The tragicall legend of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed Short-thigh, eldest sonne to William Conqueror. VVith the legend of Matilda the chast, daughter to the Lord Robert Fitzwater, poysoned by King Iohn. And the legend of Piers Gaueston, the great Earle of Cornwall: and mighty fauorite of king Edward the second. By Michaell Drayton. The latter two, by him newly corrected and augmented Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A20853 of text S116748 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 7232). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 278 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 114 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A20853 STC 7232 ESTC S116748 99851964 99851964 17260 2240878563

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A20853) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 17260) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1305:02) The tragicall legend of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed Short-thigh, eldest sonne to William Conqueror. VVith the legend of Matilda the chast, daughter to the Lord Robert Fitzwater, poysoned by King Iohn. And the legend of Piers Gaueston, the great Earle of Cornwall: and mighty fauorite of king Edward the second. By Michaell Drayton. The latter two, by him newly corrected and augmented Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631. Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631. Matilda. Drayton, Michael, 1563-1631. Peirs Gaveston Earle of Cornwall. [224] p. Printed by Ia. Roberts for N. L[ing] and are to be solde at his shop at the West doore of Paules, At London : 1596. In verse. Publisher's name from STC. "The legend of Matilda the chaste" and "The legende of Piers Gaueston" each has caption title; register is continuous. Both are newly corrected and augmented; the former from STC 7205 and the latter from 7214. Signatures: A⁴ B-O P⁴. Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Robert -- II, -- Duke of Normandy, 1054?-1134. Gaveston, Piers, ca. 1284-1312. eebo The tragicall legend of Robert, Duke of Normandy, surnamed Short-thigh, eldest sonne to William Conqueror. VVith the legend of Matilda the chast, daug Drayton, Michael, 1596 228 44771 5 0 0 0 0 0 1.12 B The rate of 1.12 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2000-00 Assigned for keying and markup 2001-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2001-08 Sampled and proofread 2001-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2001-11 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

THE Tragicall Legend of Robert , Duke of Normandy , surnamed Short-thigh , eldest sonne to William Conqueror .

With the Legend of Matilda the chast , daughter to the Lord Robert Fitzwater , poysoned by King Iohn .

And the Legend of Piers Gaueston , the great Earle of Cornwall : and mighty fauorite of king Edward the second .

By Michaell Drayton .

The latter two , by him newly corrected and augmented .

AT LONDON , Printed by Ia. Roberts for N. L. and are to be solde at his shop at the West doore of Paules . 1596.

To the noble and excellent Lady , Lucie , Countesse of Bedford .

MOst noble Ladie , I leaue my Poems as a monument of the Zeale I beare to your vertues , though the greatest part of my labour , be but the least part of my loue : And if any thought of worth liue in mee , that onely hath been nourished by your mild fauours and former graces to my vnworthy selfe , and the admiration of your more then excellent parts shyning to the world . What nature & industry began , your honour and bountie hath thus farre continued . The light I haue , is borrowed from your beams , which Enuie shall not eclipse , so long as you shall fanourablie shine . Vnder the stampe of your glorious Name my Poems shall passe for currant , beeing not altogether vnworthy of so great a superscription : I liue onely dedicated to your seruice , and rest your Honors humblie deuoted .

Michaell Drayton .
To the vertuous Lady , the Lady Anne Harrington : wise to the Honorable Gentleman , Sir Iohn Harrington , Knight . MAdam : my words cannot expresse my mind , My Zealers dutie to make knowne to you , When your deserts all seuerally I find , In this attempt , of mee doe claime their due : Your gratious kindnes ( Madam ) claimes my hart , Your bountie bids my hand to make it knowne , Of me your vertues each doe claime a part ; And leaue me thus the least part of mine owne , What should commend your modestie , your wit , Is by your wit and modestie commended , And standeth dumbe in most admiring it , And where it should begin , it there is ended . And thus returne , to your praise onely due , And to your selfe say , you , are onely you . Michaell Drayton .
To the Reader .

GEntlemen , since my first publishing of these tragicall complaints of Piers Gaswton and Matilda it is not vnknowne to any which traffique with Poetry , how by the sinister dealing of some vnskilfull Printer , Prers Gawston hath been lately put sorth contrary to my will , with as manie faults as there be lynes in the same , beeing in deede at the suit no perfect Coppy , but left vnformed and vndigested , like a Beare whelpe before it is licke by the Dam. But now of late vnderstanding by the Stationers , that they meant the thyrd time to bring it to the Presse , for which purpose as it seemed , they kept Matilda from printing , onely because they meant to ioyne them together in one little volume , I haue taken some paine in them both to augment and polish them , sith I see they must goe to the publique view of the world : and with the old conceite of Apelles , ( hearing the opinion of all that passed by ) amended so much as the latchet . To these complaints written by mee two yeeres since , I haue added this third , of Robert Duke of Normandie : A subiect in my poore opinion , as worthy as any , how soeuer I haue hanled it in the writing . Thus submitting my labours to your discreet censure , I end .

M. D.
The Argument of Robert Duke of Normandie .

AFter the conquest of England , by William Duke of Normandy , his eldest son Robert , surnamed Short-thigh , much more then eyther of his bretheren , William Rufus , or Henry Bauclarke , beloued of the Commons , yet brought in disgrace with his Father , by meanes of Lanfranck Byshop of Canterburie , who greatlie affected the said William Rufus , as a man rightlie of his owne disposition . Robert beeing a man of a mightie spirit , finding himselfe disgrac'd , & grown hatefull to his Father , and the Crowne of England assured to his Brother : whilst his Father maketh warrs in Fraunce , hee with a troupe of resolute Germains , inuadeth Normandie . In the height of all these troubles , William Conqueror dyeth , leauing the kingdome of England to Rufus . Whilst Robert prepareth to make warre vpon his brother , by the pollicies of Lanfrancke and his accomplices , they are friends , Robert peaceably enioyeth Normandie , and if he ouer-hued his brother William , to succeed him in the kingdom of England . Nowe , the brute of the holy warrs called Robert to Palestine , with Peter the Hermit , and Godfrey of Bulloyne , for which , to pay his souldiours , hee engageth Normandie to his youngest brother Henry for summes of money . In his absence William dyeth , Henrie vsurpeth the Crowne , and Duke Robert returning from the warrs with great honor , yet in his warrs at home most vnfortunate , hee is taken by Henry in a battell in Normandy , brought a captiue into England , and imprisoned in Cardisse Castell in Wales , where Henry as a Tyrant , still searing his escape , put out his eyes .

