Peirs Gaueston Earle of Cornvvall His life, death, and fortune.

Peirs Gaueston . FRom gloomy shaddowe of eternall night , Where cole-black darknes keeps his lothsome cel , And from those Ghostes , whose eyes abhorre the light , From thence I come a wofull tale to tell : Prepare the Stage , I meane to acte my parte , Sighing the scenes from my tormented hart . From Stygian lake , to gracelesse soules assign'd , And from the floud of burning Acheron , Where sinfull spirites are by the fier refinde , The fearefull Ghost of wofull Gaueston : With black-fac'd furies from the graues attended , Vntill the tenor of my tale be ended . Wing-footed Fame now sommons me from death , In Fortunes triumph to aduance my glorie , The blessed Heauens againe doe lend me breath , Whilst I reporte this dolefull Tragick storie : That soule and bodie , which death once did sunder , Now meete together to reporte a wonder . O purple-buskind Pallas most diuine Let thy bright fauchion lend me Cypresse bowes , Be thou assistinge to this Poet of mine , And with thy tragicke garland girte his browes , Pitying my case , when none would heare me weepe To tell my cares hath layde his owne to sleepe . You mournfull maydens of the sacred nine , You destinies which haunt the shades beneath , To you fayre muses I my playnts resigne , To you black spirits I my woes bequeath , With sable pens of direfull ebonie To pen the processe of my tragedie . Drawe on the lines which shall report my life With weeping words distilling from thy pen , Where woes abound and ioyes are passing rife , A verie meteor in the eies of men , Wherein the world a wonder-world may see Of heauen-bred ioye and hell-nurst miserie . Declare my ebs , my often swelling tide , Now tell my calmes , and then report my showres , My winters stormes , and then my summers pride , False fortunes smiles , then her dissembling lowres , The height wherto my glorie did ascend : Then poynt the period where my ioyes did end . When famous Edward wore the english crowne Victorious Long shankes flower of chiualrie , First of his name that raignd in Albion , Through worlds renownd to all posteritie : My youth began , and then began my blis , Euen in his daies , those blessed daies of his . O daies , no daies , but little worlds of mirth : O yeares , no yeares , time sliding with a trice : O world , no world , a verie heauen on earth : O earth , no earth , a verie paradice : A King , a man , nay more then this was hee , If earthly man , more then a man might bee . Such a one he was , as Englands Beta is , Such as she is , euen such a one was he , Betwixt her rarest excellence and his Was neuer yet so neare a Sympathy , To tell your worth , and to giue him his due , I say my soueraigne , he was like to you . His court a schoole , where artes were daily red , And yet a campe where armes were exercised , Vertue and learning here were nourished , And stratagems by souldiers still deuised : Heere skilfull schoolmen were his counsaylors , Schollers his captaines , captaines Senators . Here sprang the roote of true gentilitie , Vertue was clad in gold and crownd with honor , Honor intitled to Nobilitie , Admired so of all that looked on her : Wisedome , not wealth , possessed wisemens roomes , Vnfitting base insinuating groomes . Then Machiuels were loth'd as filthie toades , And good men as rare pearles were richly prized , The learned were accounted little Gods , The vilest Atheist as the plague despised : Desert then gaynd , that vertues merit craues , And artles Pesants scorn'd as basest slaues . Pride was not then , which all things ouerwhelms : Promotion was not purchased with gold , Men hew'd their honor out of steeled helms : In those dayes fame with bloud was bought and sold , No petri-fogger pol'd the poore for pence , These dolts , these dogs , as traytors banisht hence . Then was the Souldier prodigall of bloud , His deedes eternizd by the Poets pen : Who would not dye to doe his countrey good , When after death his fame yet liu'd to men ? Then learning liu'd with liberalitie , And men were crownd with immortalitie . Graunt pardon then vnto my wandring ghost , Although I seeme lasciuious in my prayse , And of perfection though I seeme to boast , Whilst here on earth I troad this weary maze , Whilst yet my soule in bodie did abide , And whilst my flesh was pampred here in pride . My valiant father was in Gascoygne borne , A man at armes , and matchles with his launce , A Souldier vow'd , and to King Edward sworne , With whom he seru'd in all his wars in Fraunce , His goods and lands he pawnd and layd to gage To follow him , the wonder of that age . And thus himselfe he from his home exil'd , Who with his sword sought to aduance his fame , With me his ioy , but then a little child , Vnto the Court of famous England came , Whereas the King , for seruice he had done , Made me a page vnto the Prince his sonne . My tender youth yet scarce crept from the shell , Vnto the world brought such a wonderment , That all perfection seem'd in me to dwell , And that the heauens me all their graces lent : Some sware I was the quintessence of nature , And some an Angell , and no earthly creature . The heauens had lim'd my face with such a die As made the curiost eie on earth amazed , Tempring my lookes with loue and maiestie , A miracle to all that euer gazed , So that it seem'd some power had in my birth , Ordained me his Image here on earth . O bewtious vernish of the heauens aboue , Pure grain-dy'd colour of a perfect birth , O fairest tincture adamant of loue , Angell-hewd blush the prospectiue of mirth , O sparkling luster ioying humaine sight , Liues ioy , hearts fire , Loues nurse , the soules delight . As purple-tressed Titan with his beames , The sable cloudes of night in sunder cleaueth Enameling the earth with golden streames , When he his crimson Canopie vpheaueth , Such was my beauties pure translucent rayes , Which cheerd the Sun , & cleerd the drouping dayes . My lookes perswading orators of Loue , My speech diuine infusing harmonie , And euery worde so well could passion moue , So were my gestures grac'd with modestie , As where my thoughts intended to surprize , I easly made a conquest with mine eyes . A gracious minde a passing louely eye , A hand that gaue , a mouth that neuer vaunted , A chaste desire , a tongue that would not lye , A lyons heart , a courage neuer daunted , A sweet conceit in such a cariage placed As with my gesture all my words were graced . Such was the worke which nature had begonne , As promised a gem of wondrous price , This little star foretold a glorious sunne , This curious plot an earthly paradice , This globe of bewtie wherin all might see An after world of wonders here in mee . As in the Autumnall season of the yeare , Some death-presaging comet doth arise , Or some prodigious mete or doth appeare , Or fearfull Chasma vnto humaine eyes : Euen such a wonder was I to behold Where heauen seem'd all her secrets to vnfold . If cunning'st pensill-man that euer wrought By skilfull arte of secret sumetry , Or the diuine Idea of the thought With rare descriptions of high poesy , Should all compose a body and a mind , Such a one seem'd I , the wonder of my kind . With this fayre bayte I fisht for Edwards loue , My daintie youth so pleasd his princely eye : Here sprang the league which time could not remoue , So deeply grafted in our Infancie , That frend , nor foe , nor life , nor death could sunder , So seldome seene , and to the world a wonder . O heauenly concord , musicke of the minde , Touching the heart-strings with such harmonie , The ground of nature , and the law of kinde , Which in coniunction doe so well agree , Whose reuolution by effect doth proue , That mortall men are made diuine by loue . O strong combining chaine of secrecie , Sweet ioy of heauen , the Angels oratorie , The bond of faith , the seale of sanctitie , The soules true blisse , youths solace , ages glorie , An endles league , a bond that s neuer broken , A thing diuine , a word with wonder spoken . With this fayre Bud of that same blessed Rose , Edward surnam'd Carnaruan by his birth , Who in his youth it seem'd that Nature chose To make the like , whose like was not on earth , Had not his lust and my lasciuious will Made him and me the instruments of ill . With this sweete Prince , the mirror of my blisse , My souls delight , my ioy , my fortunes pride , My youth enioyd such perfect happines , Whil'st tutors care , his wandring yeares did guide , As his affections on my thoughts attended , And with my life , his ioyes began and ended . Whether it were my beauties excellence , Or rare perfections that so pleasd his eye , Or some diuine and heauenly influence , Or naturall attracting Sympathie : My pleasing youth became his senses obiect , Where all his passions wrought vpon this subiect . Thou Arke of Heauen , where wonders are inroled , O depth of nature , who can looke vnto thee ? O who is he that hath thy doome controuled ? Or hath the key of reason to vndoe thee : Thy workes diuine which powers alone doe knowe , Our shallow wittes too short for things belowe . The soule diuine by her integritye , And by the functious agents of the minde , Cleer-sighted , so perceiueth through the eye , That which is pure and pleasing to her kinde , And by hir powrfull motions apprehendeth , That which beyond our humaine sence extendeth . This Edward in the Aprill of his age , Whil'st yet the Crowne sate on his fathers head , My Ioue with me , his Ganimed , his page , Frolick as May , a lustie life we led : He might commaund , he was my Soueraigns sonne , And what I saide , by him was euer done . My words as lawes , Autentique he alloude , Mine yea , by