Chapter VI: Part IV: By RICHARD NICCOLS, (4)

With griefe arriu’d on Cardiffe’s rockie coast,
Where Seuerne first meets Nereus wauie brood,
Through whose blacke waues faire Sabrine’s guiltlesse ghost,
T’Elizium bankes did passe the fatall flood,
In whose defence king Locrine lost his blood,
The tyrant king, in dread what might befall,
Did confine me within the castle wall.

89.

As bird in cage debarr’d the vse of wings,
Her captiu’d life as nature’s chiefest wrong,
In dolefull dittie sadly sits and sings,
And mournes her thralled libertie so long,
Till breath be spent in many a sithfull song:
So heere captiu’d, I many daies did spend
In sorowe’s plaint, till death my daies did end.

90.

Where as a prisoner, though I did remaine:
Yet did my brother grant this libertie,
To quell the common speech, which did complaine
On my distresse, and on his tyrannie,
That in his parkes and forrests ioyning by,
When I did please, I to and fro might goe,
Which in the end was cause of all my woe.

91.

For on a time, when as Aurora bright
Began to scale heau’n’s steepie battlement,
And to the world disclose her cheerefull light,
As was my wont, I with my keeper went
To put away my sorrowe’s discontent:
Thereby to ease me of my captiue care,
And solace my sad thoughts in th’open aire.

92.

Wandring through forrest wide, at length we gaine
A steepe cloud-kissing rocke, whose horned crowne
With proud imperiall looke beholds the maine,
Where Seuern’s dangerous waues run roling downe
From th’Holmes into the seas, by Cardiffe towne,
Whose quicke deuouring sands so dangerous been
To those, that wander Amphytrite’s greene.

93.

As there we stood, the countrie round we ey’d
To view the workmanship of nature’s hand,
There stood a mountaine, from whose weeping side
A brooke breakes forth into the low-lying land,
Here lies a plaine, and there a wood doth stand,
Here pastures, meades, corne-fields, a vale do crowne,
A castle here shootes vp, and there a towne.

94.

Here one with angle ore a siluer streame
With banefull baite the nibling fish doth feed:
There in a plow’d-land with his painefull teame,
The plowman sweates, in hope for labor’s meed
To get the earth with childe of Ceres’ seed:
Heere sits a goatheard on a craggie rock,
And there in shade a shepheard with his flock.

95.

The sweet delight of such a rare prospect
Might yeeld content vnto a carefull eye:
Yet downe the rock descending in neglect
Of such delight, the sunne now mounting high
I sought the shade in vale, which low did lie,
Where we reposde vs on a greene wood side,
Afront the which a siluer streame did glide.

96.

There dwelt sweet Philomel, who neuer more
May bide th’abode of man’s societie,
Lest that some sterner Tereus then before,
Who cropt the flower of her virginitie,
Gainst her should plot some second villanie:
Whose dolefull tunes to minde did cause me call
The woefull storie of her former fall.

97.

The redbreast, who in bush fast by did stand
As partner of her woes, his part did plie,
For that the gifts, with which Autumnus hand
Had grac’d the earth, by winter’s wrath should die,
From whose cold cheekes bleake blasts began to flie
Which made me think vpon my summer past
And winter’s woes, which all my life should last.

98.

My keeper with compassion mou’d to see,
How griefe’s impulsions in my brest did beate,
Thus silence broke: “Would God, my lord,” quoth he,
“This pleasant land, which nature’s hand hath set
Before your eyes, might cause you to forget
Your discontent, the obiect of the eye
Oft times giues ease to woes, which inward lie.

99.

Behold vpon that mountaine’s top so steepe,
Which seemes to pierce the cloudes and kisse the skie,
How the gray shepheard driues his flock of sheepe
Downe to the vale, and how on rockes fast by
The goates frisk to and fro for iollitie:
Giue eare likewise vnto these birds sweet songs,
And let them cause you to forget your wrongs.”

100.

To this I made replie: “Fond man,” said I,
“What vnder heau’n can slack th’increasing woe,
Which in my grieued hart doth hidden lie?
Of choice delight what obiect canst thou show,
But from the sight of it fresh griefe doth grow?
What thou didst whilome point at to behold,
The same the summe of sorrow doth infold.

101.

That gray coat shepheard, whom from farre we see,
I liken vnto thee, and those his sheepe
Vnto my wreatched self compar’d may bee:
And though that carefull pastor will not sleepe,
When he from rauenous wolues his flock should keepe:
Yet here, alas, in thrall thou keepest me,
Vntill that woolfe my brother hungrie bee.

102.

Those shaghair’d goates vpon the craggie hill,
Which thou didst shew, see how they friske and play,
And euerie where doe run about at will:
Yea when the lion markes them for his prey,
They ouer hils and rockes can flie away:
But when that lion fell shall follow me
To shed my blood, O whither shall I flee?

103.

Those sweet-voic’d birds, whose aires thou dost commend,
To which the echoing wood returnes replie,
Though thee they please, yet me they do offend:
For when I see, how they do mount on hie,
Wauing their out-stretcht wings at libertie:
Then do I thinke, how bird-like in a cage
My life I leade, and griefe can neuer swage.”

