Fiue hundred barels they of hering left _Mirror for Magistrates, Volume 2, Part 1

Of pouder for our gunnes full forty barels more,

They fled without theyr tents, the dasterds durst not byde,

For feare they coulde not stay, to take away theyr store:

Haue you oft hearde the like of cowards such before?

Those forty thousand, Bretons, Frenche, and Scots,

Fowre score them foyled, made them flee like sots.

28.

When this, that noble man, the duke of _Bedford_ hearde,

How I did quit my selfe, and seru’d my prince so well,

Hee mee procured of the king, as great rewarde

As my deserts coulde wish, and more the truth to tell,

Chiefe butlership of _Normandy_, vnto me fell

Reuenues eke in _Normandy_ of lands,

A thousand crownes came yearely to my hands.

29.

I after this was sent to make inroade

Upon the coaste of _Bretaine_, for to bate theyr pride,

A band of horsemen tooke without aboade,

The duke of _Somerset_ made me theyr guide,

To many townes about theyr bounds wee ride:

Set them on fire, or made them ransom pay,

Tooke store of prisners, wrought them much decay.

30.

Retourned victours safe to _Normandy_,

With good successe, for why the cause was good,

And of our prince were guerdonde gratefully

With lande and gifts, as for our seruice stoode:

This makes the captaynes venture life and bloode,

And souldiers serue with heart in what they may,

Which are assurde of honour, prayse, and pay.

31.

Yee worthy wights aliue, which loue your countrey’s weale,

And for your prince’s porte such warres doe vndertake,

Learne so for countrey your’s with forayne foes to deale,

See that of manhood good, so great accompts yee make:

It nothing vayles in peace, to sweare, stur, face, or crake:

In werres hee winnes the fame of noble wight

Who warlike deales, for prince and publique right.

32.

Yf you so poynted bee, to serue your prince in war,

As erste was I, and muste before the muster take,

Retayne such souldiers as well made, strong, seemely ar

Brought vp to labour harde, of such accompt doe make:

These able are at neede to stand and keepe the stake,

When facing foysters fit for _Tiburne_ frayes

Are foodesicke faynt, or hartsicke run theyr wayes.

33.

At home a man may finde a nomber euery day,

Which weare theyr weapons still, as all the worlde were war,

And keepe a coyle to beare the best of blades away,

With buclers braue at backs, to shew what men they are:

In peace at home they sweare, stare, foyste, royst, fight, and iar:

But when abroade they feare of warres the smarte,

Some better souldiers yede[1875] from driueing cart.

34.

In warres to serue, as wee, and weapons haue

When warlike stormes do rage, beseemes a warlike man:

In pleasaunt peace who sets him selfe to bandeing braue,

And faceing fares at home, abroade doe nothing can,

Though nere so much hee boaste, fie on him cowerd than:

For not in gauntlet, sworde, targ, oathes, hayre, staring eyes,

But in the breast, good courage, vertue lyes.

35.

But here, perhaps you say, I fall a noate too lowe,

Beneath the persons of these worthy peeres and mee:

Tis true indeede, and yet such fruite hereof may growe,

As eke the meane hereby, his iarring out may see:

Without good meane, the song can neuer sweetly gree:

Leaue out the meane, or let him keepe no tune,

And you shall sing when Easter falles in June.

36.

Euen so, if meaner sorts doe iangle here and iar

To languish vnder _Mars_, but fill good peace with fight,

As discorde foule in musike, fit they for the war,

They neuer can atchiue the victory aright:

Leade such as square or feare, then farewell all, good night:

A sheepe is euen as good to starteing, stand, and beae:

As hee that iangles, wrangles, rangles, runnes aweae.

37.

Then who so deales for warre, must wisely make his marte,

And choose such souldiers stout will stiffe in warfare stande:

Yf hee not recke what ruffian roysters take his parte,

Hee weeldes vnwisely then the mace of _Mars_ in hande:

He must be able eke, to deeme for sea and lande

What men may serue, to best aduauntage make,

And them enstruct fine warlike poynts to take.

38.

With scilfull knowledge fraight hee muste be voyde of feare,

Of wisedom so discreete, so sober, graue and sage,

To deeme, perceiue, abyde, aduentures both to beare

As may in all exployts of fight with fortune wage:

Hee must haue art in vre, and vse not rule by rage:

Wise dealing sets the souldiers sure in ray,

Wilde ouer rashnesse casteth all away.

39.

The cause, grounde, place and time, the order of theyr fights,

The valure of his foes, and what is theyr intent,

The weather fayre or foule, occasion of the nights,

What witty wyles and pollicies may them preuent,

And how the time or store of th’enmies hath beene spent:

All these, I say, must well be weyde before,

By him that sets in warres of credit store.

40.

In all which poynts that noble duke his grace did passe,

I meane the regent good, for chuseing, vseing men,

By nature framde thereto, hee wonders[1876] scilfull was,

And frendly vsed all, instructing now and then

Not only captaynes stout, that were his countrey men,

But also sondry souldiers as occasion came,

And taught them how to warres themselues to frame.

41.

His princely grace and gesture yet mee thinks I see,

And how hee bare himselfe, to deale for warre or peace:

In warre full _Mars_-like, hardy, sterne, and bolde was hee:

And meeke and prudent, mercifull, when stormes of warres did cease:

Whom pity mou’d as much inflicted paynes to releace,

As euer wight in whom the broyles of war,

Or force of fights, had entred in so far.

42.

Which if agayne to rue the losse of such a frend,

In sight with playnts, of teares the fountaynes out might flow:

So all lamenting muses would mee waylings lend,

The dolours of my heart in sight agayne to show:

I would deplore his death, and England’s cause of woe,

With such sad mourning tunes, and such sobs, sighes, and teares,

As were not seene for one, this ten times twenty yeares.

43.

For why this noble prince, when wee had needed moste

To set the states of Fraunce and England in a stay,

That feared was of foes in euery forayne coaste,

To soone, alas, this duke was taken hence away:

In Fraunce hee dyde: helasse, lament his losse wee may,

That regent regall, rule of publique right:

Loe, howe my hurtes afreshe beweepe this wanted wight.”

44.

With that his woundes (mee thought) gan freshly bleede,

And hee waxte faynt and fell, and my salte teares

Ran downe my rufull cheekes, with trickling speede,

(For who coulde chuse that such cause sees and heares.)

“O worthy knight,” (qd.[1877] I) “whose loyall faith appeares:

Cease wayles, rise vp, instruct my quiuering pen,

To tell the rest of fortune’s dublings then.”

45.

“I haue,” quoth he, “not fortune’s flatterie to accuse,

Nor fate, nor destenie, nor any fancie fainde:

I haue no cause t’affirme that these coulde ought misuse

This noble prince, whose life and acts such fame and honour gaynde,

But our deserts, our sinnes, and our offences staynde

This noble ile, and vs, our sinnes, I say,

Offending God, hee tooke this prince away.

46.

Helasse, how loath can I retourne, and leaue this pearle

in _Roane_,

My lorde _Ihon_ duke of _Bedford_, there his corps yet lyes,

Enclosde with costly tombe, wrought curiously of stone,

By north the altar high (delighting many martiall eyes)

Within our ladie church, where fame him lifts to skies,

By dayly vew his name renoumbde exalted is,

And soule, I trust, full sweetly sweames in blisse.

47.

Needes must I enterline my talke a while with this:

And then I will retourne to tell you how I sped:”

When once the French men sawe this noble duke to misse,

Which English armyes all gaynste foes with fortunes led,

They liude at large, rebeld against their soueraygne head,

Forsooke their oathes, alleageaunce all denyde,

And English men with all their force defyde.

48.

While hee did liue, they durst not so to deale,

They durst not dare, with th’English oft to fraye,

They found it was not for theire owne or publique weale,

To rise againste theire lorde the regent, in araye:

Soone after hee was deade, departed hence away,

Both French and Normanes close to win did cloaze,

And wee deuided were, our rightes abroade to loaze.

49.

The feende (I thinke) deuisde a way to make the breache,

By enuye bred in breastes of two right noble peeres,

Which mischiefe hatcht in England, then may teache

All noble men that liue, hence many hundreth yeares,

Beware of enuye blacke, how far shee deares:

Euen their examples tell, how true our Christe doth say:

Each realme, towne, house, in ciuile strife, shall desolate

decay.

50.

Perdie the duke of _Yorke_ was regent made of Fraunce,

At which the duke of _Somerset_ did much repine,

Hee thought they rather ought him so t’aduaunce

King _Henrie’s_ kin, for honour of his princely lyne:

But marke the grape which grew on this vngracious vine,

I will not say it after stroyde their lynes and houses nye,

But this I say, wee dayely sawe dishonour came thereby.

51.

For though the hauty duke were worthy it to haue,

As well for courage good, as vertues honour due:

Yet sith to th’duke of _Yorke_ th’election first it gaue,

And hee the sadle mist, what neded hee to rue?

When tumultes great and sturres in Fraunce yet daylye grew,

Hee nilde the regent hence dispatche[1878] in many dayes:

That losse might win him hurte, or long disprayse.

52.

Wylde wengand on such ire, wherby the realme doth lose,

What gayne haue they, which heaue at honour soe?

At home disdayne and greefe, abroade they frend their foes:

I must bee playne in that which wrought my webs of woe,

My webs (qd.[1879] I:) would God they had wrought no moe:

It was the cause of many a bleeding English breaste,

And to the French, their end of woefull warres addresse.

53.

I dare aduouche yf they had firme in frendship boade,

And soothly, as beseemde, ioynde frendly hand with hands,

They had not felt defame in any foraine roade,

Nor had not so beene sent, with losse from _Gallia_ strands:

They might possession kept, still of their conquerde lands,

And able beene to tryde them selues so true,

As myght haue made their enmyes still to rue.

54.

For while the duke of _Somerset_ made here so greate delayes,

That into Fraunce the succours smale and slackly came,

Not only Paris than was loste, within few dayes,

That famous flowre of Fraunce, of far renowmed fame,

The Frenche, I say, not only gate and kept the same,

But by this meanes, in Fraunce we dayly felt such smarte,

As might with pitie perst[1880] an adamantine harte.

55.

O great mishap, the noble duke of _Bedford_ once being dead,

Our welth went backe, by discords foule dispite wee loste

Not only townes in Fraunce, and captaines armyes led,

But many soldiers eke with labour, spence, and cost:

And though full oft wee made the Frenche men smell of the rost,

Yet in the end wee gayne of fyght the fame,

And they by crafte and treason gate the game.

56.

What resteth more, it were, perdie, to long to tell,

Of batayles great and broiles which happened dayly still,

The stories eke declare aduentures which befell:

Although, God wot, the writers wanted poyntes of scill,

Of whom to speake a while, degresse agayne I will,

And partely shewe what one hee oughte to bee,

Which takes on him to write an historie.

57.

A chronicler should well in diuers tongues bee seene,

And eke in all the artes hee oughte to haue a sighte,

Whereby hee myght the truth of diuers actions deeme,

And both supply the wantes, correct that is not righte:

Hee should haue eloquence, and full and fitly write,

Not mangle stories, snatching here and there:

Nor gloaze to make a volume greate appeare.

58.

Hee should bee of such countenaunce and wit,

As should giue witnes to the histories hee writes,

Hee should bee able well his reasons so to knit,

As should continue well the matter hee resytes:

Hee should not prayse, disprayse, for fauour or dispytes,

But should so place each thing in order due,

As myght approue the stories to bee true.

59.

But this may haps the time may seeke at length redresse,

And then such stories nowe and noble acts as dye,

May come agayne to lighte (at least defaced lesse)

Yf from the _Britaynes_ first antiquities they try:

In greate defects yf they the trueth supply:

Then shall the readers fuller stories finde,

And haue wherby to recreate the minde.

60.

But now retourne I must, and breifly heare declare

Before my death, what sundry happes wee had:

In warres right variousely the states of captaynes fare,

Now weale, now woe, now ioyfull, now right sad:

But who well ends, though all his haps were bad,

Let him earst sinke or swim, lose, wyn, bee slayne, die, fall,

Yf hee dye well, h’is thrise and fower tymes blest of all.

61.

In Fraunce eyght leagues from _Paris_, _Pontoise_ stands,

(Tweene that and _Roane_) which wee had wonne before:

And so wee held it English safely in our handes:

For to our prince the men allegeaunce swore,

And they remaynd obedient euermore,

Tyll from their necks to reaue the English yoke,

They might finde meanes by whom to stricke the stroke.

62.

When these sawe _Paris_ loste, and cities moe beside,

And what in Fraunce and _Normandie_ reuoltes had done,

They thought no longer subiect to abyde,

But sought occasion how they might by Frenche be won?

As of our losse reports did dayly to them run,

So with king _Charles_ th’agreede when to betray the towne,

And force the English flee, or yeelde, or beate them downe.

63.

For why, the powre of Fraunce coulde not with mighty hoste

Performe, to wyn by force from vs th’assaulted towne,

Them scaleing often from the walles wee toste,

On euery syde full fast wee flang the French men downe:

Our noble actes before had gotten such renowne,

And fortune erste had past with vs so farre,

They had small hope to wyn our fortes by warre.

64.

Wherefore king _Charles_ assayde the secrete saute,

Not by his force of French, but by his golden fee,

Corrupting diuers burgeses to make the faute,

Whereby an entry shoulde to his oppugning bee:

And they, as erste is sayde, were willing to agree,

Like periurde theeues conspirde, by secrete fyne deuice

Gaue _Pontoise_ vp, and tooke the promiste price.

