellow doe I know,
This is an arrant Coxecomb, a meere Dizzard,
If yee remember, this is the same Wizzard,
[Page 245]Which tooke vpon him wisely to fore tell
The shower so many yeeres before it fell:
Whose strong effects being so strange and rare,
Hath made vs such braue creatures as we are:
When of this Nation all the frantique Route,
[...]ell into laughter the poore man about,
[...]ome made mouthes at him, others as in scorne
With their forkt fingers pointed him the Horne:
They call'd him Asse, and Dolt, and bad him goe
[...]mongst such Fooles, as he himselfe was, who
[...]ould not teach them: at which this honest man,
[...]inding that naught, but hate and scorne he wan
[...]mongst these Ideots, and their beastly kinde,
[...]he poore small remnant of his life behinde,
[...]etermineth to Solitude to giue.
The morali [...]y of mother Red-Caps tale.
[...]nd a true Hermite afterward to liue,
The tale thus ended, Gossip by your leaue;
[...]oth Mother Bumby, I doe well perceiue
[...]he morrall of your Story, which is this;
Correct me Dame, if I doe iudge amisse)
[...] first Ile tell you by this honest Ale,
[...]my conceit this is a pretty Tale;
[...]d if some hansome players would it take,
(sure) a pretty interlude would [...]ake,
[...]t to the Morrall, this same mig [...]y shower
[...]a plague sent by supernaturall power,
[...]pon the wicked: for when God intends
[...]lay a curse on mens vngodly ends,
[...] vnderstanding he doth them depriue;
[...]hich taken from them vp themselues they giue
[...] beastlinesse, nor will he let them see▪
[Page 246]The miserable estate wherein they be.
The Rocke to which this man for safety climes,
The contemplation is of the sad times
Of the declining World; his counsailes told
To the mad Route, to spoyle and basenesse solde,
Showes that from such no goodnesse can proceede,
Who counsailes fooles, shall never better speede.
Quoth Mother Red-Cap, you haue hit it right:
(Quoth she) I know it Gossip, and to quite
Your tale; another you of me shall haue,
Therefore a while your patience let me craue.
Out in the North tow'rds Greeneland farre away,
There was a Witch (as ancient Stories say)
As in those parts there many Witches be:
Yet in her craft aboue all other, shee
Was the most expert, dwelling in an Ile,
Which was in compasse scarce an English mile,
Which by her cunning shee could make to floate
Whither she list, as though it were a Boate:
And where againe she meant to haue it stay,
There could she fixe it in the deepest Sea:
Shee could sell Windes to any one that would
Buy them for money, forcing them to hold
What time she listed, tye them in a thrid,
Which euer as the Sea-farer vndid,
They rose or scantled, as his Sayles would driue,
To the same Port whereas he would ariue:
She by her Spels could make the Moone to stay,
And from the East she could keepe backe the day,
Rayse Mists and Fogs that could Eclipse the light,
And with the noone-sted she could mixe the night
[Page 247]Vpon this Ile whereas she had abode,
Nature (God knowes) but little cost bestow'd:
Yet in the same, some Bastard creatures were,
[...]eldome yet seene in any place but there;
Halfe men, halfe Goate there was a certaine kinde,
[...]uch as we Satyres purtray'd out doe finde,
Another sort of a most vgly shape;
A Beare in body and in face an Ape:
Other like Beasts yet had the feete of Fowles,
That Demy-Vrchins were, and Demy-Owles:
Besides there were of sundry other sorts,
But wee'll not stand too long on these reports.
Of all the rest that most resembled man,
Was an o' [...] worne ill-fauoured Babian;
Which of all other, for that onely he
Was full of tricks, as they are vs'd to bee
Him in her craft, so seriously she taught,
As that in little time she had him brought,
That nothing could before this Ape bee set,
That presently he could not counterfet;
[...]he learnt him medicines instantly to make
Him any thing whose shape he pleas'd to take:
And when this skill shee had on him bestow'd,
[...]he sent him for intelligence abroad.
Thus fully furnish'd, and by her sent out,
[...]ee went to practise all the World about,
[...]e like a Iipsey oftentimes would goe,
[...]ll kind of Gibb'rish he had learnt to know,
[...]nd with a sticke, a short string and a noose,
Would show the people tricks at fast and loose:
[...]ell folkes their Fortunes, for he would finde out
[Page 248]By slye enquirie, as he went about,
What chance this one he, or that she had prou'd
Whom they most hated, or whom most they lou'd,
And looking in their hands, as there he knew it,
Out of his skill would counterfet to shew it:
Sometimes he for a Mountebanke would passe,
And shew you in a Crusible, or Glasse;
Some rare extraction, presently and runne,
Through all the cures that he therewith had done,
An Aspick still he carried in a poke,
Which he to bite him often would prouoke,
And with an oyle when it began to swell,
The deadly poyson quickly could expell:
And many times a iugler he would be,
(A craftier knaue there neuer was then he;)
And by a mist deceiuing of the sight,
(As knauery euer falsifies the light)
He by his actiue nimblenesse of hand,
Into a Serpent would transforme a Wand,
As those Egyptians, which by Magicke thought,
Farre beyond Moyses wonders to haue wrought,
There neuer was a subtilty deuis'd,
In which this villaine was not exercis'd.
Now from this Region where they dwelt, not [...]
There was a wise and learn'd Astronomer,
Who skilfull in the Planetary hovvres,
The working knew of the Celestiall powers,
And by their ill, or by their good aspect,
Men in their actions wisely could direct,
And in the blacke and gloomy Arts so skild,
That he (euen) Hell in his subiection hild;
[Page 249]He could command the Spirits vp from below,
And bind them strongly, till they let him know
All the dread secrets that belong'd them to,
And what those did, with whom they had to do.
This Wizzard in his knowledge most profound,
Sitting one day the depth of things to sound;
For that the World was brought to such a passe,
That it well neere in a confusion was,
For things set right, ran quickly out of frame,
And those awry to rare perfection came:
And matters in such sort about were brought,
That States were pusled almost beyond thought,
Which made him thinke (as he might very well)
There were more Diuels then he knew in hell.
And thus resolues that he would cast about
In his best skill, to find the Engine out,
That wrought all this, and put himselfe therein:
When in this bus'nesse long he had not bin;
But by the Spirits which he had sent abroad,
And in this worke had euery way bestow'd;
He came to know this Foule Witch, and her factor,
The one the Plotter, and the other th'Actor,
Of all these stirres, which many a State had spoyl'd,
Whereby the World so long had bene turmoyl'd,
Wherefore he thought it much did him behoue,
Out of the vvay this couple to remoue;
Or (out of question) halfe the World e're long,
Would be diuided, hers, and his among,
When turning ouer his most mystique bookes,
[...]nto the secrets of his Art he lookes,
And th'earth, and th'Ayre doth with his Magiques fill,
[Page 250]That euery place was troubled by his skill;
Whilst in his minde he many a thing reuolues,
Till at the last he with himselfe resolues;
One Spirit of his should take the Witches shape,
Another, in the person of the Ape,
Should be ioyn'd with him, so to proue by this,
Whether their power were lesse or more then his;
Which he performes, and to their taske them sets,
When soon that Spirit, the Witch that counterfets,
Watch'd till he found her farre abroad to be,
Into a place then of her home gets he:
And when the Babian came the newes to bring
What he had done abroad, and eu'ry thing
Which he had plotted, how their bus'nesse went,
And in the rest to know her dread intent,
Where she was wont to call him her deare sonne,
Her little play-feere and her pretty Bun:
Hug him, and sweare he was her only ioy;
Her very Hermes, her most dainty Boy,
O most strange thing▪ she chang'd her wonted cheare
And doth to him most terrible appeare:
And in most fearefull shapes she doth him threaten
With eager lookes, as him she would haue eaten,
That from her presence he was forc't to flye,
As from his death, or deadly enemy.
When now the second which the shape doth take
Of the Baboon, determining to make,
The like sport with him, his best time doth watch,
When he alone the cursed Witch might catch;
And when her Factor farthest was remote,
Then he began to change his former note,
[Page 251]And where he wont to tell her pleasing stories,
Ful of their Conquests, Triumphs▪ and their glories,
He turnes his Tale, and to the Witch relates,
The strange reuolts of Tributary States,
Things go [...]ten backe, which late they had for prize,
With new discoueries of their policies;
Disgusts and dangers that had crost their cunning,
With sad portents, their ruine still forerunning;
That thus the Witch and the Baboon deceiu'd
Of all their hopes, of all their ioyes bereau'd,
As in deipaire doe bid the world adue,
When as the Ape which weake and sickly grew,
On the cold earth his scuruy caryion layes,
And worne to nothing, ends his wretched dayes:
The filthy Hagg abhorring of the light,
Into the North past Thule takes her flight,
And in those deepes, past which no Land is found,
Her wretched selfe she miserably drownd.
The tale thus ended, mother Owle doth take
Her turne, and thus to mother Bumby spake;
The tale our Gossip Red-cap told before
You so well ridled that there can no more
Be sayd of it, and therefore as your due,
What haue you done for her, Ile doe for you.
The morallity of mother Bumbyes [...]al [...]
And thus it is, that same notorious Witch,
Is the ambition men haue to be rich,
And Great, for which all faith aside they lay,
And to the Deuill giue themselues away,
The floating Ile where she is sayd to wonne,
The various courses are through which they ronne,
To get their endes, and by the Ape is ment,
[Page 252]Those damned Villaines made the instrument
To their designes, that wondrous man of skill,
Sound counsell is, or rather if you will,
The Diuine Iustice, which doth bring to [...]ight,
The wicked plots not raught by common [...]ight,
For though they neuer haue so closely wrought,
Yet to confusion lastly they are brought,
Gossip, indeed, you haue hit it to a haire,
And surely your Morality is rare,
Quoth Mother Bumby: Mother Owle replyde,
Come, come, I know I was not very wide,
Wherefore to quit your Tales, and make them three
My honest Gossips listen now to me.