104.

Heere sighes broke off my speech, and that in mind
I vndisturb’d might in that place bemone
The lot adiudg’d to me by fates vnkind,
I did command my keeper to be gone,
And there to leaue me to my selfe alone,
Who doubting nothing what I would assay,
Left me, as was his wont, and went his way.

105.

He being gone, I wandring to and fro,
Began t’imagine how I might preuent
My wretched thrall, doom’d endlesse by my foe,
T’attempt all danger I stood fully bent,
Finding the meanes to perfect my intent,
Which at the last I found, alas, the while,
Since fawning fortune did my hopes beguile.

106.

Alone long wandring through the desert wood
Farre from the castle, I did chance t’espie,
Whereas a lustie gelding grasing stood,
Whom straight I backt, and did for freedome flie
Through vnknowne waies, that none might me descrie:
But what is hid from heau’n, or who can shun
God’s firme edict, by which all things are done?

107.

In swift careire, as I did heedlesse passe,
And through a meadow greene did make my way,
In midst of which a muddie quauemire was,
Into the same my horse did fall, and lay
Vp to the bellie, which my flight did stay,
Where striuing, as I was from thence t’haue past,
They that pursu’d me, found me sticking fast.

108.

To Cardiffe thence they bore me backe againe,
As one whom frowning fortune did despise,
And to the king of me they did complaine,
Who with himselfe did tyrant-like deuise,
That I for this offence should lose mine eies:
Which when he tooke, what did he leaue behind,
But woe in captiue bands to leade the blind?

109.

My bodie thus the darkesome caue was made,
In which my soule abode, as it had been
Confin’d to dwell in house of endlesse shade,
The windowes shut, no light could enter in,
The light put out no comfort could be seene:
And left thus blind, I seeke to flie my foes,
Both soule and bodie Cardiffe doth inclose.

110.

Bidding farewell vnto the world for euer,
There in my chamber, as a forlorne guest,
My wretched selfe I wilfully did seuer
From all resort, where with long night opprest
(For day did shun the place of mine vnrest)
To yeeld griefe passage, after sad sighes giuen,
Thus oft I call’d, with hands vp-lift to heau’n.

111.

“Thou powerfull God, whose champion I haue been
Fiue cold bleake winters, both by day and night,
In field against the cursed Saracen,
Although I seeme forgotten in thy sight,
Yet now behold me heere a wofull wight:
And seeing I liue in such calamitie,
Send death to end my dolefull miserie.

112.

Can I distinguish day from darkesome night?
Or do I know the seasons of the yeare?
Know I when spring deckes earth with sweet delight,
When summer’s sun glads earth with his bright cleare,
Or when in woods Autumnus’ fruits appeare?
O no, of nought but winter can I tell,
Whom by his boystrous blasts, I know right well.

113.

Where is become that azure concauite,
That doth so many wonders rare infold?
Where all the host of starres, so infinite?
Where daie’s great monarch drawne in carre of gold?
Where night’s bright queene, so beautious to behold?
O still, they do remaine in heau’n’s faire frame,
Although I neuer more shall see the same.

114.

Where now the valley greene, and mountaine bare,
The riuer, forrest, wood, and crystall springs,
The hauke, the hound, the hinde, the swift-foot hare,
The lute’s sweet straine, the voice that sweetly sings,
And princely sports in courts of mightie kings?
Where now are these? O let not memorie
With thought of these augment my miserie.

115.

Heere do I sit in shades of darkenesse grim,
While others walke in light at libertie:
Heere I in waues of wofull teares do swim,
Condoling my vnhappie miserie,
While others laugh, and sing for iollitie:
Send then, O God, send death for my reliefe,
Too heauie is the burthen of my griefe.”

116.

Thus many times, with bitter plaint and mone,
To vtter woes in words I did assay,
Witnesse ye wastefull walles, whose flintie stone
Haue euen dropt teares, to heare me night and day,
With pitious voice lament mine owne decay,
Oft wishing death, which sorow in the end,
And _Henrie’s_ vnkind scoffe did timelesse send.

117.

For as he should vpon a solemne day
Make triall of a scarlet vestiment,
The cape being straite, the which he did assay
To put vpon his head, by chance did rent,
Which with this scornefull scoffe to me he sent,
“Vnto our brother beare the same,” said he,
“We know he hath a sharper head then we.”

118.

The garment being brought, the rent I found,
At which my troubled thoughts so grieued were,
That many doubts did in the same abound,
Which made me aske of him, that did it beare,
If any one before the same did weare:
Who told me of the king’s disdainfull scorne,
And how by chance the same by him was torne.

119.

Affliction bleeding fresh at this wide wound,
My heart griefe’s burthen could no longer beare,
But downe I cast my selfe vpon the ground,
Where I with wretched hands, the hoarie heare
From off my aged head, alas, did teare,
And when my tongue was free, against my foe
I forc’d it vtter forth these words of woe.

120.

