of the very earliest productions of the press of the celebrated
Elizabethan printer, JOHN DAY, was apparently printed in 1551; and
is reprinted here from the _Percy Society_'s text, on account of
UNDERHILL's story respecting it at _p._ 96.]
[Illustration]
#John Bon and mast Parson.#
[->] #The Parson.#
What, JOHN BON! Good morrow to thee!
#John Bon.#
Now, good morrow, mast[er] Parson, so mut I thee!
#Parson.#
What meanest thou, JOHN! to be at work so soon?
#John.#
The sooner I begin, the sooner shall I have done,
For I 'tend to work no longer than none.
#Parson.#
Marry, JOHN, for that, GOD's blessing on thy heart!
For, surely, some there be, will go to plough and cart;
And set not by, this holy _Corpus Christi_ even.
#John.#
They are the more to blame, I swear by Saint Stephen!
But tell me, mast[er] Parson, one thing, and you can;
What Saint is Copsi Cursty, a man, or a woman?
#Parson.#
Why, JOHN! knowest not that? I tell thee, it was a man.
It is CHRIST His own self, and to-morrow is His day.
We bear Him in procession, and thereby know it ye may.
#John.#
I know! mast[er] Parson! and nay, by my fay!
But methink it is a mad thing that ye say,
That it should be a man. How can it come to pass?
Because ye may Him bear within so small a glass.
#Parson.#
Why, neighbour JOHN, and art thou now there?
Now I may perceive ye love this new gear.
#John.#
God's forbod! master! I should be of that faction.
I question why, your masship, in way of cumlication.
A plain man, ye may see, will speak as cometh to mind:
Ye must hold us excused, for ploughmen be but blind.
I am an eld fellow, of fifter winter and more,
And yet, in all my life, I knew not this before.
#Parson.#
No did! Why sayest thou so? Upon thyself, thou lyest!
Thou hast ever known the sacrament to be the body of CHRIST!
#John.#
Yea, sir, ye say true! All that, I know indeed;
And yet, as I remember, it is not in my _Creed_:
But as for Cropsy Cursty to be a man or no,
I knew not till this day, by the way my soul shall to!
#Parson.#
Why, foolish fellow! I tell thee it is so!
For it was so determined by the Church long ago;
It is both the sacrament and very CHRIST himself.
#John.#
No spleaser, mast[er] Parson! Then make ye CHRIST an elf;
And the maddest made man, that ever body saw!
#Parson.#
What! peace, mad man! Thou speakest like a daw!
It is not possible his manhood for to see.
#John.#
Why, sir; ye tell me it is even very He:
And if it be not His manhood, His godhead it must be.
#Parson.#
I tell thee, none of both! What meanest thou? Art thou mad?
#John.#
No, neither made nor drunk; but to learn I am glad:
But to displease your masship, I would be very loath,
Ye grant me here plainly, that it is none of both,
Then it is but a cake: but I pray ye, be not wroth!
#Parson.#
Wroth, quoth ha! By the mass! (thou makest me swear an oath),
I had leaver with a Doctor of Divinity to reason,
Than with a stubble cur, that eateth beans and peason.
#John.#
I cry ye mercy, mast[er] Parson! Patience for a season!
In all this cumlication is neither felony nor treason.
#Parson.#
No, by the mass! But hearest thou! It is plain heresy.
#John.#
I am glad it chanced so, there was no witness by;
And if there had, I cared not; for ye spake as ill as I.
I speak but as I heard you say, I wot not what ye thought.
Ye said "It was not God, nor man," and made it worse than nought.
#Parson.#
I meant not so. Thou tookest me wrong!
#John.#
A, sir! Ye sing another song!
I dare not reason with you long.
I see well, now, ye have a knack
To say a thing, and then go back.
#Parson.#
No, JOHN! I was but a little overseen:
But thou meantest not good faith, I ween,
In all this talk that was us between.
#John.#
I! No, trow, it shall not so been
That JOHN BON shall an heretic be called,
Then might he lay him so foul befald.
#Parson.#
But, now, if thou wilt mark me well!
From beginning to ending, I will thee tell
Of the godly service that shall be to-morrow;
That, ere I have done, no doubt, thou wilt sorrow
To hear that such things should be foredone.
And yet, in many places, they have begun
To take away the old, and set up new.
Believe me, JOHN! this tale is true.
#John.#
Go to, mast[er] Parson! Say on, and well to thrive!
Ye be the jolliest gemman [_gentleman_] that ever saw in my life.
#Parson.#
We shall first have _Matins_. Is it not a godly hearing?
#John# [_who is now speaking, aside_].