him was neuer crost with no , All my conceite as currant he auowde , And as my shadowe still he serued so , My hand the racket , he the tennis ball , My voyces echo , answering euery call . My youth the glasse where he his youth beheld , Roses his lipps , my breath sweete Nectar showers , For in my face was natures fayrest field , Richly adornd with Beauties rarest flowers . My breast his pillow , where he laide his hed , Mine eyes his booke , my bosome was his bed . My smiles were life , and Heauen vnto his sight , All his delight concluding my desier , From my sweete sunne , he borrowed all his light , And as a flie play'd with my beauties fier , His loue-sick lippes at euery kifsing qualme , Cling to my lippes , to cure their griefe with balme . Like as the wanton Yuie with his twyne , Whenas the Oake his rootlesse bodie warmes , The straightest saplings strictly doth combyne , Clipping the woodes with his laciuious armes : Such our imbraces when our sporte begins , Lapt in our armes , like Ledas louely Twins . Or as Loue-nursing Venus when she sportes , With cherry-lipt Adonis in the shade , Figuring her passions in a thousand sortes , With sighes , and teares , or what else might perswade , Her deere , her sweete , her ioy , her life , her loue , Kissing his browe , his cheeke , his hand , his gloue . My bewtie was the Load-starre of his thought , My lookes the Pilot to his wandring eye , By me his sences all a sleepe were brought , When with sweete loue I sang his lullaby . Nature had taught my tongue her perfect time , Which in his eare stroake duely as a chyme . With sweetest speech , thus could I syranize , Which as strong Philters youthes desire could moue , And with such method could I rhetorize , My musick plaied the measures to his loue : In his faire brest , such was my soules impression , As to his eyes , my thoughts made intercession . Thus like an Eagle seated in the sunne , But yet a Phenix in my soueraigns eye , We act with shame , our reuels are begunne , The wise could iudge of our Catastrophe : But we proceede to play our wanton prize , Our mournfull Chorus was a world of eyes . The table now of all delight is layd , Seru'd with what banquets bewtie could deuise , The Strens singe , and false Calypso playd , Our feast is grac'd with youthes sweete comoedies , Our looks with smiles , are sooth'd of euery eye , Carrousing loue in boules of Iuorie . Fraught with delight , and safely vnder sayle , Like flight-wing'd Faucons now we take our scope , Our youth and fortune blowe a mery gale , We loose the anchor of our vertues hope : Blinded with pleasure in this lustfull game , By ouersight discard our King with shame . My youthfull pranks , are spurs to his desire , I held the raynes , that rul'd the golden sunne , My blandishments were fewell to his fyer , I had the garland whosoeuer wonne : I waxt his winges and taught him art to flye , Who on his back might beare me through the skye . Here first that sun-bright temple was defild , Which to faire vertue first was consecrated , This was the fruite , wherewith I was beguild , Heere first the deede of all my fame was dated : O me ! euen heere from paradice I fell , From Angels state , from heauen , cast downe to hell . Loe here the verie Image of perfection , With the blacke pensill of defame is blotted , And with the vlcers of my youths infection , My innocencie is besmer'd , and spotted : Now comes my night , ô now my day is done , These sable cloudes eclipse my rising sunne . Our innocence , our child-bred puritie Is now defilde and as our dreames forgot , Drawne in the coach of our securitie : What act so vile , that we attempted not ? Our sun-bright vertues fountaine-cleer beginning , Is now polluted by the filth of sinning . O wit too wilfull , first by heauen ordayn'd , An Antidote by vertue made to cherish , By filthy vice , as with a mole art stayn'd , A poyson now by which the sences perish : That made of force , all vices to controule , Defames the life , and doth confound the soule . The Heauens to see my fall doth knit her browes , The vaulty ground vnder my burthen groneth , Vnto mine eyes , the ayre my light allowes , The very winde my wickednesse bemoneth : The barren earth repineth at my foode , And Nature seemes to cursse her beastly broode . And thus like slaues we sell our soules to sinne , Vertue forgot by worldes deceitfull trust , Alone by pleasure are we entred in , Now wandring in the labyrinth of lust , For when the soule is drowned once in vice , The sweete of sinne , makes hell a paradice . O Pleasure thou , the very lure of sinne , The roote of woe , our youthes deceitfull guide , A shop where all confected poysons been , The bayte of lust , the instrument of pride , Inchanting Circes , smoothing couer-guile , A luring Siren , flattering Crockodile . Our Ioue which sawe his Phoebus youth betrayde , And Phaeton guide the sunne-carre in the skies , Knewe well the course with danger hardly staide , For what is not perceu'd by wise-mens eyes ? He knew these pleasures posts of our desire , Might by misguiding set his throne on fier . This was a corsiue to King Edwards dayes , These iarring discords quite vntund his mirth , This was the paine that neuer gaue him ease , If euer hell , this was his hell on earth : This was the burthen which he groned vnder , This pincht his soule , and rent his heart in sunder . This venom suckt the marrowe from his bones , This was the canker which consum'd his yeares , This fearfull vision , fild his sleepe with grones , This winter snowd downe frost vpou his hayres : This was the moth , this was the fretting rust , Which so consum'd his glorie vnto dust , The humor found , which fed this foule disease Must needes be stay'd , ere help could be deuis'd , The vaine must breath the burning to appease , Hardly a cure , the wound not cauteris'd : That member now wherein the botch was risen Infecteth all not cured by incision . The cause coniectur'd by this prodigie , From whence this foule contagious sicknes grue , Wisdome alone must giue a remedie , For to preuent the danger to insue : The cause must end , ere the effect could cease , Else might the danger dayly more increase . Now those whose eyes to death enuide my glorie , Whose saftie still vpon my down-fall stood , These , these , could comment on my youthfull storie , These were the wolues which thirsted for my blood : These all vnlade their mischiefes at this baye , And make the breach to enter my decaye . These curres that liu'd by carrion of the court , These wide-mouth'd hel-hounds long time kept at bay , Finding the King to credit their reporte , Like greedie rauens follow for their pray : Dispightfull Langton fauorit to the King , Was he which first , me in disgrace could bring . Such as beheld this lightning from aboue , My Princely Ioue from out the ayre to thunder : This earth-quake which did my foundation moue , This boystrous storme , this vnexspected wounder , They thought my sunne had bin eclipsed quite , And all my day now turn'd to winters night . My youth embowel'd by their curious eyes , Whose true reportes my life anatomis'd , Who still pursu'd me like deceitfull spyes , To crosse that which I wantonly deuis'd : Perceaue the traine me to the trap had led , And downe they come like haylestones on my head . My Sonne eclips'd , ech Starre becomes a Sunne , When Phoebus fayles , then Cynthia shineth bright , These furnish vp the Stage , my act is done Which were but Gloe-wormes to my glorious light , Those erst condemn'd by my perfections doome , In Phoebus chariot , now possesse my roome . The Commons swore , I led the Prince to vice , The Nobles said that I abus'd the King , Graue Matrons such as lust could not intice , Like women whispred of another thing : Such as could not aspire vnto my place , These were suborn'd to offer me disgrace . The staffe thus broke , whereon my youth did stay , And with the shaddowe all my pleasures gone : Now with the windes my ioyes fleete hence away , The silent night makes musik to my moane , The tatling ecchoes whispering with the ayre , Vnto my wordes sound nothing but despayre . The frowning Heauens are all in sables clad , The Planet of my liues misfortune raineth : No musick serues a dying soule to glad , My wrong to Tirants for redresse complaineth : To ease my paine there is no remedie , So farre despayre exceeds extremitie . Why doe I quake my down-fall to reporte ? Tell on my ghost , the storie of my woe , The King commaunds , I must depart the court , I aske no question , he will haue it so : The Lyons roring , lesser beastes doe feare , The greatest flye , when he approcheth neare . My Prince is now appointed to his guarde , As from a traytor he is kept from me , My banishment already is preparde , Away I must , there is no remedie : On paine of death I may no longer stay , Such is reuenge which brooketh no delaye . The skies with cloudes are all inuelloped , The pitchie fogs eclipse my cheerfull Sunne , The geatie night hath all her curtaines spred And all the ayre with vapours ouerrun : Wanting those rayes whose cleernes lent me light , My sun-shine day is turn'd to black-fac'd night . Like to the birde of Ledaes lemmans die , Beating his breast against the siluer streame , The fatall prophet of his destinie , With mourning chants , his death approching theame : So now I sing the dirges of my fall The Anthemes of my fatall funerall . Or as the faithfull Turtle for her make Whose youth enioyd her deere virginitie , Sits shrouded in some melancholie brake Chirping forth accents of her miserie , Thus halfe distracted sitting all alone , With speaking sighs , to vtter forth my mone . My bewtie s'dayning to behold the light