There was a man▪ not long since dead▪ but he
Rather a Diuell might accounted be:
For Iudgement at her best could hardly scan,
Whither he were more Deuill, or more man;
And as he was, he did himselfe apply
T'all kind of Witchcraft, and blacke Sorcery:
And for his humour naturally stood,
To Theft▪ to Rapine, and to shedding blood,
By those damn'd Hags with whom he was in grace,
And vsd to meet in many a secret place:
He learnt an hearbe of such a wondrous power,
That were it gather'd at a certaine hower,
(For nature for the same did so prouide,
As though from knowledge gladly it to hide,
For at Sunset itselfe it did disclose,
And shut itselfe vp, as the morning rose)
That with thrice saying a strange Magique spell,
Which but to him, to no man they would tell,
[Page 253]When as so e'r that simple he would take,
It him a War-vvoolfe instantly would make,
Which put in practise he most certaine proou'd,
When to a Forrest he himselfe remou'd,
Through which there lay a plaine and common rode
Which he the place chose for his chiefe abode,
And there this monster set him downe to theeue,
Nothing but stolne goods might this fiend releeue;
No silly woman, by that way could passe,
But by this Woolfe she surely rauisht was,
And if he found her flesh was soft and good,
What seru'd for Lust, must also serue for food,
Into a Village he sometime would get,
And watching there (as for the purpose set)
For little children when they came to play,
The fattst he euer bore with him away;
And as the people oft were wont to rise,
Following with Hubbubs and confused cryes:
Yet was he so well breathed, and so light,
That he would still outstrip them by his flight:
And making straight to the tall Forrest neere,
Of the sweet flesh would haue his Iunkets there.▪
And let the Sheepheards doe the best they could,
Yet would he venture oft vpon the fold:
And taking the fatt'st sheepe he there could finde:
Beare him away, and leaue the dogs behind:
Nor could men keepe, so much as Pig or Lamb,
But it no sooner, could drop from the Dam,
By hooke or crooke, but he would surely catch,
Though with their weapons all the Towne should watch,
Amongst the rest there was a silly Asse,
[Page 254]That on the way by Fortune chanc'd to passe,
Yet (it was true) he in his time had bin
A very perfect man in shape▪ and skin:
But by a Witch enuying his estate,
That had borne to him a most deadly hate,
Into this shape he was transform'e, and so,
From place to place, he wandred to and fro,
And often times was taken for a stray,
And in the Pinfold many a time he lay;
Yet held he still the reason that he had
When he was man, although he thus was clad
In a poore asses shape, wherein he goes,
And must endure what Fortune will impose.
Him on his way this cruell Woolfe doth take,
His present pray determining to make,
He bray'd▪ and ro [...]'d to make the people heare:
But it fell out, no creature being neare,
The silly Asse when he had done his best,
Must walke the common way among the rest:
When tow'rds his den the cruell Wolfe him tugs,
And by the eares most terribly him lugs,
But as God would, he had no list to seed,
Wherefore to keepe him till he should haue need,
The silly creature vtterly forlorne,
He brings into a Brake of Bryers and Thorne,
And so entangles by the mane and tayle,
That he might pluck, and struggle there, and hale,
Till his breath left him, vnlesse by great chance
Some one might come for his deliuerance.
At length the people grieuously annoy'd
By this vild Woolfe, so many that destroy'd,
[Page 255]Determined a Hunting they would make,
To see if they by any meanes could take
This rauenous War Woolfe: and with them they bring,
Mastiffes, and Mungrells, all that in a string
Could be got out, or could but lug a Hog,
Ball, Eateall, Cuttaile, Blackfoot, Bitch, and Dogg,
Bills, Batts and Clubs, the Angry men doe beare,
The Women eager as their husbands were
With Spits and Fireforks, sware if they could catch him,
It should go hard but they would soon dispatch him
This subtill Woolfe by passengers that heard,
What forces thus against him were prepar'd,
And by the noyse; that they were neere at hand,
Thinking this Asse did nothing vnderstand,
Goes downe into a spring that was hard by,
(Which the Asse noted) and immediatly,
He came out perfect man, his Wolues shape left,
In which so long he had committed theft.
The silly Asse, so wistly then did view him,
And in his fancy so exactly drew him,
That he was sure to owne this theefe agen,
If he should see him mongst a thousand men,
This woolfe turn'd man, him instantly doth shrowd
In a neere thicket, till the boystrous crowd,
Had somewhat past him, then he in doth fall
Vpon the Reare, not any of them all
Makes greater stirre, nor seemes to them to be
More diligent to finde the Woolfe then he:
They beate each brake, and tuft o'r all the ground,
But yet the War-Woolfe was not to be found:
But a poore Asse entangled in the Bryers,
[Page 256]In such strange sort, as euery one desires
To see the manner, and each one doth gather,
How he was fastned so, how he came thither,
The silly Asse yet being still in hold,
Makes all the meanes, that possibly he could,
To be let loose, he hummes, he kneeles, and cryes,
Shaketh his head, and turneth vp his eyes:
To moue their pitty: that some sayd, t'was sure
This Asse had sence of what he did endure:
And at the last amongst themselues decreed
To let him loose; the Asse no sooner freed,
But out he goes the company among,
And where he saw the people thickst to throng,
There he thrusts in, and looketh round about,
Here he runnes in, and there he rusheth out;
That he was likely to haue throwne to ground
Those in his way, which when the people found,
Though the poore Asse they seemed to dis [...]laine,
Follow'd him yet, to find what he should meane,
Vntill by chance that he this Villaine met;
When he vpon him furiously doth set,
Fastning his teeth vpon him with such strength,
That he could not be loosed, till at length
Railing them in, the people make a Ring,
Strooke with the wonder of so strange a thing;
Whilst they are cadg'd contending whither can
Conquer, the Asse some cry, some cry the man:
Yet the asse drag'd him, & stil forward drue,
Towards the strange spring, which yet they neuer knew
Yet to what part the strugling seem'd to sway,
The people made a lane, and gaue them way,
[Page 257]At length the Asse had tug'd him neere thereto,
The people wondring what he meant to doe;
He seem'd to show them with his foot the Well,
Then with an Asse-like noyse he seem'd to tell
The Story, now by pointing to the men,
Then to the Theefe, then to the spring agen,
At length waxt angry growing into passion;
Because they could not find his demonstration,
T'expresse it more, he l [...]apes into thespring,
When on the suddaine, O most monstrous thing,
To change his shape he presently began,
And at an instant became perfect man,
Recouering speech, and comming foorth accus'd,
The bloody murtherer, who had so abus'd
The honest people, and such harme had done;
Before them all, and presently begun
To shew them in what danger he had bin,
And of this Woolfe, the cruelty and sin;
How he came chang'd agen as he had prou'd:
Whereat the people being strangely moou'd,
Some on the head, some on the backe doe clap him,
And in their armes, with shouts and kisses hap him,
Then all at once vpon the War-woolfe flue,
And vp and downe him on the earth they drew;
Then from his bones the flesh in Collops cut,
And on their weapons points in Triumph put;
Returning backe with a victorious song,
Bearing the man aloft with them along.
Quoth Gammer Gurton, on my honest word,
You haue told a Tale doth much conceit afford:
Good neighbour Howlet and as ye haue done,
[Page 258]Each one for other, since our Tales begunne,
And since our stand of Ale so well endures,
The morality of mother Howlets tale.
As you haue morral'd Bumbyes, I will yours,
The fable of the War-wolfe I apply,
To a man, giuen to blood and cruelty,
And vpon spoyle doth onely set his rest;
Which by a Woolfes shade liuely est is exprest,
The spring by which he gets his former shape,
Is the euasion aft [...]r euery rape,
He hath to start by; and the silly Asse,
Which vnregard [...]d, euery where doth passe,
Is some iust soule, who though the world disdaine,
Yet hee by God is strangely made the meane,
To bring, his damned practises to light,
Gammer Gurtons tale.
Quoth mother Howlet you haue hit the white,
I thought as much quoth Gammer Gurton then,
My turne comes next, haue with you once agen,
A mighty Waste there in a country was,
Yet not so great as it was poore of grasse;
T'was sayd of olde, a Saint once curst the soyle,
So barren, and so hungry, that no toyle,
Could euer make it any thing to beare;
Nor would ought prosper, that was planted there,
Vpon the earth, the spring was seldome seene,
T'was winter there, when each placeelse was green
When Summer did her most abundance yeeld,
That still lay browne, as any fallow field,
Vpon the same, some few trees scattering stood,
But it was Autumne, ere they vs'd to bud,
And they were crookt, and knotty, and the leaues,
The niggard sap so vtterly deceiues,
[Page 259]That sprouting foorth, they drouping hung the head
And were neere withered, [...]re yet fully spread,
No mirthfull Birds the boughs did euer grace,
Nor could be won to stay vpon that place,
Onely the night▪ Crow sometimes you might see,
Croking to sit vpon some Rampick-tree,
Which was but very seldome too, and then
[...]t boded great mortality to men;
[...]s were the trees, which on that common grew,
[...]o were the cattell staruelings, and a few,
[...]sses, and Mules, and they were vs'd to gnaw
[...]he very earth to fill the hungry maw,
When they far'd best they fed on Ferne and brak,
Their leane shrunke bellies cleau'd vp to their back,
Of all the rest in that great Waste that went,
Of those quicke caryons, the most eminent,
Was a poore Mule vpon that common bred,
[...]nd from his foaling further neuer fed,
[...]he Summer well-neere euery yeare was past,
[...]re he his ragged Winter coat could cast,
[...]nd then the Iade would get him to a tree,
[...]hat had a rough bark, purposely▪ where he
[...]ubbing his Buttocks, and his either side
Would get the old hayre from his starued hyde,
[...]d though he were as naked as my nayle,
[...]et he would whinny then, and wagge the tayle,
[...] this short pasture one day as he stood,
[...]eady to faint amongst the rest for food:
[...]et the poore Beast according to his kinde,
[...]aring his nostrill vp into the Winde,
sweet fresh feeding thought that he did vent,
[Page 260]"(Nothing as hunger sharpneth so the sent)
For that not far there was a goodly ground,
Which with sweet grasse, so greatly did abound,
That the fat soyle seem'd to be ouer fraught
Nor could bestow the burthen that it brought,
Besides that bounteous nature did it stick,
With sundry sorts of fragrant flowers so thicke,
That when the warme, and Baulmy southwind blew
The lushyous smells o're all the region flew,
Led by his sence, at length this poore Iade found,
This pasture (fenc'd though with a mighty Mound)
A pale and quicke set, circling him about,
(That nothing could get in, nor nothing out)
And with himselfe thus wittily doth cast,
Well, I haue found good pasture yet at last,
If by some meanes accomplisht it might be,
Round with the ditch immediatly walks he;
(And long though't was, good lucke nere comes too late)
It was his chance to light vpon a gate
That led into it, (thoug [...] his hap were good)
Yet was it made of so sufficient wood,
And euery bar that did to it belong,
Was so well ioynted, and so wondrous strong
Besides a greatlocke, with a double ward,
That he thereby of entrance was debar'd
And thereby hard beset, yet though at length,
"T'was done by sleight, that was not don by strengt [...]