Fie! yes. Methink 'tis a shameful gay cheering,
For oftentimes, on my prayers, when I take no great keep,
Ye sing so arrantly well, ye make me fall asleep!
#Parson.#
Then have we Procession, and CHRIST about we bear.
#John.#
That is a poison holy thing, for GOD Himself is there.
#Parson.#
Then come we in, and ready us dress,
Full solemnly to go to _Mess_.
#John.#
Is not here a mischievous thing!
The _Mess_ is vengeance holy, for all their saying!
#Parson.#
Then say we _Confiteor_ and _Miseriatur_.
#John.#
JEZE LORD! 'tis abominable matter!
#Parson.#
And then we stand up to the altar.
#John.#
This gear is as good as _Our Lady's Psalter_.
#Parson.#
And so go forth with the other deal
Till we have read the _Pistel_ and _Gospel_.
#John.#
That is good, mast[er] Parson, I know right well.
#Parson.#
Is that good! Why, what say'st thou to the other?
#John.#
Marry! horribly good! I say none other.
#Parson.#
So is all the _Mess_, I dare avow this,
As good in every point as _Pistel_ or _Gospel_ is.
#John.#
The foul evil it is! Who would think so much?
In faith, I ever thought that it had been no such.
#Parson.#
Then have we the _Canon_, that is holiest.
#John.#
A spiteful gay thing, of all that ever I wist.
#Parson.#
Then have we the _Memento_, even before the sacring.
#John.#
Ye are morenly well learned! I see by your reck'ning
That ye will not forget such an elvish thing.
#Parson.#
And after that, we consecrate Very God and Man;
And turn the bread to flesh, with five words we can.
#John.#
The devil ye do! I trow this is pestilence business!
Ye are much bound to GOD for such a spittle holiness!
A gallows gay gift! With five words alone,
To make both God and Man; and yet we see none!
Ye talk so unreasonably well, it maketh my heart yearn,
As eld a fellow as I am, I see well I may learn.
#Parson.#
Yea, JOHN! and then, with words holy and good,
Even, by and by, we turn the wine to blood.
#John.#
Lo! Will ye se? Lo! who would have thought it?
That ye could so soon from wine to blood ha brought it?
And yet, except your mouth be better tasted than mine,
I cannot feel it other but that it should be wine.
And yet I wot ne'er a cause there may be, why
Perchance, ye ha drunk blood oftner than ever did I.
#Parson.#
Truly, JOHN, it is blood, though it be wine in taste.
As soon as the word is spoke, the wine is gone and past!
#John.#
A sessions on it! for me. My wits are me benumme:
For I cannot study where the wine should become?
#Parson.#
Study, quoth ha! Beware, and let such matter go!
To meddle much with this, may bring ye soon to woe.
#John.#
Yea, but, mast[er] Parson! think ye it were right,
That, if I desired you to make my black ox white;
And you say, "It is done!" and still is black in sight;
Ye might me deem a fool, for to believe so light?
#Parson.#
I marvel much, ye will reason so far!
I fear if ye use it, it will ye mar!
#John.#
No, no, sir! I trust of that I shall be 'ware,
I pray you, with your matter again forth to fare!
#Parson.#
And then we go forth, and CHRIST's body receive;
Even the very same that MARY did conceive.
#John.#
The devil it is! Ye have a great grace
To eat GOD and Man in so short a space.
#Parson.#
And so we make an end, as it lieth in an order.
But now the blessed _Mess_ is hated in every border,
And railed on, and reviled, with words most blasphemous:
But I trust it will be better with the help of _Catechismus_.
For though it came forth but even that other day,
Yet hath it turned many to their old way:
And where they hated _Messe_, and had it in disdain,
There have they _Messe_ and _Matins_ in Latin tongue again.
Yea, even in London self, JOHN, I tell the truth!
They be full glad and merry to hear of this, GOD knoweth!
#John.#
By my troth! mast[er] Parson, I like full well your talk!
But mass me no more _messings_! The right way will I walk.
For, though I have no learning, yet I know cheese from chalk,
And each can perceive your juggling, as crafty as ye walk!
But leave your devilish _Mass_, and the _Communion_ to you take!
And then will CHRIST be with you; even for His promise sake!
#Parson.#
What, art thou such a one, and kept it so close!
Well, all is not gold, that hath a fair gloss,
But, farewell, JOHN BON! GOD bring thee in better mind!
#John.#
[Sidenote: _These are cries to the plough horses._]
I thank you, sir! for that you seem very kind;
But pray not so for me! for I am well enough.
Whistle, boy! drive forth! GOD speed us and the plough!
Ha! browne done! forth, that horson crab!