Now weather-beaten with a thousaud stormes , My daintie lims must trauaile day and night , Which oft were lulde in princely Edwards armes , Those eyes where bewtie sate in all her pride , With fearefull obiects fild on euery side . The Prince so much astonisht with the blowe , So that it seem'd as yet he felt no paine , Vntill at length awakned by his woe , He sawe the wound by which his ioyes were slaine , His cares fresh bleeding fainting more and more , No Cataplasma now to cure the sore . Now weepe mine eyes , and lend me teares at will , You sad-musde sisters help me to indite , And in your faire Castalia bathe my quill , In bloodie lines whilst I his woes recite , Inspire my muse O Heauens now from aboue , To painte the passions of a princely loue . His eyes about their rouling Globes doe cast , To finde that Sunne , from whom they had their light , His thoughtes doe labor for that sweete repast , Which past the daye , and pleasd him all the night : He countes the howers , so sloly how they runne , Reproues the daye , and blames the loytring sunne . As gorgious Phoebus in his first vprise Discouering now his Scarlet-coloured head , By troublous motions of the lowring Skies His glorious beames with fogges are ouerspred , So are his cheereful browes eclips'd with sorrowe , Which cloud the shine of his youths-smiling morrow . Now showring downe a flud of brackish teares , The Epithemaes to his hart-swolne griefe , Then sighing out a vollue of dispayres , Which onely is th' afflicted mans reliefe : Now wanting sighes , and all his teares were spent , His tongue brake out into this sad lament . O breake my hart quoth he , O breake and dye , Whose infant thoughts were nurst with sweete delight ; But now the Inne of care and miserie , Whose pleasing hope is murthered with despight : O end my dayes , for now my ioyes are done , Wanting my Peirs , my sweetest Gaueston . Farewell my Loue , companion of my youth , My soules delight , the subiect of my mirth , My second selfe if I reporte the truth , The rare and onely Phenix of the earth , Farewell sweete friend , with thee my ioyes are gone , Farewell my Peirs , my louely Gaueston . What are the rest but painted Imagrie , Dombe Idols made to fill vp idle roomes , But gaudie anticks , sportes of foolerie , But fleshly coffins , goodly gilded tombes , But puppets which with others words replie , Like pratling ecchoes soothing euery lie ? O damned world , I scorne thee and thy worth , The very source of all iniquitie : An ougly damme that brings such monsters forth , The maze of death , nurse of impietie , A filthie sinke , where lothsomnes doth dwell , A labyrinth , a iayle , a very hell . Deceitfull Siren traytor to my youth , Bane to my blisse , false theefe that stealst my ioyes : Mother of lyes , sworne enemie to truth , The ship of fooles fraught all with gaudes and toyes , A vessell stuft with foule hypocrisie , The very temple of Idolatrie . O earth-pale Saturne most maleuolent Combustious Planet , tyrant in thy raigne , The sworde of wrath , the roote of discontent , In whose ascendant all my ioyes are slaine : Thou executioner of foule bloodie rage , To act the will of lame decrepit age . My life is but a very mappe of woes , My ioyes the fruite of an vntimely birth , My youth in labour with vnkindly throwes , My pleasures are like plagues that raigne on earth , All my delights like streames that swiftly run , Or like the dewe exhaled by the Sun . O Heauens why are you deafe vnto my mone ? S'dayne you my prayers ? or scorne to heare my misse ? Cease you to moue , or is your pittie gone ? Or is it you that rob me of my blisse ? What are you blinde , or winke and will not see ? Or doe you sporte at my calamitie ? O happie climat whatso ere thou be Cheerd with those sunnes the fayr'st that euer shone , Which hast those Stars which guide my destinie , The brightest lamps in all the Horizon , O happie eyes that see which most I lacke , The pride and bewtie of the Zodiacke . O blessed fountaine source of all delight , O sacred sparke that kindlest Virtues fier ! The perfect obiect of the purest sight , The superficies of true loues desire , The very touchstone of all sweete conceite , On whom all graces euermore awaite . Thus whilst his youth in all these stormes was tost , And whilst his ioyes lay speechles in a traunce , His sweete content with such vnkindnes crost , And lowring Fortune seem'd to looke askance : Too weake to swim against the streamfull time , Fore-told their fall which now sought most to clime . Camelion-like , the world thus turns her hue , And like Proteus puts on sundry shapes , One hastes to clime , another doth ensue , One fals , another for promotion gapes : Flockmell they swarme like flies about the brim , Some drowne whilst others with great danger swim . And some on whome the Sunne shon passing fayre , Yet of their summer nothing seeme to vaunte , They sawe their fall presaged by the ayre , If once this planet were predominant : Thus in their gate they flew with wings of feare , And still with care doe purchase honor deere . Thus restles Time that neuer turnes againe , Whose winged feete are sliding with the Sunne , Brings Fortune in to act another scene By whome the plot alreadie is begunne , The argument of this same tragedie , Is Virtues fall to raise vp infamie . The brute is blowne , the King doth now pretend , A long-look'd voyage to the Holy-land , For which his subiects mightie sums doe lend , And whilst the thing is hotly thus in hand , Blinde Fortune turnes about her fickle wheele , And breaks the prop which makes the building reele . I feare to speake , yet speake I must perforce , My wordes be turn'd to teares euen as I write , Mine eyes doe yet behold his dying corse , And on his hearse me thinkes I still indyte : My paper is hard sable Ebon wood , My pen of Iron , and my inke is blood . Loe here , the time drue on of Edwards death , Loe here , the dolefull period of his yeares , O now he yeeldeth vp that sacred breath , For whom the Heauens do shower down fluds of teares For whom the Sunne , euen mourning hides his face , For whom the earth was all to vile and base . May I reporte his dolefull obsequie , When as my Ghost doth tremble at his name ? Faine would I write , but as I write I die , My ioyntes apald with feare , my hand is lame , I leaue it to some sacred muse to tell , Vpon whose life a Poets pen might dwell . No sooner was his body wrapt in lead And that his mournfull funerals were done , But that the Crowne was set on Edwards head , Sing I-o now my ghost , the storme is gone : The winde blowes right , loe yonder breakes my day , Caroll my muse , and now sing care away . Carnaruan now cals home within a while Whom worthie Long-shankes hated to the death , Whom Edward swore should dye in his exile , He was as deere to Edward as his breath , This Edward lou'd that Edward loued not , Kings wils performd : and dead mens words forgot . Now waft me winde vnto the blessed I le , Rock me my ioyes , loue sing me with delight , Now sleepe my thoughts , cease sorrowe for a while , Now end my care , come day , farwell my night : Sweet sences now act euery one his part , Loe here the balme that hath recur'd my hart . Loe now my Ioue in his ascendant is In the aestiuall solstice of his glorie , Now all the Stars prognosticate my blis , And in the Heauen all eyes may reade my storie , My comet now worlds wonder thus appeers Foretelling troubles of insuing yeeres . Now am I mounted with fames golden wings , And in the Tropick of my fortunes height , My flood maintayned with a thousand springs , Now on my back supporting Atlas weight : All tongues and pens attending on my prayse , Sur-named now , the wonder of our dayes . Who euer sawe the kindest romane dame With extreame ioye yeeld vp her latest breath , When from the warres her sonne triumphing came , When stately Rome had mourned for his death : Her passion here might haue exprest aright , When once I came into the Princes sight . Who euer had his Ladie in his armes , That hath of loue but felt the miserie , Touching the fire that all his sences warmes , Now clips with ioy her blushing Iuorie . Feeling his soule in such delights to melt , Ther 's none but he can tell the ioye , we felt . Like as when Phoebus darteth forth his rayes , Gliding along the swelling Ocean streames , Now whilst one billowe with another playes , Reflecteth back his bright translucent beames : Such was the conflict then betwixt our eyes Sending forth lookes as teares doe fall and rise . It seem'd the ayre deuisde to please my sight , The whistling winde makes musick to my tale , All things on earth now feast me with delight , The world to me sets all her wealth to sale : Who now rules all in courte but I alone , Who highly grac'd but onely Gaueston ? Now like to Mydas all I touch is gould , The cloudes doe shower downe gould into my lap , If I but winke the mightiest are controulde , Plac'd on the turret of my highest hap : My cofers now , euen like to Oceans are , To whom all floods by course doe still repayre . With bountie now he franckly seales his loue , And to my hands yeelds vp the Ile of Man , By such a gifte his kingly minde to proue , This was the earnest wherewith he began : Then Walingford Queene Elnors stately dower , With many a towne , and many a goodly tower . And all those sums his father had preparde By way of taxes for the holy land , He gaue me francklie as my due rewarde : In bountie thus , it seemd he pleasd his hand , Which made the worlde to wonder euery houre , To see me drowned in this golden showre . Determin'd now to hoyst my sayle amaine , The Earle of Cornewall he created me , Of England then the Lord high