Fast in the ground his two fore-feet doth get,
Then his hard Buttocks to the gate he set,
And thrust, and shooke, and laboured till at last,
The two great posts, that held the same so fast,
[Page 261]Began to loosen, when a gaine he takes,
Fresh foot-hold, and a fresh he shakes and shakes,
Till the great Hinges to flye off he feeles;
And heard the gate fall clattering at his heeles,
Then nayes and brayes, with such an open throat,
That all the Waste resounded with his note;
The rest that did his language vnderstand,
Knew well there was some good to them in hand,
And tag, & rag, through thick & thin came running
Nor dale, nor ditch, nor banke nor bushes shunning;
And so desirous to see their good hap,
That with their thrunging they stucke in the gap.
Now they bestir their teeth, and doe deuoure,
More sweetnesse in the compasse of one howre,
Then twice so many could in twice the time,
For now the spring was in the very prime,
Till pri [...]kt with plenty eas'd of all their lacks
Their pampred bellies swolne aboue their backs,
They tread and waddle all the goodly grasse,
That in the field there scarce a corner was,
[...]eft free by them, and what they had not swallow'd
There they had dung'd, and layd them down and wallowd,
One with another they wouldly and play,
And in the deepe fog batten all the day,
Thus a long while, this merry life they led
[...]ill (euen) like Lard their thickned sides were fed,
[...]ut on a time the weather being fayre,
And season fit to take the pleasant ayre,
To view his pasture the rich owner went,
To s [...]e what grasse the fruitfull yeare had sent,
Finding the feeding for which he had toyl'd,
[Page 242]To haue kept safe, by these vile cattell spoyl'd,
He in a rage vpon them sets his Cur,
But for his bawling, not a beast would stir;
Then whoots and shouts, and claps his hands, but [...]
Might as well mooue the dull earth, or a tree,
As once but stirre them, when all would not doe,
Last with his goad amongst them he doth goe,
And some of them he girdeth in the Hanches,
Some in the flankes, that prickt their very pa [...]ches
But when they felt that they began to smart,
Vp on a suddaine they together start,
And driue at him as fast as they could ding,
They flirt, they yerke, they backward fluce, and flin [...]
As though the Deuill in their heeles had bin,
That to escape the danger he was in,
He back and backe into a quagmire by,
Though with much perill, forced was to flie:
But lightly treading there-vpon doth shift,
Out of the bog his cumbred feet to lift,
When they the perill that doe not fore-cast,
In the stiffe mud, are quickly stabled fast:
When to the Towne he presently doth flie,
Raysing the Neighbours with a suddaine crye:
With Cords and Halters that came all at once;
For now the Iades were fitted for the nonce:
For by that time th'had sunke themselues so deepe,
That scarce their heads aboue groūd they could kee [...]
When presently they by the necks them bound,
And so they led them to the common pound,
Quoth Mother Red-Cap, right well haue you done
Good Gammer Gurton, and as we begun,
[Page 642]So you conclude: tis time we parted now;
But first of my morallity alowe.
The common that you speake of here, say I,
The morallity of Mother Gurtons
[...]s nothing else but want and beggery;
[...] the World common, and the Beasts that goe
Vpon the same, which oft are famish'd so:
[...]re the poore bred in scarcity; the Mule
[...]he other Cattell that doth seeme to rule,
[...]ome crafty fellow that hath slily found
[...] way to thriue by: and the fruit full ground
[...] wealth, which he by subtilty doth win,
[...] his possession which not long hath bin;
[...]ut he with ryot and excesse doth waste,
[...] For goods ill gotten doe consume as fast;
[...]nd with the Law they lastly doe contend,
[...]ill at the last the Prison is the end.
Quoth Gammer Gurton, well your selfe you quite,
[...]y this the dawne vsurpt vpon the night;
[...]nd at the vvindow biddeth them good day
[...]hen they departed each their seuerall way▪
FINIS.
ELEGIES VP ON SVNDRY OCCASIONS
Of his Ladies not Comming to London.
THat ten-yeres-trauel'd Greek return'd from Sea,
Ne'r ioyd so much to see his Ithaca,
As I should you, who are alone to me,
More then wide Greece could to that wanderer be,
The Winter windes still Easterly doe keepe,
And with keene frosts haue chained vp the deepe▪
The Sun's to vs a niggard of his Rayes,
But reuelleth with our Antipodes;
And seldome to vs when he showes his head,
Musled in Vapours, he straight hies to bed,
In those bleake mountains can you liue, where sno [...]
Maketh the valles vp to the hilles to grow;
Whereas mens breaths doe instantly congeale,
And attom'd mists turne instantly to hayle;
Belike you thinke, from this more temperate cost,
My sighes may haue the power to thaw the frost,
Which I from hence should swiftly send you thithe
Yet not▪ so swift, as you come slowly hither
How many a time hath Phebe from her wayne,
With Phabus fires filld vp her hornes againe;
Shee through her Orb, still on her course doth rang
[Page 265] [...]ut you keepe yours still, nor for me will change.
[...]he Sun that mounted the sterne Lyons backe,
[...]hall with the Fishes shortly diue the Bracke,
[...]ut still you keepe your station, which confines
[...]ou, nor regard him trauelling the signes,
[...]hose ships which when you went put out to Sea,
[...]oth to our Greeneland, and Virginia,
[...]re now return'd, and Custom'd haue their fraught,
[...]et you arriue not, nor returne me ought.
The Thames was not so frozen yet this yeare,
[...]s is my bosome, with the chilly feare,
Of your not comming, which on me doth light,
[...]s on those Climes, where halfe the world is night.
Of euery tedious howre you haue made two,
[...]ll this long Winter here, by missing you,
[...]inutes are months, and when the houre is past,
[...] yeere is ended since the clocke strooke last,
When your remembrance puts me on the racke,
[...]nd I should swound to see an Almanacke,
[...]o read what silent weekes away are slid,
[...]nce the dire Fates you from my sight haue hid.
I hate him who the first deuisor was
[...]f this same foolish thing, the Hower▪glasse,
[...]nd of the Watch whose dribling sands and wheele,
[...]ith their slow stroaks, make me too much to feele
[...]our slacknesse hither, O how I doe ban,
[...]im that these Dialls against walles began,
[...]hose Snayly motion of the moouing hand,
Although it goe) yet seeme to me to stand,
[...]though at Adam it had first set out,
[...]d had beene stealing all this while about,
[Page 266]And when it backe to the first point should come,
It shall be then iust at the generall Doome.
The Seas into themselues retract their slowes▪
The changing Winde from euery quarter blowes,
Declining Winter in the Spring doth call,
The Stars rise to vs, as from vs they fall;
Those Birds we see, that leaue vs in the Prime,
Againe in Autumne re-salute our Clime,
Sure, either Nature you from kinde hath made,
Or you delight else to be Retrograde.
But I perceiue by your attractiue powers,
Like an Inchantresse you haue charm'd the howers
Into short minutes, and haue drawne them backe,
So that of vs at London, you doe lacke,
Almost a yeare, the Spring is scarce begonne
There where you liue, and Autume almost done
With vs more Eastward, surely you deuise,
By your strong Magicke, that the Sun shall rise,
Where now it sets, and that in some few yeares,
You'l alter quite the Motion of the Spheares,
Yes, and you meane, I shall complaine my loue
To grauell'd Walkes▪ or to a stupid Groue,
Now your companions; and that you the while
(As you are cruell) will sit by and smile,
To make me write to these, while passers by,
Sleightly looke in your louely face, where I
See Beauties heauen, whilst silly blockheads, they
Like laden Asses, plod vpon their way,
And wonder not, as you should point a Clowne,
Vp to the Guards, or Ariadnes Crowne;
Of Constellations, and his dulnesse tell,
[Page 267]Hee'd thinke your words were certainely a spell;
Or him some piece from Creet, or Marcus show,
In all his life which till that time ne'r saw
Painting: except in Alehouse or old Hall
Done by some Druzzler, of the prodigall.
Nay doe, stay still, whilst time away shall steale
Your youth, and beauty, and your selfe conceale
From me I pray you, you haue now inur'd
Me to your absence, and I haue endur'd
Your want this long, whilst I haue starued bin
For your short Letters, as you held it sinne
To write to me, that to appease my woe,
I reade ore▪ those you writ a yeare agoe,
Which are to me, as though they had bene made,
Long time before the first Olimpiad.
For thankes and ourt'sies sell your presence then
To tattling Women, and to things like men,
And bee more foolish then the Indians are
For Bells, for Kniues, for Glasses, and such ware,
That sell their Pearle and Gold, but here I stay,
So would I not haue you, but come away.
To Master GEORGE SANDIS Treasurer for the English Colony in Virgina.
FRiend, if you thinke my Papers may supplie
You, with some strange omitted Nouelty,
Which others Letters yet haue left vntould,
You take me off before I can take hold
[Page 268]Of you at all; I put not thus to Sea,
For two moneths Voyage to Virginia,
With newes which now, a little some thing here,
But will be nothing ere it can come there.
I feare as I doe Stabbing; this word, State,
I dare not speake of the Palatinate,
Although some men make in their hourely theame,
And talke what's done in Austria, and in Beame,
I may not so; what Spinola intends,
Nor with his Dutch, which way Prince Maurice bend [...]
To other men although these things be free,
Yet (George) they must be my steries to me,
I scarse dare prayse a vertuous friend that's dead,
Lest for my lines he should be censuted,
It was my hap before all other men,
To suffer shipwarcke by my forward pen:
When King Iames entred: at which ioyfull time,
I taught his title to this Ile in rime:
And to my part did all the muses win,
With high pitch Paeans to applaud him in:
When cowardise had tyd vp euery tongue,
And all stood silent, yet for him I sung;
And when before by danger I was dar'd,
I kickt her from me, nor aiot I spar'd,
Yet had not my cleare spirit in Fortunes scorne,
Mee aboue earth and her afflictions borne;
He next my God on whom I built my trust,
Had left me troden lower then the dust:
But let this passe: in the extreamest ill,
Apollo's brood must be couragious still,
Let Pies and Dawes sit Dumb before their death▪
[Page 269]Onely the Swan sings at the parting breath.