“Woe, woe is me, that I was euer borne
Of halfe so many yeares to liue the space,
And in the end to liue my brother’s scorne,
Yea trebble woe to me, since such disgrace
Doth in despight my former deeds deface:
Then perish all my deeds, be neuer seene,
Die fame with shame, as it had neuer beene.

121.

Could not disdainfull _Henrie_ be content,
Into his hands my kingdome to surprise,
Could not my thraldome cause him to relent,
Nor th’vnsustained losse of both mine eyes
His rage ’gainst me his brother yet suffice?
But must he thus my princely state abuse,
And as an almesman his owne brother vse?

122.

Why haue yee then, ah why, haue yee thus long,
Ye vnremorsefull fates produc’d that thread
Of loathed life, by life to lengthen wrong?
Why clip ye not my clew? why am I fed
With breath of life, and yet in life am dead?
Curst be such fate, and curst that fatall hower,
When first begot, I came within your power.”

123.

Hardned with griefe, in spight of death to die,
Thenceforth as loathing life I stopt mine eares,
When hungrie food for appetite did crie:
And while with hunger nature slowly weares,
My food was sighes, my drinke griefe’s mournfull teares,
Famine at length did blow the banefull breath,
Whose bitter blast did strike my soule with death.

124.

Euen as the naked woods, whose greene is lost,
Clad in hoare, their ruth do seeme to show,
In teares turn’d t’ysicles by wintrie frost:
So I my head made white with age and woe,
While from th’eyes organs teares downe drizeling flow,
When as I did perceiue approching death,
Thus tooke my last farewell with fainting breath.

125.

“Adiew the daies, that did my dole prolong,
Adiew the nights, that vexed me so soare,
Adiew false fortune, cause of all my wrong,
Who laughes to scorne the fame I won of yore,
Adiew O wrongfull world for euermore:
Ye that conspir’d my sorowes to renew
Both daies, nights, fortune, world and all adew.

126.

These hands to thee (O God) that for a gift
Thine owne deare Sonne for sin to death did yeeld,
These hands, I say, to thee I now do lift,
Which once did beare thy badge in brazen shield,
Against the Pagan foes in many a field,
Beseeching thee, from whom all mercies flowes,
To grant such grace, as death may end my woes.

127.

Twice fortie yeares and more, my daies haue ben,
And twice fifteene the Ram his race hath runne,
Since first, O Cardiffe, as in darkesome den,
Within thy walles mew’d vp from sight of sunne,
Forlorne, to mourne my fortunes I begunne:
Then pitie take, O God, on th’aged blind,
Death now begins my captiue bands t’vnbind.

128.

Leade on, leade on, vnto that heau’nly place,
Where in eternall blisse my soule must dwell,
Flie faith before, sue penitence for grace,
Backe, backe, my griefe, and vnto _Henrie_ tell,
_Beauchamp_ is dead, Cardiffe adew, farewell:”
This said, I downe did sinke into my bed,
In which my soule did leaue the bodie dead.

129.

Thus hast thou heard the Norman’s blind duke tell
His fame in forren parts, the wretched wracke
Of his renowne, and cause for which he fell:
The iudge of heau’n to punish is not slacke,
Where men do cast heau’n’s gifts behind their backe:
Of which let my sad life in Cardiffe lead,
A lasting Mirrour be, though I be dead.

THE MEMORABLE LIFE

_and death of King Richard the_

first, surnamed Cœur de Lion.

THE ARGUMENT.

“This prince,” quoth Memorie, “did liue too long,
At his sterne brother’s hands to beare such wrong,
Which yet reuenged was by God’s owne hand,
Vpon himselfe, his children, and his land:
Two sonnes he had, of daughters also twaine,
Of which three drown’d, were swallow’d in the maine,
The fourth a daughter was, which _Maud_ by name,
Of whom _Plantagenet’s_ two houses came:
Duke _Gefferie_ of Aniou, noble knight,
Vpon this _Maud_ begate that worthie wight,
Duke _Henrie_, second king that bore that name,
Though second to no king in deeds of fame,
Who yong, yet forc’d th’vsurper _Stephen_ in fight
To leaue to him the crowne, his due by right:
He in chast bed begot three sonnes and one,
Hight _Henrie_, _Richard_, _Gefferie_, and _Iohn_:
Mongst whom that _Richard_ when both _Henries_ dide,
On England’s throne did sit as supreme guide,
Since _William’s_ conquest, only he of kings
His host in person gainst the Pagan brings,
He sackes Messina, beats the Cypriotes bold,
Captiues their barbarous king in gyues of gold,
Takes Acon’s towers, is of the French enuide,
And left forlorne, yet after quels the pride
Of _Saladine_ in field, after whose flight
He makes all Syria subiect to his might:
Prince _Iohn_ rebels, the valiant king is sold
To captiue bands, and bought againe for gold:
At his returne he crownes himselfe againe,
And is by traytor’s hand vntimely slaine:
The truth of which that we exactly heare,
Fame sound thy trumpe, and cause his ghost t’appeare.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Fame’s siluer trumpe’s farre-flying sound, doth make
King _Richard Cœur de Lion’s_ ghost t’awake.