65.

But in Nouember next, when it was sharpe and colde,

And dayly froste had dryde and parched hard the grounde,

Wee were in hope agayne to get of _Pontoise_ holde,

Which erste the townesmen sold for gayne of many a pound:

The snow fell fast, lay thick, and couered well the ground,

And ditches were so harde about the towne before,

That on the ise by euery syde wee safely might get ore.

66.

The lorde Ihon _Clifforde_ was cheife captayne then,

Which with vs captaynes did this pollicie deuise,

That wee in clothing white and soldiers euery man,

Should in our armoure finelye vs disguyse:

The nexte nyght so wee should to the assaute aryse,

And passe the frozen ditche vnto the wall,

With laders scale, and kill the watchmen all.

67.

Wee so preparde our selues as time occasion gaue,

And drest in white coates trim, it ioyde our hartes to see

How fine wee paste the ditch, what good successe we haue:

How on the walles we fynde the watch nigh frozen bee:

As noble Greekes on _Troie_, on _Pontoise_ seasonde wee,

Wee slewe the watch, wee beate the soldiers downe,

Some prisners tooke, and tooke with all the towne.

68.

Of stately captaynes, French, was _Iohn de Villers_ one

Within the taken towne, and _Narrabon_, a knight

_Burgunion_: yet they fled, away they gate them gone:

They durst not bide againste the blanched boyes to fight:

Wee paide the periurde knaues the burgesses that night,

And gate as much of honour and renowne

As they gate shame and losse, which bought and solde the towne.

69.

Marke well the Frenchmen’s foyles in all our worthy war,

In these two regall _Henrye’s_ times, and you shall see

How wee surpast the French in valure farre:

And bend for prince and realme so valiaunt for to bee:

Which if yee shall, and deale in seruice as did wee,

I nothing doubt renowne and fame shall say,

That noble England beares for warres the palme away.

70.

But when king _Charles_ had heard how _Pontoise_ men had sped,

His army strayght assembled hee therefore agayne,

Wherewith to win this towne afresh th’assaute hee led,

Hee pyners set to trenche and vnder mine amayne,

Made bastiles for defence, yet all this toyle was vayne,

For battery of our walles hee spent his pouder still,

Made freshly Frenche assaults, but did no ill.

71.

The noble duke of _Yorke_ discharged late before,

When now the earle of _Warwicke_ chaunst at _Roane_ to dye,

Being regent chosen once agayne of Fraunce, as yore,

(Th’earle of _Warwicke_ regent was two yeares, perdy)

Arryude in Fraunce, to rowse the Frenche king he did hye,

Which lay beseiging _Pontoise_, as I sayde,

With him to fight, and eke to bring vs ayde.

72.

The Frenche king fled, for haste he left his store behinde:

When hee was once assurde the duke of _Yorke_ drue nere,

Hee durst not stay to bide the time or place assinde

To fight our regent with, but fled away for feare:

By these assayes you see what men in Fraunce they were,

Discouragde oft, slayne, put to flight, and fall:

By sight, force, fight, and names, of nombers small.

73.

There when the duke had fortefyde our _Pontoise_ towne,

Then he pursude the Frenche king erst that fled,

To _Poyssy_, where hee laye with lords of Frenche renowne:

Before which towne, the duke his noble army led:

The Frenche king durste not out of _Poyssy_ put his head:

And yet there came to skirmish out Frenche gentilmen,

Of which some slayne, fowre tane, the reste retyrde agen.

74.

The duke to bid him batayle did pretend,

Yf hee coulde there encounter with him thoe:

But forth agayne hee durste not come nor send,

For feare hee should receiue the foyle and ouerthroe:

On which the duke dislodgde, departeing _Poyssy_ froe,

To _Maunte_, and _Roane_, from thence his grace did hye,

T’appease the broyles of strife in _Normandy_.

75.

But then the Frenche king, calling vnto mynde his losse,

His charges in the seige, his bastiles trenches made,

How erste wee did them thence, sans bag and bagage tosse,

Eke how from seige hee durste not staye the store to lade,

And how their fortunes ofte, in fighte went retrograde,

How neighboures ill to _Paris_, wee of _Pontoise_ were:

Hee cast asyde his Frenche and faynteing feare.

76.

The rather yet, for why, _Parisiens_ ay did rayle,

They sayde hee wanted courage good, hee durst not fight,

Hee lackte no soldiers good, his feeble heart did fayle:

“_Le Roy_ (quoth they) _du France, les Anglois point ne nuit:_

_Le Roy ne ose pas pour Pontoise faire poursuit:_

_Le Roy est Lourd, sans cueur: car peu de gens,_

_Fait nostre Roy & pais faire grande dispens_.”

77.

On this king _Charles_ retournde with mighty hoste,

To vindicate this great reproche and shame:

And vnto _Pontoise_ gaue assaulte in poste,

Full hotly, when wee feared leaste the same:

Whereon, to fight agaynst him all our force wee frame,

But number great at th’entry gote such hand,

Wee could not forth agayne their force aband.

78.

With trompets sounding, tan tan-tar’aloude

The larum bell wee rong, our selues to try dispose,

To make them pay the price of our distresse wee vowde,

Before wee would possession got, of _Pontoise_ loze:

In euery streete wee met the strength of all our foes,

And made them passe by deadly dint away,

Which ventured first our English mates to slay.

79.

‘Why now my frends, for England fighte,’ I cryde:

‘Yf euer English hearts your noble breasts posseste,

I promise you to make them flinche, yf I may byde:

Mates follow me.’ Amongst my foes I rusht before the rest:

‘O here come on,’ quoth I, ‘now fighte wee for the beste.’

And therewithall I vsde such courage, force, and myghte:

As made my foes to fall, and soldiers fitly fighte.

80.

‘Yf we doe leese,’ quoth I, ‘the Frenche men shall not gayne:

So if wee wyn, ’tis worth the while to keepe arraye:

Yf yee stand stiflye toet, wele make them peaze the paine,

And leade with losse of lyuely lymmes the laude awaye.

Although they fearcely fighte, in hope vs all to slaye:

Lo, sixe to one they fall, and deade they lye:

Wee English men, in triomphe fight and honour dye.’

81.

With bloody broiles of war, the haplesse towne did smoke,

The children sawe theire fathers deare, to bleede their last:

The wyues bewayled muche the fatall stroke,

Which forste their husbands bleede, fall, dye so fast:

“Helas,” the weemen cryde, the woefull streets that past:

(When soe they sawe the channels bloody streame)

“What plague is this, that pesters so our reame?

82.

“Is no remorce of lyfe, but kill, kill, kill? helasse:

Kill, kill, the English cry, and valiantly they fighte:

What hap had wee to see these mischiues com to passe?”

“_Helas, le sang de nous amis, la mort, helas_:”

The maydens cry: the widowes wayle, and aged mourne,

With wringing hands vplift, and wish them selues vnborne.

83.

Of vs one thousand Englishmen within the towne,

Sustaynde the force, the powre, and puissaunce of their king:

And of the French that faught, wee beate three thousand downe,

Wee slew no lesse, for all the nomber hee did bring:

Yf this vntrue shall seeme, discredite myne to ring,

A French historian writeing for them selues shall say:

Three thousand Frenchmen there, were slayne that day.

84.

Four hundreth Englishmen that tyme were slayne in fighte,

My selfe was one, with losse they wan the towne, perdie:

But if I might haue liude t’aue tride our righte,

With one for euery seuen, by ods as wee did dye:

I doubte not (so the rest, would done their partes as I:)

But that king _Charles_, his lords, nor all his men,

Should scarce haue tane the towne of _Pontoise_ then.

85.

What neade I more debate of these thinges here:

In England was the faulte, though we did feele the smarte:

While they at home, at bate and strife for honours were,

They lost abroade of _Normandy_ the greater parte:

To thinke on this torments agayne my wounded harte,

That lords at home, should striue about the name,

And loose abroade their countrie’s weale and fame.

86.

Let English peeres abandon such contentious strife,

It hurtes the publique weale, decayes the state:

It reaues the yeares too soone of longer lyfe:

It freates the breste with ruste of baend debate:

It giues the checke to him that giues the mate:

Then thus I ende, that wight of all is bleste

Which liues in loue with God, his prince, and country best.

87.

So _Higins_, yf thou write, how this my fall befell:

Place it in _Baldwine’s_ Miroir with the reste:

From crazed scull sith here my mynde I tell,

Sith bleedeing hart these ruefull rymes expreste,

This mangled tale beseemes my person beste:

“Do so?” quoth hee “and let it passe euen thus:“

“_Viuit_” quoth I, “_post funera virtus_.”

Iohn Higins.[1881]

[“This knight, my maisters,” quoth one, “came somwhat to late in

order.” “That is maruaile,” quoth maister _Ferrers_, “it seemes

that hee was forwarde enoughe in seruice.” “Yea,” quoth another,

“hee came the later home for that, and therefore wee must accept

his cause.” “How ere hee came,” quoth M. H.[1882] “hee sayes

well, and like a noble gentleman, as no doubt hee was.” “Hee

should haue beene placed,” quoth one, “after king _Iames_ the

first, king of _Scots_, of whome wee spake in the yeare 1437.”

“Now,” quoth I, “that you talke of king _Iames_, I haue king

_Iames_ the fourth here, which was slayne at the batayle of

_Brampton_, or _Floddon fielde_, but hee is very rude”[1883]

“I like him,” quoth one, “the better: for if hee should bee

otherwise, it would not well beseeme his person, nor the place

whence he comes.” “Reade it,” quoth they, “as it is.” “Thinke

then,” quoth I, “that you see him standing all wounded, with a

shafte in his body, and, emongst other woundes, one geuen by a

byll, both deadly, to say in his rude and faithlesse maner as

followeth.”]

[The lamentation of King _James_ the fourth, King of

Scots, slayne at Brampton, in the fiuthe

yeare of King _Henry_ the eight,

Anno Christi, 1513.

As I lay musing, my selfe alone,

In minde not stable, but wauering here and there,

_Morpheus_ my frend espyed mee anone,

And as hee was wont, whistered in mine eare:

Shortly conuyede I was, I wist not where:

Mine eyes were closed fast, I could not see:

I hearde a man crying[1884] sore, trembling for feare:

“_Miserere mei Deus et salua mee._

_Miserere mei Deus_:” oft hee did reporte,

With sorowfull sighes as euer man herde:

For sorowe and pity, I gan[1885] nere to resorte:

His sore exclamations made mee afferde:[1886]

Mine eyes opened, I sawe his grim bearde:[1887]

I knewe not verely, who it should bee:

Hee cryde, as hee had beene stickt with a swerde:

“_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee._

Of _Scotland_ (hee sayde) late I was king,

With crowne on my[1888] head, and scepter in hand:

In wealth and honour, I wanted[1889] nothing:

In peaceable maner I ruled my land:

Full frendly and faythfull my subiects I fand:[1890]

Now am I exiled from life,[1891] land, and liberty:

King without realme, loe, now where I stand:

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee._

Thus for my folly, I feele I doe smart,

Both law and nature doth me accuse

Of great vnkindnes: that I should take part

Against my brother, and his liege refuse:

I purposed war, yet I fayned truce:

Thus did I, Frenche king, for the loue of thee,

Inordinate affection so did mee abuse:

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee._

All this, king _Lewis_, I suffred for thy sake,

Wo be to the time that euer I thee knewe:

For thee am I put in a[1892] sorowfull brake,

Thy wilfull appetite, doth me sore rewe:

This worlde is not stable, it chaungeth a newe:[1893]

Now am I bond, some time I was free:

Exiled from liberty, I am kept in a mewe:

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee._

Moreouer for thee, and thy realme of Fraunce,

(Contrary to mine[1894] othe solemnly made)

Unto king _Henry_ I made defiaunce,

To follow thine appetite was all the grace I hade:[1895]

In most cruell wise, I did his realme inuade:

I troubled his subiects, by land and by sea:

My rewarde is no more, but the showle and spade:[1896]

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee._

For my wilfull periury, thus am I brought

From high degree, to the lowest of all:

Whom should I blame? I found that I sought,

By mine owne foly,[1897] I had a great fall:

Wherefore I feare mee, that now I shall

Haue payne long lasting, for mine iniquity:[1898]

Lord full of mercy yet to thee I call,

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee._

Vanquished in fielde I was to the rebuke

Of mee and all my realme: to our immortall shame:[1899]

There faught agaynst mee neyther king, nor duke,

Prince, ne marquise, ne many lords of name:

One valiaunt earle, our power ouercame:

Yet were wee in nomber, to his one, three:

Lord whom thou fauourest, winneth[1900] the game:

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee._

I was th’only[1901] author, of myne owne woe;

But yet I began it by[1902] wicked counsell,

Of my lords spirituall and temporall also:

Which for their merits in fielde with mee fell:

I was curst (in deede) the truth for to tell,

And could not (by falshoode) eyther thriue or thie:

To assist my brother’s foe I did not well,[1903]

_Miserere mei Deus et salua mee_.

10.

Christe’s commaundements,[1904] I did all refuse:

The breatch of myne oathe,[1905] I did not regarde:

Therfore I am domed[1906] as faythlesse as the Jewes:

Sore is the sentence, and cruell is the swerde:[1907]

Excepte thy mercy helpe, O Lord, I am marde:

Saue mee; for whom thou suffredst on a tree,

To thy mercye I appeale for my sauegarde:

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee_.

11.