The Tragicall Legend of Robert Duke of Normandie . 1 WHat time Sleeps Nurse the silent night begun To steale by minuts on the long-liu'd daies , The furious Dog-star chasing of the Sun , Whose scorching breath ads flame vnto his raies , At whose approch the angry Lyon braies , The earth now warm'd in thys celestiall fire , To coole her heate , puts off her rich attire . 2 The deawy-tressed Morning newly wake , With golden tinsell scarce had crown'd her browes , Ryding in tryumph on the Ocean lake , Embellishing the honny-fringed bowes , Deepe mellancholly from my braine to rouze , To Isis banck my Genius guides the way , Amongst whose Reeds soft murmuring winds do play . 3 Zephyre , which courts faire Thames , his gentle loue , On whose smooth brest the swelling billows flow , Which on a long the wanton tyde doth shoue , And to keepe back he easilie doth blow , Still meets her comming , followes if shee goe ; Shee , forcing waues to coole his hote embrace , Hee , fanning breath vpon her christall face . 4 Still dallying in her osten-turning source , She streaks a long the shores with her proud straine , And here , and there , she wantons in her course , And in her gate oft turneth back againe , Smiling to looke vpon her siluer traine , With pretty Anticks shee the faire soile greets , Till Medoas streame from famous Kent shee meets . 5 Thus careles wandring with this gliding streame , Whose fleeting told me of tymes flying howers , Delighted thus as in a pleasing dreame , Cropping small branches of the sweetest flowers : And looking back on Londons stately towers , So Troy ( thought I ) her stately head did beare , Whose crazed ribs the furrowing plough doth eyre . 6 Weary , at length a Willow tree I found , Which on the brim of this great current stood , Whose roote was matted with the arrasd ground , Deaw'd with the small drops of this surging flood , Ordain'd it seem'd to sport her Nymphish brood Whose curled top , enuy'd the heauens great eye Should view the stock shee was maintained by . 7 The towring Larke which carrols to the Sun , With trebling descant quauers in the ayre , And on the riuers marmuring base doth run , The Marble-skyes , with checker'd varnish faire , My branch-embossed bed , of natures care ; The flowers my smell , the slood my thirst to steep , Thus like a King , with pleasure rock'd a sleepe . 8 When in a dreame it seemed vnto mee A noyse of trumpets from the flood arose , As when great BETA in her pompe wee see , When shee by London on the water goes , The dauncing Barge with silent musick rowes : The people thronging on the wharfes & shores , The ayre with shouts , the water fill'd with oares . 9 A troope of Nymphes came suddainly on land , When thus was ended this tryumphant sound , Encompassing mee , lying on the strand , Taking theyr places on the grassy ground , Theyr ory tresses all with Laurell crown'd , Casting theyr sober modest eyes a space , Vpon my swarty mellancholly face . 10 Betwixt two Ladies came a goodly Knight , As newly brought from some distresfull place , It seem'd to mee he was some noble wight , Though his attyre were miserable and base , And care made furrowes in his manly face : And though cold age had frosted his faire haires , It rather seem'd for sorrow then for yeares . 11 The one a princely Lady did support This feeble Image which coulde sarcly stand : The other , fleering in disdainfull sort , With scornefull iesture drew him by the hand , Who being blind , yet bound with many a band . At length , I found this proude disdainefull Dame Was FORTVNE , and the other , glorious FAME . 12 FAME on his right hand , in a robe of gold , Whose stately trayne , Time as her Page did beare , On which , for rich embrawdery was enrold , The deedes of all the Worthies euer were , So strongly wrought , as wrong could not empeire , Whose large memorialls shee did still rehearse , In Poets man-immortalizing verse . 13 Two Tables on her goodly breast shee bore , The one of Christall , th' other Ebony , Engrau'd with names of all that liu'd before That ; the faire booke of heauenly memory , Th' other , the black scrowle of infamy : One stuffd with Poets , Saints , & Conquerers , Th' other with Atheists , Tyrants , Vsurers . 14 And in her words appeared as a wonder , Her during force , and neuer-failing might , Which softly spake , farre of were as a thunder , And round about the world wold take their flight , And bring the most obscurest things to light ; That still the farther of , the greater still Did euer sound our good , or make our ill . 15 Fortune , as blinde as he whom she doth leade , Her feature chang'd each minute of the hower , Her riggish feet fantastickly would tread , Now would shee smile , & suddainly would lower , And with one breth , her words were sweet & sower . Vpon her foes , she amorously would glaunce , And on her followers , coylie looke a scaunce . 16 About her necke , ( it seem'd as for a chaine ) Some Princes crownes & broken scepters hong , Vpon her arme a lazie youth did leane , Which scornfully vnto the ground shee flong ; And with a wanton grace passing along , Great bags of gold from out her bosome drew , And to base Pesants and fond Ideots threw . 17 A dusky vaile which hid her sightles eyes , Like clowds , which couer our vncertaine liues , Painted about with bloody Tragedies , Fooles wearing crownes , & wisemen clogd in giues , Now , how she giues , againe , how she depriues ; In this black Map thus shee her might discouers , In Campes , and Courts , on soldiers , kings , & louers . 18 An easie rysing little banck there was , The seate fayre FLORA somtime sat vpon , Curling her locks in louely Isis glasse , To reuell in the Springs pauilion , Here was her court , and this her princly throne ; Here set they downe this poore distressed man , And in this sort proude Fortune first began . 19 BEhold ( quoth she ) this Duke of Normandy , The heire of William , Conqueror of this Ile , Which thou poore Fame hast vow'd to glorifie , Whose history this Poet must compile ; My slaue , my scorne , my prisoner , an exile , Whose life I mark'd with my black dismall brand , And thou would'st now eternize with thy hand . 20 Thou art an Eccho , a by-word , a wind , Thine ayrie bodie is composd of breath , A wandring blast , within no place confin'd , Which oft of nothing , silly somthing saith , Yet neuer canst speake well till after death ; And from imagination hast thy birth , Vnknowne in heauen , & vnperceiu'd on earth . 21 First , in opinion had'st thou thy creation , Form'd with conceit , the needy Poets frend , And like opinion , keep'st no certaine fashion , Yet in a circle still thy course doth end : And but a Post which all base rumors send , An needles burden of an idle song , The prophane accent of each witles tongue . 22 Slaunders vile spy , a runnagate , a thiefe , Which day and night in euery chinck doth peepe , A blab , a wanton , lightest of beliefe , Nor in thy gate a meane doost euer keepe , But now hie in the ayre , now in the deepe ; Reporting that which thou doost but suppose , And telling that thou neuer should'st disclose . 23 With extreame toyle and labour thou art sought , Danger the way that leadeth to thy Cell , Onely with death thy fauours must be bought , And who obtaines thee , fetcheth thee from hell , Where thou ensconst with fiery swords dost dwell . And when thou art with all this perrill found , Thou art a suddaine voice , a tinckling sound . 24 My out-cast abiects , such as I disgrace , And euer-more haue held in hatefull scorne , And in the world haue set in seruile place , These be thy fauorits , these thou doost subborne , These wait on Fame , whose weeds be neerly worne Yet cannot these poore wretches come to thee , Vnlesse before they be preferr'd by mee . 25 That trump thou saist , wakes dead men from theyr traunce Is not of precious gold as some do deeme , A brazen pipe , by which vaine fooles do daunce , And but to sound so loude doth onely seeme , Sith points of vertue no man doth esteeme , And with this toy the idle braine abusest , And so their folly and thy fault excusest . 26 Except in perrill , thou doost not appeare , And yet in perrill ebbing still and flowing , Flying from him that seeth succour neere , Diminished at hand , augmented going , On fertile stocks decay'd , on barraine growing . Lost life with rumors thou doost but repayre , And what thou promisest , thou payest with ayre . 27 In balefull Hearses , sad and sable grounds , On gory letters thy memorialls lye , Thy lines are deepe immedicable wounds , And towards the dust thou point'st thy tearful eye , Neuer discouer'd but in Tragedy : Thy stony hart is pittifull to none , But Syren-like , to their destruction . 28 This orbes great reuolution knowes my power , And how I raigne with the eternall Fates , With whom I sit in counsell euery howre , On change of times , subuersion of states , On their beginnings , on their seuerall dates , In destining haps past , on things to come , In iudgement till the euerlasting dome . 29 The starrs my Table-bookes wherein I write , My Register the spacious circling Sky , On heauens great brow I carefully endite Vnhappy mans long birth-markt desteny , And by my power , my lawes I ratefy , And his fraile will imperiously controule , With such quaint clauses as I there enroule . 30 To me the heauens haue theyr Commission giuen , And in my Charter all their right compil'd , That I alone should blesse as beautious heauen , And honor those on whom I meane to smile , To gaine them tytles of immortall stile , That all should worthy be which I bestow , Nor reason vrg'd , but for I thinke it so . 31 In great predestination is my beeing , Whose depth yet wisdom neuer could discerne , And in her secrets , more then secrets seeing , Where learning stil may learne how still to learne , Those points with do the deepest points conscerne , Where sacred texts vnlock the way to me , To lighten those which will my glory see . 32 What names old Poets to their gods did giue , Were onely figures to expresse my might , To shew the vertues that in mee doe liue , My onely power on this all-moouing wight , And all their Alters vnto mee were dight : Whose wondrous working , stil to times did bring Matter whereon they euer-more might sing . 33 Still most vncertaine varying in my course , Yet in these changes hold one certaine end , Crossing mans fore-cast , weakning wisdoms force , To none still foe , to none a perfect frend , Amazing thought to thinke what I pretend . Depressing vertue sometime , that thereby Shee taking wing againe may sore on hie . 34 Forth of my lap I poure aboundant blisse , All good proceedes from my all-giuing hand , By me man happie , or vnhappie is , Blest if I blesse , repuls'd if I with-stand , And I alone am friendships onely band ; Vpon whose Lincks all greedely take hold , Which being broke , our zealous faith growes cold . 35 Pawsing shee strownes , when sudainly againe , A roaring noyse ariseth from the flood , As when a tempest with a shower of raine Is heard far off within some mightie wood , At which me thought all things amazed stood : As though her words such power with them did beare As Sea & Land did quake her voice to heare . 36 When Fame yet smiling mildly thus replyes , Alasse ( quoth shee ) what labour thou hast lost , What wondrous mists thou casts before our eyes , Yet will the gaine not counteruaile the cost . What couldst thou say if thou hadst cause to boast : Which thus canst paint such wonders of thy worth , Yet art far lesse , then nothing can set forth . 37 A hap , a chaunce , a casuall euent , The vulgars I doll , and a childish terror , A what men will , a silly accedent , The maske of blindnesse , and disguise of error , Natures vile nickname , follies foolish mirror ; A tearme , a by-word , by tradition learn'd , A hearesay , nothing , not to be discern'd . 38 A wanton feare , a silly Infants dreame , A vaine illusion , a meere fantasie , A seeming shade , a lunatick mans theame : A fond Aenigma , a flat heresie , Imaginations doting trumperie ; A folly in it selfe , it one selfe lothing , A thing that would be , and yet can be nothing . 39 Disease of time , Ambitions Concubine , A minde-entrauncing snare , a slippery Ice , The baite of death , destructions heady wine , Vaine-glories Patron , the fooles paradice , Fond hope , wherewith confusion doth entice ; A vile seducing fiend , which haunts men still , To loose them in the errors of their will . 40 A reason , which no reason can discusse , And hast the ground of all thy strength from hence , Walking in shadow of mans Genius , In humane birth pretending residence ; A riddle , made of the starrs influence , Which good and euill doost thy title frame , Yet neither good nor euill , but in name . 41 Those ignorant which made a God of Nature , And Natures God diuinely neuer knew , Were those which first erected Fortunes stature , From whence this vile idolatry first grew , Which times defect into mens eares still blew : Grounding their vsurpations foolish lawes , On the opinion of so poore a cause . 42 Sloth first did hatch thee in her sleepie Cell , And with base thoughts , in idlenes wast bred , With cowardize thou euer-more doost dwell , And with dishonourable ease art fed , In superstitious humors brought to bed : A gossips tale thy greatest proofe doth lend , On old-sayd sawes thy tytle doth depend . 43 Thy habit loosenes , and thy measure wast , Deceitfull , vaine , inhumane , sickle , light , Thou poysonest him to whom thou giu'st to tast , Gainst vertue still thou bendest all thy might , With honourable thoughts thou wagest fighte , The yeelding man , in fetters thou doost binde , But weake and slauish to the constant minde . 44 Who leanes to thee , whom thou hast not deceiu'd ? Who slattrest thou , whom thou abusest not ? Who hopes of thee , and not of hope bereau'd ? whose secrets known , with shame do'st thou not blot ? Who not deuour'd , thou in thy pawes hast got ? Who 's he , or where yet euer was he found , That thou might'st hurt , & didst not deadly wound ? 45 The slauish peasant is thy fauorite , In chaunge and chaunces all thy glory is , In vile and basest things thou tak'st delite , In earthly mud consisteth all thy blisse , What canst thou be which art bewitch'd with this ? For weart thou heauenly , thou in loue wouldst be , With that which neerest doth resemble thee . 46 I am the powerfull messenger of heauen , My wings the lightning spreading farre & wide , To euery coast I with a thought am driuen , And on the gorgeous sun-beames doe I ride , To heauen I mount , downe to the earth I slide : I regester the worlds eternall howers , The Secretarie of the immortall powers . 47 Refuge of hope , the harbinger of truth , Handmaide of heauen , vertues skilfull guide , The life of life , the ages of springing youth , Triumph of ioy , eternities faire bride , The Virgins glory , and the Martirs pride : The courages immortall raysing fier , The very height to which great thoughts aspire . 48 The staire by which men to the Starres doe clime , The minds first moouer , greatnes to expresse , Fayths armour , and the vanquisher of time , A pleasant sweete against deaths bitternes , The high reward which doth all labours blesse ; The studie which doth heauenly things impart , The ioy amidst the tedious wayes of Art . 49 Learnings greene Lawrell , Iustice glorious throne , The Muses chariot , Memories true foode , The Poets life , the Gods companion , The fire-reuiuing Phaenix Sun-nurst broode , The spirits eternall Image , honors good ; The Balsamum which cures the Souldiers scarre , The world-discouering Sea-mans happy Starre . 50 My dwelling place betwixt the earth and skies , My Turret vnto heauen her top vpreares , The windowes made of Lynceus piercing eyes , And all the walls be made of daintiest eares , Where euery thing that s done in earth appeares ; No word is whispered in this vaulty round , But in my Pallace straightwayes it doth sound . 51 The pauement is of ratling brasen drums , The Rafters trumpets which do rend the aire , Sounding aloud each name that thither comes , The chinks like tongues of all things talking there , And all things past , in memorie doe beare : The dores vnlock with euery word man faith , And open wide with euery little breath . 52 It 's hong about with Arms & conquering spoiles , The pillers which support the roofe of this , Are tropheis , grauen with Herculean toiles , The roofe of garlands , crownes , and ensignes is , In midst of which a christall Pyramis : All ouer caru'd with men of most renowne , Whose base is my faire chaire , the spire my crowne . 53 Here in the bodies likenes whilst it liues , Appeare the thoughts , proceeding from the mind , To which the place a forme more glorious giues , And there they be immortally deuin'd , By vertue there more heauenly refin'd ; And when the earthly body once doth perrish , There doth this place the minds true Image cherish . 54 My beauty neuer fades , but as new borne , As yeares encrease , so euer waxing young , My strength is not diminished nor worne , What weakneth all things , euer makes me strong : Nor from my hand , my Scepter can be wroong : Times sacriligious rapine I defie , A tributarie to eternitie . 55 The face of heauen my chronicles containe , Where I erect the Tropheis of my fame , Which there in glorious characters remaine , The gorgeous feeling of th' immortall frame , The constellations letters of my name , Where my memorialls euermore abide , In those pure bodies highly glorified . 56 FAme ending thus , Fortune againe began Further to vrge what she before had said , And loe ( quoth she ) Duke Robert is the man Who by my might and pollicie 's betraid , Then let vs see how thou canst lend him aide : I tooke from him his libertie and crowne , Raise thou him vp , whom I haue thus thrown downe . 57 Quoth Fame a fitter instance is there none Then Robert is , then Fortune doe thy worst : Here may thy weaknes , and my power be showne , Here shall I blesse , whom thou before hast curst , Begin thou then , since thus thy turne comes first , And thou shalt see how great a power I haue Ouer the world , proud Fortune , and the graue . 58 ( Quoth Fortune ) then , my hand did point the Star , The seale wherwith heauen sign'd his vtmost date , Which markt his birth with brands of bloody war , Rash mutinys , rude garboiles , harsh debate , His forrain plagues , home wrongs , & priuate hate : And on the height of his great Fathers glory , First laid the ground work of his Sonnes sad story . 59 Nature , which did her best at Roberts birth , I most vndid in his natiuitie , This friend I made his greatest foe on earth , Her gifts I made his greatest enemie , Framing such mildnes in Nobilitie : Differing so far from haughtie Williams straine , That thus hee iudg'd his Sonne vnfit to raigne . 60 And yet that courage which he did inherit , And from the greatnes of his blood had taken , Stird vp with griefe , awakes this greater spirit , Which more and more did Williams hate awaken , Hee thus forsaken , as hee had forsaken : Yet to his will so partiallie inclind , As now his rage , his reason quite doth blind . 61 Now doe I leane to him whom all haue left , Laughiug on him , on whom dispaire doth lowre , Lending him hope , of former hope berest , Giuing his youth large wings wherwith to towre , Ayding his power , to crosse great Williams power : That so his might , in countermaunding might By his owne wrong , might hinder his owne right . 62 That whilst his Fathers sierie tempered sword Through Albions cleeues , that fatall entrance made , With Germaine power , returnes this youthfull Lord , With others Armes , his owne bounds to inuade , And Normandy lyes coucht vnder his blade , Thinking to make a present meane of this , To make his owne yet doubtfull to be his . 63 Towards Williams end , now Williams hate begun , Whom he begot , doth now beget his woe , He scarse a Father , Robert scarse a Sonne , His Sonne the Father fo his ouerthrowe , Youth old in will , age young in hate doth growe : He nursing that which doth all mischiefe nurse , He by his blessing , causing his owne curse . 64 And yet least age might coole Duke Williams blood , With warrs in Fraunce I still the heate suppli'd , That whilst young Robert yet disgrace stood Iustly condemn'd of insolence and pride , In this confirm'd , the famous Conqueror di'd : Setting proud Rufus on his regall throne , Whilst Norman Robert striues but for his owne . 65 Much trust in him , a carelesnes first bred , His courage makes him ouer-confident , Blinding reuenge , besides his course him led , When lost his wits , in errors darknes went , Rashnes sees all , but nothing can preuent : What his mind loth'd , disgrace did vrge him to , Making his will the cause of his owne woe . 69 This buried trunck of William is the roote From which these two world-shadowing branches spred , This factious body standing on this foote , These two crosse currents springing from one head , And both with one selfe nutriment are fed , Vpon themselues their owne force so should spend . Till in themselues , they both themselues shold end . 67 Thus the old conquest hath new conquests made , And Norman Ensignes shaddow English fields , The brother now , the brother must muade , The conquerors shield , against the conquerors shield , Right wounding right , nor wrong to wrong will yield : One arme beare off the others furious stroke , Scepter with Scepter , sword with sword be broke . 68 The hatefull soiles where death was sown in blood , Encreasing vengeance one against the other , And now the seede of wrath began to bud , Which in their bosoms they so long did smother , These but as bastards , England their step mother ; Weakning her selfe , by mallice giues them strength With murdring hands to spoile themselues at length . 69 This Williams death , giues Roberts troubls life , Whose life in death made lucklesse Robert liue , This end of strife , beginneth greater strife , Giuing to take , what it did take to giue , Liuing depriu'd , which dead doth him depriue ; Euill brought good , that good conuerts to ill , Thus life and death breed Roberts mischiefe still . 70 When first King William entred on this Ile , Harrold had friends , but then the Norman none , But Rufus liued here as an exile , And Robert hop'd to raigne of many a one , Onely my hand held vp his slyding throne : William but weake , beats Harold down by wrong , William supplanting Robert , Robert strong . 71 Odo the prop which Rufus power vpheld , Reuolting then , inrag'd with Lansrancks spight , And on this hope grounding his faith , rebell'd , might : In bloody letters writing Roberts right , Great Mortayns power , and strong Mountgomeres Mangling this Ile with new deformed scars ; Ere peace had cur'd the wounds of former wars . 72 The Normans glory in the conquest won , The English bruzed with their battred Armes , The Normans followed what they had begun , The English fearefull of their former harmes , What cooles the English , Norman corage warms : The Normans entred to new victorie , The English for their fight already flie , 73 Whilst Rufus hopes thus freshly bleeding lay , And now with ruine all things went to wrack , Destruction hauing found the perfect way , Were not proud Robert by some meanes kept back By fond delayes , I forc'd him time to slack : And stopt the mischiefe newly thus begun , To vndoe all what he before had done . 74 Thus first by counsell spurr'd I on the rage , Forcing the streame of their distempred blood , Then by my counsaile , did againe aswage , When this great Duke secure of conquest stood , Pyning his force , giuing aduantage foode ; That first by taking Arms , he strength might loose , And making peace , giue strength vnto his foes . 75 A peace concluded to destroy their peace , A suddaine truce to breed a lingring war , That Arms might cease , while mischiefe might increase , To bring death neere , by sending safety far , In making that , which made , all quite might mar : Treason crept in by this adulterate kay , Into the closset where his counsailes lay . 76 Thus made a friend , to rob him of his friend , The meanes a foe , might weaken so his foe , To frame this strange beginning to his end , The well-cast plot or vtter ouerthrowe , In this faire vizard , masking in this showe : That since hate thus in wearing would not proue , He brings him now in habite of his loue . 77 Thus reconcil'd by me , one to the other , Ioyn'd in this poore deuided vnion , These brothers now make war vpon their brother , As loth from them he should goe free alone , To shape his mischiefe truly by their owne ; To drawe on griefe , and vrge it to be more , Because it came not fast enough before . 78 This by fore-sight still wisely prouident To spur them on beyond degrees of ill , To make their furie far more violent , And ground their ruine on their peeuish will , That mischiefe should be getting mischiefe still : That iniurie so far should pitty chase , As reconcilement neuer should take place . 79 And here to shew my power on thee poore Fame , I made thee now my greatest instrument , That in the furie of this raging flame , Euen in the height of Henryes discontent , To Roberts eares the brute of war I sent : Of Palaestine that leauing all with them , He might away to great Ierusalem . 80 With that sweet fume of honors shortest breath , Feeding the humor which possest his hart , When now drew on the time of Williams death , That in this fatall hower he should depart , Herein to shew my very depth of Art : That Henry now in England left alone , Might seate himselfe in Roberts rightfull throne . 81 The warlick Musique of these clattring Armes , Doth stop his eares like a tempestious wind That now he finds no presage of his harmes , Beyond all course so lifted is his mind , Declaring well the greatnes of his kind ; Mounted so high within the spacious ayre , As out of sight of ground , he dreads no snare . 82 His Father dy'd when first his cares tooke breath , His Brother dyes , now when his woes should die , His sorrowes thus are strangely borne in death , All-ending death , brings forth his miserie , Such is my power in humaine destenie : That where an vtter ruine I pretend , Destruction doth begin , where hate should end . 83 Thus laid the complot in the course of all , I make his safetie vnto him more deare , Seated , from whence he neuer thought to fall , Assur'd of good , if any good there were , That now each thought a Scepter seems to beare : Which such a hold in his great spirit doth winne , As after , made his error prooue his sinne . 84 With grace young Henry to his throne I bring Making great friends of mighty enemies , She wing my power in this new raigning King , As by my hand inuisibly to rise , Decking his crowne with worldly dignities : Forging his tongue with such a sacred fire , As could perswade , what ere he would desire . 85 In Palaestine with Robert , Fame doth rest , In England with young Beauclark , Fortune bides , These mightie Ladies , of these Lords possest , Thus each of these , with each of these deuides , Thus weare we factious then on either sides : Fame for braue Short-thigh , purchasing renowne , Fortune for Beauclark , for the English crowne . 86 Thou wooest , I win , thou suest , and I obtaine , What I possesse , that onely thou dost craue , Thou layest out to gaine , but what I gaine Thou dost desire , I in possession haue , Thou hordst , I spend , I lauish , thou dost saue : Thou scarsely art , yet that thou art to mee , Thou wouldst , I can , thou seruile , I am free . 87 Robert growne weake , Henry recouered strength , What quencht the Normans glory , fir'd his will , Robert is fallen , Henry got vp at length , Robert no guide , Henry is steerd with skill , Grounding his good on lucklesse Roberts ill : Their mutuall courage , and vnmooued hate , Tels Henryes rise , decline of Roberts state . 88 From perrils safe , no place at home he sees , Abroad he wins , at home he still doth lose , At home , wasted with ciuill enemies , Whilst he abroad is conquering forraine foes , Wasting at home , more then abroad he growes : At home his daunger vnto many knowne , Yet he abroad is carelesse of his owne . 89 Now bring I Robert from these glorious wars , Triumphing in the conquered Pagans flight , From forraine broiles to toile in home-nurst iars , From getting others Lands , for 's owne to fight , Forced by wrong , by sword to claime his right : And with that sword in Panyms blood imbrude , To saue himselfe , by his own friends pursude . 90 Thus he 's inrich'd with that he cannot see , With few vaine titles swelling in his name , And all his substance but meere shadowes be , Whilst he strange castles in the aire doth frame , Lo such a mighty Monarchesse is Fame : That , what she giues , so easie is to beare , As of those gifts , none robbing need to feare . 91 This whets his spleene , but doth his strength abate , Much care for coyne , makes care for kingdoms lesse His feeblenes must hold vp Henries state , These beare vp him , which Roberts hopes suppresse , Whose brothers comfort is in his distresse ; This is the meane he vndertooke to try , With Roberts blood his safety first to buy . 92 With kind intreaty he doth first begin , Not fullie yet establisht as he would , By this aduantage to get further in , Till he had got a sure and faster hold , Baiting vnseene , deceit with sums of gold : By yearely tribute from his crowne to rise , To stop the mouth of passed iniuries . 93 This peace to which the mutenie must yield , And English tribute paid to Normandy , What Robert thinks his safegard's Henries shield , And Roberts selfe , doth Robert iniurie , This tribute wrongs his true Nobilitie ; And from this source from whence their peace shold spring , Proceeds the cause of Roberts ruining . 94 These summs , the sinewes of Duke Roberts war , Like howerly tides , his flowing current sed , And to his fier the liuely fuell are , His will the streame , and this the Fountaine head , Hauing his humor fitlie cherished : Deceiptfull Henry , reobtaines at length , Vnto his Arme adding Duke Roberts strength . 95 This want his haughtie courage soone doth find , Cutting the quils of his high flying wings , That now he must commit him to the wind , Driuen which way the furious tempest flings ; Powerlesse of that , which giueth power to Kings ; Which desperate griefe , his mind enrageth so , As makes him past all reason in his woe . 96 Honor gaue entertainment to beliefe , Vnder which collour treason in was brought , Which slew his strength before he felt the griese , Pure innocence seldom suspecteth ought , No base affection maister of his thought , Nor maiestie inward deceit had learn'd , More then to shew , her outward eyes discern'd . 97 Miserie seem'd nothing , yet to him vnknowne , Not knowing euill , euill could not flie , Not sauouring sorrow , hauing tasted none , To find lurking deceit he look'd too hie , To honest minds , Fraud doth the soonest pry ! Whose nature thus I chose to be the mould , Therein to worke what forme of hap I would . 98 His owne compassion , cause of his owne care , Vpon his thought , his constant promise stood , Vertue in him , most naturally rare , No vile base humor tainted his pure blood , His bounty still gaue good desert her food ; His mind so great , and honorably free , Made him too prone to loose credulitie . 99 His counsels thus are combred by his care , In nothing certaine but vncertaintie , His friends resolu'd on nothing but dispaire , Yet shewes he greatnes in most misery , Each place become a stage for Tragedy ; By error , wandring far beyond his scope , Strong in desire , but weakest in his hope . 100 In publique shame , oft counsell seemes disgrac'd No priuiledge can from the Fates protect : In desperation , counsell hath no taste , Vntamed rage doth all aduise reiect , Hiding the course which reason should direct ; Making himselfe the author of his harms , Without experience , valor wants his arms . 101 Now I , whose power in Williams wars was seene , When first on Williams conquest he begun , To shew my selfe the worlds imperious Queene , Now turne my selfe against his warlike son , To lose by me , by me his Father won : On Englands part , gainst Normandy to stand , Which Normandy had conquered by my hand . 