Reecomomyne, garled! with haight, black hab!
Have a gain, bald before! hayght ree who!
Cherrily, boy, come off! that homeward we may go.
#Finis.#
[->] #Imprinted at London, by John Day, and#
#William Seres, dwelling in Sepulchres#
#Parish, at the sign of the Resurrection,#
#a little above Holborn Conduite.#
_CUM GRATIA ET PRIVILEGIO AD_
_IMPRIMENDUM SOLUM_.
[Illustration]
+JOHN FOX+, the Martyrologist.
_The Imprisonment of the Princess_
_ELIZABETH._
[_Actes and Monumentes, &c., p. 1710. Ed. 1563._]
First, therefore, to begin with her princely birth, being born at
Greenwich, _anno_ 1534, of the famous and victorious Prince, King HENRY
VIII., and of the noble and most virtuous Lady, Queen ANNE her mother;
sufficiently is committed to the story before. Also of the solemn
celebration of her baptism in the said town, and Grey Friar's Church,
of Greenwich; having to her godfather, THOMAS CRANMER, Archbishop of
Canterbury.
After that, she was committed to godly tutors and governors. Under
whose institution her Grace did so greatly increase, or rather excel in
all manner of virtue and knowledge of learning, that I stand in a doubt
whether is more to be commended in this behalf, the studious diligence
of them that brought her up, or the singular towardness of her own
princely nature to all virtuous disposition; so apt and so inclinable:
both being notwithstanding the gifts of GOD, for which we are all bound
to give Him thanks. What tongue is it that Her Grace knoweth not? What
language she cannot speak? What liberal art or science, she hath not
learned? And what virtue wherewith her noble breast is not garnished?
In counsel and wisdom, what Councillor will go beyond Her Majesty?
If the goodness of nature, joined with the industry of Her Grace's
institution, had not been in her marvellous, how many things were
there, besides the natural infirmity of that sex, the tenderness of
youth, the nobility of estate, allurements of the world, persuasions of
flatterers, abundance of wealth and pleasures, examples of the Court,
enough to carry her Grace away after the common fashion and rule of
many other Ladies, from gravity to lightness, from study to ease, from
wisdom to vanity, from religion to superstition, from godliness to
gawishness, to be pricked up with pride, to be garish in apparel, to be
fierce in condition?
Eloquently is it spoken, and discreetly meant of TULLY, the eloquent
orator: "To live," saith he, "a good man in other places, is no great
matter: but in Asia, to keep a sober and temperate life, that is a
matter indeed praiseworthy!" So here, why may I not affirm without
flattery, that [which] every man's conscience can testify? In that
age, that sex, in such State and fortune, in so great occasions, so
many incitements: in all these, to retain so sober conversation, so
temperate condition, such mildness of manners, such humbleness of
stomach, such clemency in forgiving, such travailing in study: briefly,
in the midst of Asia, so far to degenerate from all Asia; it hath not
lightly been seen in Europe! Hitherto, it hath been seen in very few.
Whereby it may appear not only what education, or what Nature may do;
but what GOD, above Nature, hath wrought in her noble breast, adorning
it with so worthy virtues.
Of which her princely qualities and virtuous disposition, such as have
been conversant with her youth can better testify. That which I have
seen and read, I trust I may boldly repeat without suspicion either
of feigning or flattery. For so I have read, written, and testified
of Her Grace by [_according to_] one, both learned and also that can
say something in this matter. Who in a certain book, by him set forth,
entreating of Her Grace's virtuous bringing up, what discreet, sober,
and godly women she had about her; speaketh, namely, of two points in
Her Grace to be considered. One concerning her moderate and maidenly
behaviour; the other one concerning her training up in learning and
good letters. Declaring, first, for her virtuous moderation of life,
that seven years after her father's death [_i.e. in 1553_], she had
no little pride of stomach, so little delight in glistering gazes of
the world, in gay apparel, rich attire, and precious jewels, that in
all that time [_i.e., through her brother EDWARD's reign_] she never
looked upon those, that her father left her (and which other Ladies
commonly be so fond upon) but only once; and that against her will.
And, moreover, after that, so little gloried in the same, that there
came neither gold nor store upon her head, till her sister enforced her
to lay off her former soberness, and bear her company in her glistening
gains: yea, and then, she so ware it, as every man might see that her
body bare that which her heart misliked. Wherein the virtuous prudence
of this Princess, not reading but following the words of PAUL and
PETER, well considered True Nobility to consist not in circumstances of
the body, but in substance of the heart; not in such things which deck
the body, but in that which dignifieth the mind, shining and blazing
more bright than pearl or stone, be it never so precious.