And (worthy George) by industry and vse,
Let's see what Lines Ʋirginia will produce,
Goe on with Ovid as you haue begun,
With the first fiue bookes, let your numbers run,
Glib as the former, so shall it liue long,
And doe much honour to the English tongue:
Intice the muses thither to repaire,
Intreat them gently, traine them to that ayre,
For they from hence may thither hap to flye,
T'wards the sad time which but to fast doth hie,
For Poesie is followed with such spight,
By groueling drones that neuer raught her height,
That she must hence, shee may no longer stay,
The driery fates prefixed haue the day,
Of her departure, which is now come on,
And they command her straightway to be gone;
That bestiall heard so hotly her pursue,
And to her succour, there be very few,
Nay none at all, her wrongs that will redresse,
But she must wander in the wildernesse,
Like to the woman, which that holy Iohn,
Beheld in Pathm [...]s in his vision.
As the English now, so did the stiffe-neckt Iewes,
Their noble Prophets vtterly refuse,
And of those men such poore opinions had,
They counted Esay and Ezechiel mad;
When Ieremy his Lamentations writ,
They thought the Wizzard quite out of his wit,
Such sotts they were, as worthily to ly,
Lockt in the chaines of their captiuity,
[Page 270]Knowledge hath still her Eddy in her flow,
So it hath bene, and it will still be so.
That famous Greece where learning flourisht most,
Hath of her Muses long since left to boast,
Th'vnletter'd Turke, and rude Barbarian trades,
Where Homer sang his lofty Iliades;
And this vaste volume of the vvorld hath taught,
Much may to passe in little time be brought.
As if to Symptoms wee may credit giue,
This very time, vvhere in vve tvvo now liue,
Shall in the compasse, wound the Muses more,
Then all the old English ignorance before,
Base Balatry is so belou'd and sought,
And those braue numbers are put by for naught,
Which rarely read, were able to awake,
Bodyes from graues, and to the ground to shake
The wandring clouds, and to our men at armes,
'Gainst pikes and muskets were most powerfull charmes,
That, but I know, insuing ages shall,
Raise her againe, who now is in her fall;
And out of dust reduce our scattered rimes,
Th'reiected iewels of these slouthfull times,
Who with the Muses would mispend an hower,
But let blind Gothish Barbarisme deuoure
These feuerous Dogdayes, blest by no record,
But to be euerlastingly abhord.
If you vouchsafe rescription, stuffe your quill
With naturall bounties, and impart your skill,
In the discription of the place, that I,
May be come learned in the soyle thereby,
Of noble Wy [...] health, and let me heare,
[Page 271]The Gouernour; and how our people there,
Increase and labour, what supplyes are sent,
Which I confesse shall giue me much content;
But you may saue your labour if you please,
To write to me ought of your Sauages.
As sauage slaues be in great Britaine here,
As any one that you can shew me there
And though for this, Ile say I doe not thirst,
Yet I should like it well to be the first,
Whose numbers hence into Virginia flew,
So (noble Sandis) for this time adue.
To. my noble friend Master WILLIAM BROWNE, of the euill time.
DEare friend, be silent and with patience see,
What this mad times Catastrophe will be,
The Worlds first wisemen certainely mistooke
Themselues, and spoke things quite beside the book [...]
And that which they haue sayd of God, vntrue,
Or else expect strange iudgement to insue.
This Ile is a meere Bedlam, and therein,
We all lye rauing mad in euery sinne,
And him the wisest most men vse to call,
Who doth (alone) the maddest thing of all,
He whom the master of all wisedome found,
For a marckt foole, and so did him propound,
The time vve liue in, to that passe is brought,
That only he a Censor now is thought:
And that base Villaine, not an age yet gone,)
[Page 272]Which a good man would not haue look'd vpon,
Now like a God▪ with diuine worship follow'd,
And all his actions are accounted hollow'd.
This world of ours, thus runneth vpon wheeles,
Set on the head, bolt vpright with her heeles,
Which makes me thinke of what the Ethinck▪ told,
Th'opinion the Pythagorists vphold,
That the immortall soule doth transmigrate;
Then I suppose by the strong power of fate,
That those which at confused Babell were,
And since that time now many a lingering yeare,
Through fooles, and beasts, and lunaticks haue past,
Are here i [...]bodyed in this age at last,
And though so long we from that time be gone,
Yet taste we stil of that confusion.
For certainely ther's scarce one found that now,
Knowes what t'approue, or vvhat to disalovv,
Al arsey var [...]ey, nothing is it's owne,
But to our prouerbe▪ all turn'd vpside dovvne:
To doe in time, is to doe out of season,
And that speeds best, that's done the farth'st from reason
Hee's high'st that's low'st, hee's surest in that's out,
He hits the next way that goes farth'st about,
Hee ge [...]eth vp vnlike to rise at al,
He slips to ground as much vnlike to fall:
Which doth enforce me partly to preferre,
The opinion of that mad Philosopher,
Who taught, that those al-framing powers aboue,
(As [...]is suppos'd) made man not out of Loue
To him at all, but onely as a thing,
To make them sport with, which they vse to bring,
[Page 275]As men doe munkeys, puppets, and such tooles,
Of laughter; so men are but the Gods of fooles,
Such are by titles lifted to the sky,
As wherefore no man knovves, God scarcely why;
The vertuous man depressed like a stone
For that dull Sot to raise himselfe vpon:
He who ne're thing yet worthy man durst doe,
Neuer durst looke vpon his countreys foe,
Nor durst attempt that action which might get
Him fame vvith men: or higher might him set
Then the base begger (rightly if compar'd)
This drone yet neuer braue attempt that dat'd,
Yet dares be Knighted, and from thence dares grow,
To any title Empire can bestow;
For this beleeue, that impudence is now
A Cardinall vertue, and men it alow
Reuerence, nay more, men study and inuent,
New vvayes▪ nay glory to be impudent.
Into the clouds the Deuill lately got,
And by the moisture doubting much the rot,
A medicine tooke to make him purge and cast;
Which in short time began to worke so fast,
That he fell too't, and from his backeside flew,
A rout of rascall a rude ribauld crew
Of base Plebeians, which no sooner light,
Vpon the earth, but vvith a suddaine flight,
They spread this Ile, and as Deucalion once
Ouer his shoulder backe, by throwing stones
They became men, euen so these beasts became,
Owners of titles from an obscure name.
He that by ryot of a mighty rent,
[Page 274]Hath his late goodly Partrimony spent,
And into base and wilfull beggery runne,
This man as hee some glorious act had done,
With some great pension, or rich guift releeu'd,
When he that hath by industry atchieu'd
Some noble thing, contemned and disgrac'd,
In the forlorne hope of the times is plac'd,
As though that God had carelessely left all
That being hath on this terestiall ball,
To fortunes guiding, nor would haue to doe
With man, nor ought that doth belong him to,
Or at the least God hauing giuen more
Power to the Deuill, then he did of yore,
Ouer this vvorld: the fiend as he doth hate
The vertuous man; maligning his estate,
All noble things, and would haue by his will,
To be damn'd with him vsing all his skill,
By his blacke hellish ministers to vexe
All worthy men, and strangely to perplexe,
Their constancie, there by them so to fright,
That they should yeelde them wholly to his might,
But of these things I vainely doe but tell,
Where hell is heauen, and heau'n is now turn'd he [...],
Where that which lately blasphemy hath bin,
Now godlinesse▪ much lesse accounted sin;
And a long while I greatly maruail'd why
Buffoons and Bawds should hourely multiply▪
Til that of late I construed it, that they
To present thrift had got the perfect way,
When I concluded by their odious crimes,
It was for vs no thriuing in these times▪
As men oft laugh at little Babes when they
Hap to behold some strange thing in their play,
To see them on the sudden strucken sad,
As in their fancie some strange formes they had,
Which they by pointing with their fingers show,
Angry at our capacities so slow,
That by their countenance we no sooner learne,
To see the wonder which they so discerne:
So the celestiall powers doe sit and smile
At innocent and vertuous men the while,
They stand amazed at the world ore-gone,
So farre beyond imagination,
With slauish basenesse, that the silent sit
Pointing like children in describing it.
Then noble friend the next way to controule
These worldly crosses, is to arme thy soule
With constant patience: and with thoughts as high
As these belowe, and poore, winged to flie
To that exalted stand, whether yet they
Are got with paine, that sit out of the way
Of this ignoble age, which raiseth none
But such as thinke their blacke damnation
To be a trifle; such, so ill, that when
They are aduanc'd, those few poore honest men
That yet are liuing, into search doe runne
To find what mischiefe they haue lately done,
Which so prefers them; say thou he doth rise,
That maketh vertue his chiefe exercise,
And in this base World come what euer shall,
Hees worth lamenting that for her doth fall.
Vpon the three Sonnes of the Lord SHEFFIELD, drowned in Humber.
LIght Sonnets hence, and to loose Louers flie,
And mournefull Maydens sing an Elegie,
On those three Sheffields, ouerwhelm'd with waues
Whose losse the teares of all the Muses craues;
A thing so full of pitty as this was,
Me thinks for nothing should not slightly passe,
Treble this losse was, why should it not borrow,
Through this Iles treble parts, a treble sorrow:
But fate did this, to let the World to know,
That sorrowes which from common causes grow,
Are not worth mourning for, the losse to beare,
But of one onely sonne's, not worth one teare,
Some tender hearted man, as I, may spend
Some drops (perhaps) for a deceased friend,
Some men (perhaps) their wiues late death may r [...]
Or wiues their husbands, but such be but few:
Cares that haue vs'd the hearts of men to touch
So oft and deepely, vvill not now bee such;
Who'll care for losse of maintenance, or place,
Fame, liberty, or of the Princes grace;
Or suites in lavv, by base corruption crost:
When he shall finde, that this which he hath lost;
Alas, is nothing to his, which did loose,
Three sonnes at once so excellent as those:
Nay, it is feard that this in time may breed
Hard hearts in men to their owne naturall seed,
[Page 277]That in respect of this great losse of theirs,
[...]en wil scarce mourne the death of their own heirs.