1.

The wrath of heau’n doth most pursue those men
With secret iudgement of disaster fate,
That gainst their parents haue rebellious ben,
Nature displeas’d at such vnkindly hate
Against it selfe, it selfe doth aggrauate,
Causing the starres at such abortiue birth,
With bad aspects to frowne vpon the earth.

2.

Seldome such cursed insects in our kind
Escape the scourge of hatefull destinie,
Vnhappie chance in iudgement is assign’d
Till death, to follow such impietie,
Which to the world my life might testifie,
If any in this age with painefull pen,
Had made the same a Mirrour vnto men.

3.

Why should the glorie of so great a king
Be darkned by obliuion’s cloudie frowne?
Why should this age, as loathing euery thing
Of th’elder world, my trophies all cast downe,
And let my deeds in waues of silence drowne?
As if twixt best and worst no ods there were,
When both alike are laid vpon the bere.

4.

Long hauing slept, and now rouz’d vp by fame
That keepes the due reward of doing well,
In hope thy pen will helpe to raise my name
Out of obliuion’s den where it did dwell,
In course I come my storie’s truth to tell:
That by the praise, or dispraise of my name,
Others may make a Mirrour of the same.

5.

Of noble _Henrie_, second of that name,
The second sonne I am of sonnes twice two,
Yet second vnto none in worthie fame,
If yeelded were to me my praises due,
As may appeare by that which shall ensue:
First _Richard_ call’d, first true borne English king,
That wore the crowne since Normans conquering.

6.

In large discourse to light I will not bring,
The obloquie of that now loathed crime,
In stubborne youth against my lord and king,
Blushing, I wish all such records of time
In darknesse dead, and wrapped vp in slime:
Yet seeing that truth bids hide no part of blame,
I will in briefe blaze out mine owne defame.

7.

My father’s browes with prints of age repleate,
Fortune that erst did smile, began to frowne,
Abus’d by flatterie and his owne conceat,
As bent with wilfull hands to hasten downe
The statefull dignitie of his renowne:
His eldest borne he made his fellow king,
From whose ambition his distresse did spring.

8.

Yong _Henrie_ sharing equall dignitie,
And hauing set one foot within the throne,
Puft vp with pride to make a monarchie
Of his new state, he would be king alone,
A partner in the crowne he would haue none:
Which pride of mind with bad aduice borne higher,
Caus’d him rebell against his royall sire.

9.

To strengthen his ambition yet but yong,
The false French king in person did support
His part in field: and to be yet more strong,
The Scot and Flemming he did both exhort
With them gainst aged _Henrie_ to consort,
To whom both I and _Gefferie_ my brother
Did giue consent, excited by our mother.

10.

Not one of vs whom nature’s band did bind
With due alleageance to our sire and king,
Did vnto nature’s selfe not proue vnkind,
Yet could not power preuaile, nor enuie’s sting
Against our sire, whom heau’n did helpe to bring
Our stubborne neckes againe beneath his yoke,
Our knees did stoope to his victorious stroke.

11.

Oft did we threaten ruine to his state,
His Norman dukedome with warre’s wastefull spoile
We did deface, and sought to set debate
Twixt him and his: yet after all our toile,
At his weake hands we did receiue the foile:
So iust is heau’n to patron right gainst wrong,
And guard the weake with strength against the strong.

12.

To future time the king to leaue report
Of our rebellion and his long vnrest,
Did cause to be depainted in his court
A pellican, who breeds beneath his brest
Foure yong with tender care in his warme nest,
Of which three waxing strong, vnkindly rise
And pecke his brest, the fourth peckes out his eies.

13.

By the three first, he did decipher forth,
_Geffrie_, my selfe, and _Henrie_ his first sonne:
The fourth was stubborne _Iohn_ his yongest birth,
Of whom when he was likewise left alone,
He beat his manly brest with age foredone,
And ending griefe in death, to vs vnkind,
My selfe and _Iohn_, he left his curse behind.

14.

The sinne that drew these plagues vpon his head,
Was wanton lust and loose lasciuious life,
Burnt with desire, he left his lawfull bed,
For which the iealous queene his angrie wife,
Twixt him and vs stirr’d vp debatefull strife:
Mischiefe pursues the steps that false do proue,
In the firme couenant of sinlesse loue.

15.

Vnhappie we, his gracelesse sonnes that were
The rods of heau’n’s reuenge for his misdeed,
Did the reward of our rebellion beare,
In vs our father’s curse, the plaguefull meed
Of disobedience after did succeed,
The rods, with which Ioue executes his ire,
He oft in iudgement casts into the fire.

16.

When _Henrie_ crown’d a king in royall throne
And made in state coequall with our sire,
Attempting oft the soueraignetie alone
In sway of scepter, which he did aspire,
And yet could neuer compasse his desire:
With indignation at his fortunes crost,
Being stricken to the heart his health he lost.

17.

And seeing in sicknesse with repentant eies,
The vglie shape of sinne, heart-freez’d with cold,
Of death’s pale terror, he for mercie cries,
And begs but this, that he may but behold
Our father’s face, ere he be wrapt in mould:
Which last request our father him deni’d,
Doubting deceit in death, when _Henrie_ di’d.