102 The conquest William made vpon this Ile , With Norman blood be-peopling Brittany , Euen now as Brittons made within a while Turne with reuenge to conquer Normandy , Thus victory goes back to victory : That his own blood , wins what before he won , His conquering son , subdu'd his conquering son . 103 Thus Norman townes begirt with English arms , The furious brother dealing wrathfull blowes : Both pressing in where deadly perrill swarms , These English-Norman , Norman-English foes , At last doe get , what they at first did lose : As Normandy did Englands fall prouoke , Now Norman necks must beare the English yoke . 104 The flood of mischiefe thus comes in againe , What Fortune works , not alwaies seems pretéded , The wind thus turn'd , blows back the fire amaine , Where first mischance began , she will be ended , And he defend him , from those he offended : For this we find , the course of fatall things , Is best discern'd in states of Realms & Kings . 105 On whom of late in Palaestine I smild , In ciuill warrs now dreadfully I frowne ; He call'd from exile , I from him exil'd , To leaue his crowne , who had refus'd a crowne , Who beat all down , now heare is beaten down , Here to lose all , who there had gotten all , To make his fall , more grieuous in his fall . 106 To England now a prisoner they him bring , Now is he hers , which claim'd her for his owne , A Captiue , where he should haue been a King , His dungeon made wher shold haue been his throne Now buried there , wheras he shold haue growne . In one poore tower mew'd vp , within one place , Whose Empires bounds the Ocean shold embrace . 107 Could mortall sence containe immortall hate , Or reason sound the depth of things diuine , Iudgement might stand amaz'd at Roberts state , And thinke no might to be compar'd with mine , That all power may vnto my power resigne : And that in Roberts fall , the world may see Amongst the starrs what power remaines in mee . 108 That sword which on his fortune hath such power Yet powerles is to end his wretched dayes : Those daies which in their course all things deuoure , To his swift griefe , makes slow and lazie staies , To Tyrannies long raigne he thus obaies , That he in life a thousand deaths might die , Onely in mercy rackt with crueltie . 109 He hath no ioy but in his miseries , His greatest comfort is the blessed light , For which , ( as I were angry with his eyes ) I make the King depriue him of his sight , To sute his daies so iustly with the night , That sencles stones to mone he should not see , Yet sencles stones behold his misery . 120 And this he felt , that Fortune made him blinde , Least his eyes obiects yet might lighten care : That the light wanting , more might light his minde , Whose eyes might see how great his sorrows are ; That euery sence , that sences woe might share : And so that sence depriu'd of ioy alone , Might more increase the griefe of euery one . 111 These griefes and horrors , enemies of rest , Which murther life where they do harbor long , Kill humors , which his body oft opprest , Vnnaturally , thus making nature strong , As out of deaths dead stock new life still sprong , As life with death had tempted him till now , Yet death to life no ease would er'e allow . 112 Death he fear'd not , is taught his end to feare , Life , once he lou'd , with him now fall'n in loue , That foe , a friend , to hurt him doth forbeare , That friend a foe , he cannot now remoue , Twixt them , he all extremities doth proue : Aged in youth , to pine his ioy thereby , Youthfull in age , to suffer misery . 113 Courage forbids that he himselfe should kill , His life too proud to be constrain'd to die , His will permits not death now when he will , What would dispaire , true valor doth deny ; Thus life's life foe , death is deaths enemy : Willing to die , by life him double killing , Vrging to die , twice dying , he vnwilling . 114 So many yeeres as he hath worne a crowne , So many yeeres as he hath hop'd to rise , So many yeeres he liues thus quite thrown downe , So many yeeres he liues without his eyes : So many yeeres in dying ere hee dyes ; So many yeeres lockt vp in prison strong , Though sorrow make the shortest time seeme long . 115 Thus sway I in the course of earthly things , That Time might worke him euerlasting spite , To shew , that power yet euer makes not kings , Nor that conceit can compasse my deceit , In fined things such meruails infinite : Nor any wonder is to be supposed , In that wherein all wonders are inclosed . 116 AT Fortuns speech they stand as all amaz'd , Whilst Fame herselfe doth wonder at his woe , And all vpon this deadly Image gaz'd , Whose misery shee had discribed so ; But in reuenge of this dispightfull foe , Fame from a slumber ( as it seem'd ) awake , On his behalfe , thus for herselfe be-spake . 117 What time I came from world-renowned Rome , To waken Europe from her drouzie traunce , Summoning the Princes of great Christendome , To Palaestine their Ensignes to aduaunce , Sounding my trump in England , Spaine , & Fraunce To moue the Christians to religious war , From Pagans hands to free CHRISTS sepulchar . 118 That holy Hermit Peter , then as one Which as a Saint bewaild so great a losse : With Bulloigne Godfrey , Christs strong champion , Vnder the Banner of the bloody CROSSE , Now on the Alps the conquering collours tosse , Leading along the brauest Christian band , To reare their Tropheys in the HOLY LAND . 119 Hether the flocks of gallant spirits do throng , The place whence immortalitie doth spring , To whom the hope of conquest doth belong , Nor any thought , lesse , then to be a King ; Hether doth Fame her deerest children bring : And in this Camp shee makes her treasury , The rarest Iems of Europs Chiualry . 120 This conquering lord , the Conquerors eldest sonne , Whose hand did then the Norman scepter weld , In Armes to win what once his Father won , To Englands conquest is againe compeld , Whose crown from him proud William Rufus held , An exile thence , by 's angry Father driuen , By Fortune robd , of all by Nature giuen . 121 With fame of this , once Roberts eares possest , With heauenly wonder doth his thoughts inspire , Leauing no place for wrong in his faire brest , Giuing large wings vnto his great desire , Warming his courage with more glorious fire , As thus to fight for his deere Sauiours sake , Of Englands crowne he no account doth make . 122 Of kingdoms tytles he casts off the toyle Which by proude Rufus tyranny is kept : Deere as his life to him that hallowed soile , Wherein that God in liuely manhood slept , At whose deere death , the rocks for pitty wept ; A crown of gold this Christian knight doth scorne , so much he lou'd those temples crown'd with thorne 123 Those grieuous wants whose burthen weyed him downe , The sums which he in Germany had spent , In gathering power to gaine the English crowne , Garded with princly troopes in his rich Tent , Like William Conquerors sonne magnificent , Now by his need , he greeuously doth find , Weakning his might , what neuer could his mind . 124 This braue high spirited Duke , this famous Lord , Whose right of England Rufus held away , To set an edge vpon his conquering sword , In gage to Henry , Normandy did lay , Thus to maintaine his valiant souldiers pay : Rather of Realms himselfe to dispossesse , Then Christendome should be in such distresse . 125 Eternall sparks of honors purest fire , Vertue of vertues , Angels angeld mind , Where admiration may it selfe admire , Where mans diuinest thoughts are more diuin'd , Saint sainted spirit , in heauens own shrine enshrind Endeared dearest thing , for euer liuing , Receiuing most of Fame , to Fame more giuing . 126 Such feruent zeale doth from his soule proceed , As those curl'd tresses which his browes adorne , Vntill that time Ierusalem were freed , Hee makes a vow they neuer should be shorne , But for a witnes of that vow be worne ; True vow , strong faith , great lord , most happy howr , Perform'd , increasd , blest by effecting power . 127 True vow , so true , as truth to it is vowed , Vowing all power to help so pure a vow , Allowing perfect zeale to be allowed , If zeale of perfect truth might ere allow , Then much admir'd , but to be wondred now ; Faith in it selfe , then wonder more concealing , Faith to the world , then wonder more reuealing . 128 Disheueld locks , what names might giue you grace ? Worne thus disheueld for his deere Lords sake , Sweet-flowring twists , valors engirdling lace , Browe-decking fringe , faire golden curled flake , Honors rich garland , beauties meshing brake , Arbors of ioy , which nature once did giue , Where vertue should in endles Sommer liue . 129 Faire Memory , awaken Death from sleepe , Call vp Times spirit , of passed things to tell , Vnseale the secrets of th' vnsearched deepe , Let out the prisoners from Obliuisions Cell , Inuoke the black inhabitants of hell : Into the earths deepe dungeon let the light , And with faire day cleere vp his clowdy night . 130 Eternitie , bee prodigall a while , With thine immortall arms imbrace thy loue , Diuinest Powers , vpon your image smile , And from your star-encircled thrones aboue , Earths misty vapors from his sight remoue , And in the Annals of the glorious fun , Enrole his worth , in Times large course to run . 131 Truth in his life , bright Poesie vphold , His life in truth adorning Poesie : Which casting life in a more purer mold , Preserues that life to immortalitie , Both truly working , eyther glorifie ; Truth by her power , Arts power to iustifie , Truth in Arts roabs , adorn'd by Poesie . 132 To his victorious Ensigne comes from far , The Redshanck'd Orcads , toucht with no remorse , The light-foote Irish , which with darts make war , Th' ranck-ryding Scot , on his swist running horse , The English Archer , of a Lyons force : The valiant Norman all his troupes among , In bloody conquests tryed , in Arms train'd long . 133 Remote by nature in thys colder Clyme , Another nature he new birth doth bring , And by the locks he haleth aged Tyme , As newly he created euery thing ; Shewing the place where heauens eternall King Our deere blood-bought redemption first began , Man couering God , earth heauen , & God in man . 134 Poore Ilanders , which in the Oceans chaine , Too long imprisoned from the cheerfull day , Your warlike Guide now brings you to the maine , Which to your glory makes the open way : And his victorious hand becomes the kay To let you in to famous victories ; The honor of your braue posterities , 135 Be fauourable faire heauen vnto thine owne , And with that Bethelem birth-foretelling star Still goe before this Christian Champion ; In fiery pillers lead him out from far , Let Angels martch with him vnto this war , With burning-bladed Cherubins still keepe , Encompasse him with clowds when he doth sleep . 136 When heauen puts on her glittering vaile of stars , And with sweet sleep the souldiers sences charms , Then are his thoughts working these holy wars , Plotting assaults , watchful at all alarms , Rounding the Campe in rich apparreld Arms ; His sleep their watch , his care their safeties kay , Their day his night , his night he makes their day . 137 Valors true valor , honours liuing crowne , Inspired thoughts , desert aboue desert , Greatnes beyond imaginations bound , Nature more sweet then is exprest by Art , A hart declaring a true princly hart : Courage vniting courage vnto glory , A subiect fit for an immortall story . 138 Why shold not heauen by night when forth he went Conuert the stars to Sunnes to giue him light ? And at his prayers by day in his close Tent , The Tapers vnto starrs , to help his sight ? That in his presence darknes might be bright ; That euery thing more purer in his kind , Might tell the purenes of his purer mind . 139 Yet Letters but like little Ilands bee , And many words within this world of fame , Whose Regions rise and fall in their degree , Large volumes short descriptions of his name , Like little Maps painting his Globes great fame : Wit lost in wonder , seeking to expresse His vertues sum , his praises vniuerse . 140 In greeuous toyles consisteth all his rest , In hauing most , of most enioyeth none , Most wanting that whereof he is possest , A King ordain'd , ne're to enioy his throne , That least his own , which richly is his own ; In this deuision from himselfe deuided , Himselfe a guide for others safety , guided . 141 His one poore lyfe , deuided is to many , Dead to his comfort , doth to others liue , Vnto himselfe he is the least of any , All from him taken , vnto all doth giue , Depriu'd of ioy , of care his to depriue : Who al controuleth , now that all controules , Body of bodyes , his soule of their soules . 142 Religious war , more holy pilgrimage , Both Saint & souldier , Captaine , Confessor , A deuout youth , a resolute old age , A warlike States-man , peacefull Conqueror , Graue Consull , true autentique Senator ; Feare-chasing resolution , valiant feare , Hart bearing nought , yet patient all to beare . 143 Skill , valour guides , and valour armeth skill , Courage emboldneth wit , wit courage arms , This is the thred which leadeth on his will , This is the steere which guides him in these storms , To see his good , and to foresee his harms : Not flying life , in fortune so content , Not fearing death , as truly valient . 144 He feasts desire with sweetest temperance , Greatnes he decks in modesties attire , Honor he doth by humblenes aduance , By sufferance he raiseth courage hier , His holy thoughts by patience still aspire : To fashion vertue strangely he doth seeke , Making poore hope impatient , sorrow meeke . 145 Then in his ioy , he nothing lesse inioyes , Still of him selfe the worser part he is , What most shold please him , him the most annoyes , Of his , there 's nothing can be called his , And what he hath , that doth he euer misse ; His thought of conquest , so doth rest inuade , Thus is he made , as vnto others made . 146 All things to him be prosperous as he would , Not trusting Fortune , nor distrusting Fate , Resolu'd to hope , hap what soever could , Ioying in woe , in ioy disconsolate , Ioy lightneth woe , woe ioy doth moderate ; Carelesse of both , indifferent twixt either , Wooed of both , yet yeelding vnto neither . 147 Endlesse his toyle , a figure of his fame , And his life ending giues his name no end , Lasting that forme where vertue builds the frame , Those sums vnnumbred glory giues to spend , Our bodies buried , then our deeds ascend : Those deeds in life , to worth cannot be rated , In death with life , our fame euen then is dated . 148 Willing to doe , he thinketh what to doe , That what he did , exactly might be done , That due foresight before the act might goe , Which wisely warning might all errors shun , That care might finish what he had begun : Iustly directed in the course of things , By that straight rule which sound experience brings . 149 From famous Godfrey and the Christian hoast , Vnto the migty Grecian Emperor , Now is he sent , through many perrils tost , This Norman Duke , the braue Ambassador , His royall spirit so much ne're seene before ; As with his princely traine when he doth come , Before the towne of faire Bizantium . 150 From forth the holy Region is he sent , Bending his coure through Macedon and Thrace , Yet neuer would he sleepe but in his Tent , Till he return'd vnto that hallowed place , Till he beheld that famous Godfreis face ; Nor neuer rest his body in a bed , Till Palaestine were free deliuered . 151 Triumphall prowesse , true disposed care , Cleare-shining courage , honourable intent , Vertuous-apparreld manhood , thoughts more rare , Mind free as heauen , imperiall gouernment , Numbers of vertues in one sweet consent : Gyfts which the soule so highly beautifie , Humble valour , valiant humilitie , 152 Sweet ayre with Angels breath be thou refin'd , And for his sake be made more pure then ayre , And thether let some gentle breathing wind , From Paradice bring sweets which be most rare , Let Sommer sit in his imperiall chayre ; And clothe sad Winter in the cheerefull prime , Keeping continuall Sommer in the clime . 153 Delight be present in thy best attire , And court his eyes with thy delightfull change , Oh warme his spirit with thy soule-feasting fire , To base delight-abusers , be thou strange , Such as in vainest pleasures boundlesse range : For pleasure he all pleasures quite forsooke , And arm'd with zeale these toiles first vndertooke . 154 O let Danubius in her watry roome , Where she the name of Ister first did take , With threescore riuers swelling in her wombe , With seauen large throats her greedy thirst to slake , Doth swallow in the great worlds vastie lake : Vnto all regions which doe know her name , In Roberts glory tell our countries fame . 155 And broad-brim'd Strymon as she vaulteth on , Slyding along the fertill Thracian shore , Kissing the stronds of famous Macedon , Which once the name of old Aemathia wore , Whose fame decay'd , her drops do now deplore : May raise another Orpheus with her mones , To sing his praise vnto her trees and stones . 156 Time on his life , thy gathered store disburse , Which may enrich thee with eternall gaine , Which art a beldame , now become a nurse , And in his end begin his glorious raigne , That yet truth may of truth be forc'd to faine : That of his praise thy selfe a part maist be , Which praise remaines the better part of thee . 157 O thou immortall Tasso , Aestes glory , Which in thy golden booke his name hast left , Enrold in thy great Godfreis liuing story , Whose lines shall scape vntoucht of ruins thest , Yet vs of him thou hast not quite bereft : Though thy large Poems onely boast his name , Ours was his birth , and we will haue his fame . 158 The curious state of greatnes he doth scorne , Carelesse of pomp to be magnificent , Deeming the noblest minded , noblest borne , Him worthiest honor , which the furthest went , His blood most pure , whose blood in wars most spent : Esteeming all fond titles , toyes of naught , Most honoring those which were with peril bought 159 His richest roabes are his approoued Armes , His sports were deeds of peerelesse chiualrie , He flies all pleasures as the Syrens charmes , To his great mind , no pleasing harmonie , Not touch't with childish imbecillitie : As sacriledge to his religious mind , To mix base thoughts with those of heauenly kind . 160 A mind which of it selfe could rightly deeme , Keeping a straight way in one certaine course , As a true witnes of his owne esteeme , Feeding it selfe from his owne springing source , And by himselfe increasing his owne force ; Desirous still him daylie to enure , To endure that , men thought none could endure . 161 Deuinest touch , instinct of highest heauen , Most gracefull grace , purest of puritie , To mortall man , immortall vertue giuen , Manhood adorn'd with powerfull dietie , Discreetfull pitty , hallowed pietie : In secret working , by itselfe confest , In silent admiration best exprest . 162 Not spur'd with honor , dearely louing peace , Constant in any course to which he fell , A spirit which no asffliction could oppresse , Neuer remou'd where once his thought did dwell , Opynionate , that what he did was well ; Which working now vpon so good a cause , Approueth his conceit the surest lawes . 163 No braggarts boast nor ostentacious word Out of his mouth is euer heard proceed , But on his foe-mans curats with his sword , In characters , records his valiant deed , That there vnpartiall eyes might plainly reed ; In modest silence by true vertue hid , That though he dumb , his deeds told what he did . 164 He cheres his Souldiers with sweet honied words , His princely hand embalmes the maimeds wound , Vnto the needie gold he still affords , To braue attempts encouraging the sound , Neuer dismaid in perrill is he found ; His Tent a seate of iustice to the greeu'd , A kingly court when need should be releeu'd , 165 His life each hower to danger he doth giue , Yet still by valour he with perrill striues , In all attempts as he did scorne to liue , Yet lyuing , as his life were many liues , Oft times from death it seemes that he reuiues : Each hower in great attempts he seemes to die , Yet still he liues in spight of ieopardie . 166 Euen by that town o're which his Lord did weepe , Whose precious tears were shed for her own sinne , Euen by that towne this zealous Lord did weepe , To see her now defil'd with others sinne , He wept , he weepes for sinne , and he for sinne , He first shed teares , he lastly sheddeth teares , Those sacred drops , the others drops endeares . 167 What prince was found within the Christian hoast That carried marke of honor in his shield , That with braue Roberts Lyons once durst boast , Raging with furie in the bloody field , Whose mighty pawes a piller seem'd to weild : Which from their nostrhils breath'd a seeming flame , When he in pride amongst the Pagans came . 168 His life with blood how dearely did he prize , And neuer did he brandish his bright sword , But many Pagan soules did sacrifize , And all the ground with liuelesse truncks he stor'd , Such was his loue vnto his dearest Lord ; That were true loue more purer then is loue , Here in this loue his purenes he might proue , 169 Who from his furie latelie fled away , When in the field far off they him espied , Pursu'd in his faire presence make a stay , As of his hand they willing would haue died , His beautie , so his feircenes mollified ; As taking death by valiant Roberts name , Should to their liues giue euerlasting fame . 170 The cruell Panyms thirsting after blood , With his sweet beauty doe their hates a slake , Yet when by him in danger they haue stood , And that his valour did their rage awake , And with their swords reuenge wold deeply take The edges turne as seeming to relent , To pitty him , to whom the blowes were sent . 171 At feirce assaults where thousand deaths might fall , His cheerfull smiles made death he could not kill , Imperiously his sword commaunds the wall , As stones should be obedient to his will , The yeelding blood , his blood did neuer spill : His fury quencht with teares as with a flood , And yet like fire consuming all that stood . 172 When in the morne his Courser he bestrid , The trumpets sound vnto his thoughts gaue fire , But from the field he euer dropping rid As he were vanquisht onely in retire , The neerer rest , farther from his desire : In bootie still , his Souldiers share the crowns , They rich in gold , he onely rich in wounds . 173 At this returne now in this sad retreate , From heathens slaughter , from the Christians fled , This is not he which in that raging heate , On mighty heapes laid Pagan bodies dead , Whose plumed helme empaled in his head ; Mild as some Nimphlike ●●●gin now he seem'd , Which some in fight a fearefull spirit deem'd . 174 No tryumphs doe his victories adorne , But in his death who on the Crosse had died , No lawrell nor victorious wreath is worne , But that red Crosse to tell him crucified , This death , his life , this pouertie , his pride : His feast is fast , his pleasure pennaunce is , His wishes prayers , his hope is all his blisse . 175 Great Caluary whose hollow vaulted womb , In his deere Sauiours death afunder riuen , That rock-rent Caue , that man-god burying tomb Which was vnto his blessed body giuen , Whose yeelding Ghost did shake the power of heauen : Here as a Hermit could he euer liue , Such wondrous thoughts vnto his soule they giue . 176 Thus a poore Pilgrim he returnes againe , His sumptuous roabes be turn'd to Palmers gray , Leauing his Lords to lead his warlick traine , Whilst he alone comes sadly on the way , Dealing abroad his deare bloods purchas'd pray : A hermits staffe his caresull hand doth hold , Whose charged Launce the beathen foe controld . 177 Most louing zeale , borne of more zealous loue , Cares holy care , faiths might , ioyes food , hopes kay , The groundwork worlds bewitching cannot moue Of true desires the neuer failing stay , The cheerfull light of heauens ne're-ending day : Vertue which in thy selfe most vertuous art , The fairest gyft of the most fairest part . 178 But now to end this long continued strife , Henceforth thy malice takes no further place , Thy hate began and ended with his life , His spirit by thee can suffer no disgrace , Now in mine armes his vertues I imbrace : His body thine , his crosses witnes be , His mind is mine , and from thy power is free . 179 Thou gau'st vp rule , when he gaue vp his breath , And at his end , then did I first begin , Thy hate was buried in his timelesse death , Thou going out , first did I enter in , Thou loosing him , thy losse then did I win : And when the Fates did vp their right resigne , Thy right , his wrong , thy hate , his hap was mine . 180 To the vnworthie world then get thee back , Stuft with deceits and fawning flatteries , There by thy power bring all things vnto wrack , And fill the times with fearefull Tragedies : And since thy ioy consists in miseries , Heare his complaint , who wanting eyes to see , May giue thee sight , which art as blind as hee . 181 AT her great words whilst they in silence stand , Poore haplesse Robert now remembring him , Holding one bloody eye in his pale hand , With countenance all dead , and gastly grim , As in a feauer shaking euery lim ; Euen with a pitteous lamentable grone , Vailing his head , thus breakes into his mone . 182 Poore teare , dim'd taper which hast lost thy brother And thus art lest to twinkle here alone , Ah might'st thou not haue perrisht with the other , And both together to your set haue gone , You both were one , one wanting , thou not one , Poore twins which like true friends one watch did keepe , Why seuer'd thus that so you shold not sleepe . 183 And thou pore eye , oh why sholdst thou haue light , The others black eclipse thus soone to see , And yet thy fellow be depriu'd of sight , For thy sad teares the while to pitty thee , Equall your griefes , your haps vnequall be : Take thou his darknes , and thy sorrow hide , Or he thy light , his griefe so well espied . 184 Let that small drop out of thy iuicie ball , Canded like gum vpon the moist'ned thrid , There still be fixed that it neuer fall , But as a signe hang on thine eyes staind lid , A witnes there what inward griefe is hid : Like burning glasses fired by the Sonne , Light all mens eyes to see what there is done . 185 Now like to conduits draw my body drie , By which is made the entrance to my blood , Streame-gushing sluces plac'd in eyther eye , Which shal be fed by this continuall flood , Whirlpooles of tears where pleasures citty stood Deuouring gulfes within a vastie land , Or like the dead Sea , euer hatefull stand . 186 Where stood the watch-towers of my cheerful face , Like Vestall Lamps lighted with holy flame , Is now a dungeon and a lothed place , The dark some prison of my hatefull shame , That they themselues doe most abhor the same : Through whose foule grates , griefe full of miserie , Still begging vengeance , ceaseth not to crie . 187 With dire-full seales , death hath shut vp the dores , Where he hath taken vp his dreadfull Inne , In bloody letters shewing those fell sores , That now doe raigne , wherioy & mirth haue beene , This mortal plague the iust scourge of their sinne : From whose contagion comfort quite is fled , And they themselues , in their selues buried . 188 Poore tears , sith eyes your small drops cannot see , And since the Fountains cease of my full eyes , Teares get you eyes and help to pitty mee , And water them which timelesse sorrow dryes , Teares giue me teares , lend eyes vnto my eyes : So may the blind yet make the blind to see , Else no help is to them , nor hope to mee , 189 Body and eyes vsurping others right , Both altring vse contrarie vnto kind , That eyes to eyes those dark which shold giue light The blind both guide , & guided by the blind , Yet both must be directed by the mind : Yet that which both their trustie guide should be , Blinded with care , like them can nothing see . 190 The day abhors thee , and from thee doth slie , Night followes after , yet behind doth stay , This neuer comes , though it be euernie , This ere it comes is vanished away , Nor night , nor day , though euer night and day : Yet all is one , still day or euer night . No rest in darknes , nor no ioy in light . 191 Whilst light did giue me comfort to my mone , Teares sound a meane to sound my sorrows deepe , But now alasse that comfort being gone , Tears do want eies which shold giue tears to weepe Whence I lost ioy there care I euer keepe : What gaue me woe from me doth comfort take , Delight a sleepe , now sorrow still must wake . 192 I saw my ill , when ill could scarclie see , I saw my good , when I my good scarce knew , Now see not ill , when as my ill sees mee , Hasting to that which still doth mee pursue , With my lost eyes , sorrow my state doth view , In blindnes loosing hope of all delight , And with my blindnes , giue my cares full light . 193 As man himselfe , so the most hatefull beast , The Worme enioyes the ayre as well as wee , The little Gnat , or thing that liues the least , Of this by nature kindly is made free : what thing hath mouth to brethe , but eyes to see ? Though honor lost , yet might I humbly craue , To haue what beasts , or flies , or pore worms haue . 194 Mine eyes hurt not the Sun , nor steale the day , Except a candle , they see neuer light , These monstrous walls do take that doubt away , What ? feare then that they shold harme the night ? Needles is that , sith tears haue blotted sight . I know not then from whence this hate should rise , Except it onely be , that they be eyes . 195 The man-betraying Basilisk hath eyes , Although by sight those eyes be made to kill , Though her owne works be made her enemies , Though naturally ordained vnto ill , Yet in her selfe so iust is nature still : How monstrous then am I alone in nature , Denide of that she giues the vilest creature ? 196 Oh tyrannie more cruell far then death , Though death be but the end of tyranie , Death lends vs sight whilst she doth giue vs breath , Of all the sences that the last doth dye , In lyuing death , how miserable am I , In life , of this sence me thus to depriue , To make the others dye , my selfe aliue . 197 Eyes which with ioy like Sunnes haue risen oft , To view that holy Citties glorious Towers , And seene the Christian Ensignes raisd aloft , Crowning the walls like garlands of rare flowers , Now lie you perrisht in your Iuory bowers , Nor shal you henceforth boast what you haue been But leaue the minde to thinke what you haue seen . 198 You , which haue seene faire Palestine ●estor'd , And gorgeous Syon from the Paynims freed , The Sepulcher of your most glorious Lord , And that faire Mount wher his sweet wounds did bleed And with these sights my hungry soule did feed . Within you brincks be drownd in your own blood Which oft haue view'd great Iordans sacred flood . 199 Rake vp the sparks which nourished your fire , Within the ashes of consumed eyes , Those little brands which kindled youths desire , The haples starrs of passed miseries , Wander no more within your circling skies ; Vnder the Globes great compasse euer roule , And in my minds great world , now light my soule . 200 Good night sweet Sunns , your lights are cleane put out , Your hollow pits be graues of all your ioy , With dreadfull darknes compassed about , Wherein is cast what murther can destroy , That buried there , which did the world annoy , Those holy Fanes where vertue hallowed stood , Become a place of slaughter and of blood . 201 Poure downe your last refreshing euening dew , And bathe your selues in fountains of your tears , The day no more shall euer breake to you , The ioyfull dawne no more at all appears , No cheerfull sight your sorrow euer cheers : Shut vp your windows ere constraint compell , Be-take your selues to nights eternall Cell . 202 HIS passion ending , Fortune discontent , Turning her back as shee away would flie , Playing with fooles and babes incontinent , As neuer toucht with humane misery , Euen after death shewing inconstancy , As straight forgetting what she had to tell , To other speech and girlish laughter fell . 203 When graceful Fame , conuaying thence her charge , With all these troupes attended royallie , Gaue me this booke , wherein was writ at large , Great Norman Roberts famous history , T' amaze the world with his sad Tragedy : But Fortune angry with her foe therefore , Gaue me this gift , That I should still be poore . FINIS .
THE ARGVMENT OF MATILDA .