Again, the said author, further proceeding in the same matter, thus
testifieth, that he knew a great man's daughter receiving from the Lady
MARY, before she was Queen, goodly apparel of tinsel, cloth of gold and
velvet, laid on with parchment lace of gold. When she saw it she said,
"What shall I do with it?"
"Marry!" said a gentlewoman, "wear it!"
"Nay!" quoth she, "that were a shame! To follow my Lady MARY, against
GOD's Word; and leave my Lady ELIZABETH, which followeth GOD's Word."
Let noble Ladies and gentlewomen here learn either to give, or to take
good example given: and if they disdain to teach their inferiors, in
well doing; yet, let it not shame them, to learn of their betters.
Likewise also at the coming in of the Scottish Queen [_in 1553_],
when all the other Ladies of the Court flourished in their bravery,
with their hair frounced and curled, and double curled; yet she
altered nothing; but to the shame of them all, kept her old maidenly
shamefastness.
Let us now come to the second point, declaring how she hath been
trained in learning; and that not vulgar and common, but the purest and
the best, which is most commended at these days, as the Tongues, Arts,
and GOD's Word. Wherein she so exceedingly profited, as the foresaid
author doth witness, that being under twenty years of age [_i.e.,
before 1554_], she was not, in the best kind of learning, inferior to
those that all their life time had been brought up in the Universities,
and were counted jolly fellows.
And that you may understand that there hath not been, nor is in her,
learning only without nature, and knowledge without towardness to
practice; I will tell what hath been heard of her first schoolmaster
[JOHN AYLMER], a man very honest and learned: who reported of her, to
a friend of his, that "He learned every day more of her, than she of
him." Which when it seemed to him a mystery, as indeed it was, and he
therefore desired to know his meaning therein, he thus expounded it:
"I teach her words," quoth he, "and she, me things. I teach her the
tongues to speak; and her modestly and maidenly life teacheth me words
to do. For," saith he, "I think she is the best inclined and disposed
of any in all Europe."
It seemed to me a goodly commendation of her, and a witty saying of him.
Likewise [CASTIGLIONE] an Italian, which taught her his tongue
(although that nation lightly praise not out of their own country),
said once to the said party, that "He found in her two qualities, which
are never lightly yokefellows in one woman; which were a singular wit,
and a marvellous meek stomach."
If time and leisure would serve to peruse her whole life past, many
other excellent and memorable examples of her princely qualities and
singular virtues might here be noted; but none, in my mind, more worthy
of commendation, or that shall set forth the fame of her heroical and
princely renown more to all posterity, than the Christian patience,
and incredible clemency of her nature showed in her afflictions, and
towards her declared enemies. Such was then the wickedness and rage of
that time, wherein what dangers and troubles were among the inferior
subjects of this realm of England, may be easily gathered when such a
Princess, of that Estate, being a King's daughter, a Queen's sister,
and Heir Apparent to the Crown, could not escape without her cross.
And therefore, as we have hitherto discoursed [of] the afflictions and
persecutions of the other poor members of CHRIST, comprehended in this
History before; so likewise, I see no cause why the communion of Her
Grace's afflictions also, among the other saints of CHRIST, ought to
be suppressed in silence: especially seeing the great and marvellous
workings of GOD's glory, chiefly in this Story, appeareth above all the
rest.
And though I should, through ingratitude or silence, pass over the
same; yet the thing itself is so manifest, that what Englishman is he
which knoweth not the afflictions of Her Grace to have been far above
the condition of a King's daughter: for there was no more behind, to
make a very IPHIGENIA of her, but her offering up upon the altar of the
scaffold.
In which her storms and tempests, with what patience Her Highness
behaved herself, although it be best known to them who, then being her
adversaries, had the minding [_imprisoning_] of her. Yet this will
I say, by the way, that then she must needs be in her affliction,
marvellous patient: which sheweth herself now, in this prosperity, to
be utterly without desire of revenge; or else she would have given some
token, ere this day, of remembrance, how she was handled.
It was no small injury that she suffered, in the Lord Protector's days,
by certain venomous vipers! But to let that pass! was it no wrong,
think you! or small injury that she sustained, after the death of
King EDWARD, when they sought to defeat her and her sister from their
natural inheritance and right to the Crown?
But to let that pass likewise! and to come more near to the late days
of her sister, Queen MARY. Into what fear, what trouble of mind, and
what danger of death was she brought?
First, with great solemnity, with bands of harnessed men [_i.e., in
arms and armour_] (Happy was he that might have the carrying of her!)
to be fetched up, as the greatest traitor in the world; clapped in the
Tower: and, again, to be tossed from thence, from prison to prison,
from post to pillar. At length, also prisoner in her own house; and
guarded with a sort [_number_] of cutthroats, which ever gaped for the
spoil of the same, that they might have been fingering of somewhat.