18.

My yonger brother Britaine’s _Gefferie_,
A partner with vs in rebellious pride,
To pay iust paines for his disloyaltie
Vnto our father, bruzed on the side
With fall from off his horse, vntimely dide:
In youth cut off, as most vnworthie life,
That with his father liu’d in rebell strife.

19.

This vengeance for such disobedient sin,
Vnto my brethren as in mercie sent,
Might to my future deeds haue caueats bin:
But I in heart too stubborne to relent,
And proud prince _Iohn_ did once againe consent,
To lift rebellious hands against our sire,
In his last daies when age did rest require.

20.

The French king’s power we did support in field,
And did in armes the aged king constraine
To such dishonor’d tearmes of truce to yeeld,
That he in heart vnable to sustaine
The griefe of such disgrace, with sorow slaine,
In those last words which dying he did breath,
To vs his curse most iustly did bequeath.

21.

After his death, to shew that griefe and shame
Of my misdeeds, did put his soule to flight,
His cold dead corps, as I beheld the same,
Streaming out blood did shew the great despight
That it conceiu’d at my detested sight:
Which forc’d griefe’s drops to dew my manly face,
Toucht at the heart with shame of such disgrace.

22.

Thus hauing blaz’d out those vnnaturall crimes,
The wicked brood of my degenerate pride,
I will no longer vilifie thy rimes:
Thou now to tell what after did betide
Vnto the house of fame, thy muse must guide,
And mount her thoughts to th’highest pitch of glorie,
In loftie straine to sing my golden storie.

23.

No sooner was the kingdome’s scepter seene
In my right royall hand, but that in mind
Transform’d I was from what I once had beene,
And turn’d my back to fore-past shame: heau’n shin’d
Vpon my head, thoughts only now enclin’d
To actions of true praise did heau’n aspire,
Forren affaires gaue wings to my desire.

24.

For absolution for my trespasse done
Against my sire, when I did vnderstand
How _Saladine_, the Pagan prince, had wonne
The sacred Salem and the holy land,
Which christian princes did of late command:
The christian badge I bore vpon my brest,
And did direct my iorney towards the east.

25.

The ablest men through my large emperie,
That I could chuse for this so great affaire,
From England, Guien, Poyctou and Normandie,
From Britaine and from Aniou did prepare,
Themselues in best habilliments of warre,
T’insue their father’s steps, and gaine againe
What they had wonne, and we could not retaine.

26.

Report from Rome did tidings daily bring,
Who stood in feare of th’heathen’s bold assay,
How mightie _Saladine_ the Pagan king,
Had proudly purpos’d Palestine’s decay,
To glut the gulfe of his vnsaciate pray,
Wishing vs hasten to the christian aid,
Who ouer-matcht with power, were much dismai’d.

27.

The warre-god rouz’d with ratling drumme’s alarme,
Rose vp and left his louely lemman’s bed,
Himselfe he for the field did brauely arme,
Tooke vp his mightie launce, and boldly led
Our battels forth, with crosse-fam’d ensignes spred,
On which as marching we infixt our eies,
We hastned on to meet our enemies.

28.

Leauing my kingdome’s state beneath the sway
Of foure estates, in peace to keepe the same,
I crost the seas and tooke my readie way
To Lyons that French towne: where when I came
The king I met, then _Philip_ call’d by name,
Who for this great affaire had vow’d to goe
With his support against the common foe.

29.

Our armies being ioyn’d, we marched on,
Where that strong bridge that ouerlookes the waue
Of Rhodanus, beneath our feet did grone,
And brake, where many, whom no helpe could saue,
In that blacke strugling streame did find their graue:
At which dismai’d, to part we did agree,
And after both to meet in Scicilie.

30.

From hence ore aged Tython’s purple bed,
For Scicilie thy muse must take her flight
To mount Pelorus, on whose loftie head,
Let her insist and view our nauall might
Afloat vpon those seas, so faire a sight
King _Philip_ on the shore with his French powers
Did then admire from off Messanae’s towers:

31.

There do behold my men in thickest throng,
Scaling Messanae’s walles, and beating downe
The citie gates in wreake of that foule wrong
Done gainst vs all by that iniurious towne,
Who with first conquest did our sword renowne:
Vpon whose walles our banners we did pight,
Which did the false French _Philip_ much despight.

32.

In spight of hate the cause we did protect
Of our queene sister, _Ioan_ of Scicilie,
Whose husband dead, prince _Tancred_ late elect
To sway the scepter of that emperie,
Did with vnfit repulse her due denie,
Till now at length he by our power compell’d,
Did yeeld her dowrie, which he long withheld.

33.

Keeping the feast of his natiuitie,
Whose birth true peace t’all humane soules did bring,
In _Tancred’s_ court, there first the treacherie
Of faithlesse _Philip_, that ignoble king,
Did shew it selfe: who did intend to bring
All my designements for the christian aid,
To ill effect by plots which he had laid.

34.