MATILDA , for her beauty named the faire ; A second Lucretia : the daughter of a noble Barron , the Lorde Robert Fitzwater , ( a man of great wisdom & courage ) was long time followed of king Iohn , who sought by all meanes possible to winne her to his vnlawfull desire ; But finding that all hee could deuise tooke no effect , ( such was her wonderfull chastitie , ) hee sought by force to take her from the Court , and to sende her to some secret place , where hee might fitlie accomplish his wicked intent , but his purpose was preuented by her Fathers pollicie . The King hereat enraged through despight , subborned certaine malicious persons , subtilly to accuse the Lord Fitzwater of rebellion , where-vpon hee is banished . Matilda flieth to Dunmowe in Essex , and there became a Nunne , in a Religious house there builded , by IVGA , a Virgin , one of her Auncestors ; to which place the King sendeth one to solicite his old sute , with poyson , eyther to yeelde to his desire , or to end her life . Shee , seeing her Father banished , none left to succour her , and fearing to be taken out of the Nunnary , tooke the poyson , and ended her dayes .

THE LEGEND of Matilda the chaste . 1 IF to this some sacred Muse retaine Those choise regards by perfect vertue taught , And in her chaste and virgin-humble vaine , Doth kindlie cherrish one pure May den thought , In whom my death hath but true pittie wrought , By her I craue my life be reueald , Which black obliuion hath too long concealed . 2 Or on the earth , if mercie may be found , Or if remorce may touch the harts of men , Or eyes may lend me teares to wash my wound , Or passion be exprest by mortall pen , Yet may I hope of some compassion then : Three hundreth yeeres by all men ouer-past , Now finding one to pittie mee at last . 3 You blessed Imps of heauenly chastitie , You sacred Vestalls , Angels only glorie , Right presidents of immortalitie , Onely to you I consecrate my storie , It shall suffise for mee if you be sorie : If you alone shall deigne to grace his verse , Which serues for odours to perfume my hearse . 4 Let your delicious heauen-distilling tears , Soften the earth , to send mee from her wombe , With Conquerors Lawrel crown my golden hairs , With flowry garland beautifie my tombe , Be you the Heralds to proclaime mee roome , With sable Cypresse maske your louely eyes , Mourning my death with dolefull Elegies . 5 Faire Rosamond , of all so highly graced , Recorded in the lasting booke of Fame , And in our Sainted Legendarie placed , By him who striues to stellifie her name : Yet will some Matrons say , shee was to blame ; Though all the world bewitched with his rime , Yet all his skill cannot excuse her crime . 6 Lucrece , of whom proud Rome hath bosted long , Lately reuiu'd to liue another age , And here arriu'd to tell of Tarquins wrong , Her chast deniall , and the Tyrants rage , Acting her passions on our stately stage . Shee is remembred , all forgetting mee , Yet I , as faire and chast as ere was shee . 7 Shores wife is in her wanton humor sooth'd , And modern Poets , still applaud her praise , Our famous Elstreds wrinckled brows are smooth'd Call'd from her graue to see these latter dayes , And happy 's hee , their glory high'st can raise . Thus looser wantons still are praisd of many , Vice oft findes friends , but vertue seldom any . 8 O fairest Charities , Ioues deere delight , O lend me now one heauen-inchaunting lay , And you rare Nymphs which please Apollos sight , Bring spreading Palme , and neuer-dying Bay , With Oliue branches strew the pleasant way : And with you viols sound one pleasing straine , To ayde his Muse , and raise his humble vaine . 9 And thou ô BETA , soueraigne of his thought , Englands Diana , let him thinke on thee , By thy perfections let his Muse be taught , And in his breast so deepe imprinted be , That he may write of sacred chastitie : Though not like Collin in thy Britomart , Yet loues asmuch , although he wants his Art . 10 O my dread Soueraigne , rare and princly Maid , From whose pure eyes the world deriues her light , In Angels roabs with maiestie arayd , In whom true vertue is defin'd aright ; O let these lines be gracious in thy sight , In whom alone , as in a perfect glas , All may discerne how chast Matilda was . 11 To brag of birth , or noblesse , were but vaine , Although I might compare me with the best ; To challenge that our Auncestors did gaine , A royall minde such follie doth detest , Which I omit , and heere set downe my rest : Of vertuous life I meane to boast alone , Our birth is theirs , our vertues are our owne . 12 A shame to fetch our long discent from Kings , And from great Ioue deriue our pedigree , The braue atchiuements of a hundred things , Breathing vaine boasts , the world to terrifie , If we our selues doe blot with infamie , And staine that blood & honor which is theirs , Men cannot leaue their vertues to their heyrs . 13 The Heauen became a Midwife at my birth , A kinde Lucina , gentlie helping Nature : Some sacred power then present on the earth , Fore-telling rare perfection in a creature , As all men iudg'd by so diuine a feature : Yet as my beautie seem'd to rauish all , Vertue made beautie more angelicall . 14 Vpon my brow , sate Honor in her pride , Tables containing heauens diuinest law , Whose snowie margent quoted on each side , With such delights as all mens harts could draw , My thoughts ( as Tutors ) kept mine eyes in awe , From their rare sun-beams darting forth such raies , As wel the work might shew the Arts-mans praise . 15 These Cherubins , the Tree of life doe keepe , These Dragons , watch the faire Hesperian fruite , These fiery Serpents , guarde the golden Sheepe , These fixed starrs , their rayes like lightning shute , At whose approch , the wise were striken mute . These eyes , which only could true vertues measure , Ordain'd by Nature to preserue her treasure . 16 My words were gracefull , pleasing to the wise , My speech retayning modest decencie , Not fondlie vaine , nor foolishly precise , But sweetly tun'd , with such a simphony , Moouing all hearers with the harmonie , Gracing my tale with such an Emphasis , As neuer musick could delight like this . 17 My face the sunne , adorning beauties sky , The booke where heauen her wonders did enrole , A stately Pharos to each wandring eye , And like a Syren could enchaunt the soule , Which had the power the proudest to controle . To whom this gift my Maker had assigned , That there all eyes like Southsayers , diuined . 18 Natures faire Ensigne royallie displai'd , Map of Elisium , Eden without night , Ermins , wherein rich Phoebus is arrai'd , Right prospectiue , reflecting heauenlie light , Hart-wounding arrow , pearcing with the sight . Bright mornings lustre , Ioues high exaltation , Load-starre of loue , rare Card of admiration . 19 True type of honor , fine delicious varry , The richest coate that euer beauty bare , Pure colours , which the heauens doe onely carry , O vncouth blazon , so exceeding rare , O curious lymming , passing all compare , First at my birth assigned vnto mee , By that great King of heauenly Heraldry . 20 From hence my praise began to proue her wing , Which to the heauen could carry vp my fame , Of all my glory now began the spring , Through euery Coast this still enlarg'd my name , From hence the cause of all my sorrowes came : Thus to this Hydra are we subiect still , Who dares to speake , not caring good or ill . 21 This iealous Monster hath a thousand eyes , Her ayrie bodie hath as many wings , Now on the earth , then vp to heauen shee flies , And here , and there , with euery wind she flings , From euerie Coast her rumors forth she brings ; Nothing so secret , but to her appeareth , And apt to credit euery thing shee heareth . 22 Foule blabbing tel-tale , secrets soone bewrayer , Thou ayre-bred Eccho , whisperer of lyes : Shril-sounding trumpet , Truths vnkind betrayer , False larum-bel , awaking dead mens eyes , Vncertaine rumor , wandring in the skyes : Fond pratling Parrat , telling all thou hearest , Ost furthest of when as thou shold'st be neerest . 23 The Princes eares are open to report , Ther 's skill in blazing beautie to a King ; To censure , is the subiect of the Court , From thence Fame carries , thether Fame doth bring , There , to each word a thousand Ecchos ring : A Lottery , where most loose , but few do win , Few loue Religion , manie follow sin . 24 Loe , here at first my beautie plaid her prize , Here where my vertues seldom prized be ; Yet that which most seem'd wondred of the wise , Confin'd by vertue , cleerlie made mee see What dangers were attending still on mee : Which most desir'd , for why esteem'd most rare , Guarded I kept with most especiall care . 25 Thys , whole possest the thoughts of princly Iohn , This , on his hart-strings Angels musick made , This , was the subiect which he wrought vpon , That deepe impression which could neuer fade , Reason which might sufficiently perswade , Hence sprong that griefe , which neuer gaue him rest , This was the spirit wher-with he was possest . 26 This , had commission to commaund his crowne , In all his course , conducted by this star , This , with a smile could cleere each clowdy frown , This , conquered him , which conquered al in war , This , calm'd his thoughts in many a bloody iar : This , taught his eyes their due attendance still , This , held the raines which rul'd his princly wil. 27 Controuling Loue , proud Fortunes busie Factor , The gaule of wit , sad Melancholies schoole , Hart-killing corsiue , golden times detractor , Life-fretting Canker , mischiefes poysoned toole , The Ideots Idoll , but the wisemans foole : A foe to friendship , enemie to truth , The wrong misleader of our pleasing youth . 28 MY vertuous Father , famous then in Court , Who liu'd in pompe , & Lorded with the best , Whose mind was trobled with this strange report , As one enshrining honor in his brest , And as a man who euer lou'd mee best , Foresaw the danger by such secret spyes , Who still attended on the Princes eyes . 29 And he , who in the Kings own bosome slept , Experience taught his deepest thoughts to sound , Yet in his brest , the same he secret kept , Nor would disclose the thing which he had found , Who being hurt , must needs conceale the wound . For why , he knew it was a dangerous thing , In rule , or loue , but once to crosse a King . 30 And finding lust had kindled all this fire , And his affection in extreams consisted , He greatly fear'd his youthfull vaine desire , Might grow impatient , being once resisted : Yet in his humor , sith he still persisted , With me his child , thought fittest to perswade , Ere further he into the deepe durst wade . 31 SWeet gyrle ( quoth he ) the glory of my life , The blessed and sole obiect of mine eyes , For whom the Heauens with Nature fell at strife , On whom the hope of all my fortune lies , Whose youth , my age with comfort still supplies , Whose very sight , my drouping hart doth raise , And doth prolong thy aged fathers dayes . 32 Thou seest , a world vpon thy youth awaite , That Paradice , where all delights do growe , Thy peerlesse Beautie made so faire a baite , The Bursle where Nature sets her ware to show , Where blushing Roses , sleep in beds of snow , The heauens haue fring'd thy fore-head with their gold ; That glasse wher heauen her-selfe may wel behold . 33 All gaze at Comets , choysest things be best , The rarest pearles are euer dearest prized , Seldom wants guests , where Beautie bids the feast , Mens eyes with wonders neuer are suffised , At fairest signes , best welcome is surmised . The shrine of Loue , doth seldom offrings want . Nor with such counsell , Clyents neuer scant . 34 Honor is grounded on the tickle Ice , The purest Lawne , most apt for euery spot , The path to hell , doth seeme a paradice , Vices be noted , vertues oft forgot , Thy fame once foild , incurable the blot . Thy name defac'd , if toucht with any staine , And once supplanted , neuer growes againe . 35 The Lechors tongue is neuer voyd of guile , Nor Crocodile wants teares to win his pray , The subtil'st Temptor hath the sweetest stile , With rarest musick Syrens soon'st betray Affection , will like fire himselfe bewray . Time offers still each hower to do amisse , And greatest dangers , promise greatest blisse . 36 Deceit , still with a thousand sleights is fraught , Art , hath a world of secrets in her power , Who hopes a Conquest , leaues no means vnsought , Soft golden drops once peirc'd the brazen tower , Care and Suspition is faire Beauties dower . Guile , ( like a Traytor ) euer goes disguis'd , Lust , oft is fild , but neuer is suffic'd . 37 This wanton Prince , whose soule doth swim in vice , Whose lawlesse youth time neuer hath restrained , He leaues no meanes vnprou'd , which may entice , The rytes of wedlock wantonly profained ; His hands with blood of innocents distained . This Lyon , would thy chastity deuoure , Which kept by Vertue , lyes not in his power . 38 Laciuious will , the sences doth abuse , Birth is no shaddow vnto tyranny , No scepter serues dishonor to excuse , Nor kinglie vaile can couer villanie , Fame is not subiect to authoritie . No plaister heales a deadly poysoned sore , No secret hid , where slaunder keepes the dore . 39 No subtile plea reuokes dishonors error , No law can quite , where Fame is once endited , No armour proofe , against the conscience terror , Gainst open shame , no Text can well be cyted , The blow once giuen , cannot be euited . If once the fire be to the powder got , T is then too late to seeke to flie the shot . 40 His youthfull loue , is like a sudden fire , Whose heate extreame , of force decay it must , The cause , proceeding from his lewd desire , Is quickly out , and sooner turn'd to dust , Yet frets the life , as iron frets with rust . Sinne in a chaine , leads on her sister Shame , And both in Giues , fast fettered to Defame . 41 The stately Eagle on his pitch doth stand , And from the maine the fearfull foule doth smite , Yet scornes to touch it lying on the land , When he hath felt the sweet of his delite , But leaues the same a pray to euery Kite . With much we surfet , plenty makes vs poore , The wretched Indian spurns the golden Ore . 42 Kings vse their Loues , as garments they haue worne Weake stomacks loath , if once but fully fed , The Saint once stolne , who doth the shrine adorne ? Or what is Nectar if it once be shed ? What Princes wealth can prize thy Maiden-head ? Which should be held as precious as thy breath , Which once dissolu'd of force ensueth death . 43 Loe , here he makes a period with his teares , Which from his eyes now make a sudden breach , By which the weight of all his speech appeares , In words so graue as seemed still to preach , This Idioma with such power doth teach . Whose tuned cadence doth such rules impart , As deepely fixt each sentence in my hart . 44 O sacred counsell , true hart suppling balme , Soule-curing plaster , time preseruing blisse , Water of life , in euery suddaine qualme , The heauens rich store-house , where all treasure is , True guide , by whom foule Errors den we misse . Night-burning Beacon , watch against mishaps , Fore-sight , auoyding many after claps . 45 The King deluded in his loue the while , His soule tormented in this quenchlesse fire , With flattering hope his sences doth beguile , Quickning the coales vnto his fond desire ; Affection growne too head-strong to retire , Controles his silence , hating to be mute , And still doth vrge him to commence his sute . 46 Thus carried on by his vnbridled thought , He leaues no baite vnprou'd that might allure , Deceit , a schoole of common fleights hath taught , Desire , hath philters which desires procure , Lust , puts most vnlawfull things in vre : Nor yet in limmets euer could be bounded , Till he himselfe , himselfe haue quite consounded . 47 But still perceiuing all deuises faile , His traines in Court yet neuer tooke effect , Now with his tongue determin'd to assaile , And to this end doth all his thoughts direct , Too much abused by his vaine suspect : Too further daies , no longer would be posted , But finding time , me brauely thus accosted . 48 GOddesse , quoth he , when Nature thee engrayned , With colours fetcht from heauens eternall spring , Little thought she , herselfe she could haue stayned . Or grae'd the world with so diuine a thing . But as a gyft to gratifie a King , Seal'd thee this Charter , dated at thy birth , To be the fair'st that euer liu'd on earth . 49 Locke not thy treasure , heauen doth giue the store , A thousand Graces at thine eyes are fed , Thy bosome , is the Angels secret dore , Thy breast , the pillowes of faire Venus bed : Regards of honour on thy browes are red . Thy cheeks , the banquet where sweet Loue doth feast , The royall Pawne of Beauties interest . 50 Thy lips , the Bath where sorrows wounds are healed , Where abstinence keepes Vertue in a diet , And in thy wit , all wonders are reuealed , Wisedom growne welthy , liueth there at quiet : Thy modest eye controles Loues wanton ryot . Thine eye , that planet clearer then the seauen , Whose radient splendour lights the world to heauen . 51 From thy sweet looks such streams of lightning glide , As through the eyes do wound the very hart , Killing , and curing , as they are applide , Hurting , and healing , like Achilles Dart : Which to the world do heauenly things impart . And thou alone , the spirit of all delight , Which like the sun , ioy'st all things with thy sight . 52 Could heauen allowe wher-with to lim thee forth , Or earth afford things of esteeme to praise thee , Were words sufficient to expresse thy worth , Or could inuention to thy glory raise thee , Could art deuise a waight wherby to peize thee : But thy surpassing excellence is such , As eyes may gaze , but nothing els can tuch . 53 Hee is thy King , who is becom thy subiect , Thy soueraigne Lord , who onely seekes thy loue , Thy beauty is his eyes commaunding obiect , Who for thy sake , a thousand deaths would proue : Sweet Maid let prayers some compassion moue . Let Wolues , & Beares , be cruell in their kinds , But women meeke , and haue relenting minds . 54 Loue forc'd the Gods , to things for Gods vnmeet , Behold a Monarch kneeling to a maide , Apollo , prostrate at his Daphnes feete , Great Atlas bowes , on whom the heauen is staide ; Thy Ioue his Scepter on thy lap hath laide , Thou in his throne doest sit as Chancellor . And he become thy daylie Orator . 55 Looke on these browes , the perfect Map of care , The truest mirrour of my miserie , In wrinkled lines where sorrowes written are , Where Time still reades on Loues Anotomy , My bloodlesse vaines with greefes Phlebotomy : A stanchlesse hart , dead-wounded , euer bleeding , On whom that nere-fild vulture Loue sits seeding . 56 Pitty this soule-euaporating smoke , The purest incense of most perfect zeale , These deep-fetcht sighes , confounding words halfe spoke , Where swoln-ey'd passion doth her selfe reueale : That ragefull fier , no reason can conceale . Where torments last , & ioyes are still diluded , Where all infernall torture is included . 57 Behold , the brim-full Cesterns of these eyes , With surging Tydes of brackist teares frequented , Where foodlesse Hope , still hunger-staruen lies , In burning Pooles eternally tormented : Which to betray , my hart at first consented . Where as the spirit of woe , hath euer being , Blinded in teares , yet in teares only seeing . 58 Shyne thou , like Cynthia vnder mine estate , Thy tresses deckt with Ariadnes Crowne , In pompe redubling costly Iunos rate , And cloud the world in sable with a frowne : Aduance thy friends , & throw the mighty downe . Be thou admir'd through all this famous I le , Thy name enrol'd with neuer-dated stile . 59 Great troupes of Ladies shall attend my Gerle , Thou on thy braue tryumphing Chariot borne , Thy drinke shall be dissolued orient Pearle , Thy princely Cup of rarest Vnicorne : Then liue at ease , and laugh the world to scorne . And if our musick cannot like thine eares , Thy Ioue shall fetch thee musick from the Spheres . 60 Thy name , as my Empreza will I beare , My well tun'd rymes , shall glory in thy praise , Vpon my Crowne , thy fauors will I weare , Figuring thy loue a thousand sundry wayes , My power shall be thy shield at all assayes . And thou my Saint , Kings offering to thy shrine . Wondring thy beautie , as a thing diuine . 61 What if my Queene , Detractor of our blisse , Thee by her hundreth-eyed Heardsman keepe , I le bring to passe , she shall her purpose misse , My Mercurie shall lull him till he sleepe ; Loue euer laughs , when I clousie dooth weepe . My prouidence , shall keepe her stomack vnder , She may raise storms , but Ioue doth rule the thunder 62 Thus hauing broke the Ice from whence might spring Sweet streames of loue in calme and fairer time , And afterward , might ioyfull tydings bring , The staire begun by which he thought to clyme , Hoping due howres , now he had sed the chyme ; Leaues me , not knowing now which way to turne me Warm'd with the fire , which vnawars might burne me . 57 Behold , the brim-full Cesterns of these eyes , With surging Tydes of brackist teares frequented , Where foodlesse Hope , still hunger-staruen lies , In burning Pooles eternally tormented : Which to betray , my hart at first consented . Where as the spirit of woe , hath euer being , Blinded in teares , yet in teares only seeing . 58 Shyne thou , like Cynthia vnder mine estate , Thy tresses deckt with Ariadnes Crowne , In pompe redubling costly Iunos rate , And cloud the world in sable with a frowne : Aduance thy friends , & throw the mighty downe . Be thou admir'd through all this famous I le , Thy name enrol'd with neuer-dated stile . 59 Great troupes of Ladies shall attend my Gerle , Thou on thy braue tryumphing Chariot borne , Thy drinke shall be dissolued orient Pearle , Thy princely Cup of rarest Vnicorne : Then liue at ease , and laugh the world to scorne . And if our musick cannot like thine eares , Thy Ioue shall fetch thee musick from the Spheres . 60 Thy name , as my Empreza will I beare , My well tun'd rymes , shall glory in thy praise , Vpon my Crowne , thy fauors will I weare , Figuring thy loue a thousand sundry wayes , My power shall be thy shield at all assayes . And thou my Saint , Kings offering to thy shrine , Wondring thy beautie , as a thing diuine . 61 What if my Queene , Detractor of our blisse , Thee by her hundreth-eyed Heardsman keepe , I le bring to passe , she shall her purpose misse , My Mercurie shall lull him till he sleepe ; Loue euer laughs , when Ielousie dooth weepe . My prouidence , shall keepe her stomack vnder , She may raise storms , but Ioue doth rule the thunder 62 Thus hauing broke the Ice from whence might spring Sweet streames of loue in calme and fairer time , And afterward , might ioyfull tydings bring , The staire begun by which he thought to clyme , Hoping due howres , now he had sed the chyme ; Leaues me , not knowing now which way to turne me Warm'd with the fire , which vnawars might burne me . 63 Forth-with began strange factions in my thought , And in my soule a sudden mutinie , Feare and Desire , a doubtfull combat fought , The tytle stands vpon extremitie : My force was great , and strong mine enemie ; Till Resolution , seeing all begun , Sent Succors in , by whom the field was won . 64 As thus mine honour in the Ballance hung , Betwixt the worlds preferment and my fame , This in mine eares , like Syrens sweetly sung , That wisely still fore-warned me of shame : Till Grace diuine from highest heaven came . Now must I loose the prize , or win the Crown , Till Vertue ( currant ) lastly way'd me down . 65 The time is come I must receiue my tryall , His protestations subtilly accuse me , My Chastitie sticks still to her deniall , His promises false witnes do abuse me , My Conscience cald , yet cleerly doth excuse me . And those pure thoughts , enshrined in my brest , By verdict quit me , being on the Quest. 66 And Wisedom now fore-warned me of treason , That in the Court , I liu'd a Lyons pray , My tender youth in this contagious season , Still fear'd infection , following day by day : My Barck vnsafe on this tempestious Sea . My Chastity in danger euery hower , No succour neer to shroud me from the shower . 67 What should I say ? nay what should saying do ? Could wit say more then euer wit hath said ? My hopes say yes , but Fortune still sayes no , And thus my state is by the starres betrai'd , Such waight the heauens vpon my birth haue laid , Yet Vertue neuer her own Vertue looseth , Thogh gainst her course the that heauen it selfe opposeth . 68 With Resolution , hap what might be-tide , I leaue the Court , the Spring of all my woe . That Court , which gloried in my Beauties pride , That Beauty , which my Fortune made my foe , To Baynards-Castell secretly I goe . Where , with his trayne , my noble Father lay , Whose gracious counsell was my onely stay . 69 There , might my thoughts keepe holy-day a while , And sing a farewell to my sorrowes past , With all delights I might the time beguile , Attayn'd my wished libertie at last , No fearfull vision made me now agast . But like a Bird escapt her Keepers charge , Glides throgh the aire with wings display'd at large . 70 And hoping health thus cured of these qualmes , My hart in this fayre harbour rides at ease , The tempest past , expecting quiet calmes , My Shyp thus floting on these blisfull Seas , A sudden storme my Ankor-hold doth raise : And from the shore doth hoyse me to the maine , Where I ( pore soule ) my shipwrack must sustaine . 71 And loe , the Autumne of my ioyes approach , Whilst yet my spring began so faire to flourish , Black way-ward Winter , sets her storms abroch , And kils the sap which all my hopes did nourish . Fortune once kind , grows crabbed now & currish . In my straight path , she layes a mighty beame . And in my course , she thwarths me with the streame . 72 The King who saw his loue vnkindly crost , And by effect the cause had fully found , Since he the haruest of his hope had lost , Now on the reuenge his deepest thoughts doth ground Desperate to kill , receiuing his deaths wound . In reasons bonds striues but in vaine to hold , Head-strong desire , too proud to be controld . 73 Like the braue Courser strugling with the raines , His foming mouth controld with Canons check , With losty bounds his skilfull Ryder straines , Scorning to yeeld his stately crested neck : Nor of the bloody pearcing spurres doth reck , The King now warmed in this glorious fire , Thus roughly plungeth in his vaine desire . 74 Mischiefe is light , and mounteth ouer-head , Rage is of fire which naturally ascends , Rashnes of feathers , counsell trapd with lead , And where the one begins , the other ends , This all extends , the other all intends . His will too free to force him vnto ill , His wit too slow to countercheck his will . 75 Hence-forth deuising to disperse the Cloude . Which euer hung betwixt him and the light : His loue not currant , nor to be allow'd , Whilst thus my Father held me in his sight , Some-thing amisle , his Watch went neuer right . Of force he must this Sentinell remoue , If he in time would hope to win my loue . 76 In going on , goe back , forward , retire , Flie that which followes , follow but to flie , Keepe thee far off , now thou approchest nier , Stoop to the ground when mischiefe mounts on hie , Fore-sight far off doth daunger soon espie . Ah loue , if wounded once with thine own Dart , Thou hate , hate loue , transformd by your own art 77 Ten thousand mischiefes now he sets abroch , Treasons , inuasions , ciuill mutinie , Black ignominie , slaunderous reproch , Rebellion , out-rage , vile conspiracie , Opening the intralls of all villanie . Causing this Lord , thereof to be accused , By Traytors , such as he with gyfts abused . 78 Foule Enuie thou , the partiall Iudge of right , Sonne of Deceit , borne of that harlot Hate , Nursed in hell , a vile and vglie sprite , Feeding on Slaunder , cherrish'd with Debate ; Neuer contented with thine owne estate ; Deeming alike the wicked and the good , Whose words be gal , whose actions end in blood 79 His seruice done to this vngratefull King , His worth , his valure , his gentilitie : What good so euer might from vertue spring , Or could proceede from true Nobilitie , All buried now in darke obscuritie . His vertuous life , in doubtfull question brought , Which euer-more for fame and honor sought . 80 Thou hatefull Monster , base Ingratitude , Soules mortall poyson , deadly-killing wound , Deceitfull Serpent , seeking to delude , Black lothsome ditch , where all desert is drownd , Vile Pestilence , which all things doost confound : At first created to none other end , But to grieue those whom nothing could offend . 81 Such as too well perceiu'd the Kings intent , In whom remayn'd yet anie sparke of grace , Pyttying a poore distressed innocent , Their safetie still depending on my case , These in my wrongs participate a place . These , bound in friendship , & alied in blood , Fast to my Father in the quarrel stood . 82 But as a Lyon in the wilds of Thrace , With darts and arrowes gauled at the bay , Kills man and beast incountring in the chase , And downe on heaps the fearfull Heards doth lay , His armed pawes each where doth make his way : Thus by his power , the King doth now surprise , Such as in Arms resist his tyrannies . 83 Oh strange strange loue , yet stop thy head-strong course , Ere that be quite transported into hate : Too violent thus spurr'st thou on thy force , To come vnto thy fearfull ruin'd date ; Let not thy frailtie yet fore-tell thy fate : That loue with loue , should fall to ciuill warrs , Wisdom , a star , which rules the angriest starrs . 84 And giuen ouer to his vile desire , The spectacle of lothsome sinne and shame , Our strong-built Castles now hee sets on fire , And ( like proude Nero ) warms him by the flame , Wasting themselues , augmenting his defame : Which like bright Beacons , blaze in euery eye , Warning all others of his tyrannie . 85 Our friends & followers thus are beaten downe , Whom every slaue and pesant dare reuile , And all reputed Traytors to the Crowne , Imprisoned some , some forc'd into exile ; Yet worst of all , ( remedilesse the while , ) My Father sent a banish'd man to Fraunce , And here perforce must leaue me to my chaunce . 86 Be mercifull ( sweet Death ) and come not thus In Banishments black shape , so full of feare , In thine owne likenes gently comfort vs , As when to wretched men thou doost appeare , Looke not vpon vs with sad moody cheore : Thou art not pale , grim , fearfull , gaftly , dull , But amorous , young , milde , louely , beautifull . 87 Thou goest to griefe , and I must stay to woe , Thy absence , bringeth horrors presence still , Thou going , staiest , and staying , I doe goe , Thou leau'st me , leau'st with me , leau'st me to ill , Thy flight , my fight , thy safety me doth kill : Thou tak'st my fall with thee , in me forsaking , Forsake me then , away me with thee taking . 