Chamberlaine , Chiefe Secretarie to his Maiestie : What I deuisd , his treasure euer wrought , His bountie still so answered to my thought . Yet more to spice my ioyes with sweete delight , Bound by his loue aprentice to my pleasure , Whose eyes still leuel'd how to please my sight , Whose kindnes euer so exceeded measure , Deuis'd to quench my thirst with such a drinke As from my quill drops Nectar to my inke . O sacred Bountie mother of content , Prop of renowne , the nourisher of arts , The Crowne of hope , the roote of good euent , The trumpe of Fame , the ioye of noble harts , Grace of the Heauens , diuinitie in nature , Whose excellence doth so adorne the creature . He giues his Neece in mariage vnto me Of Royall blood , for bewtie past compare , Borne of his sister was this Bellamie , Daughter to Gilbert thrice renowned Clare , Chiefe of his house the Earle of Glocester , For Princely worth that neuer had his peere . Like Heauen-di'd Andromeda the fayre , In her embrodered mantle richly dight , With Starrie traine inthronis'd in the ayre , Adorns the Welken with her glittering light , Such one she was , which in my bosome rested , With whose deare loue , my youthful yeres were feasted . As when fayre Ver dight in her flowrie rayle , In her new-coloured liueries decks the earth , And glorious Tytan spreads his sun-shine vaile , To bring to passe her tender infants birth : Such was her bewtie which I then possest , With whose imbracings all my youth was blest . Whose purest thoughts and spotles chaste desire , To my affections still so pleasing were , Neuer yet toucht with sparke of Venus fier , As but her breast I thought no Heauen but there : To none more like then fayre Idea she , The very image of all chastitie . O chastitie , that guifte of blessed soul's , Comfort in death , a crowne vnto the life , Which all the passions of the minde controul's Adornes the mayde , and bewtifies the wife : That grace , the which nor death , nor time attaints , Of earthly creatures making heauenly Saints . O Virtue which no muse can poetize Fayre Queene of England which with thee doth rest , Which thy pure thoughts doe onely exercize , And is impressed in thy royall breast , Which in thy life disciphered is alone , Whose name shall want a fit Epitheton . The Heauens now seeme to frolick at my feaste , The Stars as handmayds , seruing my desiers , Now loue full fed with bewtie takes his rest , To whom content , for saftie thus retiers : The grounde was good , my footing passing sure , My dayes delightsome , and my life secure . Loe thus ambition creepes into my breast , Pleasing my thoughts with this emperious humor , And with this diuell being once possest , Mine eares are fild with such a buzzing rumor , As onely pride my glorie doth awaite , My sences sooth'd with euerie selfe-conceite . Selfe-loue , prides thirst , vnsatisfied desier , A flood that neuer yet had any boundes , Times pestilence , thou state-consuming fier , A mischiefe which all common weales confoundes , O Plague of plagues , how many kingdomes rue thee , O happie Empiers that yet neuer knew thee ! And now reuenge which had been smoothered long , Like piercing lightning flasheth from mine eyes , This word could sound so sweetely on my tonge , And with my thoughts such Stratagems deuise , Tickling mine eares with many a pleasing storie , Which promist wonders and a world of glorie . For now began the bloodie-rayning broyles Betweene the barons of the land and me , Labouring the state with Ixion-endles toyles Twixt my ambition and their tyrannie , Such was the storme this diluge first begun , With which this Ile was after ouerrun . O cruell discord foode of deadly hate , O mortall corsiue to a common weale , Death-lingring consumption to a state , A poysoned sore that neuer salue could heale : O foule contagion deadly killing feuer , Infecting oft , but to be cured neuer . By courage now imboldned in my sinne , Finding my King so surely linkt to me , By circumstance I finely bring him in To be an actor in this tragedie , Perswading him the Barons sought his blood , And on what tearmes these earth-bred giants stood . And so aduancing to my Princes Grace The baser sorte of factious qualitie , As being raised vnto such a place Might counterpoyse the proude Nobilitie , And as my agents on my part might stand , Still to support what ere I tooke in hand . Suborning gesters still to make me mirth , Vile Sycophants at euery word to sooth me , Time-fawning Spaniels , Mermaydes on the earth , Trencher-fed fools with flattering words to smooth me Base Parasites , these elbowe-rubbing mates , A plague to all lasciuious wanton states . O filthie monkies vile and beastly kinde , Foule pratling Parats berds of Harpie broode , A corasiue to euery noble minde , Vipers that suck your mothers deerest blood , Mishapen monster , worst of any creature , A foe to art , an enemy to nature . His presence grac't what ere I went about , His chiefe content was that which liked mee , What ere I did , his power still bare mee out , And where I was , there euer-more was hee : By byrth my Soueraigne , but by loue my thrall , King Edwards Idoll all men did mee call . Oft would he sette his crowne vpon my head , And in his chayre sit downe vpon my knee , And when his eyes with loue were fully fed , A thousand times he sweetly kissed mee : When did I laugh ? and he not seene to smile ? If I but frownd , hee silent all the while . But Fortune now vnto my ouer-throwe , Intic't mee on with her alluring call , And still deuising how to worke my woe , One bayte tan'e vp , she let another fall . Thus Syren-like , she brings me to the bay Where long before shee plotted my decay . For now the King to Fraunce doth him prepare , For marriage with the Princesse Isabel , Daughter to Phillip then surnam'd the faire , Who like to him in beauty did excell ; Of Tilts and tryumphs euery man reports , And the vniting of these famous Courts . And now the King to rayse me higher yet , Makes me the Lord-protector of the Land , And in the Chayre of his estate I sit , Hee yeelds his Scepter vp into mine hand . Deuising still how he to passe might bring , That if he died , I might succeed as King . His treasure now stood absolute to mee , I dranck my pleasures in a golden cup , I spent a world , I had aboundantly , As though the earth had cast her bowels vp . My reckonings cast , my summs were soone enroled , I was by no man once to be controled . Now being got as high as I could clyme , And Fortune made my foote-cloth as I gest , I paynt me braue with Tagus golden slyme , Because I would enioy what I possest . Aluding stil , that he is mad and worse , Which playes the nyggard with a Princes purse . And now the King returning with his trayne , I summond all the chiefe Nobilitie , And in my pompe , went foorth to entertayne The Peers of Fraunce in all thys ioylitie . Where , in my carridge were such honours placed , As with my presence , all the showes were graced . Guarded with troupes of Gallants as I went , The people crouching still with cap and knee , My port and personage so magnificent , That ( as a God ) the Commons honored mee . And in my pryde , loe thus I could deuise , To seeme a wonder vnto all mens eyes . In ritchest Purple rode I all alone , With Diamonds imbroidered and bedight , Which lyke the stars in Gallixia shone , Whose lucter still reflecting with the light , Presented heauen to all that euer gazed : Of force to make a world of eyes amazed . Vpon a stately Iennet forth I rode , Caparisond with Pearle-enchased plumes , Trotting as though the Measures he had trode , Breathing Arabian Ciuit-sweet perfumes ; Whose rarenes seemd to cast men in a traunce , Wondred of England , and admir'd of Fraunce . Like trident-maced Neptune in his pride , Mounted vpon a Dolphin in a storme , Vpon the tossing billowes forth doth ride , About whose trayne a thousand Trytons swarme , When Phoebus seemes to set the waues on fire , To shew his glory and the gods desire . Or like vnto the fiery-faced Sunne Vpon his wagon prauncing in the West , Whose blushing cheeks with flames seeme ouer-runne Whilst sweating thus he gallops to his rest . Such was the glory wherin now I stood , Which makes the Barrons sweat their deerest blood . Thus when these gallant companies were met , The King heer present with his louely Queene , And all the Nobles in due order set , To heare and see what could be hard or seene : Loe heer that kindnes easely is discride , That faithful loue which hee nor I could hide . Euen like as Castor when a calme begins , Beholding then his starry-tressed brother , With mirth and glee these Swan-begotten twins Presaging ioy , the one embrace the other : Thus one the other in our armes wee fold , Our breasts for ioy , our harts could scarcely hold . Or like the Nimphe beholding in a Well , Her deerest loue , & wanting words to wooe him , About his necke with clipped armes she fell , Where by her fayth the gods conioynd her to him . Such was the loue which now by signes we breake , When ioy had tied our tongues , we could not speak . Thus arme in arme towards London on wee rid , And like two Lambes we sport in euery place , Where neither ioy nor loue could well be hid That might be seal'd with any sweet embrace : So that his Queene , might by our kindnes proue , Though shee his Wife , yet I alone his loue . The Barrons now ambitious at my raigne , As one that stoode betwixt them and the Sunne . They vnderhand pursue me with disdaine , And play the game which I before had wonne : And malice now so hard the bellowes blew , That through myne eares the sparks of fier flew . Where in reuenge , the tryumphes they deuisd To entertaine the King with wondrous