The stout Scicilian king he did excite
T’inuade my campe, and that he might not faile,
He wisht him take th’aduantage of the night:
And lest my dreaded might his mind might quaile,
He with his power would helpe him to assaile:
So much did he maligne my name’s renowne,
Which all true noble hearts with praise did crowne.

35.

But I that did preferre a royall minde
Before base thoughts of griping auarice,
And prince-like did with bountie’s hands strike blinde
The eyes of enuie in mine enemies,
Did finde such grace, that none could preiudice
My name or state, but euen amongst my foes
I found such friends as would the same disclose.

36.

_Tancred_ that did admire the royalties,
That in my kingly brest did make repose,
Could not conceale the French-man’s treacherie:
But with a kingly sp’rit, disdaining those
That traytors were, this treason did disclose:
Seldome base treacherie it selfe can seat
On the high pitch of kingly bred conceat.

37.

_Philip_ disgrac’d, did launch into the deepe,
Being bound for Acon that besieged towne,
Where leauing him, thy muse her course must keepe
Vnto that land, whose name did first renowne
The queene of loue, and her first altars crowne:
Whence she may safely see how Neptune raues,
And wrackes my ships in the Pamphilian waues.

38.

When launcht vpon the seas my ships were seene,
From the Scicilian shore with that sweet maid,
Nauare’s faire _Berengaria_, my new queene:
Neptune as if he did intend t’haue pray’d
On my late chosen loue, began t’inuade
My blacke fleete’s wooden walles, which he did batter
With bounding billowes of his rough rouz’d water.

39.

Tempestuous winds, whose swelling cheekes did draw
The louring clouds full burthened with blacke showers,
Flew on the waues, which breaking with the flaw,
Foaming white froth, did rise like loftie towers,
In roring traine, trooping vp all their powers,
Darknesse did hide the chearefull face of heau’n,
Our ships disperst, were each from other driuen.

40.

T’encrease our feare, and make the night more grimme,
Through heau’n’s thicke clouds pale lightning still did flie,
Whose dazeling flash our mazed sight did dimme,
While the world’s soueraigne in the thickned skie,
Aboue our heads did thunder horriblie,
From whence his darts with sulphurie flash he threw,
Which brimstone-like did sauour as it flew.

41.

The seas did swell, and proudly braue the beau’n,
The windes did bellow and the billowes rore,
Many tall ships with gust of tempest driuen,
To saue themselues from spoile, all desperate bore
Vnto the hauens of the Cyprian shore,
Vpon whose strand the barbarous Cypriotes stood
T’encrease their woes that did escape the flood.

42.

Of those whose barkes did perish in the deepe,
Some hauing gain’d the shore with life halfe drown’d,
They tooke, whom as their captiues they did keepe,
And some by swimming hauing footing found,
Comming on shore with death they did confound:
Which when I heard, the storme once blowen away,
Such wrong with iust reuenge I did repay.

43.

The depth of danger we did vndergo
To gaine the shore, such ods there was in fight:
Yet at the last our foes their backes did show,
And left the shore to vs, but after flight
_Isakius_ their stout king resuming sp’rit,
Troopt vp his people, summon’d far and neare,
And threatned fight when day light should appear.

44.

But to preuent his threats, before the day
His treasure, standard, horse and royall armes
In field we tooke, from whence he fled away
Despoil’d and naked, fearing th’horrid harmes,
Which through his tents did ring with our alarmes:
That night, whose next daie’s light did promise faire
Vnto his hopes, did end them in despaire.

45.

Heere could I tell the conquest and rich spoile,
Which for those wrongs, that we did erst sustaine,
My souldiers made on Cyprus fruitfull soile:
How false _Isakius_ yeelding did remaine
With me in hold, and fled away againe,
Whom after taken for his trespasse past,
In guiues of gold I then did shakle fast.

46.

[Sidenote: _Salphadine_ the brother of _Saladine_.]

But deeds of more import are to be told,
Thy muse must launch with vs from Cyprus shore,
That on the surging seas she may behold
Prince _Salphadine’s_ huge barke, whose bosome bore
Such furniture for warre, sent to restore
The weakned strength of Acon almost lost,
Then round besieged by the christian host.

47.

To whom like floting _Delos_ on the waue
We gaue the chase, till turning backe from flight,
With all her fights set vp she did vs braue,
And fifteene hundred men all arm’d for fight,
Vpon her deckes did shew themselues in sight,
Whom in our gallies thronging in thicke croud,
My souldiers did assaile with clamours loud.

48.

Oft times with valour the repulse they gaue
To vs, that sought to boord their ship and scale
Her wooden walles, so high aboue the waue,
Till from our bowes, shafts thicke as winter’s haile,
Their stoutest hearts with deadly wounds did quaile,
Who shrinking from the fight my men did boord,
And in their furie did not spare the sword.

49.

Then did appeare the ruine of the foe,
Gasping for breath in vaine, sweet life they craue,
The blood of wounded men did streaming flow
Into the flood, and here and there it gaue
A crimson colour to the siluer waue:
Whereby through th’English fleet each little boat
In Pagan blood triumphantly did float.