88 ON shyp-bord now , with hands rear'd to the skyes ( All sigh'd and wept , could sigh nor weepe no more , ) He turns his sad eclipsed teareful eyes , As retrograde vnto the blessed shore ; Rich Ile ( quoth he ) once Garner of my store , Taken from me by yonder Tyrants theft , And I as poore as ere was Irus left . 89 T is not my wealth , that , I esteeme as light , Nor yet my Country , though so deere to mee , But thou alone Matilda , my delight , My life , my soule , all my felicitie , Left as a pray , vile Monster vnto thee . Yet my laments are wasted all in vaine , And to these winds and billows must complaine . 90 Pittie , if in thy drop be-dewed eye Thou hast one teare of wonder to let fall , That one drop spent , be euer after dry , But keepe that one to comfort me withall : Sweet honny teare , sweeten my bitter gall ; But if thine eye , whith mine eyes be drawn dry , Trans-forme me then , euen all into an eye . 91 But now the Wolfe is got into my fold , God help the Lambe that 's in the Lyons power ; Alas poore Maid , thus art thou bought and sold , Prepared for the slaughter euery howre , This Minataure must all my hopes deuoure . Yet forc'd by Fortune to endure this woe , And vnreueng'd vnto my graue shall goe . 92 Liue in mee Death , and I in thee will liue , Be thou my selfe , and I will still be thee , Giue thou to mee , and I to thee will giue , And in perpetuall vnion let vs bee : Thou I , I thou , one vndeuided wee . Death giue life strength , life , thou to death lend breath , Death be my life , and life be thou my death . 93 Within the furrowes of my aged browes , My ioyes must theyr vntimelie buriall haue , Thys fatall Tombe proud Fortune them allowes , Which thus with-holds me from my wished graue , The heauens are deafe although I iustly craue , My teares with griese are frozen in mine eyes , Yet God , nor man , regards my miseries . 94 Immortall Hate , for pittie sit and weepe , And Woe , for woe seeke from thy selfe to flye , Dyre Passion , be thou drown'd in passions deepe , And Death , for sorrow , in my sorrows dye , He be my selfe , if thou wilt not be I : In the attire of my pale Image dight thee , If shape of my sad griefes doe not affright thee . 95 Thrice famous Romaine , ( fortunate to me ) By whose owne hands thy deerest child was slaine , Deliuer'd so from slauish tyrannie , But liuing , mine dishonor'd shall remaine , Blotting my name with an immortall staine ; Whose black reproch , for euer shall endure , Ah vile disease , that neuer time can cure . 96 The soules departure , giues the body rest , My bodies parting , giues my soule new care , My soule , of his abode is dispossest , My body , endles banisht to despaire , My soule and body , soule nor body are : My soule with hers , hers killing mine alone , My body hers , hers mine , neither our owne . 97 Euen as the kinde sleep-breaking Nightingale , ( The cruell Merlin ceaz'd her little one ) Vnto the thickets tells a wofull tale , Wearying the woods with her continuall mone , This pore bird chirpeth , he pore Lord doth grone . Shee weeps all night , by day complaineth hee , Shee for her young one , he laments for mee . 98 Looke how a Sea , the tyde once beeing past , Whose surges stroue the Continent to clime , And bounding backe vnto the Gulfe at last , Vpon the Sands doth leaue a clammie slime , Teares in his cheeks , such gutters worne in time . Wash'd with the floods of his still-trobled braine , His eyes brim full , as furrows after raine . 99 And thus my Father vnawares betray'd , A thousand sorrowes mee at once assaile ; What might I doe , a silly helplesse Mayde , Tost and turmoild in this tempestious gale ? These boysterous flaws haue broken down my saile My succours thus ( like shadows ) now are gone , Not one remaines to whom to make my mone . 100 Now , like a Roe , before the hounds imbost , When ouer-toyl'd his swiftnes doth aslake , Forsakes the Plaines , to which he trusted most , And to the couert doth himselfe betake , Where doubling still , creeps on from brake to brake , Thus doe I flie before the Princes face , Who day and night pursues mee still in chase . 101 THE Coast is cleere , suspitious eyes at rest , And all things fadge which further his desire : Now royall hope keepes reuels in his brest , The coales are quick , and Fancie blowes the fire , His loue expects his long deserued hire . No clowde discern'd to hinder this his sun , The watch discharg'd , he hopes the towne is won . 102 The Princes armes are stretcht from shore to shore , Kings sleeping , see with eyes of other men , Craft findes a kay to open euery doore , What might I do , or what auailes me then ? The silly Lambe liues in the Lyons Den. Loues wakeful eyes ( too soone alas ) discri'd me , And found me , wher I surest thought to hide me . 103 My Ioue , like Ioue , now seekes mee to inuade , And roysting comes , in thunder-bolts and raine , A Beast , a Bird , a Satyre in the shade , A flood , a fire , a Serpent , and a Swaine , Camelion-like , as fitt'st my loue to gaine . Now like great Phoebus in his golden Carre , And then like Mars , the fearefull God of war . 104 Hee makes the ayre to wooe mee whilst I talke , The winde to whistle many a pleasant Dittie , The dainty Grasse make musick as I walke , The pretty flowers to moue me still to pitty : All sencelesse things with reason seeming witty : Before mine eyes hee euer doth appeare , And if I call , still aunswers , I am heere . 105 My steps are told , my paths by Spyes are noted , Mine eyes by Night-spells shut within the watch , My words are way'd by iealous loue that doted , And at my thoughts , Ill-meaning still doth catch , Into my counsells Treason drawes the latch : And at my gates , Suspition still doth ward , Sorrow my hand-maid , Falshood on my gard . 106 He weeps his words , but words could win no tears , The raine doth cease or ere the floods doe rise , His wofull words his tongue a while forbeares , Then doth he his harts arrant with his eyes : His eyes eclipz'd , he then with sighes supplies . Sighes faile , with smiles he then bewraies his paine , Smiling , he weeps , yet weeping , laughs againe . 107 Looke how the Peacock ruffs his flaunting tayle , And struts vnder his mooned Canapie , And how he quiuers with his plumed sayle , Yet when his Lead-pale leggs he haps to see , With shame abates his painted iolitie . The King , as proude as Peacock in my loue , yet droups again when words nor tears could moue 108 My breast , of Flint , a rock impenitrable , My hart , that stone which neuer toole could perce , My thoughts , a Center , and vnsearchable , My words , iudgment , which law could not reuerse , My frownes , such clowds , as no ioy could disperse , Tygars are tam'd with patience and with skill , All things made subiect , but a womans will . 109 The King like one sick of a strange disease , Whose cruell paine no phisick can asswage , Nor plaster can his torments once appease , Boyling his entrails with such hellish rage , With his owne knife his horror doth engage . Thus desperate , he , fore-thinks to end this strife , Or els by poyson take away my life . 110 But first , with lines hee brauely setteth on , Words steep'd in syrrop of Ambrosia , Sweet method , sauoured with inuention , What can be said that Louers cannot say ? Desire can make a Docter in a day : Each sentence seem'd a sweet inchaunting charme , A trumpet sounding gentle Loues alarme . 111 With rare hart-curing Phrigian harmonie Hee tunes his strings , as not a trebble iarrs , His straines so pleasant and melodious be , As might appease the heat of fearefull warrs , Distilling Balme to cure the greatest scarrs : His pen , dilates his harts Apologie , And shewes my sinnes , by loues Theologie . 122 What curious thing did Nature ere bring forth , What glistering starre that yeelds his siluer shine , To which he doth not now compare my worth ? Or what is there , that s mortall or diuine , What sublimation doth hee not refine ? Or what rare thing was euer yet deuised , That vnto mee he hath not lightly prized ? 113 Now mounts he vp with loftie straines of loue , Then to sad vaines his pliant Muse doth bow , His humors seruing , as his passions moue , And as the Tydes , the numbers ebbe and flow ; His hopes now wither , then againe they grow , Painting his griefe , in hope to quench desire , But inck to loue , like oyle vnto the fire . 114 And now , of one hee had himselfe aduis'd , Both red and practiz'd in this wretched Art , Within whose braine all mischiefes were compris'd , Whose words were venom , & his tongue a Dart , And thys is hee must act thys damned part . To him , the King my poysoning doth commit , Who had before made tryall of his wit . 115 Another Dagon was thys miscreant , A deuill , walking in a humane shape , Foule Dagon , borne true vertue to supplant , For whom th' infernall pyt of hell doth gape : Image of pride , of villanie , and rape , Bee thou abhord of all posteritie , And let thy vile dishonour neuer die . 116 By him to Dunmow , hee these lines conuayde , A Monestary Iuga had begun , Iuga , sometime a holy Vestall Mayde , At whose great charge this Monument was done , Where I had vow'd to liue a holy Nun , And in my Cloister , kept amongst the rest , Which in this place virginitie profest . 117 NOW , he which had this bloody act in charge , Thether repairs , with Letters from the King , Whose black Commission was but all too large To execute so base and vile a thing : This messenger , which now my death doth bring , To add fit matter to my tragicke storie , Finds means to boord mee in my oratorie . 118 With courtly congies gently greeting mee , Giues me the packet which the King had sent mee , Receiue faire Maid , these Letters here ( quoth he ) The faithfull earnest of that good is meant thee , But crauing that which neuer shall repent thee . His lines be loue , the letters writ in blood , Then make no doubt , the warrant passing good . 119 Kindly accept a Princes kingly offer , T is more then folly if thou doe refuse it : Neuer hath Fortune made a fairer profer , The gyft too great , if fondly thou abuse it , Nor any reason sorueth to excuse it . Be not a foe vnto thine owne good hap , Refusing treasure throwne into thy lap . 120 Eares , eyes , hands , nostrils , tongue , th' instruments To heare , to see , to touch , to smell , to tast , Sounds , pleasurs , softs , smells , meats , & euery sence , Euen as a King , with his delight is plac't , Nature yet neuer framed thing in wast , O to her power an horrible offence , This prophane vse of froward continence . 121 If thou be wise , hold this as ominous , The heauens not like disposed euery howre , The starrs be still predominant in vs , Fortune not alwaies forth her bags doth poure , Nor euerie clowde doth raine a golden showre , Occasion 's wing'd , and euer flyeth fast , Comming , she smiles , & frowns once being past . 122 Wrong not thy selfe , nor yet the world depriue , Of that rare good which Nature freely lent , Think'st thou by such base nygardize to thriue , In sparing that which neuer will be spent ? And that is worst , in age shall thee repent : Playing the Churle , to hoord vp beauties pelfe , And liue , and die , and all vnto thy selfe . 123 Fye on this lyppish lisping fond forsooth , Thys chyldish nicenes , and these pettish noes , A gracefull smyle , the wrinkling brow doth smooth , Pennance and Pleasure , still are mortall foes , Let springing youth reiourne old ages woes , Away with fasting , beggerly deuotion , Thys is no way to climbe vnto promotion . 124 Yet , were this all ( quoth he ) as would it were , But there is more , which needs I must reueale , Behold the poyson hee hath sent thee here , Which on my life I dare not to conceale , Thus is the King determined to deale : I , onely waite vpon thy resolution , To win thy loue , or see thy execution . 125 Leaue of these humors , be not singuler , Make not an Idoll of thine owne perfection , Prize not this word ( Virginitie ) so deere , Seeme not so Saint-like , moou'd with no affection . Beautie brings perrill , wanting safe protection , Forswear this drouzie mellancholie Cell , Was neuer Girle could grace a Court so well . 126 This feare first sprong from foolish superstition , Which fond conceit into our eares hath blowne , Which we receiue from old folkes by tradition , And as a weede to choke our ioyes is growne : Reason rootes out what Error erst hath sowne . A gentle iest to fright poore babes withall , Like to a Bug-beare , painted on a wall . 127 Tush , these be triuiall toyes of reputation , Whose Ceremonies haue the world infected , Held in regard but onely for a fashion , Which friuolous , the wiser haue neglected : And but as Dreames of doting age respected . Whose spleen-sick humors on their galls were fed Thinking all true which they imagined . 128 Religion was deuis'd by pollicie , A subtill shaddow couering all excesse , As Nature giues you seeming modestie , To shaddow that , you would too soone expresse , O , cunning only is true holines . Blush , pray , be patient , most of all most chast , Thus by deceit , delights must be imbrac't . 129 Dispatch , ( quoth he ) loe , here is pen and inke , Here make the Prince assurance of thy loue , Or els prepare thee to thy fatall drinke , Which is of force thy Feuer to remoue : Which ( ah pore fondling ) thou too soone maist proue . And if thy will be so fast chayn'd to thee , Let thine own hands the Executioners bee . 130 And is ( quoth I ) the Princes pleasure thus ? You are deceiu'd , he doth but this to try me , I know my Lord is kind and gracious , He thinks my sexe , & weaknes will disery me ; I hope the King will deale more kindly by me . Those blessed hands , which neuer did but good , Will not be stain'd with virgins guiltlesse blood . 131 As he doth raigne , his mind should truly raigne In one consent their gouernment agree , His publick rule his Subiects should restraine , Affections , subiect to his mind should be , Then absolute is it , absolute he . His mind commaunding , kingly by abstaining , As his commaund is absolute in raigning . 132 His thoughts be pure , as Christall , without spot , He is wisdom , honour , valure , chastitie : What excellence is there that he is not ? Or what may be , by him which cannot be ? He 's Vertues true superlatiue degree . From his affections , neuer can proceed , One little thought of this so vile a deed . 133 Kings be the Gods Vizgerents here on earth , The Gods haue power , Kings from that power haue might , Kings should excell in vertue as in birth , Gods punish wrongs , & kings shold maintain right , They be the Suunes from which we borrow light . And they as Kings , should still in iustice striue , With Gods , from whom their beings they deriue . 134 Empire euen like the Sunne doth draw all eyes , And his Eclipse the soonest doth appeare , Small vapours seeme great lights drawn to the skies Things ouer-head though far , shew euer neare , Small staines be great in things shold be most cleare , Nothing so soone discernd by humaine sight , As is the cloud which hides the cheerfull light . 135 Inrag'd with this , ( in greefes extremitie , ) Minion , ( quoth he , ) t is now no time to prate , Dispatch , or els I le drench you presently , Of this , nor that , I stand not to debate . Expects thou loue where thou reward'st with hate ? I passe not I , how ere thou like the motion , Haue done at once , and quickly take the Potion . 136 THis sudden terror makes me pause for breath , Till sighing out , at length this sad reply : If it be so , welcom to me my death , This is the vtmost of extremitie , And yet when all is done , I can but die . His will be done , sith he will haue it so , And welcome Death , the end of all my woe . 137 My loue is his , whilst loue to him is due , Allegiance binds that loue , that loue tyes truth , Vntrue to him , if to my selfe vntrue , Suspect is still a Page that waites on Youth , Ensuing that which of it selfe ensu'th . Plasters cure wounds , nothing a wounded name , Kings pardon death , but cannot pardon shame . 138 And thou my Deaths-man , slaue vnto his lust , Th' executioner of his lawlesse will , In whom the Tyrant doth repose such trust , Detract no time , his murthering mind fulfill ; Doe what thou dar'st , the worst thou canst but kill . And tell the Tyrant this when I am dead , I loath'd his beastly and adulterous bed . 139 Nor let the King thy Maister euer thinke , A vertuous Maid so cowardly and base , As to be frighted with a poysoned drinke , And liue an abiect in the worlds disgrace : All eyes with shame to gaze me in the face . That ages which heer-after shall succeede , Shall hold me hatefull for so vile a deede . 140 Strange be effects , strange things in loue to proue , He would take from me , what he cannot take , He loues my hate , and doth but hate my loue , And would vnmake what he doth striue to make , And thus must loue , be punisht for loues sake . And would compell by force , so to be held , Which is , nor was , nor can be , if compeld . 141 To make that his , which then cannot be his , Which if once had , is perisht being had , Nor is not then the same that now it is , Striuing to get what he to loose is glad , When pleasure with extreame excesse is mad . Poore in the riches which haue spoiled me , I rich in that , in which I poore should be . 142 Is this the greatest gyft he could bestowe ? Is this the Iewell , wher-with he doth present me ? I am his friend , what gives he to his foe , If this in token of his loue be sent me ? Remedilesse I am , it must content me . Yet afterward , a prouerb this shall proue , The gyft King Iohn bestow'd vpon his Loue . 143 Then of this conquest let thy Soueraigne boast , And make report with shame what he hath done : A thing more easie then subdue an Hoast , Or conquer Kingdoms , as his Father wonne ; O haplesse Sire , of this vnhappy Sonne . And he more shame shall carrie to his graue , Then Fortune honors to his Father gaue . 144 Thus spoke my mind , ( as women vse to doe , ) Hoping thereby som-what to ease my hart , But words I found , did but increase my woe , Augment his rage , not mittigate my smart ; And now comes in the reckoning ere we part . And now my valure must be try'd , or neuer , Or famous now , or infamous for euer . 145 Taking the poyson from his deadly hand , Vnto the King caroust my latest draught ; Goe wretch ( quoth I ) now let him vnderstand , He hath obtayn'd what he so long hath sought ; Though with my blood , my fame I deerly bought . And though my youth he basely haue betrayd , Yet witnes Heauen , I liu'd and dyed a Mayd . 146 This cup the pen , this poyson is the inke , And in this vntoucht table of my brest , To him I 'le freely write what I doe thinke , Where he shall find it feelingly exprest . And what I doe omit , tell thou the rest . Yet rather then in any thing we 'le varie , We iointly will become one Secretarie . 147 Then why repine I , sith he thinks it meete , He is my Soueraigne , and my life is his , Death is not bitter , spyc'd with such a sweet , Which leads the way to euerlasting blis ; He 's all my ioy , he all my glory is . He is the tuch by whom my gold is tryed , Onely by him my death is glorified . 148 For could my life , haue giuen life to me , My youths faire flower , yet blooming , had not died , Then how should this but meritorious be , When by my death , my life is sanctified ? Could euer thing more fitly be applied ? In this is loue , in this his care I find , My Lord is iust , my Lord is only kind . 149 Then let these teares , th' Elixars of my loue , Be to his soule a pure preseruatiue , And let my prayers be of such force to moue , That by my death , my Soueraigne may suruiue : And from his raigne , let Fame herselfe deriue His glory , like the Sunnes translucent rayes , And as the heauen , eternall be his dayes . 150 And thou my carefull kind Phisition , For phisick now thy patients patient be , Appeale to heauen with true contrition , And in thy conscience glasse thy foule sinne see , To thee I 'le be , as thou hast beene to mee . This potion take , to rid thee from dispaire , Euen as thy potion , shall rid me of care . 151 Faith finds free passage to Gods mercy seat , Repentance carries heauens eternall kayes , The greater sinnes bewept , mercy more great , A harty will makes straight th' offenders wayes , Heauen rings for ioy when once a sinner prayes . Of these sweet simples is my drink compounded , Which shall cure both our soules , both deeplie wounded . 152 This mortall poyson , now begins to rage , And spreads his vigor thorough all my vaines , There is no phisick can my greefe aswage , Such is the torment which my hart destraines , Boyling my intrales in most hellish paines , And Nature weakned of her wonted force , Must yeeld to death , which now hath no remorce . 153 And those pure thoughts , which once I choisly fed , Now when pale death my sences doth surprize , I offer her vpon my dying bed , This precious , sweet , perfumed sacrifice : Hallowed in my almighty Makers eyes . Which from this Alter , lends me heauenly light , Guiding my soule amid this darksome night . 154 My glorious life , my spotlesse Chastitie . Now at this hower be all the ioyes I haue , These be the wings by which my fame shall flye , In memorie , these shall my Name engraue ; These , from obliuion shall mine honour saue . With Laurell , these my browes shall coronize , And make me liue to all posterities . 155 Our fond preferments , are but childrens toyes , And as a shaddow , all our pleasures passe , As yeeres increase , so wayning are our ioyes , And beautie crazed , like a broken glasse : A prettie tale of that which neuer was , All things decay , yet Vertue shall not dye , This onely giues vs immortalitie . 156 My soule , thus from her pryson set at large , And gently freed from this poluted roome , This prize vnladen from this lothsome Barge , ( Such is the Heauens ineuitable doome : ) My body layd at Dunmow in my Toombe . Thus Baynards-Castle boasts my blessed birth , And Dunmow kindly wraps me in her earth . 157 NOW scarcely was my breathlesse body cold , But euery where my Tragedy was spred : And Fame , abroad in euery Coast had told , My resolution , being lately dead : The glorious wonder of all women-head . And to my Father flyes with this report , Who liu'd an Exile in the French-Kings Court . 158 His griefe , too great to be bewail'd with teares , Words insufficient , to expresse his woe , His soule assaulted with a thousand feares , As many sundry passions come and goe ; His thoughts , vncertaine , wandring too and froe . At length , this fearefull extasie ore-past , Grones from his soule this passion at the last . 159 O Heauens ( quoth he ) why was I borne accurst ? This onely comfort to mine age was left : But to despite me , you haue done your worst , And me of all my worldly ioyes bereft : I quite vndone by your deceitfull theft . This was the Iewell I esteemed most , And loosing this , now all my treasurs lost . 160 Yee powers Diuine , if you be cleane and chast , In whom alone consists eternitie , Why suffer you , your owne to be disgras't , Subiect to death and black impuritie ? If in your shield be no securitie ? If so for Vertue these rewards be due ? Who shall adore , or who shall honour you ? 161 What ment you , first to giue her vitall breath , Or make the world proud by her blessed birth , Predestinating this vntimelie death , And of her presence to depriue the earth ? O fruitlesse age , now staru'd with Vertues dearth . Or if you long'd to haue her companie , O why by poyson would you let her die ? 162 O Soile , with drops of mercy once bedew'd , When iust men were instauled in thy throne , But now with blood of Innocents imbrew'd , Stayning the glory of fayre Albion , O lustfull Monster , ô accursed Iohn . O heauens , to whom should men for iustice cry , When Kings themselues thus raigne by tyrannie ? 163 O gyue me wings Reuenge , I will ascend And fetch her soule againe , out of their power ; From them proceeded this vntimely end , Who tooke her hence before her dying hower And rays'd that clowd which rayn'd this bloodie shower . And from the graue I le dig her body vp , Which had her bane by that vile poysoned cup 164 O pardon Heauens these sacriligious words , This irreligious open blasphemie : My wretched soule no better now affords , Such is the passion of mine agonie , My desperate case in this extremitie . You harbour those which euer like you best , With blessed Angels let her spirit rest . 165 No , no , I le practise by some secret Art , How to infect his pure life-breathing ayre , Or else I le sheath my poyniard in his hart , Or with strong poyson I le annoynt his Chayre : Or by inchauntment , will his dayes impayre . O no , reuenge to God alone belongs , And it is he which must reuenge my wrongs . 166 Griefe would'st thou wound a world of humaine harts , And yet not furnish'd with artillerie , Of my care-dryed bones then make thee darts , And point them with my sorrow poysoned eye , Which hitting right shall make euen death to dye . That thou thine Ebon bowe shalt neuer drawe , But black despaire himselfe shall stand in awe . 167 O heauens , perforce we must attend your time , Our succours must awaite vpon you still , In your iust waights you ballance euery crime , For vs you know what 's good , and what is ill ; Who vnderstands your deepe and secret skill ? In you alone our destenies consist , Then who is he which can your power resist ? 168 O , could my sighes againe but giue thee breath , Or were my tears such balme as could restore thee , Or could my life redeeme thee from this death , Or were my prayers , but inuocations worthy : Sighs , tears , life , prayers , were all to little for thee . But since the heauen , thus of my child disposeth , Ah me , thy Tombe now all my ioyes incloseth . 169 But Death is proud , and scorneth to be Death , Her smiling beautie did his heate aswage , And is so much enrich'd with her sweet breath , As he doth scorne mine o're-worne wrinkled age , Though with contempt I moue him still to rage . But as thou lou'st her death , for her sweet sake , As thou took'st her from me , me to her take . 170 O what a wonder shall thy valure bring ? What admiration to posteritie ? What rare examples from thy vertues spring : O what a glorie to thy Progenie , To be engrau'd in lasting memorie , When as applauding Fame in euery Coast , Shall thus in honor of Fitzwaters boast ? 171 England , when peace vpon thy shores shall flourish , And that pure Maiden sit vpon thy Throne Which in her bosome shall the Muses nourish , Whose glorious fame shall through the world be blowne , ( O blessed Ile , thrice happy Albion ) Then let thy Poets in their stately rimes , Sing forth her praises to succeeding times . 182 Euen like the roote of some large branched Oake , Whose body by some storme is ouer-borne , Euen with such horror be mine entrailes broke , As when that roote out of the ground is torne : And with such wofull horror let them mourne , As with the shreeks each liuing thing may wound , Euen as the Mandrake torne out of the ground . 183 BY this , the Kings vile bloody rage is past , And gentle time his choller dooth digest , The fire consumes his substance at the last , The griefe asswag'd which did his spirit molest , That fiend cast out wherewith he was possest : And now he feeles thys horror in his soule , When lothsome shame his actions doth controule . 174 Black hell-bred-humor of reuenging sin , By whose inticements , murder we commit , The end vnthought of rashlie we begin , Letting our passion ouer-rule our wit , Missing the marke which most we ayme to hit : Clogging our soules with such a masse of care , As casts vs downe oft times to deepe Dispaire . 175 Traytor to Vertue , Reprobate ( quoth hee ) As for a King , no more vsurpe the name : Staine to all honor and gentilitie , Mark'd in the face with th' yron of Defame : The Picture of all infamie and shame . Dispis'd of men , abhord in euery place , Hate to thy selfe , the very worlds disgrace . 176 When all thy race shall be in tryumph set , Their royall conquests and atchiuements done , Henrie thy Father , braue Plantaginet , Thy conquering Brother , Lyon-hart his sonne , The crownes & spoiles , these famous Champions won This still shall be in thy dishonour said , Loe , this was Iohn , the murderer of a Maid . 177 Looke I to heauen , her purenes tells my sin , Looke I on man , hee frownes with hatefull sight , Looke I on earth , I see my fault therein , The light to view my shame , doth giue me light , The night puts me in mind of my fames night : I read my shame in all things as a booke , And yet most grieu'd when on my selfe I looke . 178 This act enrold in booke of black Defame , Where , men of death & tragick murders reed , Recorded in the Register of shame , In lines whose letters freshly euer bleed , Where all the world shall wonder my misdeed , And quote the place , ( thus euer ) passing by , Note heere King Iohns vile damned tyranny . 179 Her blood exhal'd from earth vnto the sky , A fearfull Meteor still hangs ore my head , Stayning the heauens with her Vermilion dye , Changing the Sunnes bright rayes to gorie red , Prognosticating death and fearfull dread ; Her soule , with howling , & reuengfull steuen , Shreeking before the christall gates of Heauen . 180 Whose sacred Counsell , now in iudgment set , And shee , before them stands to plead her case , Her drearie words in bloodie tears are wet , The euidence appears before my face , And I condemn'd a catife wanting grace ; Iustice cryes out vpon this sinfull deed , And to my death the fatall starrs proceed . 181 Earth , swallow me , and hide me in thy wombe , O let my shame in thy deepe Center dwell , Wrap vp this murder in my wretched tombe , Let tender mercy stop the gates of hell , And with sweet drops this furious heat expell : O let repentance iust reuenge appease , And let my soule , in torment find some ease . 182 O , no : her tears are now become a flood , And as they rise , increasing mine offence ; And now the shedding of her guiltlesse blood , Euen like a Cankar , gnawes my conscience : O , ther 's my griefe , my paine proceeds from thence . Yet neuer time wears out this filthy staine , And I dishonor'd euer shall remaine . 183 Fame in her death , shame in me tooke her birth , That shame in dying , till her fame be dead , My sinne on earth , whilst shee is in the earth , And by her fall , my fault will still be fed , My black more black , my red be made more red , Her no , my I , her was , my wicked is , Her good , my ill , my basenes be her blisse . 184 Then doe I vow a solemne pylgrimage , Before my wretched miserable end ; This doone , betake me to some Hermitage , Where I the remnant of my daies will spend , Where almes and prayer I euer will attend , And on the Tombe at last , where thou dost lie , When all is done , I le lay mee downe and die . 185 And for his pennance , lastly he deuis'd , Monthly to Dunmow would he take his way , And in a simple Palmers weede disguis'd , With deep deuotion kneele him downe to pray : Kissing the place whereas my body lay : Washing my Tombe with his repentant tears , And being wet , yet dry'd it with his hairs . FINIS
THE ARGVMENT OF PEIRS GAVESTON .