Which Story, if I should set forth at large, through all the
particulars and circumstances of the same, and as the just occasion of
the history requireth; peradventure, it would move offence to some,
being yet alive. Yet notwithstanding, I intend, by the grace of CHRIST,
therein to use such brevity and moderation as may be to the glory of
GOD, the discharge of the Story, the profit of the reader, and hurt
to none: suppressing the names of some, whom here, although I could
recite, yet I thought not to be more cruel in hurting their name, than
the Queen hath been in pardoning their life.
Therefore, now to enter into the description of the matter. First, to
declare her undeserved troubles; and then, the most happy deliverance
out of the same, this is the Story.
* * * * *
In the beginning of Queen MARY'S reign, mention is made before, how the
Lady ELIZABETH, and the Lord COURTNEY were charged with false suspicion
of [being concerned in] Sir THOMAS WYATT's rising [_in January, 1554,
see p._ 88].
Whereupon, Queen MARY, whether for that surmise, or for what other
cause I know not, being offended with the said Lady ELIZABETH her
sister, at that time lying in her house at Ashridge [_near Great
Berkhampstead_], sent to her two Lords [_or rather WILLIAM,
Lord HOWARD, Sir EDWARD HASTINGS, afterwards Lord HASTINGS of
Loughborough; and Sir THOMAS CORNWALLIS_, and Sir JOHN WILLIAMS,
afterwards Lord WILLIAMS] of Thame, with their retinue, and troop of
horsemen, to the number of 250, who at their sudden and unprovided
[_unexpected_] coming _on the 11th February, 1554_, found her at the
same time, sore sick in bed, and very feeble and weak of body.
Whither, when they came; ascending up to Her Grace's Privy Chamber,
willed there, one of her Ladies whom they met, to declare unto Her
Grace that "There were certain Lords come from the Court, which had a
message from the Queen."
Her Grace having knowledge thereof, was right glad of their coming:
howbeit, being then very sick, and the night far spent, which was at
ten of the clock, requested them by the messenger, that they would
resort thither in the morning.
To this, they answered, and by the said messenger sent word again, that
"They must needs see her; and would do so, in what case soever she
were in." Whereat, the Lady being aghast, went to shew Her Grace their
words; but they hastily following her, came rushing as soon as she,
into Her Grace's chamber, unbidden.
At whose so sudden coming into her bedchamber, Her Grace being not a
little amazed, said unto them, "My Lords! is the haste such, that it
might not have pleased you to come to-morrow, in the morning?"
They made answer, that "They were right sorry to see Her Grace in that
case."
"And I," quoth she, "am not glad to see you here, at this time of the
night!"
Whereunto, they answered that "They came from the Queen to do their
message and duty; which was to this effect, that the Queen's pleasure
was that she should be at London, the 7th [? 12th] day of that present
month."
Whereunto, she said, "My Lords! no creature [can be] more glad than I,
to come to Her Majesty; being right sorry that I am not in case at this
time, like to wait on her; as you yourselves, my Lords! do see and can
well testify!"
"Indeed, we see it true," quoth they, "that you do say; for which we
are very sorry: albeit we let you to understand that our Commission is
such, and so straineth us, that we must needs bring you with us, either
quick or dead."
Whereat she being amazed, sorrowfully said that "Their commission was
very sore! but yet, notwithstanding, she hoped it to be otherwise, and
not so straight."
"Yes, verily!" they answered.
Whereupon the Lords calling for two physicians, Doctor OWEN and Doctor
WENDIF, demanded of them, "Whether she might be removed from thence,
with life or not?" whose answer and judgement was this, "That there was
no impediment to their judgement to the contrary; but that she might
travel without danger of life."
In conclusion, they willed her to prepare against the morning, at nine
of the clock, to go with them, declaring that "they had brought with
them, the Queen's litter for her."
After much talk, the Lords declaring how there was no prolonging of
times and days, so departed to their chamber; being entertained and
cheered as appertained to their Honours.
On the next morrow [_12th February_], at the time prescribed, they had
her forth as she was, very faint and feeble; and in such case as she
was ready to swoon three or four times between them. What should I
speak here that [which] cannot well be expressed! What a heavy house
there was to behold the unreverent and doleful dealing of the Lords;
but especially the careful fear and captivity of their innocent Lady
and mistress.
Now to proceed in their journey. From Ashridge, all sick in the litter,
she came to Redborne; where she was guarded all night.