cost , Were by my malice suddainly surprisd , The charge , their summons , and their honours lost ; Which in their thoughts reuenge so deeply raysed , As with my blood they vow'd should be appeased . As when within the soft and spungie soyle , The wind doth peirce the intrals of the earth , Where hurly burly with a restlesse coile Shakes all the center , wanting issue forth , Tyll with the tumor Townes and Mountains tremble , Euen such a meteor doth their rage resemble . Or when the shapeles huge Leuiathan , Hath thrust himselfe vpon the sandie shore , Where ( Monster like ) affrighting euery man , He belloweth out a fearefull hydeous rore : Euen such a clamor through the ayre doth thunder , The dolefull presage of some fearefull wonder . Thus as a plague vnto the gouernment , A very scourge to the Nobilitie , The cause of all the Commons discontent , The Image of all sentialitie , I was reproched openly of many , Hated of all , not pittied now of any . And as a vile misleader of the King , A wastfull spender of his coyne and treasure , A secret theefe of many a sacred thing , A Cormorant , in whom was neuer measure ; I seemed hatefull now in all mens eyes , Buzzing about me like a swarme of flyes . Lyke as a clowde , foule , darke , and vgly black , Threatning the earth with tempest euery howre , Now broken with a fearefull thunder-crack , Straight poureth down his deep earth-drenching showre , Thus for their wrongs now rise they vp in armes , Or to reuenge , or to amend theyr harmes . The King perceiuing how the matter stood , Himselfe , his Crowne , in this extremity , And how the Barrons thirsted for my blood , And seeing now there was no remedy , That I some vile vntimely death must die , Or thus , must be exiled presentlie : A thousand thoughts he hammereth in his head , Thinking on this , and now againe on that ; As one deuise is come , another fled , Some thing he would , and now he knowes not what . To helpe me now , a thousand meanes he forgeth , Whilst still with sighes his sorrowes he disgorgeth . And for I was his very soules delight , He thought on this , the onely way at last , In Ireland to hide me out of sight , Vntill these stormes were ouer-blowne and past . And in meane time t' appease the Barrons hate , And so reduce me to my former state . And to giue place vnto the Barrons rage , Which flamed like a burning-quenchles brand , Which nought but my exile could now asswage , He sendes me post away to Ireland : And to eschew all danger by the way , Me safely guarded thither doth conuay . As one whose house in danger to be burn'd , Which he hath builded with exceeding cost , And all his wealth to earth-pale ashes turn'd , Taking one Iewell which he loueth most , To some safe place doth with the same retyre . Leauing the rest to ' he mercy of the fire . Or as a Nurse within besieged walls , Dreading each howre the Souldiours slaughtering knife , Within some place as fittest there befalls , Hides her sweet babe in hope to saue his life , Loe thus the King prouideth now for mee The ioy and pride of his felicitie . He wanted words t' expresse what he sustain'd , Nor could I speake to vtter halfe my wrong , To shew his griefe , or where I most was payn'd , The time too short , the tale was all too long : I tooke my leaue with sighes when forth I went , He streames of teares vnto my farewell sent . But sending lookes ambassadors of loue , Which as our postes could goe and soone retire , By whose quicke motion we alone might proue , Our equall loue did equall like desire : And that the fire in which we both did burne , Was easely quencht in hope of safe returne . Lyke to a vessell with a narrow vent , Which is fild vp with liquor to the top , Although the mouth be euer eminent , Yet is it seene not to distyll a drop : Euen so our breasts , brim-full with pensiue care , Stopping our tongues , with griefe wee silent are . But when my want gaue breath vnto his moane , And that hys teares had now vntide hys tongue , With drery sighes all now cleane ouer-blowne , Which earst ( like Fountaines ) in abundance sprunge , Vnto hymselfe , hee thus complaines his griefe , Sith now the world could yeeld him no reliefe . O cursed stars ( quoth he ) that guyde my byrth , Infernall Torches , Comets of mis-fortune , Or Genuus heer that haunts mee on the earth , Or hellish fiend that doest my woes importune : Fate-guiding Heauens , in whose vnlucky moouing , Stands th' effect of my mishaps approouing . Tide-ceasles sorrow , which doest ouer-flow , Youth-withering cares , past compasse of conceite , Hart-kylling griefe , which more and more doest grow , And on the Anuile of my hart doest beate , Death-thirsting rage , styll deadly , mortall , endles , O poorest Prince ● left desolate and freendles . Sky-couering clowdes , which thus do ouer-cast , And at my noone-tide darken all my sun , Blood-drying sicknes , which my life doest wast . When yet my glasse is but a quarter run : My ioy but a phantasme and elusion , And my delights intending my confusion . What Planet raignd in that vnluckie howre , When first I was inuested in the Crowne ? Or hath in my natiuitie such powre , Or what vile Furie doth attend my Throne ? Or els , what hellish hags be these that haunt mee ? Yet if a King , why should mis-fortune daunt mee ? Am I a Prince ? yet to my people subiect , That should be lou'd ? yet thus am left forlorne , Ordaynd to rule ? respected as an obiect , Liue I to see mine honor had in scorne ? Base dunghill mind , that doest such slauery bring , To liue a pesant , and be borne a King . The purest steele doth neuer turne at lead , Nor Oke doth bow at euery winde that blowes , Nor Lyon from a Lambe doth turne his head , Nor Eagle frighted with a flock of Crowes : And yet a King want courage in his breast , Trembling for feare to see his woes redrest . It rather fits a villaine then a state , To haue his loue on others lykings placed , Or set his pleasures at so base a rate , To see the fame by euery slaue disgraced ; A King should euer priuiledge his pleasure , And make his Peers esteeme it as theyr treasure . Then rayse thy thoughts , and with thy thoughts thy loue , Kings want no means t' accomplish what they would , If one doe faile , yet other maist thou proue , It shames a King , to say , If that I could . Let not thy loue such crosses then sustaine , But rayse him vp , and call him home againe . Sweet Gaueston , whose prayse the Angels sing , Maist thou assure thee of my loue the while ? Or what maist thou imagin of thy King , To let thee lyue in yonder brutish Ile ? My deer , a space this wery world prolong , He liues , that can and shal reuenge thy wrong . Thus like a man growne lunatick with paine , Now in his torments casts hym on his bed , Then out he runns into the fields againe , And on the ground doth rest his troubled head . With such sharpe passions is the King possest , Which day nor night doth let him take his rest . As Lyon-skind Alcides , when he lost His louely Hylas , on hys way from Thrace , Followes the quest through many an vnknowne coast , With playnts and out-cryes , wearying euery place , Thus louely Edward fils each place with moane , Wanting the sight of his sweet Gaueston . Thus lyke a Barge that wants both steere and sayles , Forc'd with the wind against the streamefull tyde , From place to place with euery billow hayles , And ( as it haps ) from shore to shore doth ryde : Thus doth my case , thus doth my fortune stand , Betwixt the King , and Barrons of the Land . On this Dilemma stood my tickle state , Thus pro et contra all men doe dispute , Precisely ballanc't twixt my loue and hate , Some doe affyrme , some other doe confute : Vntill my King , ( sweet Edward ) now at last , Thus strikes the stroke which makes them all agast . Now calling such of the Nobility , As he supposed on his part would stand , By theyr consent he makes me Deputy . And being seated thus in Ireland , Of gold and siluer sending me such store , As made the world to wonder more and more . Lyke great gold-coyning Crassus in his health , Amidst his legion long-mayntaining store , The glory of the Romane Common-wealth , Feasting the ritch , and gyuing to the poore . Such was th' aboundance which I then possest , Blessed with gold , ( if gold could make me blest . ) Where , ( like Lucullus , ) I maintaind a port , As great god Bacchus had been late come downe , And in all pompe at Dublin kept my Court , As I had had th' reuenewes of a Crowne . In trayne , in state , and euery other thing , Attended still as I had been a King . Of this my wondrous hospitality , The Irish yet , vntill this day can boast , Such was the bounty of a King to mee , His Chequer then could scarce defray the cost . His gyfts were such , I ioyd in what he sent , He freely gaue , and I as freely spent . Few daies there past but some the Channell crost , With kindest Letters enterlynd with loue , Wheras I stil receiu'd by euery post , His Ring , his Bracelet , Garter , or his Gloue : Which I in hostage of his kindnes kept , Of his pure loue , which liu'd and neuer slept . With many a ritch and stately ornament , Worne by great Kings , of hie and wondrous price , Or Iewell that my fancie might content , With many a robe of strange and rare deuice . That all which saw and knew this wondrous wast , Perceiu'd his treasure long time could not last . And thus whilst Fortune friendly cast my Dice , And tooke my hazard , and threw at the maine , I saw it was but folly to be nice , That chaunceth once , that seldome haps againe . I knew such bounty had been seldom seen , And since his time , I think hath neuer been . And now the Barrons which repynd before , Because I was too lauish of the treasure , And saw my wast consuming ten times more , Which doth so far exceed all bonds of measure , This ( as a knife ) theyr very hart-strings cuts , And gnawes them like the Collick in the guts . Thus ( all in vaine , ) they seek to stop the source , For presently it ouer-flowes the bounds , Yet well perceiue , if thus it held his course , No question then , the Common wealth it drowns : And thus lyke men that tread an endlesse Maze , Whilst Fortune sports , the world stands at a gaze . Like Souldiers in a Towne surpriz'd by night , Ouer their heads the houses set on fire , Sure to be slayne in issuing out to fight , Or els be burned if they doe retyre : Some curse the time , some other blame their fortune , Whilst black Dispaire their deaths doth thus importune . This gracious King , ( which seemd to sleep the while , ) Finding the yron thus fully had his heat , With sweet perswasions fitly frames his stile : Which in theyr wits doth such a temper beate , With kindest lookes , and sweetest vowes of loue , As were of force a Rock of flint to moue . His clowdy frownes be turnd to sun-shine smyles , And those on whom he lowerd , he friendly graces , Theyr moody cheer , with sporting he beguiles , His Lyons lookes , be turnd to sweet imbraces , That with his will , theyr thoughts seeme to accord , Such is the loue of subiects to their Lord . And hauing found his kindnes tooke effect , He followeth on the quest with hote pursute , Nor day , nor night , he doth the same neglect , Vntil the graff was growne to bring forth fruite : And that the Barrons all with might and maine , Now condiscend to call me home againe . O frayle and slyding state of earthly things , Blind Fortune , chance , worlds mutability , Aduauncing pesants , and debasing Kings , Od hap , good luck , or star-bred destinie : Which stil doest fawne , and flatter me so oft , Now casts me downe , then sett'st me vp aloft . In all post-hast , the King to Ireland sent His Princely Letters , for my safe returne , To England now I must in continent , It seemes that time all malice hath out-worne . The Coast is cleer , occasion cals away , The gale stands right , and driues me from the Bay . My whistling sayles make musick with the wind , The boystrous waues doe homage to mine eyes , The brutish sort of Eols Imps seeme kind , And all the clowdes abandoning the skyes Now louely Laedas egg-borne twins appeare : Towards Albyons cliues faire Fortune guides my steere . The King is come to Chester , where he lyes , The Court prepared to receiue me there In all the pompe that wit could well deuise : As since that time was seldome seene elswhere . Where setting once my dainty foote on land , He thought him blest that might but kisse my hand . In pleasures there we spend the nights and dayes , And with our reuels entertaine the time , With costly Banquets , Masks , and stately Playes , Painting our loues in many a pleasing rime . With rarest Musick , and sweet-tuned voyces , ( In which the soule of man so much reioyces . ) Like as the famous braue Egiptian Queene , Feasted the Romane great Mark Anthony , With Pearl-disolu'd carouses , seldom seene , Seru'd all in vessell of ritch Iuory : Such was the sumptuous banquets he prepard , In which no cost or curious thing was spard . Or like the Troyan Pryam , when as he Beheld his long-lost sonn returne to Troy , Tryumphing now in all his iolitie , Proud Ilion smokes with th' orges of his ioy , Such are our feasts and stately tryumphs heer , Which with applauses , sound in euery eare . Departing thence from Chesters pleasant side , Towards London now we trauel with delight , Wher euery Citty likewise doth prouide To entertaine vs , with some pleasing sight : Tyl all our trayne at length to London comes , Wher naught is hard , but Trumpets , bels and drums . As when Paulus Aemilius entred Roome , And like great Ioue , in starlike tryumph came , Honored in Purple by the Senats doome , Laden with gold , and crowned with his fame . Such seems our glory now in all mens eyes , Our friendship honored with applaudities . Or when old Phillips time still-wondred son , In his worlds conquest surfetting with spoiles , The scourge of Kings , returns to Babilon , To sport and banquet after all his toiles , Such is our glory in our London Court , Whereto all Nations dailie make resort . And thus blind Fortune lulls mee in her lap , And rocks mee still , with many a Syrens song , Thus plac'd mee on the Atlas of my hap . From which shee means to cast mee downe ere long . Black vgly fiend , O foule mishapen euill , In shew an Angel , but in deed a diuel . Euen as a Lyon got into his pawes The silly Lambe , seems yet a while to play , Till seeking to escape out of his iawes , This beastly King now tears it for his pray . Thus hauing got mee in her armes so fast , Determins now to feed on mee at last . Or as the slaughter-man doth fat the beast , Which afterward he meaneth shall be slayne , Before prouided to some solemne feast , The more therby he may increase his gaine , Loe , thus proud Fortune feeds mee for the knife , For which ( it seems ) shee had prepard my life . For thus ere long , between the King and mee , As erst before , our reuels now begin , And now the Barrons taste theyr misery , Opening theyr eyes , which makes them see theyr sin , The plague once past , they neuer felt the sores , Till thus againe it haps within theyr dores . Like as a man made drunk with foule excess , Drowning his soule in thys vile lothly vice , Once being sober , sees his beastliness , Buying repentance with so deer a price ; Thus they perceiue the bondage they possest , In condiscending to the King request . The damned Furies heer vnbong the source , From whence the Lethe of my vertues burst , The black-borne Fates heere labour in that course , By which my lyfe and fortune came accurst . My death in that star-guiders doome concealed , Now in the browes of heauen may be reuealed . My youth spurrs on my fraile vntam'd desire , Yeelding the raynes to my lasciuious will , Vpon the Ise I take my ful careire , The place too slippery , and my manidge ill , Thus like a Colt , in danger to be cast , Yet still runn on , the diuel driues so fast . Now wandring in a Laborinth of error , Lost in my pride , no hope of my returne , Of sin and shame my life a perfect mirror , No spark of vertue once is seen to burne . Nothing there was could be discernd in me , But beastly lust , and censualitie . Black Hecate chaunts on her night-spell charmes , Which cast me first into this deadly sleep , Whilst fier-eyd Ate clips me in his armes , And hayles me down to dark Herebus deep . Foule sleep-god Morpheus , curtains vp the light , And shuts my fame in euerlasting night . The fixed starrs in their repugnacie , Had full concluded of these endles iarrs , And nature by some strange Antipathy , Had in our humors bred continuall warrs . Or the star-ceeled heauens by fatall doome , Ordaind my troubles in my Mothers wombe . Some hellish hagg in thys inchaunted cup , Out of the Tun of pryde this poyson drew , And those hote cinders which were raked vp , Into the nostrils of the Nobles blew . Who now caroused to my funerall , And ( with a vengeance ) I must pledge them all . And now brake out that execrable rage , Which long before had boyled in theyr blood , Which neither tyme nor reason could asswage : But like to men growne lunatick and wood , My name and fame , they seeke to scandelize , And roote the same from all posterities . They all affyrme , my Mother was a Witch , A filthy hagg , and burnt for sorcery : And I her son , and fitting with her pitch , Shee had bequeath'd her damned Art to mee . Thys rumor in the peoples eares they ring , That ( for my purpose ) I bewitcht the King . They say , that I conuayd beyond the Sea , The Table and the tressels all of gold , King Arthurs reliques , kept full many a day , The which to Windsor did belong of old . In whose faire margent ( as they did surmize , ) Merlin ingraued many prophecies . Some slaunderous tongues , in spightful manner sayd , That heer I liu'd in filthy sodomy , And that I was King Edwards Ganemed , And to this sinn hee was intic'd by mee . And more , ( to wreck their spightfull deadly teene , ) Report the same to Isabel the Queene . A Catilogue of tytles they begun , With which I had the Noble men abus'd , Which they auouch't I neuer durst haue done , If by the King I had not been excus'd . And swore , that he maintaind against the state , A monster , which both God and man did hate . They swore , the King subbornd my villanie , And that I was his instrument of vice , The means wherby he wrought his tyranny , That to his chaunce I euer cast the dice ; And with most bitter execrations ban , The tyme in which , our friendship first began . Loe , heer drawes on my drery dismall hower , The dolefull peryod of my desteny , Heer doth approch the black and vgly shower , Hence flowes the Deluge of my misery . Heer comes the clowde that shuts vp all my light , My lowring Winter , and eternall night . The angry Barrons now assembled were , And no man left that on my part durst stand , Before the Popes pernitious Legate there , They forced mee for to abiure the Land . Forcing the King to further their intent , By solemne oth vpon the Sacrament . Vpon the holie Sacrament hee swears , Although ( God knowes ) ful much against his will , So ouer-come with silence , sighes , and teares , To make a sword the which himselfe should kill . And being done , ( in doing then not long , ) He seemes to curse his hand , his hart , his tongue . Like to a man that walking in the grass , Vpon a Serpent suddainlie doth tread , Plucks back his foote , and turnns away his face , His couller