Herafter (by mee) my successours may beware,

An ensample[1908] take by my wretched ruyne:

Lest in lykewyse they bee taken with[1909] the snare,

As I am nowe: and pay the[1910] lyke fyne:

Vanquished wee were, by[1911] power devyne:

For by manne’s power it seemed not to bee:

Here now I ly, in an homely shrine,

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee_.

12.

I am a spectacle also in lyke case,

To the Frenche king, yf hee list to take heede,

I feare that hee cannot for lacke of grace,

The king[1912] and hee, bee not yet agreede:

Therefore let him looke, for a lyke speede,

As wee had that were of his leage and vnity,

I trow hee doth neither God[1913] loue, nor dreede,

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee_.

13.

Who euer knew christian king in such a case,[1914]

As[1915] I wretched creature that cannot haue

In churche or in[1916] churchyard any maner place,

Emong christen people to lye in a graue:

The earth mee abhorreth,[1917] all men mee depraue,

My frends forsake mee, and haue[1918] no pity,

The worlde taketh from mee all that hee mee gaue:

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee_.

14.

There is no more now, I must take my leaue,

In this wretched worlde I may no longer dwell:

But one thing there is doth mee sore greaue,

I not where to rest, in heauen or in hell,

None else thereof but only God can tell:

Adieu, this worlde is full of vanity,

I may no longer be with thee, farewell:

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee_.

15.

Farewell my queene, sweete lady _Margaret_:

Farewell my prince, with whom I vsde to play:

I wot not where wee shall together meete:

Farewell my lords and commons eke for aye:

Adieu, ye shall no ransom for mee pay:

Yet I beseeche you of your charity,

To the high Lorde mercifull that yee pray:[1919]

_Miserere mei Deus & salua mee_.”]

[“King _Iames_,” quoth one, “wil bee misliked for his

_Miserere_.” “No,” quod another, “hee cryes _Peccaui_.” “It is

to late,” quoth he, “there is no man that will like or beleeue

him.” “Than,” quod M. H. “he is still one and the same man: for

in life he was neither well liked, beleeued, nor trusted.” “Why

than,” quoth one, “if hee speake as hee was, let him passe as hee

is, and if not, let him bee mended.” “Mended,” quoth hee, “nay,

hee is paste mending, hee is to olde: for it seemes by the copy,

that it was pende aboue fifty yeares agone, or euen shortly after

the death of the sayd king: for I found therewith, in an olde

hand, the copyes of the sayd king _Iames_’ letters sent unto king

_Henry_ at _Turwin_, and the king’s aunsweres and letters sent to

him againe, with this lamentation ensuing them: and lastly the

sayd batayle of _Floddon fielde_, in such verse described, with

the order of the same, and the names of the noble men, knights,

and gentlemen, which serued at the same fielde.” “That would I

faine heare,” quoth one, “it were pity that such particulers

should bee lost.” “They would,” quoth another, “pleasure not only

such as write our historyes, but also encourage our countreymen

well, to the like loyall seruice of their prince, and especially

those who should finde therein of their parents or auncestours to

haue bene praysed for valure.” “I pray you,” quoth hee, “let us

haue them.” “There they are,” quoth I, “but I haue altered the

verse, which wee call _Intercalaris_, because the rest else would

not haue beene well liked; but of the history I haue not chaunged

one word.”]

[The Bataile of Brampton, or Floddon fielde, faught

in the yeare of our Redeemer 1513, and in

the fiuth yeare of the raygne of that

victorious prince, King _Henry_

the eyght.

_O Rex regum_ in thy realme celestiall,

Glorified with ioyes of _Gabriell’s_ company,

King _Iames_ is dead, haue mercy on vs all:[1920]

For thou haste him prostrate so sodaynly,

(Which was our noble prince his enemy)

That vs to withstand hee had no might:

So thy helpe O Lord, preserude king _Henrye’s_ right.

Into England this prince prowdly did come,

With fourscore thousand in goodly aray:

And the castle of _Norham_ first hee had won,

Prospering victoriously from day to day:

But agaynst him is gone the earle of _Surrey_,

With him manfully for to fight,

By the helpe of God and in his prince’s right.

This noble earle full wisely hath wrought,

And with thirty thousand forwarde is gone:

After wisedom and pollicy wondrously[1921] hee sought,

How by the _Scottish_ ordinaunce bee might well come:

Thereto helped well _Basterd Heron_,

On the Scots hee did harme both day and night,

So thy helpe O Lord, preserude our prince’s right.

Our herald of armes to king _Iemy_ did say:

“My lord of _Surrey_ greetes[1922] you well by mee,

Maruayling greatly of this your array,

And what you make here in this countrey:

Peace you haue broken, and olde amity:

Wherefore if yee abide hee will with you fight,

By the helpe of God and in his prince’s right.”

“Abyde:” hee sayde, “els were it great dishonour hye,

That a king crowned an earle durst not abide:

Yf _Surrey_ bee so bolde to[1923] gieue battayle to mee,

I shall him tarry on _Floddon_ hill side:

Open warre then soone was there cryde,”[1924]

And our doughty men were[1925] redily dight,

By the helpe of God, and in theyr prince’s right.

_S. Cutberd’s_ banner with the byshop’s men bolde,

In the vaunt garde[1926] forward fast did hye,

That royall relike more precious than golde,

And sir _William Bowmer_ nere stoode it by:

“_Adiuua pater_,” then fast did they cry,

“Pray wee that God will graunt vs his might,

That wee may haue the powre to saue our prince’s right.”

The lord _Clifford_ and the lord _Latimer_ also,

With the lord _Couiers_[1927] of the north countrey,

And the lord _Scrope_ of _Vpsalle_ forwarde did goe,

With the lorde _Howarde_ admirall of the see,

Of noble hearte and courage good was hee,

As any went that time agaynst the Scots to fight,

By the helpe of God, and in theyr prince’s right.[1928]

Sir _William Percy_ and lorde _Ogle_ both same,

And sir _William Gascoyne_, theyr cosin nere was hee:

The shryue of _Yorkeshyre_ sir _Ihon Eueringame_,

And the nobles of _Chesshyre_ in theyr degree:

The lord _Dacres_, and _Basterd Heyron_ with heart free,

Which did harme the Scots by day and by night,

By the helpe of God, and in theyr prince’s right.

Sir _Edmond Haward_ of lusty franke courage

Boldly aduaunced himselfe eke in that stounde,

To the Scots our enemies he did great hurte and domage,

Which were right greedy him and his bloud to confound:

But theyr mischieuous intent on themselues did rebound,

And many a deadly stroke on them there did light,

So the helpe of God preserude our prince’s right.

10.

The baron of _Killerton_, and both _Astones_ were there,

With sir _Iohn Bouthe_, and many knightes moe:

Sir _Iohn Gower_ and sir _Walter Griffin_ drewe nere,

With sir _Thomas Butler_ and maister _Warcoppe_ also,

Sir _Christopher Warde_, and sir _William Midylton_ both two,

And sir _William Maliuer_, all did manly fight,

By the helpe of God, and in theyr prince’s right.

11.

In the mydle warde was the earle of _Surrey_,

That noble man, stoute, bolde, and hardy,[1929]

The father of wit wee call him may,[1930]

The deputy of England most trusty was hee:

With him lorde _Scrope_ of _Bolton_, and sir _George Darcye_,

And sir _Richard Maliuer_ with bucks heades bright,

By the helpe of God, and in their prince’s right.

12.

Sir _Phillip Tilney_ was there ready and prest,

In the same warde, with all his mighty powre,

And sir _Iohn Willowghby_ as ready as[1931] the best,

With sir _Nicholas Aplyard_ his[1932] helpe, ayde, and succour:

O what ioy was it to see that[1933] same howre,

How valiauntly our noble men with the Scots did fight,

By the helpe of God, and in theyr prince’s right.

13.

Yong sir _William Gascoyne_ was there indeede,

With sir _Richard Aldburgh_, and sir _Christofer Danebe_,

Sir _William Scarkell_, and M. _Frost’s_ help at neede,

With sir _Raphe Ellarkar_ and M. _Thomas Lee_,

M. _Raphe Beeston_, and M. _Hopton_ men might see

Full well, perdy,[1934] they quite themselues in that fight,

By the helpe of God, and in theyr prince’s right.

14.

Sir _Edward Stanley_ in the rear warde was hee,

A noble knight both wise and hardy,

With many a noble man of the west countrey,

And the whole powre of the earle of _Darby_,

With a right[1935] retinue of the bishop _Elye_,

And of _Lankeshyre_ men manly[1936] did fight,

By the helpe of God, and in theyr prince’s right.

15.

Soone then the gunnes began[1937] a new play,

And the vaunt garde together are gone:

But our gunnes disseuered them out of aray,

And our bolde bilmen of them slewe many one:[1938]

So that of them scarce retourned[1939] none:

Thus were they punished by helpe of God almight:

So thy helpe O Lord, preseru’d our prince his right.

16.

Then they sought embushments, but with[1940] small chere,

And in fowle[1941] maner brake theyr aray:

Yet some of our men by policy fled were,[1942]

That sawe[1943] king _Iemy_ on the hill where he lay:

“They flee,” he sayes, “follow fast I you pray:”

But by that fit of flying[1944] wee wan the fight:

So the helpe of God preserude our prince’s right.

17.

To the earle of _Surrey_ king _Iemy_ is gone,

With as comly company as euer man did see:[1945]

Full boldly theyr big men agaynst vs did come

Downe the hill, with great myrth and melody:

And our men marked them to the Trinity,[1946]

Beseeching him there to shew[1947] his might,

In theyr whole defence, and in theyr prince his right.

18.

The red lyon with his owne father’s bloud inclynate,

Came towards the white lyon both meeke and mylde,

And there by the hand of God he was prostrate,

By the helpe of th’eagle with her swadled chylde:

The buckesheads also the Scots has beguilde,

And with theyr grey goose wings doulfully them dight,

By the helpe of God, and in our prince his right.

19.

The moone that day did shine full bright,

And the luce head that day was full bent:

The red cressent did blinde the Scots sight,

And the ship with her ancre many Scots spent:[1948]

But, alas, the good white griffin was felde on _Floddon_ hil,

Yet escape hee did, not vanquisht in the fight:[1949]

So thy helpe, O Lord, preserude our prince his right.

20.

The treyfell was true, and that did well appeare,

And boldly the great griffin vp the hill is gone:

The antlet did lace them with arrowes so nere,

That buffits the Scots bare, they lacked none:

The cinquefoile also was stedfast as the stone,

And slewe of the Scots like a worthy wight:[1950]

So thy helpe, O Lord, preserude our prince his right.

21.

The yong white lyon was angry in that stounde,

And with his merry mariners the myrth him made,

His bells rang lay[1951] couched in the grounde,

Whereof the Scots were[1952] right sore affrayde:

And round about rydeing euermore he sayde

Go to my fellowes all shalbe all or night,[1953]

By the helpe of God, wee saue our prince his right.

22.

The _Cornish_ choughe did picke them in the face,

And the crab them blinded that they might not see:

They flewe and fell,[1954] they had none other grace,

With theyr new conquerour: but where now is hee,

Caryed in a cart, to his rebuke and his posterity,

And his bullies so bonnye are put all to[1955] flight:

So thy helpe, O Lord, preserude our prince his right.

23.

Of Scots lay[1956] slayne full xii thousande,

And xi earles, the sooth for to say,

Xiii lords, and three byshops as I vnderstande,

With two abbots, which haue learnde a new play,

They should haue bene at home for peace to pray:

Wherefore they were thus wise punished by right:

So thy helpe, O Lord, preserude our prince his right.

24.

Theyr ordinaunce is lost, and theyr royalty,

Wee haue theyr riches, God haue the prayseing:[1957]

What ech man[1958] would take, hee had his[1959] liberty:

Wherefore laude and honour to[1960] such a king,

From dolefull daunger vs so defending:[1961]

Hee has graunted vnto vs now his might,

And by his only ayde preserude our prince’s right.

25.

O _rex regum_, ruler[1962] of vs all,

As thou for vs sufferedst[1963] thy passion,

Gieue the Scots grace, by king _Iemye’s_ fall,

For to eschue for euer like transgression,[1964]

Preserue the red rose, and be his protection:

Laude, honour, prayse be vnto God almight,

Who thus suppreste our foes, preserud our prince’s right.[1965]

26.

O yee noble lordes and knights victorius,

I you beseech to haue mee excused,

Your noble acts no better that I discusse,

And that my simple saying be not refused:

Where in any thing I haue mee misused,

I mee submit to your charitable correction:

And in this maner shall be my conclusion.

qd. Frauncis Dingley.[1966]]

[The[1967] open bruite of princes falles and such as bare sway

in this realme, made mee poore haplesse woman (though once in

great place,) presume to shew my selfe emong that infortunate

flock. And making more haste then good speede, I appeared fyrst

to one _Baldwine_ a minister and a preacher: whose function and

calling disdaynes to looke so lowe, as to searche the secrets

of wanton women, (though commonly a preacher with sufferaunce

may rebuke vice.) Wherefore I haue better bethought mee, and so

doe sodaynly appeale and appeare to some martiall man, who hath

more experience both in defending of women’s honour, and knowes

somwhat more of theyr conditions and qualityes: and the rather

because my tragedy was in question among some that would not

spare due commendation to the autor therof. I now appeare to him

that fyrst set mee forth, a writer of good continuaunce, and one

that dayly is exercised to set out both matter tragicall, and

other prophane histories and verses, whose name is _Churchyard_:

hee shall not only haue the fame of his owne worke (which no man

can deny)[1968] but shall likewise haue all the glory I can

gieue him, if hee lend mee the hearing of my woefull tale, a

matter scarce fit for woman’s shamefastnes to bewray. But since

without blushing I haue so long beene a talkatiue wench (whose

words a world hath delighted in) I will now goe on boldly with

my audacious manner: and so step I on the stage in my shrowdeing

sheete as I was buried.]