Through all this Ile their losse so publique is,
That euery man doth take them to be his,
And as a plague which had beginning there,
[...]o catching is, and raigning euery where,
[...]hat those the farthest off as much doe rue them,
[...]s those the most familiarly that knew them;
Children with this disaster are waxt sage,
[...]nd like to men that strucken are in age,
[...]alke what it is, three children at one time,
[...]hus to haue drown'd, and in their very prime;
[...]ea, and doe learne to act the same so well,
[...]hat then old folke, they better can it tell.
Inuention oft that Passion vs'd to faine,
[...] sorrowes of themselues but slight, and meane,
[...]o make them seeme great, here it shall not need,
[...]or that this Subiect doth so farre exceed
[...]ll forc'd Expression, that what Poesie shall
[...]appily thinke to grace it selfe withall,
[...]lls so below it, that it rather borrowes,
[...]race frō their griefe, then addeth to their sorrowes,
[...]or sad mischance thus in the losse of three,
[...]o shewe it selfe the vtmost it could be:
[...]xacting also by the selfe same lawe,
[...]he vtmost teares that sorrowe had to draw,
[...]ll future times hath vtterly preuented
[...]f a more losse, or more to be lamented.
Whilst in faire youth they liuely flourish'd here,
[...] their kind Parents they were onely deere,
[...]t being dead, now euery one doth take,
[Page 278]Them for their owne, and doe like sorrow make▪
As for their owne begot, as they pretended,
Hope in the issue, which should haue discended
From them againe; nor here doth end our sorrow,
But those of vs, that shall be borne to morrow
Still shall lament them, and when time shall count,
To what vast number passed yeares shall mount,
They from their death shall duly reckon so,
As from the Deluge, former vs'd to doe.
O cruell Humber. guilty of their gore,
I now beleeue more then I did before,
The Brittish Story, whence thy name begun
Of Kingly Humber, an inuading Hun,
By thee deuoured, for t'is likely thou
With blood wert Christned, blood-thirsty till now
The Ouse, the Doue. And thou farre clearer Trent,
To drowne these Sheffields as you gaue consent,
Shall curse the time, that ere you were infus'd,
Which haue your waters basely thus abus'd,
The groueling Boore ye hinder not to goe,
And at his pleasure Ferry to and fro,
The very best part of whose soule▪ and blood,
Compar'd with theirs, is viler then your mud.
But wherefore Paper, doe I idly spend,
On those deafe waters to so little end,
And vp to starry heauen doe I not looke,
In which, as in an euerlasting booke,
Our ends are written, O let times rehearse,
Their fatall losse, in their sad aniverse.
To the noble Lady, the Lady I. S. of worldly crosses.
MAdame, to shew the smoothnesse of my vaine,
Neither that I would haue you entertaine
The time in reading me, which you would spend,
In faire discourse with some knowne honest friend,
I write not to you. Nay, and which is more,
My powerfull verses striue not to restore,
What time and sicknesse haue in you impair'd,
[...]o other end my Elegie is squar'd.
Your beauty, sweetnesse, and your gracefull parts
[...]hat haue drawne many eyes, w [...]n many hearts,
Of me get little, I am so much man,
[...]hat let them doe their vtmost that they can,
[...] will resist their forces: and they be
Though great to others, yet no [...] so to me.
The first time I beheld you, I then saw,
That (in it selfe) which had the power to draw,
My stay'd affection, and thought to allow
You some deale of my heart; but you haue now
Got farre into it, and you haue the skill
For ought I see) to winne vpon me still.
When I doe thinke how brauely you haue borne
Your many crosses, as in fortunes scorne,
And how neglectfull you haue seem'd to be,
Of that which hath seem'd terrible to me,
[...] thought you stupid, nor that you had felt
[...]hose griefes which (often) I haue seene to melt,
[...]nother woman into sighes and teares,
[Page 280]A thing but seldome in your sexe and yeares,
But when in you I haue perceiued agen,
(Noted by me, more then by other men)
How feeling and how sensible you are
Of your friends sorrowes, and with how much ca [...]
You seeke to cure them, then my selfe I blame,
That I your patience should so much misname,
Which to my vnderstanding maketh knowne
""Who feeles anothers griefe, can feele their owne
When straight me thinks, I heare your patience say
Are you the man that studied Seneca:
Plinies most learned letters; and must I
Read you a Lecture in Philosophie,
T'auoyd the afflictions that haue vs'd to reach you,
I' [...] learne you more Sir, then your bookes can teac [...] yo [...]
Of all your sexe, yet neuer did I know,
Any that yet so actually could show,
Such rules for patience, such an easie way,
That who so sees it, shall be forc't to say,
Loe what before seem'd hard to be discern'd,
Is of this Lady in an instant learn'd,
It is heauens will that you should wronged be
By the malicious, that the world might see
Your Doue-like meekenesse; for had the base scum
The spawne of fiends, beene in your slander dumbe
Your vertue then had perish'd, neuer priz'd,
For that the same you had not exercis'd;
And you had lost the Crowne you haue, and glory
Neuer had you beene the subiect of my Story.
Whilst they feele Hell, being damned in their hate
Their thoughts like deuils them excruciate,
[Page 281]Which by your noble sufferings doe torment
Them with new paines, and giues you this content
To see your soule an innocent, hath suffered,
And vp to heauen before your eyes be offered:
Your like wee in a burning Glasse may see,
When the Sunnes rayes therein contracted be,
But on some obiect, which is purely white,
We find that colour doth disperce the light,
And stands vntainted: but if it hath got
[...]ome little sully; or the least small spot,
Then it soone fiers it; so you still remaine,
Free, because in you they can finde no staine.
God doth not loue them least, on whom he layes
The great'st afflictions; but that he will praise
Himselfe most in them, and will make them fit,
Near'st to himselfe who is the Lambe to fit:
For by that touch, like perfect gold he tryes them,
Who are not his, vntill the world denies them,
And your example may worke such effect,
That it may be the beginning of a Sect,
Of patient women; and that many a day,
All Husbands may for you their Founder pray.
Nor is to me your Innocence the lesse,
[...]n that you striue not to suppresse
Their Barbarous malice; but your noble heart
Prepar'd to act so difficult a part,
With vnremoued constancy is still
The same it was, that of your proper ill,
Th' effect proceeds from your owne selfe the cause,
Like some iust Prince, who to establish lawes,
[...]uffers the breach at his best lou'd to strike,
[...]o learne the vulgar to endure the like,
[Page 282]You are a Martir thus, nor can you be,
Lesse to the world so valued by me:
If as you haue begun, you still perseuer,
Be euer good, that I may loue you euer.
An Elegie vpon the death of the Lady Pe [...]elope Clifton.
MVst I needes write, whose hee that can refuse
He wants a mind for her that hath no Muse,
The thought of her doth heau'nly rage inspire,
Next powerfull, to those clouen tongues of fire.
Since I kn [...]w ought time neuer did allow
Mee stuffe fit for an Elegie, till now;
When France and England's Henry's dy'd, my quill
Why, I know not, but it that time lay stil.
'Tis more then greatnesse that my spirit must raise
To obserue custome I vse not to praise,
Nor the least thought of mine yet ere depended,
On any one from whom she was descended:
That for their fauour I this way should wooe,
As some poore wretched things (perhaps) may do [...]
I gaine the end, whereat I only ayme,
If by my freedome I may giue her fame.
Walking then foorth being newly vp from bed▪
O Sir (quoth one) the Lady Cl [...]ffto [...]s dead.
When, but that reason my sterne rage withstood,
My hand had sure beene guilty of his blood,
If shee be so, must thy rude tongue confesse it▪
(Quoth I) and com'st so coldly to expresse it,
Thou shouldst haue giuen a shreek, to make me fear the
That might haue stain what euer had bin neere the▪
Thou shuldst haue com'nlike time Wth thy sca [...]p bar
[Page 283]And in thy hands thou shouldst haue brought thy haire,
Casting vpon me such a dreadfull looke,
As seene a spirit, or th'adst beene thunder strooke,
And gazing on mee so a little space,
Thou shouldst haue shot thine eye-balls in my face,
Then falling at my feet thou shouldst haue sayd,
O she is gone, and Nature with her dead.
With this ill newes amaz'd by chance I past,
By that neere groue, whereas both first and last,
I saw her, not three moneths before shee dy'd:
When (though full Summer gan to vaile her pride,
And that I saw men lead home ripened Corne,
Besides aduis'd me well;) I durst haue sworne
The lingring yeare the Autumne had adiourn'd,
And the fresh spring had been againe return'd,
Her delicacie, louelinesse, and grace,
With such a Summer brauely deckt the place:
But now alas, it lookt forlorne and dead;
And where she stood, the fading leaues were shed,
Presenting onely sorrow to my sight,
O God (thought I) this is her Embleme right.
And sure I thinke it cannot but bee thought,
That I to her by prouidence was brought:
For that the Fates fore-dooming she should die,
Shewed me this wondrous Master-peece, that I
Should sing her funerall, that the world should know it
That heauen did thinke her worthy of a Poet;
My hand is fatall, nor doth fortune doubt,
For what it writes, not fire shall e'r race out,
A thousand silken Puppets should haue died,
And in their fulsome Coffins putrified,
[Page 284]Ere in my lines, you of their names should heare
To tell the world that such there euer were,
Whose memory shall from the earth decay,
Before those rags be worne they gaue away,
Had I her god-like features neuer seene,
Poore sleight Report had told me she had beene
A hansome Lady, comely, very well,
And so might I haue died an Infidell,
As many doe which neuer did her see,
Or cannot credit, what she was by me.
Nature, her selfe, th [...]t b [...]fore Art prefers
To goe beyond all our Cosmogaphers,
By Charts and Maps exactly that haue showne,
All of this earth that euer can be knowne,
For that shee would beyond them all d [...]scry,
What Art could not by any mortall eye;
A Map of Heauen in her rare features drue,
And that she did so liuely and so true,
That any soule but seeing it might sweare,
That all was perfect heauenly that was there.
If euer any Painter were so blest,
To draw that face, which so much hean'n exprest,
If in his best of skill he did her right,
I wish it neuer may come in my sight,
I greatly doubt my faith (weake man) lest I
Should to that face commit idolatry.