PEIRS Gaueston , borne in Gascoyne , at a place of that name , his Father a valiant Gentleman and a souldiour , seruing vnder Edward Longshancks in his warres , in Fraunce , Scotland , and Wales : This Peirs Gaueston , then beeing a child of singuler beautie and no lesse towardnesse , was preferd to the place of a Page , to Edward of Carnaruan , the young Prince of Wales : with whom hee became so highlie in fauour , as neuer any thing could remooue his inviolable loue . Gaueston , as he grew in yeers , became most licentious , & by his inticments , drew this toward young Prince , ( following this his youthfull Minion ) into hate with the Noblemen , and disgrace with the King his Father : who banished this lasciuious corrupter of his Sonne . But after the death of this good King , Edward of Carnaruan comming to the Crowne , calls him home , creating him Earle of Cornwall , making him Lord Chamberlaine , Treasurer & Secretarie , Lord Deputie of Ireland , and Lord Protector of the Land , in his absence in Fraunce : giuing him the Ile of MAN , with all Queene Elinors dowrie . Hee thus established by the King , becommeth a hater of the Noble men , drowned in pride and ambition , setting mortall debate betwixt the Barrons and the King , who subborned him in all his actions , as a man bewithced by this wicked and vile man . Hee was twice banished the Realme , by meanes of the Barrons who deadly hated him : and yet still the King founde meanes to restore him . At length , the Barrons seeing no remedy , rise in Armes , taking Gaueston at Scarborough in the North , ( thether fled as to a refuge from their furie . ) They bring him to Warwicke , where by Guy Beuchamp , the great Earle of Warwicke , he was beheaded at Blacklow bill .