How _Shore’s_ wife, King _Edward_ the Fourth’s

Concubine, was by King _Richard_ despoyled

of all her goods, and forced to

doe open penaunce.

Among the rest, by fortune ouerthrowne,

I am not least, that most may wayle her fate:

My fame and bruite abroade the world is blowne,

Who can forget, a thing thus done so late?

My great mischaunce, my fall, and heauy state,

Is such a marke, whereat each tongue doth shoote,

That my good name is pluckt vp by the roote.

This wandring world bewitched mee with wyles,

And won my wits, with wanton sugred ioyes:

In fortune’s frekes, who trustes her when shee smiles,

Shall finde her false, and full of fickle toyes,

Her triumphs all, but fill our eares with noyse,

Her flattring giftes, are pleasures mixt with payne,

Yea, all her wordes are thunders threatning rayne.

The fond desire that wee in glory set,

Doth thirle our hearts to hope in slipper hap,

A blast of pompe is all the fruite wee get,

And vnder that lies hid a sodayne clap:

In seeking rest vnwares wee fall in trap,

In groping flowres with nettels stong wee are,

In labring long wee reape the crop of care.

Oh darke disceite, with painted face for sho,

Oh poysned bayte, that makes vs eger still,

Oh fayned frend, deceiuing people so,

Oh world, of thee, we cannot speake too ill:

Yet fooles wee are that bend so to thy skill:

The plague and scourge that thousands dayly feele,

Should warne the wise to shun thy whirling wheele.

But who can stop the streame that runnes full swift?

Or quench the fyre that is crept in[1970] the strawe?

The thirsty drinkes, there is no other shift,

Perforce is such that neede obayes no lawe:

Thus bounde wee are in worldly yokes to drawe,

And cannot stay, nor turne agayne in tyme,

Nor learne of those that sought too high to clyme.

My selfe for proofe, loe, here I now appeare,

In woman’s weede, with weeping watred eyes,

That bought her youth and her delights full deare,

Whose Iowde reproch doth sound vnto the skies:

And bids my corse out of the graue to ryse,

As one that may no longer hyde her face,

But needes must come and shew her piteous case.

The sheete of shame, wherein I shrowded was,

Did moue mee oft to playne before this daye,

And in myne eares did ring the trompe of brasse,

Which is defame, that doth each thing[1971] bewraye:

Yea, though full deade and lowe in earth I laye,

I heard the voyse, of mee what people sayde,

But then to speake, alas, I was affrayde.

And nowe a tyme for mee I see preparde,

I heare the lyues and falles of many wights:

My tale therfore the better may bee harde,

For at the torch the litle candell lights:

Where pageants bee, smale things fill out the sights:

Wherefore geue eare, good _Churcheyard_,[1972] do thy best

My tragedy to place among the rest.

Because the[1973] truth shall witnes well with thee,

I will rehearse in order, as it fell,

My lyfe, my death, my dolefull desteny,

My wealth, my woe, my doing euery deale,

My bitter blisse, wherein I long did dwell:

A whole discourse by[1974] mee, _Shore’s_ wife by name,

Now shalt thou heare as thou hadst seene the same.

10.

Of noble bloud I cannot boast my byrth,

For I was made out of the meanest molde,

Mine heritage but seuen foote of th’earth,[1975]

Fortune ne gaue to mee the gifts of golde:

But I could brag of nature, if I wolde,

Who fild my face with fauour fresh and fayre,

Whose beauty shon like Phœbus in the ayre.

11.*

By beautie blas’d like torch of twinckling starre,

A lively lamp that lends darke world some light,

Faire Phœbus beames scarse reacheth halfe so farre

As did the rayes of my rare beautie bright:

As summer’s day exceedes blacke winter’s night,

So _Shore’s_ wive’s face made foule _Brownetta_ blush,

As pearle staynes pitch, or gold surmounts a rush.

12.*

The damaske rose or _Rosamond_ the faire,

That _Henry_ held as deere as jewells be,

Who was kept close in cage from open ayre,

For beautie’s boast could scarse compare with me:

The kindly buds, and blosomes of brave tree,

With white and red and deckt my cheekes so fine,

There stoode two balles, like drops of claret wine.

13.*

The beaten snow, nor lily in the field,

No whiter sure then naked necke and hand:

My lookes had force to make a lyon yeld,

And at my forme in gase a world would stand:

My body small, fram’d finely to be span’d,

As though dame _Kind_ had sworne, in solemne sort,

To shrowd herselfe in my faire forme and port.

14.*

No part amisse, when nature tooke such care

To set me out, as nought should be awry,

To fornish forth, in due proportion rare,

A peece of worke should please a prince’s eye:

O would to God, that boast might prove a lie!

For pride youth tooke in beautie’s borrowde trash,

Gave age a whippe, and left me in the lash.

15.

My shape, some sayde, was seemely to ech sight,

My countenaunce did shew a sober grace,

Mine eyes in lookes were neuer proued light,

My tongue in words was[1976] chast in euery case:

Mine eares were deafe and would no louers place,

Saue that, alas, a prince did blot my browe,

Loe, there the strong did make the weake to bowe.

16.

The maiesty that kings to people beare,

The stately port, the awefull cheere they showe,

Doth make the meane to shrinke and couch for feare,

Like as the hounde that doth his maister knowe:

What then? since I was made vnto the bowe,

There is no cloake can serue to hide my fault:

For I agreede the fort hee should assault.

17.

The eagle’s force subdues ech bird that flies,

What metall may resist the flaming fire?

Doth not the sun dasill the clearest eyes,

And melt the yse, and make the frost retyre?

Who can withstand a puissaunt king’s disire?

The stiffest stones are perced through with tooles,

The wisest are with princes made but fooles.

18.

Yf kynde had wrought my forme in common frames,

And set mee forth in coulours blacke and browne,

Or beauty had beene percht in Phœbus’ flames,

Or shamefast wayes had pluckt my fethers downe,

Then had I kept my fame and good renowne:

For nature’s gifts were[1977] cause of all my greefe:

A plesaunt pray entiseth many a thiefe.

19.

Thus woe to thee that wrought my peacock’s pryde,

By clothing mee with nature’s tapestry:

Woe worth the hewe wherein my face was dyde,

Which made mee thinke I pleased euery eye:

Like as the sterres make men beholde the skye,

So beautye’s showe doth make the wise full fond,

And brings free harts full oft to endlesse bond.

20.

But cleare from blame my frends can not be founde,

Before my time my youth they did abuse:

In mariage a prentise was I bounde,

When[1978] that meere loue I knew not how to vse:

But, welaway, that can not mee excuse,

The harme is mine though they deuisde my care,

And I must smart and sit in slaundrous snare.

21.

Yet gieue mee leaue to pleade my cause at large:

Yf that the horse do run beyond his race,

Or any thing that keepers haue in charge,

Doe breake theyr course where rulers may take place:

Or meate bee set before the hungrye’s face,

Who is in fault, th’offender,[1979] yea, or no,

Or they that are the cause of all this woe?

22.

Note well what strife this forced mariage makes,

What lothed liues do come where loue doth lacke,

What scratching breers do growe vpon such brakes,

What common weales by it are brought to wracke,

What heauy loade is put on pacient’s backe,

What straunge delights this braunch of vice doth breede,

And marke what grayne springs out of such a seede.

23.

Compell the hauke to sit that is vnmande,

Or make the hound vntaught to drawe the dere,

Or bring the free against his will in band,

Or moue the sad a pleasaunt tale to here:

Your time is lost and you no whit the[1980] nere:

So loue ne learnes of force the knot to knit,

She serues but those that feele sweete fancie’s fit.

24.

The lesse defame redounds to my disprayse,

I was entiste by traynes, and trapt by trust:

Though in my powre remayned yeas, and nayes,

Unto my frends yet needs consent I must,

In euery thing, yea, lawfull or vniust:

They brake the bowes and shakte the tree by sleight,

And bent the wand that mought haue growne full streight.

25.

What helpe in this, the pale thus broken downe,

The dere must needs in daunger run astray:

At mee therefore why should the worlde so frowne?

My weakenes made my youth a prince’s pray:

Though wisdome should the course of nature stay,

Yet try my case, who list, and they shall proue

The ripest wits are soonest thralles to loue.

26.

What neede I more to clere my selfe so[1981] much?

A king me wan, and bad mee at his call,

His royall state, his princely grace was such,

The hope of will, that women seeke for all,

The ease and wealth, the gifts which were not small,

Besieged mee so strongly round about,

My powre was weake, I could not holde him out.

27.

Duke _Hanniball_ in all his conquest great,

Or _Cæsar_ yet, whose triumphes did exceede,

Of all theyr spoyles which made them toyle and sweate,

Were not so glad to haue so rich a meede,

As was this prince when I to him agreede,

And yeelded mee a prisoner, willingly,

As one that knewe no way away to fly.

28.

The nitingale, for all his mery voyce,

Nor yet the larke, that still delights to sing,

Did neuer make the hearers so reioyce,

As I with words haue made this worthy king:

I neuer iarde, in tune was euery string,

I tempred so my tongue to please his eare,

That what I sayde was currant euery where.

29.*

Sweete are the songs that merry night crow[1982] singes,

For many parts are in those charming notes:

Sweete are the tunes and pipes that pleaseth kings:

Sweete is the love wherein great lordings dotes:

But sweetst of all is fancie where it flotes,

For throwe rough seas it smoothly swimmes away,

And in deepe flouds where skulles of fish doe play.

30.*

And where love slides, it leaves no signe nor showe,

Where it hath gon the way so shuts againe:

It is a sport to heare the fine night crow

Chaunt in the queere upon a pricke-song plaine:

No musicke more may please a prince’s vaine

Than descant strange, and voice of faurets breest,

In quiet bower when birds be all at rest.

31.*

No such consort as plaine two parts in one,

Whose rare reports doth carry cunning clean,

Where two long loves and lives in joy alone:

They sing at will the treble or the meane,

Where musicke wants the mirth not worth a beane:

The king and I agreed in such concorde,

I rul’d by love, though he did raigne a lord.

32.

I ioynde my talke, my iestures, and my grace,

In witty frames, that long might last and stand,

So that I brought the king in such a case,

That to his death I was his chiefest hand:

I gouernd him that ruled all this land:

I bare the sword, though hee did weare the crowne,

I strake the stroke that threw the mighty downe.

33.

Yf iustice sayd that iudgement was but death,

With my sweete wordes I could the king perswade,

And make him pause and take therein a breath,

Till I with suite the fautor’s peace had made:

I knewe what way to vse him in his trade,

I had the arte to make the lyon meeke,

There was no poynt wherein I was to seeke.

34.*

I tooke delight in doying each man good,

Not scratting all myselfe as all were mine,

But lookt whose life in neede and danger stoode,

And those I kept from harme with cunning fine

On prince’s traine I alwayes cast mine eine:

For lifting up the servants of a king,

I did throw court myselfe in fauour bring.

35.*

I offered ayde before they sued to me,

And promis’d nought, but would performe it streight

I shaked downe sweete fruit from top of tree,

Made aples fall in laps of men by sleight:

I did good turnes whiles that I was a height,

For fear a flawe of winde would make mee reele,

And blowe me downe when fortune turn’d her wheele.

36.*

I fil’d no chests with chynks to cherish age,

But in the harts of people layde my gold,

Sought love of lord, of maister, and of page,

And for no bribbe I neuer fauour solde:

I had inough, I might doe what I would,

Saue spend or give or fling it on the ground,

The more I gave the more in purse I found.

37.

Yf I did frowne, who then did looke awrye?

Yf I did smile, who would not laugh outright?

Yf I but spake, who durst my words denye?

Yf I pursude, who would forsake the flight?

I meane, my powre was knowne to euery wight:

On such a height good hap had built my bowre,

As though my sweete should nere[1983] haue turnde to sowre.

38.

My husband then, as one that knewe his good,

Refusde to keepe a prince’s concubine,

Forseeing th’end,[1984] and mischiefe as it stood,

Against the king did neuer much repine:

Hee sawe the grape whereof hee dranke the wine:

Though inward thought his heart did still torment,

Yet outwardly hee seemde hee was content.

39.

To purchase prayse, and win the people’s zeale,

Yea rather bent of kinde to do some good,

I euer did vpholde the common weale,

I had delight to saue the guiltles blood:

Each suter’s cause, when that I vnderstode,

I did prefer as it had bene mine owne,

And help[1985] them vp, that might haue bene orethrowne.

40.

My powre was prest to right the poore man’s wrong,

My hands were free to geue where neede required:

To watch for grace I neuer thought it long,

To do men good I neede not bee desyred:

Nor yet with gyfts my heart was neuer hyred:

But when the ball was at my foote to guyde,

I playde to those that fortune did abyde.

41.

My want was wealth, my woe was ease at will,

My robes were rich, and brauer then the sunne,

My fortune then was far aboue my skill,

My state was great, my glasse did euer runne:

My fatall threede so happely was spunne,

That then I sate in earthly pleasures clad,

And for the tyme a goddesse’ place I had.

42.