Death might haue tyth'd her sex, but for this one
Nay, haue ta'n halfe to haue let her alone,
Such as their wrinckled temples to supply,
Cyment them vp with [...]luttish Mercury,
Such as vndrest were able to affright,
A valiant man approching him by night;
[Page 285]Death might haue taken such, her end deferd,
Vntill the time she had beene climaterd;
When she would haue bin at threescore yeres and three,
Such as our best at three and twenty be,
With enuy then, he might haue ouerthrowne her,
When age nor time had power to sease vpon her.
But when the vnpittying Fates her end decreed,
They to the same did instantly proceed,
For well they knew (if she had languish'd so)
As those which hence by naturall causes goe,
So many prayers and teares for her had spoken,
As certainly their Iron lawes had broken,
And had awak'd heau'n, who clearely would haue show'd
That change of Kingdoms to her death it ow'd,
And that the World still of her end might thinke,
It would haue let some neighboring mountain sinke
Or the vast Sea it in on vs to cast,
As Seuerne did about some fiue yeares past:
Or some sterne Comet his curld top to reare,
Whose length should measure halfe our Hemisphere,
Holding this height, to say some will not sticke,
That now I raue, and am growne lunaticke:
You of what sexe so ere you be, you lye,
'Tis thou thy selfe is lunatique, not I.
I charge you in her name that now is gone,
That may coniure you, if you be not stone,
That you no harsh, nor shallow rimes decline,
Vpon that day wherein you shall read mine,
Such as indeed are falsely termed verse,
And will but sit like mothes vpon her herse;
Nor that no child, nor chambermaid nor page,
Disturbe the Rome, the whilst my sacred rage,
[Page 286]In reading is; but whilst you heare it read,
Suppose, before you, that you see her dead,
The walls about you hung with mournfull blacke,
And nothing of her funerall to lacke,
And when this period giues you leaue to pause,
Cast vp your eyes, and sigh for my applause.
Vpon the noble Lady ASTONS departure for spaine.
I Many a time haue greatly marueil'd why,
Men say their friends depart when as they die,
How well that word, a dying doth expresse,
I did not know (I truely must confesse,)
Till her departure, for whose missed sight,
I am enforc'd this Elegie to write:
But since resistlesse fate will haue it so,
That she from hence must to Iberia goe,
And my weake wishes can her not detaine,
I will of heauen in policy complaine,
That it so long her trauell should adiourne,
Hoping thereby to hasten her returne.
Can those of Norway for their wage procure,
By their blacke spells a winde that shall endure
Till from aboard the wished land men see,
And fetch the harbour, where they long to [...]e,
Can they by charmes doe this, and cannot I
Who am the Priest of Phaebus, and so hie;
Sit in his fauour, win the Poets god,
To send swift Hermes with a snaky rod,
To Aeolus Caue, commanding him with care,
His prosperous winds, that he for her prepare,
[Page 287]And from that houre, wherein she rakes the seas,
Nature bring on the quiet Halcion dayes,
And in that hower that bird begin her nest,
Nay at that very instant, that long rest
May seize on Neptune, who may still repose,
And let that bird nere till that houre disclose,
Wherein she landeth, and for all that space
Be not a wrinckle seene on Thetis face,
Onely so much breath with a gentle gale,
As by the easie swelling of her saile,
May at
The nearest harbour of Spaine.
Sebastians safely set her downeWhere with her goodnes she may blesse the towne.
If heauen in iustice would haue plagu'd by thee
Some Pirate, and grim Neptune thou should'st be
His Executioner, or what is worse,
The gripple Merchant, borne to be the curse
Of this braue Iland; let them for her sake,
Who to thy safeguard doth her selfe betake,
Escape vndrown'd, vnwrackt, nay rather let
Them be at case in some safe harbour set,
Wher with much profit they may vent their wealth
That they haue got by vi [...]lany and stealth,
Rather, great Neptune, then when thou dost raue,
Thou once should st [...]wet her saile but with a vvaue.
Or if some proling Rouer shall but dare,
To seize the ship wherein she is to fare,
Let the fell fishes of the Maine appeare,
And tell those Sea-thieues, that once such they were,
As they are now, till they assaild to rape;
An Ile for the abunde [...] of wine supposed to be the habita [...] on of B [...]
Grape▪ crowned Bacchus in a striplings shape,
That came aboard them, and would faine haue sayld,
To vine spread
An Ile for the ab [...]ndance [...]f Wine supposed to bee the habitati [...]n of Bacchus
Naxus, but that him they faild▪[Page 288]Which he perceiuing, them so monstrous made,
And warne them how they passengers inuade.
Ye South and Westerne winds now cease to blow
Atumne is come, there be no flowers to grow,
Yea from that place respire, to which she goes,
And to her sailes should show your selfe but foes,
But Boreas and ye Esterne windes arise;
To send her soone to Spaine, but be precise,
That in your ayde you seeme not still so sterne,
As we a Summer should no more discerne,
For till that here againe, I may her see,
It will be winter all the yeare with me.
Yee swan-begotten louely brother stars,
So oft auspicious to poore Marriners,
Yee twin-bred lights of louely Leda's brood,
Ioues egge-borne issue smile vpon the flood,
And in your mild'st aspect doe ye appeare
To be her warrant from all future feare.
And if thou ship that bear'st her, doe proue good,
May neuer time but wormes consume thy wood
Nor rust thy iron, may thy tacklings last,
Till they for reliques be in Temples plac't;
Mayst thou be ranged with that mighty Arke,
Wherein iust Noah did all the world imbarque,
With that which after Troyes so famous wracke,
From ten yeeres trauell brought Vlisses backe:
That Argo which to Colchos went from Greece,
And in her bottom brought the Golden Fleece,
Vnder braue Iason; or that same of Drake,
Wherein he did his famous voyage make
About the World, or Candishes that went
As farre as his about the Continent.
And ye milde windes that now I doe implore,
Not once to raise the least sand on the shore,
Nor once on forfeit of your selues respire:
When once the time is come of her retire,
If then it please you, but to doe your due,
What for those Winds I did, Ile doe for you:
Ile wooe you then, and if that not suffice,
My pen shall proue you to haue dietyes,
Ile sing your loues in verses that shall flo [...],
And tell the stories of your weale and woe,
Ile proue vvhat profit to the earth you bring,
And how t'is you that vvelcome in the spring,
Ile raise vp altars to you, as to show,
The time shalbe kept holy, when you blow,
O blessed vvinds! your will that it may be,
To send health to her, and her home to me.
To my most dearely-loued friend Henry Reynolds Esquire of Poets and Poesie.
MY dearely beloued friend how oft haue we,
In vvinter euenings (meaning to be free)
To some well chosen place vs'd to retire;
And there with moderate meate, and wine, and fire,
Haue past the houres contentedly with chat,
Now talk'd of this, and then discours'd of that,
Spoke our owne verses 'twixt ourselues if not,
Other mens lines, which we by chance had got,
Or some Stage pieces famous long before,
Of which your happy memory had store:
And I remember you much pleased were,
Of those who liued long agoe to heare,
[Page 290]As well as of those, of these latter times,
Who haue inricht our language with their times,
And in succession, how still vp they grew,
Which is the subiect that I now pursue;
For from my cradle (you must know that) I,
Was still inclin'd to noble Poesie;
And when that once Pueriles I had read,
And newly had my Cato construed;
In my small selfe I greatly maruail'd then,
Amongst all other, vvhat strange kind of men
These Poets vvere; And pleased with the name,
To my mild Tutor merily I came:
(For I was then a proper goodly page,
Much like a Pigmy, scarse ten yeares of age)
Clasping my slender armes about his thigh,
O my deare master; cannot you (quoth I)
Make me a Poet; doe it, if you can,
And you shall see, Ile quickly be a man,
Who me thus answered smiling, boy quoth he,
If you'le not play the wag▪ but I may see
You ply your learning, I will shortly reade
Some Poets to you; Phoebus be my speed,
Too't hard went I, when shortly he began,
And first read to me honest Mantuan,
Then Virgils E [...]ogues, being entred thus,
Me thought I straight had mounted Pegasus,
And in his full Careere could make him stop,
And bound vpon Pernassus by clift-top,
I scorn'd your ballet then though it were done
And had for Finis William Elderton,
But soft, in sporting with this childish iest,
I from my subiect haue too long digrest,
[Page 291]Then to the matter that we tooke in hand,
Ioue and Apollo for the Muses stand.
That noble Chaucer, in those former times,
The first inrich't our English with his rimes,
And was the first of ours, that euer brake,
Into the Muses treasure, and first spake
In weighty numbers, deluing in the Mine
Of perfect knowledge, which he could refine.
And coyne for currant and as much as then
The English language could expresse to men,
He made it doe; and by his wondrous skill,
Gaue vs much light from his abundant quill.
And honest Gower, who in respect of him,
Had onely sipt at Aganippas brimme,
And though in yeares this last was him before,
Yet fell he far short of the others store.
When after those, foure ages very neare,
They with the Muses which conuersed, were
That Princely Surry, early in the time▪
Of the Eight Henry, who vvas then the prime
Of Englands noble youth, with him there came
Wyat; with reuerence whom we still doe name
Amongst our Poets, Bryan had a share
With the two former, which accompted are
That times best makers, and the authors were
Of those small Poems, which the title beare,
Of songs and sonnets, vvherein oft they hit
On many dainty passages of wit.
Gascoyne and Churchyard after them againe
[...]n the beginning of Eliza's raine,
[Page 292]Accoumpted were great Meterers many a day,
But not inspired with braue fier, had they
Liu'd but a little longer, they had seene,
Their workes before them to haue buried beene.
Graue morrall Spencer after these came on,
Then whom I am perswaded there was none
Since the blind Bard his Iliads vp did make,
Fitter a taske like that to vndertake,
To set downe boldly, brauely to inuent,
In all high knowledge, surely excellent.
The noble Sidney, vvith this last arose,
That Heroe for numbers, and for Prose,
That throughly pac'd our language as to show,
The plentcous English hand in hand might goe,
With Greeke and Latine, and did first reduce
Our tongue from Lillies vvriting then in vse▪
Talking of Stones, Stars plants, of Fishes, Flyes,
Playing with wordes, and idle Similes,
As th'English, Apes and very Zanies be
Of euery thing, that they doe heare and see,
So imitating his ridiculous tricks,
They spake and Writ, all like meere lunatiques.