50.

With that great monster barke two hundred men
Reseru’d from death, in triumph we did scower
The seas: to Acon’s siege begirted then
By all the christian host, from whose watch-tower
The foe-men viewing my approching power,
And hearing of my deed vpon the deepe,
No longer did intend the towne to keepe.

51.

Yet after my arriue they being fed
With lingring hope, did change their first intent,
Gainst vs the towne did proudly beare her hed:
For hearing of a priuate conuoy sent,
With fresh supplie for their prouision spent,
Though faint for food, yet they did after sheeld
Their walles with stout defence and would not yeeld.

52.

To frustrate Acon’s hopes of such supplies,
And with some high aduenture to renowne
Our English name, finding by my espies
The passage where the carriages came downe,
From Babylon to that distressed towne:
I with a band of choice selected men,
Departed from the christian host vnseene.

53.

From vnder couert of a thicke-set groue,
On the carauan first the charge we gaue,
Three thousand burthened camels in a droue
We from the conuoy tooke, who for to saue
The rest from spoile, at first aloofe did waue,
But when we towards them made, though more they were
In number farre, they tooke the wings of feare.

54.

With many a thousand mule, and many a beast
Of other burthen, we return’d with speed
Vnto the christian host, where we did feast
Vpon the prey: the towne of this our deed
Inform’d by fame, and forc’d by hungrie need,
Her gates did open of her owne accord,
To saue her sonnes from warre’s reuengefull sword.

55.

Heere must thy willing muse desist to tell
Our happie hopefull conquests in the east,
Cauils breake forth, enuie rouz’d vp from hell,
Creepes into false king _Philip’s_ cankred brest,
Who with old hate of my good hap possest,
Doth by his plots the Austrian duke excite,
To ioyne with him to worke vs all despight.

56.

As still th’infection of this foule disease,
Contagious venome in their brests did breed,
So my name’s greatnesse daily did encrease,
While they on spleene nere satisfied did feed,
Fortune still grac’d me with some glorious deed:
Vertue enui’d shines brighter, like the sun,
Which breakes through clouds, with which it was orerun.

57.

With enuious eyes, impatient to behold
The golden beames of my sun-shine like fame,
_Philip_ with th’Austrian duke hight _Leopald_,
Without respect vnto our Sauiour’s name,
The cause for which to Palestine we came:
Seeming heart-sicke, did thence depart away,
Hoping to leaue me to the foes for pray.

58.

He gone, the hand of heau’n that doth dispose
The course of things, did beare before my brest
The shield of safetie gainst our Pagan foes:
With my small troope their powers in field supprest,
The bordring christian held his right in rest:
No crosse euent while I did there abide,
In honor’d deeds of armes did me betide.

59.

If thou desire those famous acts to know,
Mount Perseus horse, to Ioppa take thy way,
Which at this time that fatall stone can show,
To which the virgin faire Andromeda
In bands was bound, to be the monster’s pray:
There on that rocke thy muse may sit and see
Those deeds of fame, that then were done by mee.

60.

Assur can speake my praise, before whose wall
Great _Saladine_ with all his heathnish host,
In battell did beneath mine ensignes fall,
Who in my passage seeking to haue crost
My way to Ioppa, on that salt sea cost,
Fought from noone-tide vntill the setting sun,
And then did flie, the field we christians won.

61.

In fortie yeares before the Saracen
Such losse did not sustaine in Palestine,
Nor in one battell lost so many men:
The towring state of mightie _Saladine_
In this fight shaken, daily did decline:
That ancient kingdome of the Syrian land
Did fall from him, and was at our command.

62.

From wel-wall’d Ascalon, that ancient towne
The Pagans fled with all their golden good,
Darus did stoope her pride, Assur came downe
Vpon her knees, Ioppa the port that stood
Vpon the Syrian shore, before the flood
With generall deluge did the world orespread,
Did beare the christian badge vpon her head.

63.

To follow fortune brauely marching on,
Who with auspicious looke did seeme to smile,
We did direct our course to Babylon:
But she false ladie did my hopes beguile,
And forc’d me with mine armie to recoile:
Fame ouer seas on her vnluckie wing
Sad tidings from the west to vs did bring.

64.

Backe, backe to England, with a grieued heart,
Leauing these blest affaires of th’holy one
Of Israel, we must with griefe depart:
_Philip_ my foe excites my brother _Iohn_
In my long absence to aspire the throne:
My England’s rockie bounds ring with alarmes
Of factious traytors, _Iohn_ is vp in armes.

65.

Warn’d by report, my course I did direct
For England’s bounds: but heere thy muse must know
My father’s curse began to take effect:
Heau’n seem’d to frowne, the sea became my foe,
And earth conspir’d to worke my greater woe:
By sea’s darke waues and froward winds from heau’n,
Vnto my foes at shore I vp was giuen.

66.

By tempest driuen, from danger to be free,
I made hard shipwracke on the Istrian strand,
Depriu’d of all my traine, excepting three,
Enforc’d I was to make my way by land
Through Austria, to Vienna, that doth stand
Vpon Danubius bankes, that dukedome’s seat,
The bulwarke now gainst Turkish Mahumet.