fading , pale as he were dead : Thus hee the place , thus he the act doth shun , Lothing to see , what he before had done . Or as a man mistaking a receite , Some death-strong poyson happely doth taste , And euery howre the vigor doth awaite , Apald with feare , now standeth all agast . Thus stands he trembling in an extasie , Too sick to liue , and yet too strong to die . Hee takes his Crowne , and spurnns it at his feet , His princely robes hee doth in peeces teare , Hee straight commaunds the Queene out of his sight , Hee tuggs and rents his golden-tressed haire . He beates his breast , and sighes out pittious groans , Spending the day in tears , the night in moans . Lyke as the furious Paladine of Fraunce , Forsaken of Angelica the fayre , So like a Bedlam in the fields doth daunce , With shouts and clamors , filling all the ayre , Tearing in peeces what so ere hee caught , With such a furie is the King distraught . Or when the wofull Thrace-borne Hecuba , Saw Troy on fire , and Pryams fatall doome , Her sonns all slayne , her deer Polixina , There sacrifized on Achilles Tombe , Euen like a Bore , her angry tusks doth whet , Scratching and byting all that ere shee met . With fearefull visions frighted in his bed , Which seemes to hym a very thorny brake , With vgly shapes which way he turnns his head : And when from sleep hee euer doth awake , Hee then againe with weeping mournfull cryes , In griefe of soule , complains hys miseries . Hee wants disgesture , and refrains his rest , His eyes ore-watched like eclipsed sunns , With bitter passions is his soule opprest , And through his eyes , his brayne disolued runns . And after silence , when with payne he speakes , A suddaine sigh his speech in sunder breakes . Hee starteth vp , and Gaueston doth call , Then stands hee still , and lookes vpon the ground , Then like one in an Epileps doth fall , As in a Spasmo , or a deadly sound ; Thus languishing in payne , and lingering euer , In the Symptoma of his pyning feuer . Lyke to a flower that droupeth in a frost , Or as a man in a Consumption pyning , Staynd like a Cloth that hath his culler lost , Or Poets-worne Lawrell when shee is declyning : Or lyke a Pecock washed in the rayne , Trayling adowne his starry-eyed trayne . To Belgia I cross the narrow seas , And in my breast a very sea of griefe , Whose tide-full surges neuer giue me ease , For heauen and earth hath shut vp all reliefe , The ayre doth threaten vengeaunce for my crime , Clotho drawes out the thred of all my time . Like as that wicked Brother-killing Caine , Flying the presence of his mighty God , Accurst to die , forbidden to be slaine , A vagabond , and wandring still abroad . In Flaunders thus I trauell all alone , Still seeking rest , yet euer finding none . Or as the Monarch of great Babilon , Whose monstrous pride the Lord did so detest , As hee out-cast him from his princely throne , And in the field hee wandred like a beast . Companion with the Oxe and lothly Ass , Staru'd with the cold , and feeding on the grass . Thus doe I change my habite and my name , From place to place , I pass vnknowne of any ; But swift report so far had spred my fame , I hear my life and youth controld of many ; The bouzing Flemings in their boistrous tongue , Still talking on me as I pass along . O wretched , vile , and miserable man , Besotted so with worldly vanitie , When as thy life is but a verie span , Yet euerie howre full of calamitie . Begot in sinn , and following still the game , Liuing in lust , and dying oft with shame . Now working means to haue intelligence , By secrete Letters from my Lord the King , How matters stood since I departed thence , And of the tearms and state of euery thing , I cast about which way I might deuise , ( In spight of all ) once more to play my prize . And still relying on King Edwards loue , To whom before my life had been so deere , Whose constancie my fortune made me proue ; And to my Brother , Earle of Glocester , And to my wife , who labored tooth and naile , My abiuration how shee might appeale . I now embarck mee in a Flemish Hoy , Disguised in the habite of a Muffe , Attended thus with neyther man nor boy , But on my back a little bagg of stuffe : Like to a Souldier that in Campe of late , Had been imployd in seruice with the state . And safely landed on thys blessed shore , Towards Windsor thus disguis'd I tooke my way , Wheras I had intelligence before , My wife remaind , and there my Edward lay . My deerest wife , to whom I sent my ring , Who made my comming known vnto the King . As when old-youthful Eson in his glass , Saw from his eyes the cheerfull lightning sprung , When as Art-spell Medea brought to pass , By hearbs and charms , againe to make him young , Thus stood King Edward , rauisht in the place , Fixing his eyes vpon my louely face . Or as Muse-meruaile Hero , when she clips , Her deer Leanders byllow-beaten limms , And with sweet kisses seazeth on his lips , When for her sake deep Hellespont he swimms , Might by our tender-deer imbracings proue , Fayre Heros kindnes , and Leanders loue . Or like the twifold-twynned Geminy , In their star-gilded gyrdle strongly tyed , Chayn'd by their saffrond tresses in the sky , Standing to guard the sun-coche in his pride . Like as the Vine , his loue the Elme imbracing , With nimble armes , our bodies interlacing . The Barrons hearing how I was arriued , And that my late abiurement naught preuailed , By my returne , of all their hope depriued , Theyr bedlam rage no longer now concealed : But as hote coles once puffed with the wind , Into a flame outbreaking by their kind . Like to a man whose foote doth hap to light , Into the nest where stinging Hornets ly , Vext with the spleen , and rising with despight , About his head these winged spirits fly . Thus rise they vp with mortall discontent , By death to end my life and banishment . Or like to souldiers in a Towne of war , When Sentinell the enemy discries , Affrighted with this vnexpected iar , All with the fearefull Larum-bell arise , Thus muster they ; ( as Bees doe in a hyue , The idle Drone out of their combes to dryue . ) It seemd the earth with heauen grew malecontent , Nothing is hard but warrs and Armors ringing , New stratagems each one doth now inuent , The Trumpets shril their warlike poynts be singing , Each souldiour now , his crested plume aduances , They manidge horses , and they charge their launces . As when vnder a vast and vaulty roofe , Some great assembly happily appears , A man ( from thence ) that standeth out a loofe , A murmuring confused rumor hears . Such is the noyse , from earth to heauen rebounding , With shrikes and clamors euery where resounding . Lyke as the Ocean chafing with hys bounds , With raging billowes flyes against the Rocks , And to the shore sends forth his hydeous sounds , Making the earth to tremble with his shocks ; Euen thus the murmure flyes from shore to shore , Lyke to the Canons battering fearefull rore . By day and night attended still with spyes , The Court become the cause of al our woes , The Country now a Campe of enemies , The Citties , all be-peopled with our foes . Our very beds are snares made to enwrap vs , Our surest guard ( as Traytors ) doe intrap vs . Like to a cry of roring-mouthed hounds , Rouzing the long-liu'd stagg out of his layre , Pursue the chase through vastie forrest grounds , So lyke a thunder ratling in the ayre , Thus doe they hunt vs , still from coast to coast , Most hated now , of those we loued most . Thys gracious Prince loe thus becomes my guide , And with a Conuoy of some chosen friends , Brings mee to Yorke , where being fortified , To Balioll the King of Scots hee sends , And to the Welchmen , crauing both their ayde , That by their help the Barrons might be stayd . But they which in their busines neuer slept , And ( as it seemd ) had well fore-seen thys thing , Cause all the Ports and Marches to be kept , That none should enter once to ayde the King : And by disswasiue Letters still deuise , To stay theyr neighbors from this enterprize . Loe , in this sort the King and I betrayd , And to their wills thus left as wofull thralls , And finding now no further hope of ayde , We shut vs vp within Yorkes aged walls , Vntill we knew the Barrons full intent , And what all this rude hurly burly meant . This gracious King , for want of wonted rest , Fallen in these passions to an extasie , With grieuous sicknes is so sore opprest , And grown in time to such extreamity , As he is forced to depart away , To take the ayre awhile vpon the Sea . From Bedford now ( the synod of their shame , The counsell house of all their villany , ) These bloody Barrons with an Army came , Downe vnto York , where they besieged mee : That now not able to resist their might , Am forst perforce , to flye away by night . To Scarborough with speed away I post , With that small force the Citty then could lend me , The strongest Castell there in all the coast , And ( as I thought ) the surest to defend me , Where as I might withstand them by my power , Hoping the Kings returning euery howre . But now , like to a sousing suddaine raine , Forc'd by a strong and sturdy easterne blast , Or ( like a hayle-storme ) downe they come amaine , And in the Castell gert me now so fast , No way to scape , nor hope for mee to flie , My choyce was hard , or yeeld my selfe , or die . Away thus ( like a prysoner ) am I led , My costly robes in peeces rent and torne , Bound hand and foote , my haire disheuiled , Naked and bare as euer I was borne , Saue but for shame , to stop the peoples cryes , With griefe am clothed of mine enemies . Along the Land , toward Oxford they conuay mee , Like bauling currs , they all about mee