Then Warner though his lines were not so trim'd▪
Nor yet his Poem so exactly lim'd
And neatly ioynted, but the Criticke may
Easily reproue him, yet thus let me say;
For my old friend, some passages there be
In him, vvhich I protest haue taken me,
With almost wonder, so fine, cleere and new,
As yet they haue beene equalled by few.
Noat Barlow bathed in the Thespian spring [...]
Had in him those braue translunary things,
[Page 293]That the first Poets had, his raptures were,
All Ayre, and fire, which made his verses cleere,
For that fine madnes still he did retaine,
Which rightly should possesse a Poets braine.
And surely Nashe, though he a Proser were,
A branch of Laurell yet deserues to beare,
Sharpely Satiricke was he, and that way,
He went, since that his being, to this day
Few haue attempted, and I surely thinke
Those words shall hardly be set downe with inke,
Shall scorch and blast, so as his could, where he,
Would inflict vengeance, and be it said of thee,
Shakespere thou hadst as smooth a Comicke vaine,
[...]itting the socke, and in thy naturall braine,
As strong conception, and as cleere a rage,
As any one that traffiqu'd with the stage.
Amongst these, Samuel Daniel, whom if I
May speake of, but to censure doe denie,
Onely haue heard some wise men him rehearse,
To bee too much Historian in verse;
His rimes were smooth, his mee [...]ers well did close,
But yet his manner better fitted prose:
[...]ext these, learn'd Iohnson, in this List I bring,
Who had drunke deepe of the Pierian spring,
Whose knowledge did him worthily prefer,
[...]nd long was Lord here of the Theater,
Who in opinion made our learnd'st to sticke,
Whether in Poems rightly dramatique,
[...]trong Seneca or Plautus, he or they,
[...]hould beare the Buskin, or the Socke away.
[Page 294]Others againe here liued in my dayes,
That haue of vs deserued no lesse praise
For their translations, then the daintiest wit,
Tha [...] on Parnassus thinks he highest doth sit,
And for a chaire may mongst the muses call,
As the most curious maker of them all;
A [...] reuerent▪ Chapman, who hath brought to vs,
Musaeus, Homer, and Hesiodus
Our of the Greeke; and by his skill hath reard
Them to that height, and to our tongue endear'd,
Tha [...] were those Poets at this day aliue,
To [...]e their bookes thus with vs to suruiue,
They would thinke hauing neglected them so long
They [...]ad bin written in the English tongue.
And Siluester who from the French more weak [...]
Ma [...]e Bartas of his sixe dayes labour speake,
In naturall English, who, had he there stayd,
He had done w [...]ll, and neuer had bewraid,
His owne inuention, to haue beene so poore
Who still wrote lesse, in striuing to write more,
[...]hen dainty Sands, that hath to English done,
Smouth sliding Ovid, and hath made him run,
With so much sweetnesse and vnusuall grace,
As though the neatnesse of the English pace,
Should tell the letting Latine that it came
But slowly after, as though stiffe and lame.
So Scotland sent vs hither, for our owne
That man, whose name I euer would haue known [...]
To stand by mine, that most ingenious Knight,
My Alexander, to whom in his right,
I want extreamely, yet in speaking thus
I doe but shew the loue, that was twixt vs,
[Page 295]And not his numbers which were braue and hie,
So like his minde, was his cleare Poesie,
And my deare Drummond to whom much [...] owe
For his much loue, and proud I was to know,
His Poesie, for which two worthy men,
I Me [...]stry still shall loue, and Hauth [...]rne-den,
Then the two Beamounts, and my Browne arose,
My deare companions whom I freely chose
My bosome friends [...] and in their severall wayes,
Rightly borne Poets, and in these last dayes,
Men of much note, and no l [...]sse nobler parts,
Such as haue freely told to me their hearts,
As I haue mine to them; but if you shall
Say in your knowledge, that these be not all
Haue writ in numbers be inform'd that I
Onely myselfe, to these few men doetye,
Whose workes▪ oft printed, set on euery post,
To publique censure subiect haue bin most;
For such whose Poems, be they nere so rare,
In priuate chambers that incloistred are,
And by transcription daintily must goe,
As though the world vn worthy were to know,
Their rich composures, let those men that keepe
These wonderous reliques in their iudgement deep,
And cry them vp so, let such Peeces bee
Spoke of by those that shall come after me,
I passe not for them: nor doe meane to runne,
In quest of these, that them applause haue wonne,
Vpon our Stages in these latter dayes,
That are so many let them haue their bayes
That doe deserue it; let those wits that haunt
Those publique circuits, let them freely chaunt
[Page 296]Their fine Composures, and their praise pursue,
And so my deare friend for this time adue,
Vpon the death of his incomparable friend, Sir Henry Raynsford, of Clifford.
COuld there be words found to expresse my losse
There were som hope, that this my heauy cross [...]
Might be sustained, and that wretched I
Might once finde comfort: but to haue him die
Past all degrees that was so deare to me;
As but comparing him with others, he
Was such a thing, as if some power should say
I'le take man on me, to shew men the way
What a friend should be. But words come so short,
Of him, that when I thus should him report,
I am vndone, and hauing nought to say,
Mad at my selfe, I throw my penne away,
And beat my breast, that there should be a woe
So high, that words cannot attaine thereto.
T'is strange that I from my abundant breast,
Who others sorrowes haue so well exprest:
Yet I by this in little time am growne
So poore, that I want to expresse my owne.
I thinke the fates perceiuing me to beare
My worldly crosses without wit or feare:
Nay, with what scorne I euer haue derided,
Those plagues that for me they haue oft prouided,
Drew them to counsaile; nay, conspired rather,
And in this businesse layd their heads together,
To finde some one plague, that might me subuert,
And at an instant breake my s [...]ubborne heart;
[Page 297]They did indeed, and onely to this end,
They tooke from me this more then man, or friend.
Hard-hearted fates, your worst thus haue you don
Then let vs see what lastly you haue won,
By this your rigour, in a course so strict,
Why see, I beare all that you can inflict:
And he from heauen your poore reuenge to view;
Laments my losse of him, but laughes at you,
Whilst I against you execrations breath;
Thus are you scorn'd aboue, and curst beneath.
Me thinks that man (vnhappy though it bee)
Is now thrice happy in respect of me,
Who hath no friend; for that in hauing none
He is not stirr'd as I am, to bemone
My miserable losse, who but in vaine,
May euer looke to finde the like againe.
This more then mine owne selfe; that who had seene
His care of me where euer I had beene,
And had not knowne his actiue spirit before,
Vpon some braue thing working euermore:
He would haue sworne that to no other end
He had beene borne; but onely for my friend.
I had beene happy, if nice nature had,
(Since now my lucke falls out to be so bad)
Made me vnperfect, either of so soft
And yeelding temper, that lamenting oft,
I into teares my mournefull selfe might melt;
Or else so dull, my losse not to haue felt,
I haue by my too deere experience bought,
That fooles and mad men, whom I euer thought
The most vnhappy, are indeed not so:
And therefore I lesse pitty can bestow
[Page 298](Since that my sence, my sorrow so can sound)
On those I see in Bedlam that are bound,
And scarce feele scourging; and when as I meete free,
A foole by children followed in the Streete.
Thinke I (poore wretch) thou from my griefe art
Nor couldst thou feele it, should it light on thee;
But that I am a Christian, and am taught
By him who with his precious blood me bought,
Meekely like him my crosses to endure,
Else would they please me well, that for their cure,
When as they feele their conscience doth them brand,
Vpon themselues dare lay a violent hand,
Not suffering Fortune with her murdering knife,
Stand like a Surgeon working on the life,
Defecting this part, that ioynt off to cut,
Shewing the Artyre, ripping then that gut,
Whilst the dull beastly World with her squint eye,
Is to behold the strange Anatomy.
I am perswaded that those which we read
To be man-haters, were not so indeed
The Athenian Timon, and beside him more
Of which the Latines, as the Greekes haue store;
Nor not they did all humane manners hate,
Nor yet maligne mans dignity and state.
But finding our fraile life how euery day,
It like a bubble vanisheth away:
For this condition did mankind detest,
Farre more incertaine then that of the beast.
Sure heauen doth hate this world and deadly too
Else as i [...] hath done it would neuer doe,
For if it did not, it would ne'r permit
A man of so much vertue, knowledge, wit,
[Page 299]Of naturall goodnesse, supernaturall grace,
Whose courses when considerately I trace
[...]nto their ends, and diligently looke,
They serue me for Oeconomike booke.
By which this rough world I not onely stemme,
[...]n goodnesse but grow learn'd by reading them.
O pardon me, it my much sorrow is,
Which makes me vse this long Parenthesis;
Had heauen this world not hated as I say,
[...]n height of life it had not, tane away
A spirit so braue, so actiue, and so free,
That such a one who would not wish to be,
Rather then weare a Crowne, by Armes though got
So fast a friend, so true a Patriot,
[...]n things concerning both the worlds so wise,
Besides so liberall of his faculties,
That where he would his industrie bestow,
He would haue done e'r one could thinke to doe.
No more talke of the working of the Stars,
For plenty, scarcenesse, or for peace, or Warres.
They are impostures, therefore get you hence
With all your Planets, and their influence.
No more doe I care into them to looke,
Then in some idle Chiromantick booke,
Shewing the line of life, and Ʋenus mount,
Nor yet no more would I of them account,
Then what that tells me, since that what so ere
Might promise man long life: of care and feare,
By nature freed, a conscience cleere, and quiet,
His health, his constitution, and his diet;
Counting a hundred, foure score at the least,
Propt vp by prayers, yet more to be encreast,
[Page 300]All these should faile, and in his fiftieth yeere
He should expire, henceforth let none be deare,
To me at all, lest for my haplesse sake,
Before their time heau'n from the world them take,
And leaue me wretched to lament their ends
As I doe his, who was a thousand friends.
Vpon the death of the Lady Oliue Stanhope.
CAnst thou depart and be forgotten so,
Stanhope thou canst not, no deare Stanohpe, no,
But in despight of death the world shall see,
That Muse which so much graced was by thee;
Can blacke obliuion vtterly out-braue,
And set the vp aboue thy silent Graue.