But I had not so soone this lyfe possest,

But my good hap began to slyp asyde,

And fortune then did mee so sore molest,

That vnto playnts was tourned all my pryde:

It booted not to rowe agaynst the tyde,

Myne oares were weake, my heart and strength did fayle,

The wynde was rough I durst not beare a sayle.

43.

What steps of stryfe belong to high estate?

The climing vp is doubtfull to endure,

The seate it selfe doth purchase priuy hate,

And honour’s fame is fickle and vnsure,

And all shee brings is flowres that bee vnpure:

Which fall as fast as they do sprout and spring,

And cannot last they are so vayne a thing.

44.

Wee count no care to catch that wee doe wishe,

But what wee win is long to vs vnknowen,

Tyll present payne bee serued in our dishe,

Wee scarce perceiue wheron our greife hath growen:

What grayne proues well that is so rashly sowen

Yf that a meane did measure all our deedes,

In steede of corne wee should not gather weedes.

45.

The setled mynde is free from fortune’s power,

They neede not feare who looke not vp aloft:

But they that clyme are carefull euery hower,

For when they fall they light not very softe:

Examples hath the wisest warned oft,

That where the trees the smalest braunches bere,

The stormes do blowe and haue most rigoure there.

46.

Where is it strong but nere the ground and roote?

Where is it weake but on the highest sprayes?

Where may a man so surely set his foote,

But on those bowes that groweth lowe alwayes?

The litle twygs are but vnstedfast stayes,

Yf they breake not, they bend with euery blast:

Who trusts to them shall neuer stand full fast.

47.

The wynde is great vpon the highest hylles,

The quiet lyfe is in the dale belowe,

Who treades on yse shall slyde agaynst their wills,

They want not cares[1986] that curious artes would knowe:

Who liues at ease and can content him so,

Is perfect wise, and sets vs all to schoole,

Who hates this lore may well bee calde a foole.

48.

What greater griefe may come to any life,

Then after sweete to taste the bitter sowre?

Or after peace to fall at warre and strife,

Or after myrth to haue a cause to lowre?

Under such props false fortune buildes her bowre,

On sodayne chaunge her flittering[1987] frames bee set,

Where is no way for to escape the net.[1988]

49.

The hasty smart that fortune sendes in spite,

Is harde to brooke where gladnes wee embrace,

Shee threatens not, but sodaynly doth smite,

Where ioy is most there doth shee sorrow place:

But sure I thinke, this is too straunge a case

For vs to feele such griefe amid our game,

And know not why vntill we taste the same.

50.

As erst I sayde, my blisse was tournde to bale,

I had good cause to weepe and wring my hands,

And showe sad chere with countenaunce full pale,

For I was brought in sorrowe’s wofull bands:

A pirry came and set my ship on sands,

What should I hyde, or coulour care and noy?

King _Edward_ dyde in whome was all my ioy.

51.

And when the earth receiued had his corse,

And that in tombe this worthy prince was layde,

The worlde on mee began to showe his force,

Of troubles then my parte I long assayde:

For they, of whome I neuer was afrayde,

Undid mee[1989] most, and wrought mee such dispite,

That they bereft mee from my[1990] pleasure quite.

52.*

Brought bare and poore, and throwne in worlde’s disgrace,

Holds downe the head that never casts up eye:

Cast out of court, condemn’d in every place,

Condemn’d, perforce, at mercie’s foote must lye:

Hope is but small when we for mercie crye:

The birde halfe dead, that hauke hath fast in foote,

Lay head on blocke where is no other boote.

53.*

The rowling stone that tumbleth downe the hill,

Fynds none to stay the furie of his fall:

Once under foote for euer daunted still:

One cruell blowe strikes cleane away the ball:

Left once in lacke feeles alwayes want of will:

A conquerd mind must yeeld to every ill,

A weake poore soule, that fortune doth forsake

In hard extreames, from world her leave may take.

54.*

From those that fall, such as doe rise doe run:

The sound with sicke doe seldome long abide:

Poore people passe as shadowes in the sun,

Like feeble fish, that needes must follow tyde:

Among the rich a beggar soone is spied:

When weake _Shore’s_ wife had lost her staffe of stay,

The halt and blind went limping lame away.

55.*

The poore is pincht and pointed at indeed,

As baited bull were leading to a stake:

Wealth findes great helpe, want gets no friend at neede,

A plaged wight a booteles mone may make,

A naked soule in street for colde may quake:

But colde or hot, when mischiefes comes a roe,

As falles the lot, the back beares of the bloe.

56.*

Prefarment past, the world will soon forget:

The present time is daily gaz’d upon:

Yf merchant rich from wealth doe fall in debt,

Small count is made of his good fortune gon:

We feede on flesh, and fling away the bone,

Embrace the best and set the worst aside,

Because faire flowers are made of in their pride.

57.*

You yonglings nowe, that vaine delights lead on

To sell chaste life for lewd and light desires,

Poore gaine is got when rich good name is gon:

Foule blot and shame lives under trimme attires:

Worlde soone casts off the hackney horse it hiers:

And when bare nagge is ridden out of breath,

Tibbe is turn’d loose to feed on barren heath.

58.*

Of flowers a while men doe gay poses make:

The sent once past, adue dry withered leaves:

Love lasts not long, prickt up for pleasure’s sake:

Straw little worth, when corne forsaks the sheaves:

A painted post the gazar’s eye deceives:

But when foule fauts are found that blear’d the sight,

The account is gone of girlls or gugawes light.

59.*

Young pooppies play, small season lasts you see:

Old appish sportes are quickly out of grace:

Fond wanton games will soone forgotten be:

As sowre as crabbe becomes the sweetest face:

There needes no more be spoken of this case:

All earthly joyes by tract of time decayes:

Soone is the glase runne out of our good dayes!

60.*

My fall and facte makes proofe of that is spoke,

Tels world to much of shadowes in the sunne,

Dust blowne with winde, or simple proofe of smoake,

That flies from fire and fast throwe aire doth run:

It ends with woe that was with joy begun:

It turnes to teares that first began with sport:

At length long paine finds pleasure was but short.

61.

As long as lyfe remaynde in _Edward’s_ brest,

Who was but I? who had such frends at call?

His body was no sooner put in chest,

But well was hee[1991] that could procure my fall:

His brother was myne enmye most of all,

Protectour then, whose vice did still abound,

From yll to worse tyll death did him confound.

62.

Hee falsely faynde[1992] that I of counsell was

To poyson him, which thing I neuer ment,

But hee could set thereon a face of brasse,

To bring to passe his lewde and false entent:

To such mischiefe this tyrant’s heart was bent,

To God, ne man, hee neuer stoode in awe,

For in his wrath hee made his will a lawe.

63.

Lord _Hastings’_ bloude for vengeaunce on him cryes,

And many moe, that were to long to name,

But most of all, and in most woefull wise,

I had good cause this wretched man to blame:

Before the worlde I suffred open shame,

Where people were as thicke as is the sand,

I penaunce tooke, with taper in my hand.[1993]

64.

Each eye did stare and looke mee in the face,

As I past by the rumours on mee ran,

But patience then had lent mee such a grace,

My quyet lookes were praysde of euery man:

The shamefast bloud brought me such coulour than,

That thousands sayde, which sawe my sober chere,

It is great ruth to see this woman here.

65.

But what preuaylde the people’s pitie there?

This raging wolfe would spare no giltless blood:

Oh wicked wombe that such ill fruit did beare,

Oh cursed earth, that yeeldeth forth such mud:

The hell consume all things that did thee good,

The heauens shut their gates agaynst thy spreete,

The world tread downe thy glory vnder feete.

66.

I aske of God a vengeaunce on thy bones,

Thy stinking corps corrupts the ayre I knowe:

Thy shamefull death no earthly wight bemones,

For in thy lyfe thy workes were hated so,

That euery man did wish thy ouerthroe:

Wherfore I may, though parciall now I am,

Curse euery cause whereof thy body came.

67.

Woe worth the man that fathered such a childe,

Woe worth the howre wherein thou wast begate:

Woe worth the brests that haue the world begylde,

To norish thee, that all the worlde did hate:

Woe worth the gods that gaue thee such a fate,

To lyue so long, that death deserude so oft:

Woe worth the chaunce that set thee vp aloft.

68.*

Woe worth the day, the time, the howre, and all,

When subiects clapt the crowne on _Richard’s_ head:

Woe worth the lordes, that sat in sumptuous hall,

To honour him that princes blood so shead:

Would God he had bin boyld in scalding lead,

When he presumde in brother’s seat to sit,

Whose wretched rage rul’d all with wicked wit.

69.

Yee princes all, and rulers euerychone,

In punishment beware of hatred’s yre:

Before yee scourge, take heede, looke well thereon:

In wrothes ill will, if mallice kindle fyre,

Your hearts will burne in such a hote desyre,

That in those flames the smoke shall dim your sight,

Yee shall forget to ioyne your iustice right.

70.

You should not iudge till things bee well discerned,

Your charge is still to mayntayne vpright lawes,

In conscience rules yee shoulde bee throughly learned,

Where clemency bids wrath and rashnes pause,

And further sayth, stricke not without a cause:

And when yee smite doe it for iustice sake,

Then in good parte ech man your scourge will take.

71.

Yf that such zeale had mou’d[1994] this tyrant’s minde,

To make my plague a warning[1995] for the rest,

I had small cause such fault in him to fynde,

Such punishment is vsed for the best,

But by yll will and powre I was opprest:

Hee spoylde my goods, and left mee bare and pore,

And caused mee to beg from dore to dore.

72.

What fall was this, to come from prince’s fare,

To watch for crums among the blynde and lame?

When almes were delt I had[1996] an hungry share,

Because I knew not how to aske for shame,

Tyll force and neede had brought mee in such frame,

That starue I must, or learne to beg an almes,

With booke in hand, to[1997] say S. Dauid’s psalmes.

73.

Where I was wont the golden chaines to weare,

A payre of beades about my necke was wound,

A lynnen cloth was lapt about my heare,

A ragged goune that trailed one the ground,

A dish that clapt and gaue a heauy sound,

A staying staffe and wallet therewithall,

I bare about as witnesse of my fall.

74.*

The fall of leafe is nothing like the spring,

Ech eye beholdes the rising of the sunne,

All men admire the fauour of a king:

And from great states growne in disgrace they run,

Such sodaine claps ne wit nor will can shun:

For when the stoole is taken from our feete,

Full flat on floore the body falls in streete.

75.

I had no house wherein to hyde my heade,

The open streete my lodging was perforce:

Full oft I went all hungry to my bed,

My flesh consumde, I looked lyke a corse:

Yet in that plight who had on mee remorse:

O God, thou knowste my frends forsooke mee than,

Not one holpe mee, that succred many a man.

76.

They frownd on mee that fawnd on mee before,

And fled from mee, that followde mee full fast:

They hated mee, by whome I set much store,

They knew full well, my fortune did not last,

In euery place, I was condemnde and cast,

To pleade my cause at bar it was no boote,

For euery man did treade mee vnder foote.

77.

Thus long I liu’d, all weary of my lyfe,

Tyll death approcht, and rid mee from that wo:

Example take by mee, both mayde and wyfe,

Beware, take heede, fall not to folly so:

A Mirour make by[1998] my greate ouerthro,

Defy the[1999] world and all his wanton wayes,

Beware by mee, that spent so yll her dayes.

Tho. Churchyard.[2000]

[As _Baldwine_ indeede being a minister, had bene most fit to set

forth the life of a cardinall and byshop (for causes belonging

to his knowledge and ministery) so to encourage a writer now

aliue to play the part of a _Pasquill_, and rather make his pen

his plough, then in a hard season, liue like a labourer that

doth seruice to many and litle good to himselfe, I thought it

necessary in a kinde of beneuolence and curtesy of minde, to

bestow some credit on that person that not only hath preferred my

tragedy to the printer, (being of his owne deuice and penning)

but also hath enlarged, by playne and familier verse, the matter

the world desires to heare or read, and makinge common among

a multitude that were secret and priuat among a fewe. Which

study and paynes of his owne purpose procures mee (as one whom

fortune hath flattered and afflicted) to appeare vnto him, for

the hearing of my calamity, and for the setting out both of my

rising vp and falling downe. So, to the whole worlde, by his

helpe and mine owne desire, I step out from the graue, where long

I lay in forgetfulnes, and declare in the voyce of a cardinall, a

curious discourse; yet sadly and sorrowfully tolde, as well vnto

_Churchyard_ (the noter thereof) as to the rest that pleaseth to

heare any peece of my misfortune.]

How _Thomas Wolsey_ did arise vnto great authority

and gouernment, his maner of life, pompe, and

dignity, and how hee fell downe into great

disgrace, and was arested of

high treason.

Shall I looke on, when states step on the stage,

And play theyr parts, before the people’s face:

Some men liue now, scarce four score yeares of age,

Who in time past, did know the cardnall’s grace:

A gamesom worlde, when byshops run at bace:

Yea, get a fall, in striuing for the gole,

And body loase, and hazarde seely sole.

Ambitious minde, a world of wealth would haue,

So scrats and scrapes, for scorfe, and scoruy drosse:

And till the flesh, and bones, be layde[2001] in graue,

Wit neuer rests, to grope for mucke and mosse:

Fye on prowde pompe, and gilted bridels’ bosse:

O glorious golde, the gaping after thee,

So blindes men’s eyes, they can no daunger see.

Now note my byrth, and marke how I began,

Beholde from whence rose all this pryde of mine:

My father but, a plaine poore honest man,

And I his son, of wit and iudgement fine,

Brought vp at schoole and prou’d a good diuine,

For which great gifts, degree of schoole I had,

And batchler was, and I a litle lad.