THE LEGENDE OF Piers Gaueston . Entituled To the worthie and Honourable Gentleman , Ma. Henrie Cauendish . Esquire . 1 FRom gloomy shaddow of eternall night , Where cole-black darknes keeps his lothsom cel , And from those ghosts , whose eyes abhor the light , From thence I come , a wosull tale to tell : Prepare the Stage , I meane to act my part , Sighing the Scenes from my tormented hart . 2 From Stygian Lake , to gracelesse soules assign'd , And from the flood of burning Acheron , Where sinfull spirits , are by fire refin'd , The fearfull ghost of wofull Gaueston : With black-fac'd Furies from the graues attended , Vntill the tenor of my tale be ended . 3 Wing-footed Fame nowe summons me from death , In Fortunes triumph to aduaunce my glory , The blessed Heauens againe doe lend me breath , Whilst I report this dolefull Tragick storie : That soule & body , which death once did sunder Now meete together , to report a wonder . 4 O purple-buskind Pallas , most diuine , Let thy bright Fauchion lend me Cypresse bowes , Be thou assisting to this Poet of mine , And with thy tragick garland girt his browes , Pitying my case , when none would hear me weep , To tell my cares , hath layd his owne to sleepe . 5 You mournfull Maidens of the sacred nine , You Destenies which haunt the shades beneath , To you fayre Muses I my plaints resigne , To you black spirits I my woes bequeath , With sable penns of direfull Ebonie , To pen the processe of my tragedie . 6 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 eyes of men , Wherein the world , a wonder-world may see Of heauen-bred ioy , and hell-nurst miserie . 7 Declare my ebb , my often swelling tyde , Now tell my calmes , and then report my showres , My Winters storms , and then my Sommers pride , False Fortunes smiles , then her dissembling lowres , The height wherto my glory did ascend , Then point the period where my ioyes did end . 8 When famous Edward wore the English crowne , Victorious Longshanks , flower of chiualrie , First of his name that raign'd in Albion , Through worlds renown'd to all posteritie : My youth began , and then began my blis , Euen in his daies , those blessed daies of his . 9 O daies , no daies , but little worlds of mirth , O yeeres , no yeeres , time slyding with a trice : O world , no world , a very 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 be . 10 Such a one hee was , as Englands Beta is , Such as shee is , euen such a one was hee , Betwixt her rarest excellence and his , Was neuer yet so neere a simpathy , To tell your worth , and to giue him his due , I say my Soueraigne , hee was like to you . 11 His Court a schoole , where Arts were dailie red , And yet a Campe where Armes are exercised , Vertue and learning heere were nourished , And stratagems by souldiers still deuised : Heere skilfull Schoolmen were his Counsailors , Schollers his Captains , Captains Senators . 12 Here sprang the roote of true gentilitie , Vertue was clad in gold , & crown'd with honor , Honor intitled to Nobilitie , Admired so of all that looked on her : Wisdom , not wealth , possessed wisemens roomes Vnfitting base insinuating Groomes . 13 Then were vile worldlings loth'd as filthy toades , And good men as rare pearls were richly prized , The learned were accounted little Gods , The hatefull Atheist , as the plague despised : Desert then gaynd , what vertues merit craues , And Artles Pesants scornd as basest slaues . 14 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 daies fame with blood was bought & sold , No petti-fogger pol'd the poore for pence , These dolts , these dogs , as traytors banisht hence . 15 Then was the Souldier prodigall of blood , His deeds eterniz'd by the Poets pen : Who spar'd his life to doe his Countrie good , When after death his fame remain'd with men ? Then learning liu'd with liberalitie , And men were crownd with immortalitie . 16 Graunt pardon then vnto my wandring ghost , Although I seeme lasciuious in my praise , And of perfection though I vainlie boast , Whilst here on earth I troad this wearie maze , Whilst yet my soule in body did abide , And whilst my flesh was pampred here in pride . 17 My valiant Father was in Gascoygne borne , A man at Arms , and matchlesse with his launce , A Souldier vow'd , and to King Edward sworne , With whom he seru'd in all his warrs in Fraunce , His goods and lands he pawnd & layd to gage , To follow him , the wonder of that age . 18 And thus himselfe hee from his home exil'd , Who with his sword sought to aduaunce his fame , With me his ioy , but then a little chyld , Vnto the Court of famous England came , Whereas the King , for seruice he had done , Made me a Page vnto the Prince his sonne . 19 My tender youth yet scarce crept from the shell , Vnto the world brought such a wonderment , That all perfection seem'd in mee to dwell , And that the heauens me all their graces lent ; Some sware I was the quintessence of Nature , And some an Angel , and no earthly creature . 20 The heauens had limm'd my face with such a die , As made each curious eye 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 heere on earth . 21 O beautious varnish of the heauens aboue , Pure grain-dy'd colour of a perfect birth , O fairest tincture , Adamant of loue , Angell-hewd blush , the prospective of mirth , O sparkling luster , ioying humaine sight , Liues ioy , harts fire , loues nurse , the soules delight . 22 As purple-tressed Titan with his beames , The sable clowdes of night in sunder cleaueth , Enameling the earth with golden streames , When he his crimson Canapie vpheaueth , Such where my beauties pure translucent rayes , Which cheer'd the Sun , & cleerd the drouping daies . 23 My lookes , perswading Orators of loue , My speech , diuine infusing harmonie , And every word so well could passion moue , So were my icstures grac'd with modestie , As where my thoughts intended to surprize , I easly made a conquest with mine eyes . 24 A gracious minde , a passing louelie eye , A hand that gaue , a mouth the neuer vaunted , A chast desire , a tongue that would not lye , A Lyons hart , a courage neuer daunted , A sweet conceit , in such a cariage placed , As with my iesture all my words were graced . 25 Such was the work which Nature had begun As promised a Iem of wondrous price , This little starre , fore-told a glorious Sunne , This curious plot , an earthly Paradice , This Globe of beauty , wherein all might see An after world of wonders heere in mee . 26 As in th' Autumnall season of the yeere , Some death-presaging Comet doth arise , Or some prodigious meteor doth appeare , Or fearefull Chasma vnto humaine eyes : Euen such a wonder was I to behold , Where heauen seem'd all her secrets to vnfold . 27 If cunnings't pensill-man that euer wrought , By skilfull Arte of secret Sumetrie , Or the diuine Idea of the thought , With rare descriptions of high Poesie , Should all compose a body and a minde , Such one was I , the wonder of my kinde . 28 With this faire bayte I fisht for Edwards loue , My daintie youth so pleasd his princlie eye : Heere grewe the league , which time could not remoue , So deeplie grasted in our infancie , That frend , nor so , nor life , nor death could sunder So seldom seene , and to the world a wonder . 29 O heauenlie concord , musick of the minde , Touching the hart-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 . 30 O strong combining chayne 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 , And endles league , a bond that s neuer broken , A thing diuine , a word with wonder spoken . 31 With this faire 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 . 32 With this sweet Prince , the mirror of my blisse , My souls delight , my ioy , my fortunes pride , My youth enioyd such perfect happines , Whilst Tutors care his wandring yeeres did guide , As his affections on my thoughts attended , And with my life , his ioyes began and ended . 33 Whether it were my beauties excellence , Or rare perfections that so pleasd his eye , Or some diuine and heauenly influence , Or naturall attracting simpathy : My pleasing youth became his sences obiect , Where all his passions wrought vpon this subiect . 34 Thou Arke of heauen , where wonders are inroled , O depth of nature , who can looke on thee ? O who is he that hath thy doome controuled ? Or hath the kay of reason to vndoe thee : Thy works diuine , which powers alone doe knowe , Our shallow wits too short for things below . 35 The soule diuine by her integritie , And by the functious agents of the minde , Cleere-sighted , so perceiueth through the eye , That which is pure and pleasing to her kinde , And by her powrfull motions apprehendeth , That which beyond our humane sense extendeth . 36 This Edward in the Aprill of his age , Whilst 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 son , And what I said , by him was euer done . 37 My words as lawes , autentique hee allow'd , My yea , by him was neuer crost with no , All my conceit as currant hee avow'd , And as my shadow still he serued so , My hand the racket , he the tennis-ball , My voyces eccho , answering euery call . 38 My youth the glasse where he his youth beheld , Roses his lips , my breath sweet Nectar showers , For in my face was Natures fairest field , Richly adorn'd with beauties rarest flowers , My breast the pillow where he layd his head , Mine eyes this brooke , my bosome was his bed . 39 My smiles were life , and Heauen vnto his sight , All his delight concluding my desire , From mine eyes beames he borrowed all his light , And as a flye play'd with my beauties fire , His loue-sick lips , at euery kissing qualme , Cling to my lips to cure their griefe with blame . 40 Like as the wanton Iuie with his twine , When as the Oake his rootlesse body warmes , The straightest saplings strictly doth combine , Clipping the woods with his laciuious armes : Such our imbraces when our sport begins , Lapt in our armes , like Ledas louely twins . 41 Or as Loue-nursing Venus when she sports With cherry-lipt Adonis in the shade , Figuring her passions in a thousand sorts , With sights , & teares , or what else might perswade , Her deere , her sweet , her ioy , her life , her loue , Kissing his brow , his cheek , his hand , & his gloue . 42 My beautie was the Load-starre to his thought , My lookes the Pilot to his wandring eye , By me his sences all sleepe were brought , When with sweet loue I sang his lullaby ; Nature had taught my tongue her perfect time , Which in his eare strooke dulie as a chime . 43 With sweetest speech , thus could I Syrenics , Which as strong Philters youths desire could moue , And with such method could I rethorize , My musick played the measures to his loue : In his faire breast , such was my souls impression , As to his eyes , my thoughts made intercession . 44 Thus like an Eagle seated in the Sunne , But yet a Phenix in my Soueraignes eye , We act with shame , our Revels are begun , The wise could iudge of our Catastrophe : But we proceed to play our wanton prize , Our mournfull Chorus was a world of eyes . 45 The table now of all delight is layd , Seru'd with what banquets beautie could deuise , She Syrens sing , and false Calipso playd , Our feast is grac'd with youths sweet Comedies . Our looks with smiles , are sooth'd of euery eye , Carrousing loue in bowles of Iuorie . 46 Fraught with delight , and safely vnder saile , Like flight-wing'd Faucons now we take our scope , Our youth and fortune blow a merry gale , We loose the Anchor of our vertues hope : Blinded with pleasure in this lustfull game , By over-sight discard our King with shame . 47 My youthfull pranks are spurres to his desire , I held the raynes which rul'd the golden Sunne , My blandishments were fewell to his fire , I had the garland who so euer wonne : I waxt his wings and taught him art to flie , Who on his back might beare me through the skie . 48 Here first that Sun-bright temple is defild , Which to faire Vertue first was consecrated , This was the fruit wher-with I was beguild , Here first the deed of all my fame was dated : O me , even here from Paradice I fell , From Angels state , from heauen , cast down to hell . 49 Loe here the very Image of perfection , With the black pensell of defame is blotted , And with the vlcers of my youths infection , My innocencie is besmear'd and spotted , Now comes my night , ô now my day is donne , These sable clouds eclipse my rysing sunne . 50 Our innocence , our child-bred puritie Is now defild , and as our dreames forgot , Drawne in the Coach of our securitie . What act so vile that we attempted not ; Our sun-bright vertues fountain-cleer beginning , Is now polluted by the filth of sinning . 51 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 . 52 The Heauen too see my fall doth knit her browes , The valty ground under my burthen groneth , Vnto mine eyes , the ayre no light allowes , The very wind my wickednes bemoneth : The barren earth repineth at my food , And Nature seemes to curse her beastly brood . 53 And thus like slaues we sell our soules to sinne , Vertue forgot by worlds deceitfull trust , Alone by pleasure are we entered in , Now wandring in the labyrinth of lust , For when the soule is drowned once in vice , The sweet of sinne , makes hell paradice . 54 O pleasure thou , the very lure of sinne , The root of woe , our youths deceitfull guide , A shop where all confected poysons bin , The bayre of lust , the instrument of pride , Inchanting Circes , smoothing couer-guile , Alluring Siren , flattering Crocodile . 55 Our Ioue which sawe this Phoebus youth betrayd , And Phaeton guide the Sun-carre in the skyes , Knew well the course with danger hardly stayd , For what is not perceiu'd by wise-mens eyes ; He knew these pleasures , posts of our desire , Might by misguiding set his throne on fier . 56 This was a corsiue to King Edwards dayes , These iarring discords quite vntun'd his mirth , This was the paine which 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 , & rent his hart in sunder . 57 This venom suckt the marrow from his bones , This was the canker which consum'd his yeares , This fearfull vision , fild his sleepe with grones , This winter snow'd downe frost vpon his haires : This was the moth , this was the fretting rust , Which so consum'd his glory vnto dust . 58 The humor found , which fed this foule disease , Most needs be stay'd ere help could be deuis'd , The vaine must breath the burning to appease , Hardly a cure the wound not cauteriz'd : That member now where in the botch was risen , Infecteth all not cured by incision . 59 The cause coniectur'd by this Prodigie , From whence this foule contagious sicknes grue , Wisdome alone must giue a remedie , Thus to preuent the danger to insue : The cause must end , ere the effect could cease , Else might the danger daylie more increase . 60 Now they , whose eyes to death enui'd my glory , Whose safetie still vpon my down-fall stood , These , these , could comment on my youthfull story , These were the Wolues which thirsted for my blood : These all vnlade their mischiefes at this bay , And make the breach to enter my decay . 61 These currs which liu'd by carrion of the court , These wide-mouth'd helhounds long time kept at bay , Finding the King to credit their report ; Like greedie Rauens follow for their pray : Despightfull Langton fauorit to the King , This was the Serpent stroke me with his sting . 62 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 strome , this vnexspected wonder . They thought my Sunne had been eclipsed quite , And all my day now turn'd to Winters night . 63 My youth embowel'd by their curious eyes , Whose true reports my lyfe anotomis'd : Who still pursu'd me like deceitfull spyes , To crosse that which I wantonly deuis'd : Perceiue the traine me to the trap had led , And down they come like hailstones on my head 64 My Sunne eclips'd , each starre becomes a Sunne , When Phoebus failes , then Cynthia shineth bright , These furnish vp the Stage , my act is done , Which were but Glo-worms to my glorious light , They erst condemn'd , by my perfections doome , In Phoebus Chariot , now possesse my roome . 65 The Commons swore , I led the Prince to vice , The Noble-men , said 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 subborn'd to offer me disgrace . 66 The staffe thus broke , wheron my youth did stay , And like the shaddow all my pleasures gone , Now with the winds my ioyes fleet hence away , The silent night makes musick to my mone , The tatling Ecchoes whispring with the ayre , Vnto my words sound nothing but dispayre . 67 The frowning Heauens are all in sable 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 far despayre exceeds extremitie . 68 Why doe I quake my down-fall to report ? 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 Beasts doth feare , The greatest flye , when he approcheth neare . 69 My Prince is now appointed to his gard , As from a Traytor he is kept from me , My banishment alreadie is prepard , Away I must , there is no remedie : On paine of death I may no longer stay , Such is reuenge which brooketh no delay . 70 The skyes with clouds are all inuelloped , The pitchy fogs eclipse my cheerfull Sunne , The geatie night hath all her curtains spred , And all the ayre with vapours ouer-runne . Wanting those rayes whose cleernes lent me light My sun-shine day is turn'd black-fac'd night . 71 Like to the bird of Leda's Lemmans die , Beating his breast against the siluer streame , The fatall Prophet of his destenie , With mourning chants , his death aproching theame So now I sing the dirges of my fall , The Anthemes of my fatall funerall . 72 Or as the faithfull Turtle for her make , Whose youth enioyd her deare virginitie , Sits shrouded in some melancholly brake , Chirping fotth accents of her miserie . Thus halfe distracted sitting all alone , With speaking sighs to vtter forth my mone . 73 My beautie sdayning to behold the light , Now weather-beaten with a thousand storms , My dainty lims must trauaile day and night , Which oft were luld in princely Edwards armes . Those eyes where Beautie sat in all her pride , With fearefull obiects fild on euery side . 74 The Prince so much astonisht with the blowe , So that it seem'd as yet he felt no paine , Vntil 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 . 75 Now weepe mine eyes , and lend me teares at will , You sad-musd sisters help me to indite , And in your faire Castalia bathe my quill , In bloodie lines whilst I his woes recite , Inspire my Muse , â Heauens , now from aboue , To paint the passions of a princely loue . 76 His eyes about their rowling Globes doe east , To find that Sunne from whom they had their light , His thoughts doe labour for that sweet repast , Which past the day , and pleasd him all the night : He counts the howers , so slolie how they runne . Reproues the day , & blames the loytring Sunne . 77 As gorgious Phoebus in his first vprise , Discouering now his Scarlet-coloured head , By troublous motions of the lowring skies , His glorious beames with foggs are ouer-spread , So are his cheerfull browes eclips'd with sorrow , with cloud that shine of his youths-smiling morrow . 78 Now showring downe a flood of brackish teares , The Epithemas to his hart-swolne griefe , Then sighing out a vollue of despayres , Which only is th' afflicted mans reliefe : Now wanting sighes , & all his teares were spent , His tongue brake out into this sad lament . 79 O breake my hart ( quoth he ) ô breake and dye , Whose Infant thoughts were nurst with sweet delight ; But now the Inne of care and miserie , Whose pleasing hope is murthered by despight : O end my dayes , for now my ioyes are done , Wanting my Piers , my sweetest Gaueston . 80 Farewell my Loue , companion of my youth , My soules delight , the subiect of my mirth , My second selfe if I report the truth , The rare and only Phenix of the earth ; Farwell sweet friend , with thee my ioyes are gon , Farewell my Piers , my louely Gaueston . 81 What are the rest but painted Imagrie , Domb Idols made to fill vp idle roomes , But gaudie Anticks , sports of foolerie , But fleshly Coffins , goodly gilded toombs , But Puppets which with others words replie , Like pratling Ecchoes soothing euery lie ? 82 O damned world , I scorne thee and thy worth , The very source of all iniquitie : An ougly dam that brings such monsters forth , The maze of death , nurse of impietie , A filthy sinke where lothsomnes doth dwell , A Labyrinth , a Iayle , a very hell . 83 Deceitfull Syren Traytor to my youth , Bane to my blisse , false theese that steal'st my ioyes , Mother of lyes , sworne enemie to truth , The ship of fooles fraught all with gauds & toyes , A vessell stuft with foule hypocrisie , The very temple of Idolatrie , 84 O earth-pale Saturne most maleuolent , Combustious Planet , tyrant in thy raigne , The sword of wrath , the root of discontent , In whose ascendant all my ioyes are slaine : Thou executioner of foule bloody rage , To act the will of lame decrepit age . 85 My life is but a very map of woes , My ioyes the fruit of an vntimely birth , My youth in labour with vnkindly throwes , My pleasures are like plagues that raigne on earth , All my delights like streams that swiftly runne , Or like the dewe exhaled by the Sunne . 86 O Heauens why are you deafe vnto my mone ? Sdayne you my prayers , or scorne to heare my misse , Cease you to moue , or is your pitty gone ; Or is it you which rob me of my blisse ? What are you blind , or wink and will not see ? Or doe you sport at my calamitie ? 87 O happy climat what so ere thou be , Cheerd with those sunnes the fair'st that euer shon , Which hast those Starrs which guide my destenie , The brightest Lamps in all the Horizon . O happy eyes that see what most I lack , The pride and beautie of the Zodiack . 88 O blessed Fountaine , source of all delight , O sacred spark that kindlest Vertues fier ? The perfect obiect of the purest sight , The superficies of true loues desire , The very tuchstone of all sweet conceite , On whom all graces euer-more awaite . 89 Thus whilst his youth in all these storms was tost , And whilst his ioyes lay speechlesse in a trance , His sweet content with such vnkindnes crost , And lowring Fortune seem'd to looke a skance , Too weake to swim against the streamfull time , Fore-told their fall which now sought most to clime . 90 Camelion-like , the world thus turnes her hue , And like to Proteus puts on sundry shapes , One hastes to clime , another doth ensue , One falls , another for promotion gapes : Flockmell they swarme like flies about the brim , Some drown , whilst others with great danger swim . 91 And some on whom , the Sunne shone passing faire , Yet of their Sommer nothing seeme to vaunt , 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 deare . 92 Thus restlesse Time that neuer turnes againe , Whose winged secte are slyding with the Sunne , Brings Fortune in to act another Scene By whom the Plot already is begunne : The argument of this black tragedie , Is vertues fall to raise vp infamie . 93 The brute is blowne , the King doth now pretend , A long-look'd voyage to the Holy-land , For which his Subiects mighty sums doe lend , And whilst the thing is hotly thus in hand , Blind Fortune turnes about her fickle wheele , And breaks the prop , which maks the building reele . 94 I feare to speake , yet speake I must perforce , My words be turn'd to teares euen as I write , Mine eyes doe yet behold his dying course , And on his Hearse me thinks I still indite : My paper is hard sable Ebon wood , My pen of Iron , and my Inke is blood . 95 Loe here , the time drew 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 floods of teares , For whom the Sun , euen mourning hides his face , For whom the earth , was all too vile and base . 96 May I report his dolefull obsequie , When as my Ghost doth tremble at his name , Faine would I write , but as I write I die , My ioynts apald with feare , my hand is lame , I leaue it to some sacred Muse to tell , Vpon whose life a Poets pen might dwell . 97 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 wind blows right , loe yonder breaks my day Caroll my Muse , and now sing care away . 98 Carnaruan now calls home within a while , Whom worthy Long-shanks 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 perform'd , & dead mens words forgot . 99 Now waft me wind vnto the blessed I le , Rock me my ioyes , loue sing me with delight , Now sleepe my thoughts , cease sorrow 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 . 100 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 read my storie , My Comet now , worlds wonder thus appeares , Foretelling troubles of ensuing yeares . 101 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 , Surnamed now , the wonder of our dayes . 102 Who euer sawe the kindest Romaine dame , With extreame ioy yeeld vp her latest breath , When from the wars her Sonne triumphing came , And stately Rome had mourned for his death : Her passion here might haue exprest a right , When once I came into the Princes sight . 103 Who euer had his Lady in his arms , Which hath of loue but felt the miserie , Touching the fire that all his sences warms , Now clips with ioy her blushing Iuorie , Feeling his soule in such delights to melt , Ther 's none but he can tell the ioyes we felt . 104 Like as when Phoebus darting forth his rayes , Glydeth along the swelling Ocean streams , And whilst one billow with another playes , Reflecteth back his bright translucent beams , Such was the conflict then betwixt our eyes , Sending forth looks as tears doe fall and rise . 105 It seem'd the ayre deuisd to please my sight , The whistling wind makes musick to my tale , All things on earth doe feast me with delight , The world to me sets all her wealth to sale ; Who now rules all in Court , but I alone , Who highly grac'd , but onely Gaueston ? 106 Now , like to Mydas , all I touch is gold , The clowds doe showre downe gold into my lap , If I but winck , the mightiest are controld , 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 repare . 107 With bountie now he franckly seales his loue , And to my hands yeelds vp the Ile of Man , By such a gift his kingly mind to proue , Thys was the earnest where-with he began ; Then Wallingford , Queene Elnors stately bower , With many a towne , and many a goodly tower . 108 And all those summs his Father had prepard , By way of taxes for the Holy-land , He gaue me franckly , as my due reward , In bountie thus it seem'd he pleasd his hand , Which made the world to wonder euery howre , To see me drowned in this golden showre . 109 Determin'd now to hoyse my saile amaine , The Earle of Cornwall he created me , Of England then the Lord high Chamberlaine , Cheese Secretarie to his Maiestie : What I deuisd , his treasure euer wrought , His bountie still so answered to my thought . 110 Yet more to spice my ioyes with sweet delight , Bound by his loue apprentice to my pleasure , Whose eyes still leueld how to please my sight , Whose kindnes euer so exceeded measure , Deuisd to quench my thirst with such a drink , As from my quill drops Nectar to my inck . 111 O sacred Bountie , mother of Content , Prop of renowne , the nourisher of Arts , The Crowne of hope , the roote of good euent , The trump of Fame , the ioy of noble harts , Grace of the heauens , diuinitie in nature , Whose excellence doth so adorne the creature . 112 Hee giues his Neece is marriage vnto me , Of royall blood , for beautie past compare , Borne of his Sister was this Bellamie , Daughter to Gilbert , thrice renowned Clare , Cheefe of his house , the Earle of Glocester , For princly worth that neuer had his Peere . 113 Like heauen-dy'd Andromeda the faire , In her embrodered Mantle richly dight , With starrie traine inthronis'd in the ayre , Adorns the Welken with her glittering light , Such one shee was , who in my bosome rested , with whose sweet loue , my youthful yeres wer fested 114 As when faire Ver , dight in her flowrie rayle , In her new-coloured liuerie decks the earth , And glorious Tytan spreads his sun-shine vaile , To bring to passe her tender infants birth , Such was her beautie which I then possest , With whose imbracings all my youth was blest . 115 Whose purest thoughts , and spotles chast desire , To my affections still so pleasing were , Neuer yet toucht with sparke of Venus fire , As but her breast , I thought no heauen but there , To none more like then faire Idea , she , The perfect Image of pure chastitie . 116 O chastitie , thou gyft of blessed souls , Comfort in death , a crowne vnto the life , Which all the passions of the minde controuls , Adorns the mayde and beautifies the wife : That grace , the which nor death nor time attaints , Of earthly creaturs making heauenly Saints . 117 O Vertue , which no Muse can poetize , Faire Queene of England which with thee doth rest , Which thy pure thoughts doe onely exercize , And is impressed in thy royall brest , Which in thy life disciphred is alone , Whose name shall want a fit Epitheron . 118 The Heauens now seeme to frolick at my feast , The Starrs as hand-mayds seruing my desiers , Now loue full fed with beautie , takes his rest , To whom content , for safetie thus retiers : The ground was good , my footing passing sure , My dayes delightsome , and my life secure . 119 Loe , thus ambition creeps into my breast , Pleasing my thoughts with this emperious humor , And with this deuill beeing once possest , Mine ears are fild with such a buzzing rumor , As onely pride my glorie doth await , My sences sooth'd with euery selfe-conceit . 120 Selfe-loue , Prides thirst , vnsatis-fied desire , A flood that neuer yet had any bounds , Times pestilence , thou state-consuming fire , A mischiefe which all Common weals confounds , O plague of plagues , how many kingdoms rue thee ? Happy those Empires which yet neuer knew thee 121 And now reuenge which had been smothred long , Like piercing lightning flasheth from mine eyes , This word could sound so sweetly on my tonge , And with my thoughts such stratagems deuise , Tickling mine eares with many a pleasant storie , Which promise wonders , & a world of glorie . 122 For now began the bloody-rayning broyles Betweene the Barrons of the Land and me : Labouring the state with Ixion-endles toyles , Twixt my ambition , and their tyrannie , Such was the storme this deliuge first begun , With which this Ile was after ouer-run . 123 O cruell discord , foode of deadly hate , O mortall corsiue to a common weale , Death-lingring consumption to a state , A poysned sore that neuer salue could heale , O foule contagion , deadly killing feuer , Infecting oft , but to be cured neuer . 124 By courage now imboldned in my sinne , Finding my King so surely linckt to mee , By circumstance I finely bring him in , To be an actor in this Tragedie , Perswading him the Barrons sought his blood , And on what tearms , these earth-bred giants stood 125 And so aduauncing to my Princes grace , The baser sort , of factious qualitie , As beeing raised vnto such a place , Might counterpoize the proude Nobilitie , And as my Agents , on my part might stand , Still to support what ere I tooke in hand . 126 Suborning Iesters still to make me mirth , Vile Sycophants , at euery word to sooth me , Time-fawning Spaniels , Mermayds on the earth , Trencher-fed fooles , with flatteries to smooth me , Base Parasits , these elbow-rubbing mates , A plague to all lasciuious wanton states . 127 O filthy Monkies , vile and beastly kinde , Foule pratling Parrats , byrds of Harpie broode , A corasiue to euery noble minde , Vipers , that suck your mothers decrest blood , Mishapen Monster , worst of any creature , A foe to Art , an enemie to nature . 128 His presence grac'd what ere I went about , Best pleasd with that which most contented me , What ere I did , his powre still bare mee out , And where I was , there euer-more was hee , By birth my Soueraigne , but by loue my thrall , King Edwards Idoll all men did mee call . 129 Oft would hee set 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 hee sweetly kissed mee ; When did I laugh , and he not seene to smile ? If I but frownd , he silent all the while . 130 But Fortune now vnto my ouer-throw , Intic'd me on with her alluring call : And still deuising how to worke my woe , One baite tane vp , shee let another fall , Thus Syren-like , she brings me to the bay , Where long before shee plotted my decay . 131 For now the King to Fraunce doth him prepare , For marriage with the Princesse Isabell , Daughter to Phillip , then surnam'd the faire , And shee , like him , in beautie did excell , Of tylts and tryumphs euery man reports , And the vniting of these famous Courts . 132 To raise me now to honors highest stayre , Hee makes mee Lord-protector of the Land , And placing me in his imperiall chayre , Yeelds vp his Scepter wholy to my hand , Deuising still how hee to passe might bring , That if hee died , I might succeed as King . 133 His treasure now stood absolute to mee , I dranck my pleasurs in a golden cup , I spent a world , I had aboundantlie , As though the earth had throwne her bowels vp . My reckonings cast , my summes were soone enroled I was by no man once to controled . 134 Now being got as high as I could clime , And Fortune made my foot-cloth as I gest , I paint mee braue with Tagus golden slime , Because I would enioy what I possest ; Alluding still , that he is mad , and worse , Which playes the nyggard with a Princes purse . 135 And now the King returning with his traine , I summond all the chiefe Nobilitie , And in my pompe went foorth to entertaine The Peers of Fraunce in all thys ioylitie : Where , in my carriage were such honors placed , As with my presence , all the showes were graced . 136 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 pride , loe thus I could deuise , To seeme a wonder vnto all mens eyes . 137 In richest Purple rode I all alone , With Diamonds imbrodered and bedight , Which like the starrs in Gallaxia shone , Whose luster still reflecting with the light , Presented heauen to all that euer gazed , Of force to make a world of eyes amazed . 138 Vpon a stately Iennet foorth I rode , Caparizond with Pearle-enchased plumes , Trotting , as though the Measures he had trode , Breathing Arabian Ciuit-sweet perfumes : Whose rarenes seem'd to cast men in a traunce , Praised of England , but admir'd of Fraunce . 139 Like trident-maced Neptune in his pride , Mounted vpon a Dolphin in a storme , Vpon the tossing billows forth doth ride , About whose trayne a thousand Trytons swarme , When Phoebus seemes to set the waues on fire , To shew his glorie , and the Gods desire . 140 Or like vnto the fiery-faced Sunne , Vpon his wagon prauncing in the West , Whose blushing cheeks with flames seeme ouer-run , Whilst sweating thus he gallops to his rest , Such was the glory wherein now I stood , Which makes the Barons sweat their deerest blood 141 Foolish Narcissus , with thy selfe in loue , Yet but to be thy selfe thou canst not see , Remoue thy sight , which shall that sight remoue , Which doth but seeme , & yet not seeming thee : A shaddow , shaddowed vnderneath a waue , Which each thing can destroy , & nothing saue . 142 Bridle ambition fretting in desire , At least disguise her in humilitie , This were a perfect method to aspire , By certaine rules of grounded policie : The bending knee in safetie still doth goe , When others stumble , as too stiffe to bow . 143 One euill still another doth beget , Pride drawes on vengeance , vengeance , hath no meane , Enuy let in , doth in more mischiefes let , Vaine-glory neuer temperance doth retaine , Chance liues not long , time festeth & time morns Solace and sorrow haue thier certaine turns . 144 Coyne modest temperance , vaile thy saile of state , Paint pale disdaine , and make her louely fayre , In meeknes maske the most distempred hate , Ere sharpest phisick come , mildly prepare , Vse instruments to draw thy purpose on , The surest means , is surel'est built vpon . 145 Vertue and vice , immortall enemies , Both this & that , gainst this and that opposed , Euill and good in contrarieties , One by the other vtterly transposed : Now were the skill to make them both agree , Thys seeming that , that seeming this to bee . 146 Thus when the gallant companies were met , The King heere present with his louely Queene , The Noblemen in comly order set , To heare and see , what could be heard & seene , Loe here that kindnes easly is discride , That faithfull loue which he nor I could hide . 147 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 we fold , Our breasts for ioy our harts could scarcly hold . 148 Or like the Nimph beholding in a Well , Her deerest loue , & wanting words to wooe him , About his neck with clipped arms shee fell , Where by her faith the Gods conioynd her to him . Such was the loue which now by signes we break , When ioy had tied our tongs we could not speak . 149 Thus arme in arme towards London on we rid , And like two Lambs , 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 . 150 The Barrons now ambitious at my raigne , As one which stoode betwixt them and the Sun , They vnderhand pursue mee with disdaine , Playing the game which I before had won , And malice now so hard the bellowes blew , That through mine eares the sparks of fire flewe . 151 Where , in reuenge , the tryumphs they deuisd To entertaine the King with wondrous cost , Were by my malice suddainly surprizd , The charge , their summons , & theyr honors lost ; Which in their thoughts , reuenge so deeply raised , As with my blood they vow'd shold be appeased 152 As when within the soft and spungie soyle , The wind doth peirce the intrals of the earth , Where hurly burly with a restlesse coyle , Shakes all the Center , wanting issue sorth , Till with the tumor townes & mountains tremble , Euen such a meteor doth their rage resemble . 153 Or when the shapeles huge Leuiathan Hath thrust himselfe vpon the sandie shore , Where ( Monster like ) affrighting euery man , Hee belloweth out a fearfull hidious rore , Euen such a clamor through the ayre doth thunder The doleful presage of some fearfull wonder . 154 Thus as a plague vnto the gouernment , A very scourge to the Nobilitie , The cause of all the Commons discontent , The Image of all sensualitie , I was reproched openly of many , Who pittied none , not pittied now of any . 155 And as a vile misleader of the King , A wastfull spender of his coyne & treasure , A secret thiefe 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 . 156 Light-footed mischiefe , messenger of death , Sharp spur of vengeaunce , piercing edge of hate , Blood poysoning plague , repiner at our breath , Thou foule infector of all humaine state , Post to destruction running on with vs , Night-haunting ghost , our euill Genius . 157 O foule fore-teller of my fouler fall , Still following fury , neuer pyttying fiend , Of my destruction onely principall , Curse of our birth , and Curser of our end ; Our frailties scourge , our vices purgatory , Thou fatall worker of our fatall storie . 158 Like as a clowde , foule , darke , and vgly black , Threatning the earth with tempest euery howre , Now broken with a fearful thunder-crack , Straight poureth downe his deepe earth-drenching showre , Thus for their wrongs now rise they vp in arms , Or to reuenge , or to amend their harms . 159 The King perceiuing how the matter stood , Himselfe , his crowne in thys extremety , And still the Barrons thirsting for my blood , And seeing now no other remedy , But I some vile vntimely death must die , Or thus must be , exiled presentlie . 