I marueil'd much the Darbian Nimphs were dumb
Or of those Muses, what should be become,
That of all those, the mountaines there among,
Not one this while thy Epicedium sung;
But so it is, when they of thee were reft,
They all those hilles, and all those riuers left,
And sullen growne, their former feates remooue,
Both from cleare Darwin, and from siluer Doue,
And for thy losse, they grieued are so sore,
That they haue vow'd they wil come there no more;
But leaue thy losse to me, that I should rue thee,
Vnhappy man, and yet I neuer knew thee:
Me thou didst loue vnseene, so did I thee,
It was our spirits that lou'd then and not wee;
Therefore without prophanenesse I may call
The loue betwixt vs, loue spirituall:
[Page 301]But that which thou affectedst was so true,
As that thereby thee perfectly I knew;
And now that spirit, which thou so loud'st, still mine,
Shall offer this a Sacrifice to thine,
And reare this Trophe, which for thee shall last,
When this most beastly iron age is past;
I am perswaded, whilst we tvvo haue slept,
Our soules haue met, and to each other wept;
That destiny so strongly should forbid,
Our bodies to conuerse as oft they did:
For certainly refined spirits doe know,
As doe the Angels, and doe here below,
Take the fruition of that endlesse blisse,
As those aboue doe, and what each one is,
They see diuinely, and as those there doe,
They know each others wills, so soules can too.
About that dismall time, thy spirit hence flew,
Mine much was troubled, but why, I not knew,
In dull and sleepy sounds, it often left me,
As if it selfe it ment to haue bereft me,
I ask' [...] it what the cause was, of such woe,
Or what it might be, that might vexe it so,
But it was deafe, nor my demand would heare,
But when that ill newes came to touch mine eare,
I straightwayes found this watchfull spirit of mine,
Troubled had bin to take it leaue of thine,
For when fate found, what nature late had done,
How much from heauen, she for the earth had won,
By thy deare birth; said, that it could not be
In so yong yeares, what it perceiu'd in thee,
But nature sure, had fram'd thee long before;
And as rich Misers of their mighty store,
[Page 302]Keepe the most precious long'st, so from times past,
She onely had reseru'd thee till the last;
So did thy wisedome, not thy youth behold,
And tooke thee hence, in thinking thou wast old.
Thy shape and beauty often haue to mee
Bin highly praised, which I thought might be,
Truely reported, for a spirit so braue;
Which heauen to thee so bountifully gaue;
Nature could not in recompence againe,
In some rich lodging but to entertaine.
Let not the world report then, that the Peake,
Is but a rude place only vast and bleake,
And nothing hath to boast of but her Lead,
When she can say that happily she bred
Thee, and when she shall of her wonders t [...]ll,
Wherein she doth all other tracts excell,
Let her account thee great'st, and still to time
Of all the rest, record [...]hee for the prime,
To Maister WILLIAM IEFFRYES, Chapleine to the Lord Ambassa dour in Spaine.
MY noble friend, you challenge me to write
To you in Verse, and often you recite,
My promise to you, and to send you newes;
As 'tis a thing I very seldome vse,
And I must write of State, if to Madrid,
A thing our Proclamations here forbid,
And that word State such Latitude doth beare,
As it may make me very well to feare
To write, nay speake at all, these let you know
Your power on me, yet not that I will show
[Page 303]The loue I beare you, in that lofty height,
So cleare expression, or such words of weight,
As into Spanish if they were translated,
Might make the Poets of that Realme amated;
Yet these my last were, but that you extort
These numbers from me, when I should report
In home-spun prose, in good plaine honest words
The newes our wofull England vs affords.
The Muses here sit sad, and mute the while
A sort of swine vnseasonably defile
Those sacred springs, which from the by-clift-hill
Dropt their pure Nectar into euery quill;
In this with State, I hope I doe not deale,
This onely tends the Muses common-weale.
What canst thou hope, or looke for from his pen,
Who liues with beasts, though in the shapes of men,
And what a poore few are we honest still,
And dare to be so, when all the world is ill.
I find this age of our markt with this Fate,
That honest men are still precipitate
Vnder base Villaines, which till th'earth can vent
This her last brood, and wholly hath them spent,
Shall be so, then in reuolution shall;
Vertue againe arise by vices fall;
But that shall I not see, neither will I
Maintaine this, as one doth a Prophesie,
That our King Iames to Rome shall surely goe,
And from his Chaire the Pope shall ouerthrow.
But ô this world is so giuen vp to hell,
That as the old Giants, which did once rebel,
Against the gods, so this now liuing race
Dare sin, yet stand, and [...]eere heau'n in the face.
But soft my Muse, and make a little stay,
Surely thou art not rightly in thy way,
To my good Ieffrayes was not I about
To write, and see, I suddainly am out,
This is pure Satire, that thou speak'st, and I
Was first in hand to write an Elegie.
To tell my, countries shame I not delight,
But doe bemoane't I am no Democrite:
O God, though Vertue mightily doe grieue,
For all this world yet will I not beleeue
But that shee's faire and louely, and that shee
So to the period of the world shall bee;
Else [...]ad she beene forsaken (sure) of all,
For that so many sundry mischiefes fall
Vpon her dayly, and so many take
Armes vp against her, as it well might make,
Her to forsake her nature, and behind,
To leaue no step for future time to find,
As shee had neuer beene, for he that now
Can doe her most disgrace, him they allow
The times chiefe Champion, and he is the man,
The prize, and palme that absolutely wanne,
For where Kings Closets her free seat hath bin,
Shee neere the Lodge, not suffered is to Inne,
For ignorance against her stands in state,
Like some great porter at a pallace gate;
So dull and barbarous lately are wee growne,
And there are some this sluttery that haue sowne,
That for mans knowledge it enough doth make,
If he can learne to read an Almanacke;
By whom that trash of Amadis de Gaule,
Is held an Author most authenticall,
[Page 305]And things wee haue like Noblemen that be
In little time, which I haue hope to see
Vpon their foot-clothes, as the streets they ride,
To haue their hornebookes at their girdles ti'd,
But all their superfluity of spight
On vertues handmayd Poesy doth light,
And to extirpe her all their plots they lay,
But to her ruine they shall misse the way,
For tis alone the Monuments of wit,
Aboue the rage of Tyrants that doe sit,
And from their strength, not one himselfe can sane,
But they shall triumph o'r his hated graue.
In my conceipt, friend, thou didst neuer see
A righter Madam then thou hast of mee,
For now as Elegiacke I bewaile
These poore base times; then suddainely Ile raile
And I am Satiricke, not that I inforce
My selfe to be so, but euen as remorse,
Or hate, in the proud fullnesse of their hight
Master my fancy, iust so doe I write.
But gentle friend, as soone shall I behold
That stone of which so many haue vs told,
(Yet neuer any to this day could make)
The great Elixar, or to vndertake
The Rose-Crosse knowledge which is much like that,
A Tarrying-iron for fooles to labour at,
As euer after I may hope to see,
(A plague vpon this beastly world for mee)
Wit so respected as it was of yore,
And if hereafter any it restore,
It must be those that yet for many a yeere,
Shall be vnborne that must inhabit here,
[Page 306]And such in vertue as shall be asham'd
Almost to heare their ignorant Grandsires nam'd,
With whom so many noble spirits then liu'd;
That were by them of all reward depriu'd.
My noble friend, I would I might haue quit
This age of these, and that I might haue writ,
Before a [...] other, how much the braue pen;
Had here bin honoured of the English men;
Goodnesse and knowledge, held by them in prise,
How hatefull to them ignorance and vice,
But it falls out the contrary is true,
And so my Ieffereyes for this time adue.
Vpon the death of Mistris Elianor Fallowfield.
ACcursed Death, what need vvas there at all
Of thee, or who to councell did thee call;
The subiect vvhere upon these lines I spend
For thee was most vnfit, her timelesse end
Too soone thou wrought'st, too neere her thou didst stand;
Thou shouldst haue lent thy leane and m [...]ager hand
To those who oft the helpe thereof beseech,
And can be cured by no other Leech.
In this wide world hovv many thousands be
That hauing past fourescore, do call for thee,
The wretched debtor in the Iayle that lyes,
Yet cannot this his Creditor suffice;
Doth woe thee oft with many a sigh and teare,
Yet thou art coy, and him thou wilt not heare.
The Captiue slaue that tuggeth at the Oares,
And vnderneath the Bulls tough sinewes rores,
[Page 307]Begs at thy hand, in lieu of all his paines,
That thou vvould'st but release him of his chaines;
Yet thou a niggard listenest not thereto,
W [...] short gaspe which thou might'st easily do,
But thou couldst come to her ere there was need,
And euen at once destroy both flovvre and seede.
But cruell death if thou so barbarous bee,
To those so goodly, and so young as shee;
That in their teeming thou wilt shew thy spight;
Either from marriage thou wilt Maides affright,
Or in their Wedlocke, Widdowes liues to chuse
Their husbands bed, and vtterly refuse,
Fearing conception; so shalt thou thereby
Extirpate mankind by thy cruelty.
If after direfull Tragedy thou thirst,
Extinguish Himens Torches at the first;
Build Funerall pyles, and the sad pauement strew,
With mournful Cypresse, and the pale-leau'd Yewe.
Away with Roses, Mirtle, and with Bayes;
Ensignes of mith, and iollity, as these;
Neuer at Nuptialls vsed be againe,
But from the Church the new Bride entertaine
With Weeping Nenias, euer and among,
As at departings be sad Requiems song
Lucina by th'old Poets that wert sayd,
Women in Child-birth euermore to ayde,
Because thine Altars, long haue layne neglected:
Nor as they should, thy holy fiers reflected
Vpon thy Temples, therefore thou doest flye,
And wilt not helpe them in necessity.
Thinking vpon thee, I doe often muse,
Whether for thy deare sake I should a [...]cuse
[Page 908]Nature or Fortune, Fortune then I blame,
And doe impute it as her greatest shame,
To hast thy timelesse end, and soone agen
I vexe at Nature, nay I curse her then,
That at the time of need she was no stronger,
That wee by her might haue enioy'd thee longer.
But whilst of these I with my selfe debate,
I call to mind how flinty-hearted Fate,
Seaseth the olde, the yong, the faire, the foule,
No thing of earth can Destiny controule:
But yet that Fate which hath of life bereft thee,
Still to eternall memory hath lef [...] thee,
Which thou enioy'st by the deserued breath,
That many a great one hath not after death.
FINIS.