So, tasting some of fortune’s sweete consayts,

I clapt the hoode, on shoulder, braue as son,

And hopt at length to bite at better bayts,

And fill my mouth, ere banket halfe were don:

Thus holding on, the course I thought to ron:

By many a feast my belly grue so big,

That _Wolsey_ streight became a wanton twig.

Lo, what it is to feede on daynty meate,

And pamper vp the gorge with suger plate:

Nay, see how lads, in hope of higher seate,

Rise early vp and study learning late:

But hee thriues best that hath a blessed fate:

And hee speeds worst that worlde will nere aduaunce,

Nor neuer knowes what meanes good lucke nor chaunce.

My chaunce was great, for from a poore man’s son,

I rose aloft, and chopt and chaungde degree:

In Oxford first my famous name begon,

Where many a day the sholers honourd mee:

Then thought I how I might a courtier bee:

So came to court, and fethred there my wing,

With _Henry_ th’eight, who was a worthy king.

Hee did with words assay mee once or twice,

To see what wit and ready sprite I had:

And when hee saw I was both graue and wice,

For some good cause, the king was wondrous glad:

Than downe I lookt, with sober countnaunce sad,

But heart was vp, as high as hope could go,

That suttell fox might him some fauour so.

Wee worke with wiles, the mindes of men like wax,

The fauning whelp gets many a peece of bred:

Wee follow kings, with many coning knacks,

By searching out how are their humoures fed:

Hee haunts no court, that hath a doltish hed:

For as in golde, the pretious stone is set,

So finest wits, in court the credit get.

I quickely learnde to kneele and kysse the hand,

To waite at heele, and turne like top about,

To stretch out necke and lyke an image stand,

To taunt, to skoffe, and face the matter out,

To preace in place, among the greatest rout:

Yet like a priest, my selfe did well behaue,

In fayre long gowne, and goodly garments graue.

10.

Where _Wolsey_ went, the world like bees would swarme,

To heare my speach, and note my nature well:

I coulde with tongue vse such a kinde of charme,

That voyce, full cleare, should sounde like siluer bell:

When head deuisde a long discours to tell,

With stories straunge, my speach should spised bee,

To make the worlde to muse the more on mee.

11.

Each tayle was sweete, each worde a sentence wayde,

Each ear I pleasde, each eye gaue mee the vewe,

Each judgment markt, and paysed what I sayde,

Each minde I fed, with matter rare and newe,

Each day and howre my grace and credit grewe:

So that the king, in hearing of this newes,

Deuysed howe hee might my seruice vse.

12.

Hee made mee then his chaplayne, to say masse

Before his grace, yea, twise or thrise a weeke:

Now had I time, to trym my selfe by glasse,

Now founde I meane, some liuing for to seeke,

Now I became both humble, mylde, and meeke:

Now I applyde my wyts and sences throwe,

To reape some corne, if God would speede the plowe.

13.

Whom most I sawe in fauour with the king,

I followde fast, to get some hap thereby:

But I obserude another finer thing,

That was, to keepe me still in prince’s eye:

As vnder wyng the hawke in winde doth lye,

So for a pray, I prowled heere and there,

And tryed frendes and fortune euery where.

14.

The king at length sent mee beyonde the seas,

Embastour then, with message good and greate:

And in that time, I did the king so pleas,

By short dispatch, and wrought so fine a feate,

That did aduaunce my selfe to higher seate,

The deanrie then of Lincolne hee mee gaue:

And bownty shewde before I gan to craue.

15.

His amner to, hee made mee all in haste,

And threefolde gyftes hee threwe vpon mee still:

His counslour straight listewise was _Wolsey_ plaste,

Thus in shorte time I had the world at will:

Which passed far man’s reason, wit, and skill:

O hap, thou haste great secrets in thy might,

Which long lye hyd from wily worldlyngs sight.

16.

As shures of raine fall quickly on the grasse,

That fading flowres are soone refresht thereby:

Or as with sun the morning dewe doth passe,

And quiet calme makes cleare a troubled skye:

So prince’s powre, at twinkling of an eye,

Sets vp a lofte a favret on the wheele,

When giddy braynes about the streetes doe reele.

17.

They are but blinde that wake where fortune sleepes,

They worke in vayne that striue with streame and tyde:

In double garde, they dwell that destnye keepes,

In simple sorte they liue that lacke a gyde:

They misse the marke that shoote theyr arrowes wide,

They hit the pricke that make theyr flight to glaunce

So nere the white, that shafte may light on chaunce.

18.

Such was my lucke I shot no shafte in vayne,

My bow stoode bent and brased all the yeere:

I wayted harde but neuer lost my payne:

Such wealth came in to beare the charges cleere:

And in the end, I was the greatest peere

Among them all, for I so rulde the land,

By king’s consent, that all was in my hand.

19.

Within on yeare three bishoprickes I had,

And in small space a cardnall I was made:

With long red robes rich _Wolsey_ then was clad,

I walkte in sun when others sate in shade:

I went abroade with such a trayne and trade,

With crosses borne before mee where I past,

That man was thought to bee some god at last.

20.

With sonnes of earles and lordes I serued was,

An hundreth chaynes at leaste were in my trayne:

I dayly dranke in gold, but not in glas,

My bread was made of fynest flowre and grayne:

My daynty mouth did common meates disdayne,

I fed like prince on fowles most deare and straunge,

And bankets made of fine conceites for chaunge.

21.

My hall was full of knightes, and squires of name,

And gentlemen, two hundreth tolde by powle:

Tall[2002] yeomen to did howrely serue the same,

Whose names each weeke I saw within checke rowle:

All went to church, when seruis bell did knowle,

All dinde and supte and slepte at cardinall’s charge,

And all would wayte, when _Wolsey_ tooke his barge.

22.

My householde stuffe, my wealth and siluer plate,

Mighte well suffice a monarke at this day:

I neuer fed but vnder cloth of state,

Nor walkt abroade till ushars clearde the way:

In house I had musitions for to play,

In open streete my trompets lowde did sownde,

Which pearst the skies and seemde to shake the grownde.

23.

My men most braue, martcht two and two in ranke,

Who helde in length, much more then halfe a mile:

Not one of these, but gaue his maister thanke,

For some good turne, or pleasure got some while:

I did not feede my seruantes with a smile,

Or glosing wordes, that neuer bring forth frute,

But gaue them golde, or els preferde theyr sute.

24.

In surety so, whiles God was pleasde, I stoode,

I knewe I must leaue all my wealth behinde:

I sawe they lou’d mee not for byrth or bloode,

But serude a space to try my noble minde:

The more men gieue the more in deede they finde

Of loue, and troth, and seruice, euery way:

The more they spare, the more doth loue decay.

25.

I ioyde to see my seruantes thriue so well,

And go so gay with little that they gote:

For as I did in honour still excell,

So would I oft the wante of seruantes note:

Which made my men on maister so to dote,

That when I sayde let such a thing bee donne,

They woulde in deede through fyre and water ronne.

26.

I had in house so many of’sars[2003] still,

Which were obayde and honourde for their place,

That carelesse I might sleepe or walke at will,

Saue that sometyme I wayde a poore man’s case,

And salude such sores whose griefe might breede disgrace:

Thus men did wayte and wicked world did gaze

On mee and them, that brought vs all in maze.

27.

For worlde was whist, and durst not speake a woorde,

Of that they sawe, my credite curbde them so:

I waded far, and passed ore the foorde,

And mynded not, for to returne I troe:

The worlde was wise, yet scarce it selfe did knoe,

When wonder made, of men that rose by hap:

For fortune rare, falls not in each man’s lap.

28.

I climde the clouds, by knowledge and good wit,

My men sought chaunce by seruice or good lucke:

The worlde walkte lowe when I aboue did sit,

Or downe did come to trample on this mucke:

And I did swim as dainty as a ducke,

When water serues to keepe the body braue,

And to enioy the gyftes that fortune gaue.

29.

And though my pompe surpast all prelates nowe,

And like a prince I liu’d and pleasure tooke:

That was not sure so great a blur in browe,

If on my workes indiffrent eyes doe looke:

I thought great scorne such liuings heare to brooke,

Except I built some howses for the poore,

And order tooke to gieue great almes at doore.

30.

A colledge fayre in Oxford I did make,

A sumptuous house a stately worke in deede:

I gaue great lands to that, for learning sake,

To bring vp youth and succour scholer’s neede:

That charge of myne full many a mouth did feede,

When I in courte was seeking some good turne,

To mend my torch, or make my candell burne.

31.

More houses gay I builte, then thowsands do

That haue enough, yet will no goodnes shoe:

And where I built I did mayntayne it to,

With such great cost as few bestowes I troe:

Of buildings large I could reherse a roe,

That by mischaunce this day haue lost my name,

Whereof I do deserue the only fame.

32.

And as for sutes, about the king was none

So apte as I, to speake and purchase grace:

Though long before, some say, _Shore’s_ wife was one

That oft kneelde downe before the prince’s face

For poore men’s sutes, and holpe theire woefull case,

Yet shee had not such credite as I gate,

Although a king would beare the parret prate.

33.

My wordes were graue and bore an equall poyes,

In ballaunce iust for many a weighty cause:

Shee pleasde a prince with pretty merry toyes,

And had no sight in state, nor course of lawes:

I coulde perswade and make a prince to pawes,

And take a breath before hee drew the sworde,

And spy the time to rule him with a worde.

34.

I will not say but fancy may do much,

Yet worlde will graunt that wisdom may do more:

To wanton gyrl’s affection is not such,

That prince’s wise will bee abusde therefore:

One sute of mine was surely worth a score

Of her’s indeede, for shee her time must watch,

And at all howres I durst go draw the latch.

35.

My voyce but heard, the dore was open streyght,

Shee might not come, till shee were calde or brought:

I rulde the king by custom, arte, and sleight,

And knew full well the secrets of his thought:

Without my minde all that was done was nought,

In wars, or peace, my counsayle swayed all,

For still the king would for the cardnall call.

36.

I kept a court my selfe, as great as his,

(I not compare vnto my maister heere)

But looke my lords what liuely worlde was this,

That one poore man became so great a peere?

Yet though this tale be very straunge to heere,

Wit wins a worlde; and who hath hap and wit,

With triumph long in princely throne may sit.

37.

What man like mee bare rule in any age,

I shone like sun more cleare then morning star:

Was neuer parte so playde, in open stage,

As mine, nor fame of man flewe halfe so far:

I sate on bench, when thowsands at the bar

Did pleade for right: for I in publique weale

Lorde chaunclour was and had the great broad seale.

38.

Now haue I tolde how I did rise aloft,

And sate with pride and pomp, in golden hall,

And set my feete on costly carpets soft,

And playde at goale with goodly golden ball:

But after, Lord, I must rehearse my fall:

O trembling heart, thou canst not now for teares

Present that tale vnto the hearer’s cares.

39.

Best weepe it out and sodayne silence keepe,

Till priuy pangs make pinched heart complayne:

Or cast thy selfe into some slumbring sleepe,

Till wakened wits remembraunce bring agayne:

When heauy teares, do hollow cheekes distayne,

The world will thinke thy sprits are growne so weake,

The feeble tongue hath sure no powre to speake.

40.

A tale by signes with sighes and sobs set out,

Moues people’s mindes to pity plaged men,

With howling voyce do rather cry and showt,

And so by arte shew forth thy sorrow then:

For if thou speake some man will note with pen

What _Wolsey_ sayde, and what thrue _Wolsey_ downe,

And vnder foote flings _Wolsey’s_ great renowne.

41.

What force of that my fall must needs be herd,

Before I fell I had a time to rise:

As fatall chaunce and fortune mee preferd,

So mischiefe came and did my state despise:

Yf I might pleade my case among the wise,

I could excuse right much of mine offence:

But leaue a while such matter in suspence.

42.

The pope, or pride, or peeuish parts of mine,

Made king to frowne and take the seale from mee:

Now seru’d no words, nor plesaunt speeches fine,

Now _Wolsey_, lo, must needs disgraced bee:

Yet had I leaue (as dolefull prisner free)

To keepe a house (God wot) with heauy cheere,

Where that I founde no wine, ne bread, nor beere.

43.

My time was come, I coulde no longer liue,

What should I make my sorrow further knowne?

Upon some cause that king, that all did giue,

Tooke all agayne and so possest his owne:

My goods, my plate, and all was ouerthrowne,

And looke what I had gathred many a day,

Within one howre was cleanly swept away.

44.

But harken now how that my fortune fell,

To _Yorke_ I must, where I the bishop was:

Where I by right in grace a while did dwell,

And was in stawle with honour great to pas:

The priors then and abbots gan to smell,

Howe cardinall must bee honourd as hee ought,

And for that day was great prouision brought.

45.

At _Cawood_ then, where I great buildings made,

And did through cause exspect my stawling day,

The king deuisde a secrete vnder shade,

Howe cardnall shoulde bee reste and brought away:

One _Wealsh_ a knight, came downe in good aray,

And seasned sure, because from courte hee cam,

On _Wolsey_ wolfe that spoyled many a lam.

46.

Then was I led toward courte, like dog in string,

And brought as biefe that Butcherrowe must see:

But still I hoapt to come before the king,

And that repayre was not denyde to mee:

But hee that kept the towre, my guide must bee:

Ah, there I sawe what king thereby did meane,

And so I searcht yf conscience now were cleane.

47.