houle : With words of foule reproch they now repay mee , Wondring my shame , as byrds doe at an Owle . Cursing my life , my manners , and my birth , A scourge of God , ordaind to plague the earth . The King , now hearing how I was arested , And knew my quarrell cause of all this strife , He writes , he sends , he sues , he now requested , Vsing all means he could to saue my life : With vowes and othes , that all should be amended , If that my death alone might be suspended . And being brought to Dedington at last , By Aymer Valence , Earle of Pembrook then , Who towards King Edward rode in all the hast , And left mee guarded safelie by his men . This gentle Earle with meer compassion moued , For Edwards sake , whom hee so deerly loued . But now Guy Beuchampe , whom I feared still , The Earle of Warwick , whom I called curr , Hauing fit time to execute his will , The Foxe thus caught , he vowes to teare my furr . And he for whom so oft he sett the trap , By good ill luck , is fallen into his lap . This bloody Beuchampe , ( I may tearme him so , ) For this was he that onely sought my blood , Now at the vp-cast of mine ouer-throw , And on the chaunce wheron my fortune stood , To Dedington hee came , where as I lay , And by his force , hee tooke mee thence away . To Warwick thus along hee doth mee bring , And keeps me guarded in the Castell there , And doubting now my succour from the King , Hee rayseth vp the power of Warwick-shiere . Thus from the Towne , to Blacklow I was led , And on a Scaffold there , I lost my head . Loe , heer the point and sentence of my time , My liues full stop , my last Catastrophe , The stipend of my death-deserued cryme , The Scene that ends my wofull tragedy . My latest Vale , knitting my conclusion , Mine vtter ruine , and my fames confusion . Like as Adonis wounded with the Bore , From whose fresh hurt the life-warme blood doth spin , Now lyeth wallowing in his purple gore , Stayning his faire and Alablaster skin : My headles bodie in the blood is left , Now lying breathles , and of life bereft . 〈◊〉 my Muse , put on thy Eagles wings , 〈◊〉 some comfort to my tired ghost , 〈◊〉 with Apollos dolefull-tuned strings , 〈◊〉 help at need , for now I need thee most . Sorrow posses my hart , mine eyes , myne ears , My breath consume to sighs , my braine to tears . My soule now in the heauens eternall glass , Beholds the scarrs and botches of her sin , How filthy , vglie , and deformd shee was , The lothsome dunghill that shee wallowed in . Her pure Creator sitting in his glory , With eyes of iustice to peruse her storie . Like as a stagg at bay amongst the hounds , The bloodie Mott still sounding in his ears , Feeling his breath diminish by his wounds , Poures downe his gummy life-preseruing tears ; Euen thus my soule , now bayted by my sin , Consuming shewes the sorrow shee is in . Thus comfortles , forsaken and alone , All worldlie things vnstable , and vnsure , By true contrition flyes to him alone , In whose compare , the heauens are most impure . By whose iust doome , to blessed soules reuealed , Shee gets her pasport to Elisia sealed . And by repentance , finds a place of rest , Where passing to the faire Elisian plaine , Shee is aloud her roome amongst the blest , In those Ambrosian shadowes to remaine . Till summond thus by Fame , shee is procur'd , To tell my life that hath been thus obscur'd . This monster now , this many-headed beast , The people , more vnconstant then the wind , Who in my life , my life did so detest , Now in my death , are of another mind : And with the fountains from their teareful eyes , Doe honor to my latest obsequies . Star-holding heauen hath shut vp all her light , Nature become a stepdam to her owne , The mantled trouch-man of the Rauen-hued night , In mournfull Sables clad the Horizon . The sky-borne Planets seeming to conspire , Against the ayre , the water , earth , and fire . Pearle-paued Auon , in her streamfull course , With heauy murmure floting on the stones , Mou'd with lament to pitty and remorse , Attempering sad musick to my moans , Tuning her billowes to Zephyrus breath , In watry language doth bewaile my death . Oke-shadowed Arden , fild with bellowing cries , Resounding through her holts and hollow grounds , To which the Eccho euer-more replies , And to the fields sends forth her hideous sounds , And in her Siluan rude vntuned songs , Makes byrds , and beasts , for to express my wrongs . The heauen-dyed flowers in this happy clyme , Mantling the Medowes in their Summers pride , As in the wofull frostie winter time , Drouping with faintnes , hold their heads aside . The boystrous storms , dispoile the greenest greues , Stripping the Trees stark naked of their leaues . Death clad in liueries of my louely cheeks , Layd in those beds of Lillyes and of Roses , Amaz'd with meruaile , heere for wonders seeks , Where he alone a Paradice supposes , Grew malcontent , and with himselfe at strife , Not knowing now if hee were death or life . And shutting vp the casements of those lyghts , Which like two sunns , so sweetly went to rest , In those faire globes he saw those heauenly sights , In which alone he thought him onely blest . Cursing himselfe , who had depriued breath , From that which thus could giue a life in death . With palenes touching that fayre rubied lip , Now waxing purple , like Adonis flower , Where Iuory walls those rocks of Curral keep , From whence did flow that Nectar-streaming shower , There earth-pale Death refresht his tired limms , Where Cupid bath'd hym in those Christall brimms . And entring now into that house of glory , That Temple with sweet Odors long perfumed , Where nature had ingraued many a story , In Letters , which by death were not consumed . Accursed now , his crueltie he curst , That Fame should liue , when he had done hys worst . Now when the King had notice of my death , And that hee saw his purpose thus preuented , In greeuous sighes hee now consumes his breath , And into tears his very eyes relented : Cursing that vile and mercy-wanting age , And breakes into this passion in his rage . O heauens ( quoth hee ) lock vp the liuing day , Cease sunn to lend the world thy glorious light , Starrs , flye your course , and wander all astray , Moone , lend no more thy siluer shine by night . Heauens , starrs , Sunn , Moone , conioyne you all in one , Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston . Earth , be thou helples in thy creaturs berth , Sea , break thou forth from thy immured bound , Ayre , with thy vapors poyson thou the earth , Wind , break thy Caue , and all the world confound . Earth , sea , ayre , wind , conioyne you all in one , Bewaile the death of my sweet Gaueston . You sauage beasts , that haunt the way-less woods , You Birds delighted in your Siluan sound , You scaly Fish , that swim in pleasant floods , You hartless Wormes that creep vpon the ground , Beasts , birds , fish , wormes , each in your kind alone , Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston . Faire Medowes , be you withered in the prime , Sun-burnt and bare , be all the goodly Mountains , Groues , be you leaueless in the Summer time , Pitchy and black be all the Christall Fountains : All things on earth , each in your kind alone , Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston . You damned Furies , break your Stigian Cell , You wandring spirits , in water , earth , and ayre , Lead-boyling ghosts , that liue in lowest hell , Gods , diuels , men , vnto mine ayde repayre , Come all at once , conioyne you all in one , Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston . Eyes , neuer sleep , vntill you see reuenge , Head , neuer rest , vntill thou plot reuenge , Hart , neuer think , but tending to reuenge , Hands , neuer act , but acting deep reuenge . Iust-dooming heauens , reuenge mee from aboue , That men vnborne may wonder at my loue . You peerles Poets of ensuing times , Chanting Heroique Angel-tuned notes , Or humble Pastors Nectar-filled lines , Driuing your flocks with musick to their coats , Let your hie-flying Muses still bemoane , The wofull end of my sweet Gaueston . My earth-pale body now enbalmd with tears , To famous Oxford solemnly conuaid , There buried by the ceremonious Friers , Where for my soule was many a Trentall said . With all those rites my obsequies behoued , Whose blind deuotion , time and truth reproued . But ere two yeeres were out and fully dated , This gracious King who still my fame respected , My wasted bones to Langley thence translated , And ouer mee a stately Tombe erected . Which world-deuouring Time , hath now out-worne , As but for Letters , were my name forlorne . My ghost now hence to Ankor shall repayre , Where once the same appeared vnto thee : And vnto chaste Idea tell my care , A sacrifice both for thy selfe and mee . In whose sweet bosome all the Muses rest , In whose aspect our Clyme is onely blest . Thus hauing told my drery dolefull tale , My time expir'd , I now returne againe , Where Carons Barge hoyst with a merrie gale , Shall land mee on the faire Elisian plaine : Where , on the Trees of neuer dying fame , There will I carue Ideas sacred name . And thou sweet Dorus , whose sole Phoenix Muse , With Pegase wings doth mount vnto the sky , Whose lines the gods are fittest to peruse . My louelie Dorus , lend thine humble eye , To my harsh stile , ( deer friend ) at my request , In whose conceit my verse is onely blest . My deer Maecenas , lend thine eyes awhile , From Meredian's sun-bred stately straine : And from thy rare and lofty flying stile , Looke downe into my low and humble vaine : On this same babe my Muse hath now brought forth , Till shee present thee with some lines of worth . FINIS .