Chapter XIV: Part III (11)

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.

1.

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.

2.

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.

3.

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.

4.

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.

5.

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.

6.

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.

7.

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.

8.

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.

9.

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.

1.

“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]

2.

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.

3.

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.

4.

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.

5.

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.

6.

_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.

7.

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.

8.

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.

9.

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.