Some spots I founde, of pryde and popishe partes,

That might accuse a better man then I:

Now _Oxford_ came to minde, with all theire artes,

And _Cambridge_ to, but all not worth a flye:

For schoolemen can no fowle defects supplye:

My sauce was sowre, though meate before was sweete,

Nowe _Wolsey_ lackte both conning, wit, and spreete.

48.

A deepe conceyte of that, possest my heade,

So fell I sicke, consumde as some did thinke:

So tooke in haste my chamber, and my bed,

On which deuise, perhaps, the worlde might winke:

But in the heart sharpe sorrow so did sinke,

That gladnes sweete, (forsooke my senses all)

In those extreemes did yeelde vnto my fall.

49.

O let mee curse the popish cardnall hat,

Whose myters big, beset with pearle and stones,

And all the rest of trash, I know not what,

The saints in shrine, theyr flesh and rotten bones,

The maske of monkes, deuised for the nones,

And all the flocke of freers, what ere they are,

That brought mee vp and left mee there so bare.

50.

O cursed priestes, that prate for profit’s sake,

And follow floud and tyde where ere it floes:

O marchaunts fine that no aduauntage take

Of euery grayne, how euer market goes:

O fie on wolues that march in masking cloes,

For to deuoure the lambs when shepperd sleepes,

And woe to you that promise neuer keepes.

51.

You sayd I should be reskude if I neede,

And you would curse, with candell, booke, and bell:

But when yee should now serue my turne indeede,

Yee haue no house I know not where yee dwell:

O freers and monkes your harbour is in hell,

For in this world yee haue no rightfull place,

Nor dare not once in heauen shew your face.

52.

Your fault not halfe so great as was my pryde,

For which offence fell Lucifer from skyes:

Although I would that wilfull folly hyde,

The thing lyes playne before the people’s eyes,

On which hye heart a hatefull name doth ryes:

It hath beene sayde of olde, and dayly will,

Pryde goes before, and shame coms after still.

53.

Pryde is a thing that God and man abores,

A swelling tode, that poysons euery place,

A stinking wounde, that breedeth many sores,

A priuy plague, found out in stately face,

A paynted byrd that keepes a pecock’s pace,

A lothsome lowt that lookes like tinker’s dog,

A hellish hownd, a swinish hatefull hog

54.

That grunts and groanes at euery thing it sees,

And holds vp snowt like pig that coms from draffe:

Why should I make of pride all these degrees,

That first tooke roote from filthy drosse and chaffe,

And makes men stay vpon a broken staffe:

No weaknes more than thinke to stand vpright,

When stumbling blocke makes men to fall downright.

55.

Hee needes must fall that looks not where he goes,

And on the starrs walkes staring goezling like:

On sodayne oft a blostring tempest bloes,

Than downe great trees are tumbled in the dike:

Who knowes the time and howre when God will strike:

Then looke about, and marke what steps yee take,

Before you pace, the pilgrimage yee make.

56.

Run not on head as all the worlde were youres,

Nor thrust them backe that cannot bide a shocke:

Who striues for place his owne decay procures:

Who alway brawles is sure to catch a knocke:

Who beardes a king, his head is neere the blocke:

But who doth stand in feare and worldly dreede,

Ere mischiefe coms had neede to take good heede.

57.

I hauing hap, did make account of none,

But such as fed my humour good or bad:

To fawning dogs, sometimes I gaue a bone,

And flong some scrapps to such as nothing had:

But in my hands still kept the golden gad,

That seru’d my turne and laught the rest to skorne,

As for himselfe was cardnall _Wolsey_ borne.

58.

No, no, good men, wee liue not for ourselues,

Though each one catch as mutch as hee may get:

Wee ought to looke to those that diggs and delues,

That alwayes dwell and liue in endles det,

Yf in such sort wee would our compas set,

Wee should haue loue where now but hate wee finde,

And hedstrong will, with cruell hollow minde.

59.

I thought nothing of duty, loue, or feare,

I snatcht vp all and alwayes sought to clime:

I punisht all and would with no man beare:

I sought for all and so could take the time:

I plide the prince, whiles fortune was in prime,

I fild the bags and gold in hoorde I heapt,

Thought not on those that thresht the corne I reapt.

60.

So all I lost and all I gat was nought,

And all by pride and pompe lay in the dust:

I aske you all what man aliue had thought,

That in this world had beene so litle trust:

Why, all thinges heare with time decline they must:

Than all is vaine so all not worth a flye,

Yf all shall thinke that all are borne to dye.

61.

Yf all bee bace, and of so small a count,

Why doe wee all in folly so abound?

Why doe the meane and mighty seeke to mount,

Beyonde all hope where is no surety found,

And where the wheele is alwayes turning round?

The case is plaine if all bee vnderstood,

Wee are so vaine wee knowe not what is good.

62.

Yet some will say, when they haue heapes of golde,

With flocks of friends, and seruaunts at theyr call,

They liue like gods in pleasure treble folde,

And haue no cause to finde no fault at all:

O blinde conceite, these gloryes are but small,

And as for friends, they change their mindes so mych,

They stay not long with neither poore nor rich.

63.

With hope of friends our selues wee do deceaue,

With feare of foes we threatned are with sleepe:

But friends speake fayre yet men alone they leaue

To sinke or swim, to mourne, to laugh, or weepe:

Yet whan for smiles, the snake begins to creepe,

As world falls out these dayes in compasse iust,

Wee knowe not howe the friend or foe to trust.

64.

Both can betray the truest man aliue,

Both are to doubt in matters of greate weight,

Both will somtime for goodes and honour striue,

Both seemeth playne, yet both can shewe great sleight:

Both stoups full lowe, yet both can looke on height,

And best of both, not worth a cracked crowne:

Yet least of both, may loase a walled towne.

65.

Talke not of friends, the name thereof is nought,

Then trust no foes, if frendes theire credit loes:

If foes and frendes of on bare earth were wrought,

Blame nere of both though both one nature shoes:

Grace passeth kinde where grace and vertue floes,

But where grace wantes make foes and frends alike,

The on drawes sworde the other sure will strike.

66.

I prou’d that true by tryall twenty times,

When _Wolsey_ stoode on top of fortune’s wheele.

But such as to the height of ladder climes,

Knowe not what led lies hanging on theire heele

Tell mee my mates that heauy fortune feele,

Yf rising vp, breede not a gyddy brayne,

And faling downe, bee not a greuous payne.

67.

I tolde you how from _Cawood_ I was led,

And so fell sicke, when I arested was:

What needeth nowe more wordes heere in bee sed?

I knewe full well I must to pryson passe,

And sawe my state as brittell as a glasse:

So gaue vp ghost, and bad the worlde farewell,

Wherein, God wot, I could no longer dwell.[2004]

68.

Thus vnto dust and ashes I returnde,

When blase of life and vital breath went out,

Like glowing cole that is to sinders burnde:

All fleshe and bloud so ende, you neede not doubt:

But when the bruite of this was blowne about,

The worlde was glad, the cardnall was in graue,

This is of worlde, lo, all the hope we haue.

69.

Full many a yeare the world lookt for my fall,

And whan I fell, I made as great a cracke,

As doth an oake, or mighty tottring wall,

That whirling winde doth bring to ruin and wracke:

Now babling world wil talke behinde my backe:

A thousand things to my reproache and shame,

So will it to of others do the same.

70.

But what of that? the best is wee are gone,

And worst of all when wee our tales haue tolde,

Our open plagues will warning bee to none,

Men are by hap and courage made so bolde:

They thinke all is theyr owne they haue in holde:

Well let them say and think what thing they please,

This weltring world both flowes and ebs like seas.

qd. Tho. Churchyard.[2005]

How the Lord _Cromwell_[2006] exalted from meane

estate, was after by the enuie of the Bishop

of Winchester, and other his complices,

brought to vntimely end,

Anno Dom. 1540.

“Wak’d, and trembling betwixt rage and dread

With the loud slander (by the impious time)

That of my actions euery where is spread,

Through which to honor falsely I should clime,

From the sad dwelling of th’vntimely dead,

To quit me of that execrable crime,

_Cromwell_ appeares his wretched plight to show,

Much that can tell, one much that once did know.[2007]

Roughly not made vp in the common mould,

That with the vulgar vilely I should die,

What thing so strange of _Cromwell_ is not told?

What man more prais’d? who more condemn’d then I?

That with the world when I am waxed old,

Most t’were vnfit that fame of me should lie

With fables vaine my historie to fill,

Forcing my good, excusing of my ill.

You, that but hearing of my hated name,

Your ancient malice instantly bewray,

And for my sake your ill deserued blame

Vpon my legend publikely shall lay:

Would you forbeare to blast me with defame,

Might I so meane a priuiledge but pray,

He that three ages hath endur’d your wrong,

Heare him a little that hath heard you long.

Since _Rome’s_ sad ruine heere by me began,

Who her religion pluckt vp by the root,

Of the false world such hate for which I wan,

Which still at me her poisned’st darts doth shoot:

That to excuse it, do the best I can,

Little, I feare, my labour me will boot:

Yet will I speake my troubled heart to ease,

Much to the mind, her selfe it is to please.

O powerfull number, from whose stricter law

Heart-mouing musicke did receiue the ground

Which men to faire ciuilitie did draw

With the brute beast when lawlesse he was found:

O, if according to the wiser saw

There be a high diuinitie in sound,

Be now abundant prosp’rously to aide

The pen prepar’d my doubtfull case to pleade.

_Putney_ the place made blessed in my birth,

Whose meanest cottage simplie me did shrowd,

To me as dearest of the English earth:

So of my bringing that poore village prou’d,

Though in a time when neuer lesse the dearth

Of happie wits, yet mine so well allow’d

That with the best she boldly durst confer

Him that his breath[2008] acknowledged from her.

Twice flow’d proud Thames, as at my comming wood,

Striking the wondring borderers with feare,

And the pale genius of that aged flood

Vnto my mother[2009] labouring did appeare,

And with a countenance much distracted stood,

Threatning the fruit her pained wombe should beare:

My speedie birth being added thereunto,

Seem’d to foretell that much I came to do.

That[2010] was reserued for those worser daies,

As the great ebbe vnto so long a flow,

When what those ages formerly did raise,

This, when I liu’d, did lastly ouerthrow,

And that great’st labour of the world did seaze,

Only for which immedicable blow

Due to that time, me dooming heauen ordain’d,

Wherein confusion absolutely raign’d.

Vainly yet noted this prodigious signe,

Often predictions of most fearefull things,

As plagues, or warre, or great men to decline,

Rising of commons, or the death of kings:

But some strange newes though euer it diuine,

Yet forth them not immediatly it brings,

Vntill th’effects men afterward did learne,

To know that me it chiefly did concerne.

10.

Whil’st yet my father by his painfull trade,

Whose laboured anuile only was his fee,

Whom my great towardnesse strongly did perswade

In knowledge to haue educated mee:

But death did him vnluckily inuade,

Ere he the fruits of his desire could see,

Leauing me yong, then little that did know

How me the heauens had purpos’d to bestow.

11.

Hopelesse as helpelesse most might me suppose,

Whose meannesse seem’d their abiect breath to draw:

Yet did my breast that glorious fire inclose,

Which their dull purblind ignorance not saw,

Which still is setled vpon outward showes,

The vulgar’s iudgement euer is so raw,

Which the vnworthiest sottishly do loue

In their owne region properly that moue.

12.

Yet me my fortune so could not disguise,

But through this cloud were some that did me know,

Which then the rest more happie or more wise,

Me did relieue when I was driuen low,

Which, as the staier, by which I first did rise,

When to my height I afterward did grow,

Them to requite my bounties were so hie,

As made my fame through euery eare to flie.

13.

That height and godlike puritie of minde

Resteth not still, where titles most adorne

With any, nor peculiarly confinde

To names, and to be limited doth scorne:

Man doth the most degenerate from kinde,

Richest and poorest both alike are borne:

And to be alwaies pertinently good,

Followes not still the greatnes of our blood.

14.

Pitie it is, that to one vertuous man

That marke him lent to gentrie to aduance,

Which first by noble industrie he wan,

His baser issue after should inhance,

And the rude slaue not any good that can,

Such should thrust downe by what is his by chance:

As had not he been first that him did raise,

Nere had his great heire wrought his grandsire’s praise.

15.

How weake art thou that makest it thy end

To heape such worldly dignities on thee,

When vpon fortune only they depend,

And by her changes gouerned must bee?

Besides the dangers still that such attend,

Liuel’est of all men purtraied out in mee,

When that, for which I hated was of all,

Soon’st from me fled, scarse tarrying for my fall.

16.

You that but boast your ancestors proud stile,

And the large stem whence your vaine greatnes grew,

When you your selues are ignorant and vile,

Nor glorious thing dare actually pursue,

That all good spirits would vtterly exile,

Doubting their worth should else discouer you,

Giuing your selues vnto ignoble things:

Base I proclaime you though deriu’d from kings.

17.

Vertue, but poore, God in this earth doth place

’Gainst the rude world to stand vp in his right,

To suffer sad affliction and disgrace,

Not ceasing to pursue her with despight:

Yet when of all she is accounted base,

And seeming in most miserable plight,

Out of her power new life to her doth take,

Least then dismai’d when all do her forsake.

18.

That is the man of an vndaunted spirit,

For her deare sake that offereth him to dye,

For whom, when him the world doth disinherit,

Looketh vpon it with a pleased eye,

What’s done for vertue thinking it doth merit,

Daring the proudest menaces defie,

More worth then life, how ere the base world rate him,

Belou’d of heauen, although the earth doth hate him.