160 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 , & now he knowes now what . To help me now , a thousand means he forgeth , Whilst still with sighs his sorrows he disgorgeth . 161 And for I was his very soules delight , He thought on this , the onely way at last , In Ireland to hide mee out of sight , Vntill these storms were somwhat ouer-past , And in meane time , t' appease the Barrons hate , And so reduce mee to my former state . 162 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 the mercy of the fire . 163 Or as a Nurse within besieged walls , Dreading each houre the souldiers slaughtring 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 me , The ioy and pride of his felicitie . 164 Hee wanted words t' expresse what hee sustaind , Nor could I speake to vtter halfe my wrong , To shew his griefe , or where I most was paind , The time too short , the tale were all too long : Taking my leaue with sighs , away I went , He streams of tears vnto my farewell sen●● 165 Dispatching lookes ( Embassadors of loue ) Which as our posts could goe & soone retire , By whose quick motion we alone might proue , Our equall loue , did equall like desire , And that the fire in which we both did burne , Was sooner quencht in hope of safe returne . 166 O hope , how cunning with our cares to gloze , Griefes breathing point , the truce man to desire , The rest in sighs , the very thoughts repose , As thou art milde , oh wert thou not a lyer , Faire speaking flattry , subtill soothing guile , Ah how in thee our sorrows sweetly smile . 167 Like to a vessell with a narrow vent , Which is fild vp with liquor to the top , Although the mouth be after down-ward bent , Yet is it seene not to distill a drop . Euen thus our breasts brim-full with pensiue care , Stopping our tongues , with griefe we silent are . 168 But when my want gaue breath vnto his mone , And that his teares had now vntide his tongue , With drery sighes dispersd and ouer-blowne , Which erst ( like Fountains ) in aboundance sprung , Vnto himselfe he thus complaines his griefe , Sith now the world could yield him no reliefe . 169 O cursed stars ( quoth he ) which guide my birth , Infernall Torches , Comets of misfortune , Or Genius here which haunts me on the earth , Or hellish Fiend that doest my woes importune ; Fate-guiding Heauens , in whose vnlucky mouing , Stands th' effect of my mishaps approuing . 170 Sky-couering clouds , which thus doe ouer-cast , And at my noone-tide darken all my Sunne , Blood-drying sicknes , which my life doost wast , When yet my glasse is but a quarter runne : My ioy but a phantasma and elusion , And my delights intending my confusion . 171 What Planet raignd in the vnluckie hower , When first I was inuested in the Crowne ? Or hath in my natiuitie such power , Or what vile furie doth attend my Throne ? Or els , what hellish hags be these that haunt me ? Yet if a King , why should misfortune daunt me ? 172 Am I a Prince , yet to my people subiect , Which should be lou'd , yet thus am left forlorne , Ordaynd to rule , respected as an abiect , Liue I to see mine honour had in scorne ? Base dunghill mind , that doest such slauery bring , To liue a Pesant , and be borne a King . 173 The purest steele doth neuer turne at lead , Nor Oake doth bow at euery wind that blowes , Nor Lyon from a Lamb doth turne his head , Nor Eagle frighted with a flock of Crowes : And yet a King want courage in his brest , Trembling for feare to see his woes redrest . 174 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 same by euery slaue disgraced ; A King should euer priuiledge his pleasure , And make his Peers esteeme it as their treasure . 175 Then raise thy thoughts , & with thy thoughts thy loue Kings want no means t' accomplish what they would , If one doe saile , 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 . 176 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 deare , a space , this wearie time prolong , He liues , that can , and shall reuenge thy wrong . 177 Thus like a man growne lunatick with paine , Now in his torments casts him on his bed , Then out he runnes into the fields againe , And on the ground doth rest his troubled head . With such sharp passions is the King possest . Which day nor night doth let him take his rest . 178 As Lyon-skind Alcides , when he lost His louely Hylas on his way from Thrace , Follows the quest through many an vnknown Coast , With plaints and out-cryes , wearying euery place , Thus louely Edward fils each place with mone , Wanting the sight of his sweet Gaueston . 179 Thus like a Barge that wants both steere & sailes , Forc'd with the wind against the streamfull tyde , From place to place with euery billow hailes , 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 . 180 Instruct thy dangers whilst they be but yong , And like a teacher trayne them to obay , That growing cunning as they doe growe strong , They may guide thee with safety on the way . Thus find out wisdoms true mortallitie , Philosophies more deepe Philosophie . 181 With sweetest mildnes guide thine humble eye , Thy mind aloft , thy semblance carried downe , Vaine-glory fondly gazeth on the skye , He on the ground that aymeth at a crowne : Thy thoughts & sight not leueld both together , Wher thou woldst be , thine eie not bending thether . 182 With mind more clearer , then with eyes we see , That followed best whose proofe brings confidence , Let words vnto thy thoughts but watch-words be , Thy speech no whit alyed to thy pretence ; Feed fooles with toyes , but wise-men with regard The breath thou spar'st , for thy aduantage spar'd . 183 The Fates far of fore-seene , come gently neare , Doubt takes sure footing in the slipperest wayes , Sasetie , most safe , when she is kept with feare , And quietnes the only Nurse of ease : Ambition frantick , stabbeth still atthrones , Honour , and enuie , be companions . 184 On this Dilemma stood my tickle state , Thus Pro et contra all men doe dispute , Precisely balanc't twixt my loue and hate , Some doe affirme , some other doe confute : Vntill my King , ( sweet Edward now at last , Thus strikes the stroke which makes them all agast . 185 Now calling such of the Nobilitie , As he supposed on his part would stand , By their consent he makes me Deputie , And being seated thus in Ireland , Of gold and siluer sendeth me such store , As made the world to wonder more and more . 186 Like great gold-coyning Crassus in his health , Amidst his Legion long-maintayning store , The glory of the Romane Common-wealth , Feasting the rich , and gyuing to the poore . Such was th' aboundance which I then possest , Blessed with gold , ( if gold could make me blest . ) 187 Where , ( like Lucullus , ) I maintaind a port , As great God Bacchus had been late come downe , And in all pomp , 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 . 188 Of this my wondrous hospitalitie , The Irish yet , vntill this day doe boast , Such was the bountie of my King to me , His Chequer then could scarce defray the cost . His gifts were great , I ioyd in what he sent , He freely gaue , and I as freely spend . 189 Few daies there past , but some the channell crost , With kindest Letters enterlind with loue , Wheras I still receiu'd by euery Post , His Riug , his Bracelet , Garter , or his Gloue : Which I in hostage of his kindnes kept , Of this pure loue , which liu'd and neuer slept . 190 With many a rich and statelie Ornament , Worne by great Kings , of high & wondrous price , Or Iewell that my fancie might content , With many a Robe of strange and rare deuice . That all which saw & knew this wondrous wast , Perceiu'd his treasure long time could not last . 191 And thus whilst Fortune friendly cast my dice , And tooke my hazard , and threw at the maine , I saw it was but solly to be nice , That chanceth once , which seldome haps againe . I knew such bountie had been seldom seene , And since his time , I thinke hath neuer beene . 192 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 ) their very hart-strings cuts , And gnawes them like the Collick in the guts . 193 Thus ( all in vaine ) they seeke 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 like men which tread an endlesse maze , Whilst Fortune sports , the world stands at a gaze . 194 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 else be burned if they doe retire : Som curse the time , some other blame their fortune , whilst black dispair their deths doth stil importune 195 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 their wits doth such a temper beat , With kindest lookes , & sweetest vowes of loue , As were of force a Rock of flint to moue . 196 His cloudy frownes be turn'd to Sun-shine smiles , And those on whom he lowerd , he friendly graces , Their moody cheere , with sporting he beguiles , His Lyons lookes be turnd to sweet imbraces : That with his will , their thoughts seeme to accord , Such is the loue of Subiects to their Lord . 197 O Maiestie , how thy desire commands , How doth thy presence humble euery eye , Thy words , haue words , thy hand , hath many hands And thus with all things hast communitie : How thy great power of gouerning estate Is still imperious ouer loue and hate . 198 And hauing found his kindnes tooke effect , This agent failes not to prefer his sute , Nor day , nor night , once doth the same neglect , Vntill his trauell yields desired fruite : And that the Barrons all with might and maine , Now condiscend to call me home againe . 199 O fraile and slyding state of earthly things , Blind Fortune , chance , worlds mutabilitie , Aduancing Pesants , and debasing Kings , Od hap , good luck , or star-bred destenie Which still doest fawne , and flatter me so oft , Now casts me downe , then sett'st me vp aloft . 200 In all post-hast , the King to Ireland sent His Princely Letters for my safe returne , To England now I must incontinent , It seemes that time all malice hath out-worne . The Coast is cleere , occasion calls away , The gale stands right , & driues me from the Bay . 201 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 clouds abandoning the skyes : Now louely Laedas Eg-born twins appeer , Towards Albyons cliues faire Fortune guides my steer . 202 The King is come to Chester , where he lyes , The Court prepared to receiue me there , In all the pomp that wit could well deuise : As since that time was seldome seene else-where . Where setting once my dainty foot on land , He thought him blest which might but kisse my hand . 203 In pleasures there we spend the nights and dayes , And with our Reuels entertaine the time , With costly Banquets , Masks , & stately Playes , Paynting our loues in many a pleasing rime . With rarest Musick , and sweet-tuned voyces , ( In which the soule of man so much reioyces . ) 204 Like as the famous braue Egyptian Queene , Feasted the Romane great Mark Anthony , With Pearl-dissolu'd carrouses , seldom seene , Seru'd all in vessell of rich Iuory : Such was the sumptuous banquets he prepard , In which no cost or curious thing was spard . 205 Or like the Troyan Priam , when as he Beheld his long-lost Sonne returne to Troy , Tryumphing now in all his iolitie . Proud Ilyon smokes with th' o●ges of his ioy , Such are our feasts & stately tryumphs here , Which with applauses , found in euery eare . 206 Nothing seene fearefull , we the most might feare , Great'st mists aryse , before the greatest rayne , The water deep'st , where we least murmure heare , In fayrest Cups , men temper deadliest bayne . The nearer night , the ayre more calme and still , The nearer to our deaths , least fearing ill . 207 Short howres work long effects , minuts haue change Whilst pleasure withers , paine more ripe doth groe , Fortune in turning to her selfe is strange , Ioy is forgetfull , weale thinks not of woe . Prosperitie a flatterer is found , Delight is fearelesse , till it feele the wound . 208 The Beast and Bird can prophecie of stormes , The ayre of tempest , doth foretell the eye , And sencelesse things oft Augurs of mens harmes , Stones sore-shew rayne , by their humiditie . They mourne for vs , we not their mourning see , To men without sence , all things sencelesse be . 209 Departing thence from Chesters pleasant side , Towards London now we trauell with delight , Where euery Citty likewise doth prouide To entertaine vs , with some pleasing sight : Till all our trayne at length to London comes , Wher naught is hard but trumpets , bels & drums . 210 As when Paulus Aemilius entred Roome , And like great Ione , in stan like tryumph came , Honoured in Purple by the Senats doome , Laden with gold , and crowned with his fame . Such seemes our glory now in all mens eyes , Our friendship honored with applaudities . 211 Or when old Phillips still-wondred Son , In his worlds conquest surfetting with spoiles , The scourge of Kings returnes to Babilon , To sport and banquet after all his toiles ; Such is our glory in our London Court , Whereto all Nations daylie make resort . 212 The trumpets sound but as in Tragedies , When as the Actors on the Stage appeere , The drums strike Larums to our miseries , The dolefull bells but call vs to our Beere : They be not tryumphs which delight vs so , But noyse , when men to execution goe . 213 Be deafe , nor feele , nor tast , nor smell , nor see , Sencelesse our bodies , sencelesse be our minds , Let s frame our bodies , like our minds to be , And rightly let them be in their owne kinds : Be sencelesse sences , and no pleasures feele , Our minds as sencelesse , as is flint or steele . 214 And thus blind Fortune luls me in her lap , And rocks me still , with many a Syrens song , Thus plac'd me on the Atlas of my hap , From which she means to cast me down ere long ; Black vgly Fiend , ô foule mishapen euill , In shew an Angell , but in deed a diuell . 215 Euen as a Lyon got into his pawes The silly Lamb , seemes yet a while to play , Till seeking to escape out of his iawes , This beastly King now tares if for his pray . Thus hauing got me in her armes so fast , Determins now to feed on me at last . 216 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 gayne , Loe , thus proud Fortune feeds me for the knife , For which ( it seemes ) she had prepard my life . 217 For thus ere long , betweene the King and me , Euen as before , our Reuels thus begin , And now the Barrons tast their miserie , Opening their eyes which makes them see their sin . The plague once past , they neuer felt the sores , Till now againe it haps within their dores . 218 Times old transgression , light-beleeuing trust , Too late repentance , follies fonds forecast , Our minds foule surfeit , and our humors lust , Our goods consumption , our good fortunes wast . Euen by my spirit , here let your griefes be showne Who haue been gracelesse to foresee mine owne . 219 By patient sufferance , could we midly beare , With Fortune yet we equally might share , And ouer-comming that , which all doe feare , By present cure , preuent ensuing care . Vaine sounds of pleasure we delight to heare , But counsell iarre , as discords in our care . 220 The Horse hath raines to rule him in his course , The Ship an Ankor , to with-stand the flood , The wrestler sleight , which counterchecketh force , The battering Engine is by strength with-stood . The Hound a lease , wherby to hold him in , But we no meanes , once to controle our sin . 221 Like as a man made drunk with foule excesse , Drowning his soule in this vile lothlie vice , Once being sober , sees his beastlinesse , Buying repentance with so deere a price ? Thus they perceiue the bondage they possest , In condiscending to the Kings request . 222 The damned Furies here vnbong the source , From whence the Lethe of my vertues burst , The black-borne Fates here labour in that course , By which my life and fortune came accurst . My death in that star-guiders doome conceled , Now in the browes of heauen may be reueled . 223 My youth spurs on my fraile vntam'd desire , Yielding the raines to my lasciuious will , Vpon the Ice I take my full careyre , The place too slippery , and my mannage ill : Thus like a Colt , in danger to be cast , Yet still runne on , the deuill driues so fast . 124 Now wandring in a Labyrinth of error , Lost in my pride , no hope of my returne , Of sin and shame my life a perfect mirror , No sparke of vertue once is seene to burne . Nothing there was could be discernd in me , But beastly lust , and sensualitie . 225 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 hales me downe to the infernall deep : Foule sleep-god Morpheus , curtains vp the light , And shuts my fame in euerlasting night . 226 The fixed starres in their repugnacie , Had full concluded of these endlesse iarres , And Nature by some strange Antipathie , Had in our humors bred continuall warres , Or the star-ceeled heauens by fatall doome , Ordaind my troubles in my Mothers woomb . 227 Some hellish hag in this inchaunted cup , Out of the Tun of pride this poyson drew , And those hote cinders which were raked vp , Into the nostrils of the Nobles blew . Who now carroused to my Funerall , And ( with a vengeance ) I must pledge them all . 228 And now brake out that execrable rage , Which long before had boyled in their blood , Which neither time nor reason could aswage , But like to men growne lunatick and wood . My name and fame , they seeke to scandalize , And roote the same from all posterities . 229 They all affirme , my Mother was a Witch , A filthie hag , and burnt for sorcerie : And I her Sonne , and fitting with her pitch , She had bequeath'd her damned Art to me . This rumor in the peoples eares they ring , That ( for my purpose ) I bewitcht the King . 230 They say , that I conuayd beyond the Sea , The Table and the tressels of pure 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 . 231 Some slaunderous tongues , in spightful maner said That here I liu'd in filthy Sodomie , And that I was King Edwards Ganimed , And to this sinne he was intic'd by mee ; And more , to wreck their spightfull deadly teene , Report the same to Isabell the Queene . 232 A Catalogue of tytles they begun , With which I had the Noble men abused , Which they auoucht I neuer durst haue done , If by the King I had not been excused . And vrg'd , that he maintaind against the state , A monster , which both God and man did hate . 233 They swore the King subbornd my villanie , And that I was his instrument of vice , The means whereby he wrought his tyranny , That to his chaunce I euer cast the dice , And with most bitter exerations ban , The time in which , our friendship first began . 234 Loe , here drawes on my drery dismall hower , The dolefull period of my destinie , Heere doth approch the black and vglie shower , Hence flowes the Deluge of my misery . Heere comes the clowde that shuts vp all my light , My lowring Winter , and eternall night . 235 The angry Barrons now assembled were , And no man left that on my side durst stand , Before the Popes pernitious Legate there They forced me thus to abiure the Land : Vrging the King to further their intent , By solemne oth vpon the Sacrament . 236 Vpon the holy Sacrament hee swears , Although ( God knowes ) ful much against his will , So ouer-come with silence , sighs , and tears , To make a sword , the which himselfe should kill , And beeing done , ( in doing then not long , ) He seemes to curse his hand , his hart , his tongue . 237 Like to a man which walking in the grasse , Vpon a Serpent suddainly doth tread , Plucks backe his foote , & turns away his face , His culler fading pale as hee were dead : Thus he the place , thus hee the act doth shun , Lothing to see what hee before had done . 238 Or as a man mistaking a receite , Some death-strong poyson happilie doth tast , And euery howre the vigor doth await , Appald with feare , now standeth all agast , Thus stands he trembling in an extasie , Too sick to liue , and yet too strong to die . 239 Hee takes his Crowne , and spurns it at his feete , His princly roabs hee doth in peeces teare , He straight commaunds the Queene out of his sight , He tuggs and rents his golden-tressed haire , He beats his breast , & sighs out pittious grones , Spending the day in tears , the night in mones . 240 Like as the furious Palidine of Fraunce , Forsaken of Angelica the saire , 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 . 241 Or when the wofull Thrace-borne Hecuba , Saw Troy on fire , and Pryams fatall doome , Her sonnes all slaine , her deere Polixina There sacrifized on Achilles tombe , Euen like a Bore her angry tusks doth wher , Scratching and byting all that ere shee met . 242 With fearfull visions frighted in his bed , Which seemes to him a very thornie brake , With vgly shapes which way he turns his head : And when from sleepe he euer doth awake , Hee then again with weeping mournfull cryes , In griefe of soule complains his miseries . 243 Hee wants digestion , and refrains his rest , His eyes ore-watched , like eclipsed sunnes , With bitter passion is his soule opprest , And through his eyes , his braine disolued runnes . And after silence , when with paine he speakes , A suddaine sigh his speech in sunder breakes . 244 Hee starteth vp , and Gaueston doth call , Then stands he still , and lookes vpon the ground , Then like one in an Epileps doth fall , As in a Spasma , or a deadly swound ; Thus languishing in paine , and lingring euer , In the Symptoma of this pyning feuer . 245 Like 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 it is declyning , Or like a Peacock washed in the rayne , Trayling adowne his starry-eyed trayne . 246 To Belgia I crosse the narrow seas , And in my breast a very sea of greefe , Whose tyde-full surges neuer giue me ease , For heauen and earth haue shut vp all releefe , The ayre doth threaten vengeance for my crime , Clotho drawes out the thred of all my time . 247 Like as that wicked brother-killing Caine , Flying the presence of his mighty God , Accurst to die , forbidden to bee slaine , A vagabond , and wandring still abroade . In Flaunders thus I trauell all alone , Still seeking rest , yet restles finding none . 248 Or as the Monarch of great Babylon , Whose monstrous pride the Lord did so detest , As he out-cast him from his princly throne , And in the field hee wandred like a beast : Companion with the Oxe and lothlie Asse , Staru'd with the cold , and feeding on the grasse . 249 Thus doe I change my habite and my name , From place to place I passe vnknowne of any , But swift report so farre had spred my fame , I heare my life and youth contrould of many ; The bouzing Flemings in their boistrous tongue Still talking on me as I passe along . 250 O wretched , vile , and miserable man , Besotted so with worldy vanitie , When as thy life is but a very span , Yet euerie howre full of calamities ; Begot in sinne , and following still the game , Lyuing in lust , and dying oft with shame . 251 Now working means to haue intelligence , By secret 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 . 252 And still relying on King Edwards loue , To whom before my life had beene so deere , Whose constancie my fortune made me proue , And to my Brother , Earle of Glocoster , And to my wife , who labored tooth and naile , My abiuration how she might repeale . 253 I now embarck mee in a Flemish Hoy , Disguised in the habite of a Muffe , Attended thus with neither man nor boy , But on my backe a little bagge of stuffe : Like to a souldier , which in Campe of late Had been imployd in seruice with the State . 254 And safely landed on this blessed shore , Towards Windsor thus disguisd I tooke my way , Whereas 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 . 255 As when old-youthfull Aeson in his glasse , Saw from his eyes the cheerfull lightning sprung , When as Art-spell Medea brought to passe , By hearbs & charms , againe to make him young . Thus stood King Edward , rauisht in the place , Fixing his eyes vpon my louely face . 256 Or as Muse-meruaile Hero , when she clips Her deere Leanders byllow-beaten limms , And with sweet kisses seazeth on his lips , When for her sake , deepe Hellespont she swimms , Thus we , by tender deere imbracings proue , Faire Heros kindnes , and Leanders loue . 257 Or like the twifold-twyned Geminy , In their star-gilded gyrdle strongly tyed , Chaynd by their Saffrond tresses in the sky , Standing to guard the Sun-coch in his pride , Like as the Vine , his loue the Elme imbracing , With nimble arms our bodies interlacing . 258 O blinded Reason , reasonles in this , Vnrulie will , of vnrul'd appetite , Could our discretion moderate our blisse , It might more easlie moderate their spight , But wee are carried with the winds away , To violent the Gulfe of our decay . 259 O wondrous loue , were then a meane in thee , Reason might vnderstand what thou dost meane , But for thou wouldst not comprehended bee , Our vnderstanding thou doost but disdaine : Thou mind-transforming monster , monstrous ill , Which hating saues , but cherrishing doth kill . 260 But all thy meane ( fond loue ) is in extreames , Thy heed is rashnes , thy fore-cast thy fall , Thy wit is follie , and thy hopes are dreames , Thy counsell madnes , and thy rule is thrall ; And onelie this , thou art not what thou art , And of thy selfe , thou art not any part . 261 The Barrons hearing how I was arriued , And that my late abiurement naught preuailed , By my returne , of all their hopes depriued , Their bedlam rage no longer now concealed , But as hote coles once puffed with the wind , Into a flame out-breaking by their kind . 262 Like to a man , whose foote doth hap to light Into the nest where stinging Hornets lie , Vext with the spleene , and raging with despight , About his head these winged spirits flie : Thus rise they vp with mortall discontent , By death to end both life and banishment . 263 Or like to souldiers in a towne of warre , When Sentinell the enemie discries , Affrighted with this vnexpected iarre , All with the fearfull Larun-bell arise , Thus muster they , ( as Bees doe in a hyue , The idle Drone out of their combes to dryue . ) 264 It seem'd the earth with heauen grew male-content Nothing is heard but warrs & Armors ringing , Now none but such as stratagems inuent , The whisling phife , the warlike trumpet singing , Each souldier now , his crested plume aduaunces , On barbed horses prest , with swords & launces . 265 Thus whilst our hopes should thriue , they do diminish , Our early rising , makes our set too soone , Euen as it dooth begin , it soone dooth finish , Our night is come before it should be noone , Our down-fall haps as wee should mount on hie , So short and fraile is our felicitie . 266 Mens haps by heauen be fram'd preposterous , Now with eternall good , now temporall ill , And oft againe contrary vnto vs , Our good but short , our euill during still , To shew , that heauens euer-waking powers , Doe rule as Lords , both ouer vs and ours . 267 Lyke as the Ocean chafing with his bounds , With raging billows flyes against the Rocks , And to the shore sends forth his hidious sounds , Making the earth to tremble with his shocks , Euen thus the murmure flies from shore to shore Like to the Cannons battering fearefull rore . 268 By day and night attended still with Spyes , The Court become the cause of all our woes , The Countrie now a Campe of enemies , The Citties are be-peopled with our foes , Our very beds , are snares made to enwrap vs , Our surest guard ( as Traytors ) do intrap vs . 269 Like to a cry of roring-mouthed hounds , Rouzing the long-liu'd Stagge out of his layre , Pursue the chase through vastie forrest grounds , So like a thunder ratling in the ayre , Thus doe they hunt vs still from Coast to Coast , Most hated now , of those we fauored most . 270 This gracious Prince loe thus becoms my guide , And with a conuoy of some chosen friends , Brings me 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 staid . 271 But they , which in their busines neuer slept , And ( as it seem'd ) had well fore-seene this thing , Cause all the Ports and Marches to be kept , That none should enter to assist the King : And by disswasiue Letters still deuise , To stay their neighbours from this enterprize . 272 Loe , in this sort the King and I betrayd , And to their wills thus left as wofull thrals , And finding now no further hope of ayde , Wee shut vs vp within Yorks aged walls , Vntill we knew the Barrons full intent , And what all thys rude hurly burlie ment . 273 This gracious King , wanting his wonted rest , And toyling still in this perplexitie , With greeuous sicknes is so sore opprest And growne by this to such extremitie , As hee is forced to depart away , A while to purge this humor at the sea . 274 From Bedford now ( the synod of their shame , The counsell-house of all their villanie , ) These bloody Barrons with an Armie came , Downe vnto Yorke , where they besieged mee , Where now not able to resist their might , Am forst persorce , to flye away by night . 275 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 mee , Whereas I might with-stand then by my power , Hoping the Kings returning euery howre . 276 But now , like to a sousing suddaine raine , Forc'd by a strong and sturdie Easterne blast , Or like a hayle storme , down they come amaine , And in the Castell girt mee now so fast , No way to scape , no hope for mee to flye , My choyse was hard , or yeeld my selfe , or dye . 277 Away thus like a prysoner , am I led , My costlie roabs 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 , Am basely clothed of mine enemies . 278 Along the Land toward Oxford they conuay mee , Like bauling curres , they all about me 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 , ordain'd to plague the earth . 279 The King now hearing how I was arested , And knew my quarrell cause of all this strife , Hee writes , he sends , he sues , he now requested , Vsing all meanes he could to saue my life , With vowes & othes , that al should be amended If that my death alone might be suspended . 280 And being brought to Dedington at last , By Aymer Valence , Earle of Pembrooke then , Who toward King Edward rode in all the haft , And left me guarded safely by his men : This gentle Earle with meere compassion moued , For Edwards sake , whom he so deerely loued . 281 But now Guy Beuchamp , whom I feared still , The Earle of Warwick , whom I called curre , Hauing fit time to execute his will , The Fox thus caught , he vowes to teare my furre . And hee for whom so oft hee set the trap , By good ill luck , is fallen into his lap . 282 This bloody Beuchamp , ( I may tearme him so , ) For this was he which onely sought my blood , Now at the vp-cast of mine ouer-throw , And on the chaunce whereon my fortune stood , To Dedington by night came , where I lay , And by his power conuay'd me thence away . 283 To Warwick thus fast bound he doth me bring , Imprisoning me within the Castell there , And doubting now my succor from the King , Hee raiseth vp the power of Warwickshire , By whom forth-with to Blacklow I was led , And on a scaffold there , I lost my head . 284 LOe heere the poynt and sentence of my time , My liues full stop , my last Catastrophe , The stipend of my death-deseruing crime , The Scene that ends my wofull Tragedie , My latest farwell , knitting my conclusion , Mine vtter ruine , and my fames confusion . 285 Like as Adonis wounded with the Bore , From whose fresh hurt the life-warme blood doth spin , Now lieth wallowing in his purple gore , Stayning his faire and Allablaster skin , My headles body in the blood is lest , Heere lying brethles , of all life bereft . 286 O now my Muse , put on thy Eagles wings , O lend some comfort to my tyred ghost , And with Apollos dolefull-tuned strings , Now helpe at need , for now I need thee most . Sorrow possesse my hart , myne eyes , mine eares , My breth consume to sighs , my braine to teares . 287 My soule now in the heauens eternall glasse , Beholds the scarrs and botches of her sin , How filthy , vglie and deformd shee was , The lothsome dunghill that she wallowed in , Her pure Creator sitting in his glory , With eyes of iustice to peruse her story . 288 Like as a Stagge at bay amongst the hounds , The bloody Moat sounding in his eares , Feeling his breth 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 . 289 Thus comfortles , forsaken and alone , All worldly things vnstable , and vnsure , By true contrition flyes vnto his throne , In whose compare , the heauens are most impure . By whose iust doome , to blessed soules reuealed , She gets her pasport to his mercy sealed . 290 And by repentance , finds a place of rest , Where passing to the faire Elisian plaine , Shee is alow'd her roome amongst the blest , In those Ambrosian shadowes to remaine : Till summond thus by Fame , she is procur'd , To tell my life , which hath been long obscur'd . 291 Thys Monster now , thys 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 tearfull eyes , Doe honour to my latest obsequies . 292 Star-holding heauen hath shut vp all her light , Nature becom a step-dame to her owne , The mantled truch-man of the Rauen-hu'd night , In mournfull sables clad the Horizon : The sky-borne Plannets seeming to conspire , Against the ayre , the water , earth and fire . 293 Pearle-paued Auon , in her streamfull course , With heauie murmure floting on the stones , Mou'd with lament to pitty and remorse , Attempering sad musick to my mones , Tuning her billowes to sweet Zephyrs breath , In watrie language doth bewaile my death . 294 Oke-shadowed Arden , fild with bellowing cryes , Resounding through her holts and hollow grounds , To which the Eccho euer-more replyes , And to the fields sends forth her hidious sounds , And in her Siluan rude vntuned songs , Makes birds & beasts for to expresse my wrongs . 295 The heauen-dyed slowers in this happy clime , Mantling the Medowes in their Sommers pride , As in the wofull frostie winter time , Drouping with faintnes hold their heads aside . The boistrous storms , dispoile the greenest greues , Stripping the Trees staik naked of their leaues . 296 Death cald in liueries of my louely cheeks , Layd in those beds of Lillies and of Roses , Amaz'd with meruaile , here for wonders seeks , Were he alone a Paradice supposes , Grew male content , and with himselfe at strife , Not knowing now if he were death or life . 297 And shutting vp the casements of those lights , Which like two suns , 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 . 298 With palenes touching that faire rubied lip , Now waxing purple , like Adonis flower , Where Iuory walls those rocks of Currall keep , From whence did slow that Nectar streaming shower . There earth-pale Death refresht his tyred lims , Where Cupid bath'd him in those Christall brims . 299 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 death had done his worst . 300 Now when the King had notice of my death , And that he saw his purpose thus preuented , In greeuous sighes he now consumes his breath , And into teares his very eyes relented : Cursing that vile and mercy-wanting age , And breakes into this passion in his rage . 301 O heauens ( quoth he ) lock vp the liuing day , Cease Sunne to lend the world thy glorious light , Starres , flye your course , and wander all astray , Moone , lend no more thy siluer shine by night . Heauen , Stars , Sun , Moone , conioyne you al in one , Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston . 302 Earth , be thou helplesse in thy creatures birth , Sea , breake thou sorth from thy immured bound , Ayre , with thy vapours poyson thou the earth , Wind , break thy Caue , & all the world confound . Earth , Sea , Ayre , Wind , conioyne you all in one , Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston . 303 You Sauage beasts , which haunt the waylesse woods , You Birds delighted in your Siluan sound , You scaly Fish , which swim in pleasant floods , You hartlesse Wormes , which creep vpon thou ground , Beasts , birds fish , worms , each in your kind alone , Bewaile the death of my sweet Gaueston . 304 Faire Medowes , be you withered in the prime , Sun-burnt and bare , be all the goodly Mountains , Groues , be you leauelesse in the Sommer time , Pitchy and black be all the Christall Fountains : All things on earth , each in your kind alone , Bewaile the death of my sweet Gaueston . 305 You damned Furies , breake your Stigian Cell , You wandring spirits , in water , earth , and ayre , Lead boyled Ghosts which liue in lowest hell , Gods , deuils , men , vnto mine ayde repayre , Come all at once , conioyne you all in one , Reuenge the death of my sweet Gaueston . 306 Eyes neuer sleepe , vntill you see reuenge , Head , neuer rest , vntill thou plot reuenge , Hart , neuer think , but tending to reuenge , Hands , neuer act , but acting deepe reuenge . Iust-dooming heauens , reuenge me from aboue , That men vnborne may wonder at my Loue . 307 You peerlesse Poets of ensuing times , Chaunting Herioque Angell-tuned Notes , Or humble Pastors Nectar-filled lines , Driuing your flocks with musick to their Cotes . Let your high-flying Muses still bemone , The wofull end of my sweet Gaueston . 308 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 & truth reproued . 309 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 me a stately Tombe erected . Which world-deuouring Time , hath now out-worne , As but for Letters , were my name forlorne . FINIS .
The vision of Matilda . ME thought I saw vpon Matildas Tombe , Her wofull ghost , which Fame did now awake , And cr●●●'d her passage from Earths hollow wombe , To view this Legend , written for her sake ; No sooner shee her sacred Name had seene , Whom her kind friend had chose to grace her story , But wiping her chast teares from her sad eyne , Shee seem'd to tryumph , in her double glory . Glory shee might , that his admired Muse , Had with such method fram'd her iust complaint : But proud she was , that reason made him chuse , To patronize the same to such a Saint : In whom her rarest vertues may be shown , Though Poets skil shold faile to make them known . H. G. Esquire .
TEares in your eyes , and passions in your harts , With mournfull grace vouchsafe Matildas story : The subiect sad , a King to act the parts Of his owne shame , to others endlesse glory . But such is sinne , where lawlesse lust is raigning , Sweet to the tast , till all turnes to infection , When count is cast , a reckoning is remayning , Which must be payd , but not at our election . Perrill and Greefe , the interest of Pleasure , Spending the stock that Danger long was gayning , Makes soule and body banckrupt of that treasure , Which vainly spent , what helps our fond complaining O that my lines could so the Author grace , As well his vertues merit prayse and place , R. L. Esquire .
To M. Drayton . MIchaell which dost great Roberts fame compile , Thy subiects worth , thy wit , thy Ladies glory , Cheere vp thy Muse , add lyfe vnto thy stile , While thou assaist to write his worthy story . Whose boundlesse spirit , whose high chiualrie , And vertuous deeds must needs haue buried beene By ages enuie , and times tirannie , And neuer had with mortall eyes been seene , Had not thy Muse restor'd his former fame , The twise dead Norman to his speaking sight , Euen when his eyes had lost their shyning flame , Like vnto Lamps that wanting oyle , want light . By thee he sees , he liues , he speaks againe , Then chere thee Michaell , Fame rewards thy paine . Mirocinius .