19.

Iniurious time, vnto the good vniust,

O, how may weake posteritie suppose

Euer to haue their merit from the dust,

’Gainst them thy partialitie that knowes!

To thy report, O, who shall euer trust,

Triumphant arches building vnto those

Allow’d the longest memorie to haue,

That were the most vnworthie of a graue?

20.

But my cleere mettle had that powerfull heat,

As it not turn’d with all that fortune could:

Nor when the world me terriblest did threat,

Could that place win[2011] which my hie thoughts did hold,

That waxed still more prosperously great,

The more the world me stroue to haue control’d,

On my owne columnes constantly to stand,

Without the false helpe of another’s hand.

21.

My youthfull course thus wisely did I steere,

T’auoid those rockes my wracke that else did thret:

Yet some faire hopes from farre did still appeere,

If that too much my wants me did not let:

Wherefore my selfe aboue my selfe to beare,

Still as I grew, I knowledge stroue to get,

To perfect that which in the embryon was,

Whose birth, I found, time well might bring to passe.

22.

But when my meanes to faile me I did finde,

My selfe to trauell presently betooke,[2012]

As much distastfull[2013] to my noble minde,

That the vile world into my wants should looke,

And of my selfe industriously[2014] inclinde,

To measure other’s actions with my booke,

I might my iudgement rectifie[2015] thereby,

In matters that were difficult and hie.

23.

When, loe, it hapt that fortune, as my guide,

Of me did with such prouidence dispose,

That th’English merchants then, who did reside

At Antwerpe, me their secretarie chose,

(As though in me to manifest her pride)

Whence to those principalities I rose,

To pluck me downe, whence afterward she fear’d

Beyond her power that almost she had rear’d.

24.

When first the wealthie Netherlands me traind

In wise commerce, most proper to the place,

And from my countrie carefully me wain’d,

That with the world did chiefly winne[2016] me grace,

Where great experience happily I gaind:

Yet here I seem’d but tutor’d for a space,

For hie imploiment otherwise ordaind,

Till which the time I idely entertaind.

25.

For hauing Boston businesse in[2017] hand,

The charge thereof on _Chambers_ being laid,

Coming to Flanders, hapt to vnderstand

Of me, whom he requested him to aid:

Of which, when I the benefit had scand,

Weighing what time at Antwerpe I had staid,

Quickly me wonne[2018] faire Italy to trie,

Vnder a cheerefull and more luckie skie:

26.

For what the meanest cleerely makes to shine,

Youth, wit, and courage, all in me concurre

In euery proiect, that so powerfull trine

By whose kind working brauely I did sturre,

Which to each hie and glorious designe

(The time could offer) freely did me spurre,

As forcing fate some new thing to prepare

(Shewing successe) t’attempt that could me dare.

27.

Where now my spirit got roomth it selfe to show,

To the fair’st pitch doth make a gallant flight,

From things that too much earthly were and low,

Strongly attracted by a genuine light,

Where higher still it euery day did grow:

And being in so excellent a plight,

Crau’d but occasion happily to proue

How much it sate each vulgar spirit aboue.

28.

The good successe th’affaires of England found,

Much prais’d the choice of me that had been made:

For where most men the depth durst hardly sound,

I held it nothing boldly through to wade

My selfe, and through the strait’st waies I woond:

So could I act, so well I could perswade,

As meerely iouiall, me to mirth applie,[2019]

Compos’d of freedome and alacritie.

29.

Not long it was ere Rome of me did ring

(Hardly shall Rome so full daies see again)

Of freemen’s catches to the pope I sing,

Which wan much licence to my countrimen,

Thither the which I was the first did bring,

That were vnknowne to Italy till then:

Light humours, them when iudgement doth direct,

Euen of the wise win plausible respect.

30.

And those, from whom that pensions were allow’d,

And heere[2020] did for intelligence remaine,

Vnder my power themselues were glad to shroud,

_Russell_ and _Pace_, yea, oftentimes were faine,

When as their names they durst not haue auow’d,

Me into their societie t’retaine,

Rising before me, mightie as they were,

Great though at home, yet did they need me there.

31.

In forraine parts nere friends I yet forsake,

That had before been deeply bound to mee,

And would againe I vse of them should make,

But still my starres command I should be free,

And all those offers lightly from me shake,

Which to requite, I fettred else might bee,

And though that oft great perils me oppungne,

And meanes were weak, my mind was euer strong.

32.

And[2021] those great wants fate to my youth did tie

Me from delights[2022] of those rich countries driue,

Thereby inforc’d with painfull industrie

Against affliction manfully to striue,

Vnder her burthen faintly not to lie,

But since my good I hardly must deriue,

Vnto the same to make my selfe a way[2023]

Through all the power against me she could lay.

33.

As a comedian where my[2024] life I led,

For so a while my need did me constraine,

With other my poore countrimen (that plai’d)

Thither that came in hope of better gaine,

Whereas when fortune seem’d me low to tread

Vnder her feet, she set me vp againe,

Vntill the[2025] vse me bad her not to feare

Her good and ill that patiently could beare.

34.

Till _Charles_ the fift th’emperiall power did bend

’Gainst Rome, which _Burbon_ skilfully did guide,

Which sore declining[2026] Italy did rend:

For th’right that him her holinesse denide,

Wholly her selfe enforced to defend

Gainst him that iustly punished her pride,

To which my selfe I lastly did betake,

Seeing[2027] thereof what fortune ment to make.

35.

And at the siege with that great generall seru’d,

When he did[2028] girt her stubborne waste with steele,

Within her walles who well neer being staru’d,

And that with faintnes she began to reele,

Shewing her selfe a little as she swaru’d:

First her then noting I began to feele,

She whose great power so far abroad did rome,

What in her selfe she truly was at home.

36.

That the great schoole of the false world was then,

Where her’s their subtill practises did vie,

Amongst that mightie confluence of men,

French plots propt vp by English policie,

The German powers, false shuffling, and agen

All countermin’d by skilfull Italy,

Each one in possibility to win,

Great rests were vp and mightie hands were in.

37.

Here first to worke my busie braine was set,

(My inclination finding it to please

This stirring world which strongly still did whet)

To temper in so dangerous assaies,

Which did strange formes of policies beget:

Besides in times so turbulent as these,

Wherein my studies hopefully did[2029] bend

Vnto that point the wisest[2030] made their end.

38.

And my experience happily me taught

Into the secrets of those times to see,

From whence to England afterward I brought

Those slights of state deliu’red vnto[2031] me,

In t’which were then but very[2032] few that sought,

Nor did with th’umour of that age agree,

After did great and fearfull[2033] things effect,

Whose secret working few did then suspect.

39.

When though t’were long it hapned yet at last

Some hopes me homeward secretly allur’d,

When many perils strangely I had past,

As many sad calamities endur’d

Beyond the moone, when I began to cast

By my rare parts what place might be procur’d,

If they at home were to the mightie knowne,

How they would seeme compared with their owne.

40.

Or if that there the great should me neglect,

As I the worst that vainely did not feare,

To my experience how to gaine respect

In other countries that doe hold it deare,

And now occasion seemed to reiect,[2034]

Whil’st still before me other rising were,

And some themselues had mounted to the skie,

Little before vnlike to thriue as I.

41.

When now in England bigamie with blood

Lately begot by luxurie and pride,

In their great’st fulnes peremptorie stood:

Some thereunto that diligently pri’d,[2035]

Stillie[2036] were fishing in that troubled flood

For future changes wisely to prouide,

Finding the world so rankly then to swell,

That till it brake it neuer could be well.

42.

But floting long vpon my first arriue,

Whil’st many doubts me seemed to appall,

Like to a barke that with the tide doth driue,

Hauing not[2037] left to fasten it withall,

Thus with the time by suffring I doe striue

Vnto[2038] that harbor doubtfull yet to fall:

Vntill inforc’d to put it to the chance,

Casting the fair’st my fortune to aduance.

43.

Making my selfe to mightie _Wolsey_ knowne,

That Atlas, which the gouernement vpstai’d,

Which[2039] from meane place in little time was growne

Vp vnto him, that[2040] weight vpon him lai’d,

And being got the neerest to his throne,

He the more easly the[2041] great kingdome swai’d,

Leaning thereon his wearied selfe to breath,

Whil’st euen the greatest farre sat him[2042] beneath.

44.

Where learned _More_ and _Gardiner_ I met,

Men in those times immatchable for wit,

Able that were the dullest spirit to whet,

And did my humour excellently fit,

Into their ranke that worthily did get

There as their proud competitor to sit,

One excellence to many is the mother,

Wit doth,[2043] as creatures, one beget another.

45.

This founder of the palaces of kings,

Whose veines with more then vsuall spirit were fild,

A man ordained to the mighti’st things,

In Oxford then determining to build

To Christ a colledge, and together brings,

All that thereof the great foundation wills,

There me imploies, whose industrie he found

Worthie to worke vpon the noblest ground.

46.

Yet in the entrance wisely that did feare

Coyne might fall short, yet with this worke on fire,

Wherefore such houses as religious were

Whose being no necessitie require,

But that the greater very well might beare,

From Rome the Card’nall cunningly did hire,

Winning withall his soueraigne to consent,

Both colouring with so holy an intent.

47.

This like a symptome to a long disease

Was the forerunner to this mightie fall,

And but too vnaduisedly did sease

Vpon the part that ruinated all,

Which, had the worke been of so many daies,

And more againe, recouer hardly shall:

But loe, it sunke, which time did long vphold,

Where now it lies euen leueld with the mould.

48.

Thus thou, great Rome, here first wast ouerthrowne

Thy future harmes that blindly couldst not se,

And in this worke they only were thine owne,

Whose knowledge lent that deadly wound to thee,

Which to the world before had they not showne,

Nere had those secrets been descri’d by mee,

Nor by thy wealth so many from the plow

Worne those hie types wherein they florish now.

49.

After when as the cardinall againe

Into hie fauour[2044] with the king mee brought,

With[2045] whom my selfe so well I did demeane,

As that I seem’d to exercise his thought,

And his great liking strongly did retaine

With what before my master me had[2046] taught,

From whose example, by those cels were small,

Sprang the subuersion lastly of them all.

50.

Yet many a let was cast into the way,

Wherein I ran so steddily and right,

And many a snare my aduersaries lay,

Much wrought they with their power, much with their slight,

Wisely perceiuing that my smallest stay

Fully requir’d the vtmost of their might,

To my ascendant hasting me[2047] to clime,

There as the first predomining the time.

51.

Knowing what wealth me earnestly did wooe,

Which I through _Wolsey_ hapned had to finde,

And could the path most perfectly vntoo,

The king thereafter earnestly inclin’d,

Seeing besides what after I might doe

If so great power mee fully were assign’d,

By all their meanes against me strongly wrought,

Lab’ring as fast to bring their church to nought.

52.

Whil’st to the king continually I sue,

And in this businesse faithfully did stirre

Strongly t’approue[2048] my iudgement to be true

Gainst those who most supposed me to erre,

Nor the least meanes which any way I knew

Might grace me, or my purposes preferre

Did I omit, till wonne I had[2049] his eare,

Most that me mark’d, when least he seem’d to heare.

53.

This wound to them thus violently giuen,

Enuie at me her sharpest darts doth[2050] roue,

Affecting the supremacie of heauen,

As the first giants warring against Ioue,

Heap’d hils on hils, the gods till they had driuen

The meanest shapes of earthly things to proue:

So must I shift from them against me rose,

Mortall their hate, as mightie were my foes.

54.

But their great force against me wholly bent

Preuail’d vpon my purposes so farre,

That I my ruine scarsely could preuent,

So momentarie worldly fauours are,

That till the vtmost of their spight was spent,

Had not my spirit maintain’d a manly warre,

Risen they had when laid I had been low,[2051]

Vpon whose ruine after I did grow.

55.

When the great king their strange reports that tooke

That as[2052] pernitious as they potent were,

Which[2053] at the faire growth of my fortune strooke,

Whose deadly malice blame me not to feare,

Me at the first so violently shooke,

That they this frame were likely downe to beare,

If resolution with a setled brow

Had not vpheld my peremptorie vow.

56.

Yet these encounters thrust me not awry,

Nor could my courses force me to forsake,

After this shipwrack I againe must trie,

Some happier voiage hopefull still to make,

The plots that barren long we see did lie,

Some fitting season plentifully take,

One fruitfull haruest frankly doth restore

What many winters hindred had before.

57.

That to account I strictly call my wit

How it this while had managed my state,

My soule in counsell summoning to sit,

If possible to turne the course of fate,

For waies there be the greatest things to hit,

If men could find the peremptorie gate,

And since I once was got so neere the brinke

More then before, ’twould grieue me now to sinke.

58.

_Bedford_,[2054] whose life (some said) that I had sau’d

In Italy, one me that[2055] sauoured most,

And reuerend _Hayles_, who but occasion crau’d

To shew his loue, no lesse that I had cost,

Who to the king perceiuing me disgrac’d,

Whose fauour I vnluckily had lost,

Both with him great, a foot set in withall

If not to stay, to qualifie my fall.

59.

High their regard, yet higher was their hap,

Well neere quite sunke, recouer me that could,

And once more get me into fortune’s lap,

Which well my selfe might teach me there to hold,

Escap’d out of so dangerous a trap,

Whose praise by me to ages shall be told,

As the two props by which I only rose,

When most supprest, most trod on by my foes.

60.

Fiue hundred barels they of hering left beside,