67.

There being descri’d vnto mine ancient foe
The Austrian duke I was giuen vp for pray:
Who like himselfe, himselfe to me did show,
Bearing in mind the malice of that day,
When I at Acon, for his proud assay
In taking for his lodging in the towne
The palace vp, I cast his ensignes downe.

68.

Yet with this duke not long was my abode:
For when report of my captiuitie
Was newly set on wing, and flowen abroad,
_Henrie_ then emperour of Germanie,
Forgetfull of emperiall royaltie,
Of that false duke that had me fast in hold,
Greedie of prey, did purchase me for gold.

69.

Vpon that man, whom fortune doth begin
To leaue forlorne, who will not seeme to frowne?
When he is sunken vp vnto the chin
In waues of sad distresse, all thrust him downe,
And suffer him in wretchednesse to drowne:
They that did enuie my great state before,
Did wish such state might nere betide me more.

70.

Ambitious _Iohn_, and _Philip_ that false king,
Taking the time to perfect their intent,
To _Henrie_ did a golden message wing,
In hope if he to set me free was bent,
Such purpose with corruption to preuent:
Which when with terror stricken I did heare,
No hope I had, no comfort did appeare.

71.

Ignoble age, branded with this foule crime,
This blemish thou canst neuer wipe away:
When true record shall tell to future time,
How most vniust the christian did repay
His backe returne, that did through death assay,
Gainst paganisme t’aduance the christian name,
Euen children shall vpbraid thee with the same.

72.

In tempest of this trouble long being tost,
Sore grieu’d in mind for my captiuitie,
At length compounding with my greedie host
Th’emperour _Henrie_, hight of Germanie,
With ransome to redeeme my libertie:
An hundred thousand pounds I did agree
To giue to him before I could be free.

73.

Now is my iourney set on foot againe
For my deare England: now false _Philip_ stormes,
Now _Iohn_ repents, and feare doth him constraine,
In peace to lay downe his rebellious armes,
And by our mother seeke to shun those harmes
Approching on: t’whom I in reuerence
Of her estate, gaue pardon for his offence.

74.

In England safe arriu’d, the people greet
My glad returne with bright bone-fires and bels,
My royall London in each seuerall street,
By her large gifts and golden glorie tels
Within her walles what faithfull subiects dwels:
And I, in hope that heau’n would blesse my reigne
With better fortunes, crown’d my selfe againe.

75.

But on the swift wings of reuenge for France,
Hasten thy muse to Vernuile that strong towne,
There see French _Philip_ flie before my lance,
And at Vandosme how his armes cast downe,
He flies, and leaues vs treasure and renowne:
Of which two flights, this age doth since that time
To his disgrace record a shamefull rime.

76.

Disgrac’d, he cals the Britons to his aide,
With their yong _Arthur_ sonne of _Gefferie_
My brother dead, for which with wrathfull blade
I entred his rich dukedome Britanie,
And vengeance tooke for his disloyaltie:
Whence, when my wreake was past, I did aduance
With ensignes spread into the bounds of France:

77.

Where heau’n did blesse me with such fate in fight,
That _Philip_ in each field I did repell:
Let Gamages and Vernon speake his flight,
And at another time let Gysors tell,
How flying from Curseile’s, with his horse he fell
Into the waues of Geth, the bridge brake downe,
Whom mongst his men the streame did almost drowne.

78.

Repulst with shame, he casting in his mind,
With rags of honor, how to patch the rent
In his wide wounded name, this shift did find:
Out of the greatnesse of his mind he sent
This challenge bold: if I durst giue consent,
That fiue for him in field should hazard life,
Against fiue men of mine to end our strife.

79.

To this bold offer I did gladly yeeld,
Yet interposing this condition,
That he as chiefest champion in the field,
Should mongst the fiue vpon his part make one,
Gainst me on th’aduerse part to fight alone:
From which, without respect vnto a name,
Mongst men renown’d he did reuolt with shame.

80.

Yet was a truce concluded twixt vs both,
To which with willing minde I did encline,
For that I then had bound my selfe by oath
Once more to shape my course for Palestine,
T’employ my valour gainst great _Saladine_:
But what I did decree, death soone preuents,
Heau’n beares the chiefest stroke in our intents.

81.

Thy muse must now put on a mourning weed,
Death doth begin to shew his ghastly face,
With sad teares mourner-like let her proceed,
To Chalus Cheuerell that fatall place,
Where death with his cold armes did me embrace:
There let her stand, and on that towne’s strong wall
Behold the manner of my haplesse fall.

82.

My treasure spent by my long warres with France,
And gainst the Pagan for the east parts bound,
I was inform’d that in my land by chance
A British vicount, _Widdomer_, had found
A wealthie treasure hidden vnder ground:
For whom when I had sent, he guiltie fled
To Chalus Cheuerell to hide his hed:

83.

Whom I did follow, hastned on by fate,
And did besiege the towne, where in mine ire
For such indignitie against my state,
I made my vowes thence neuer to retire,
Vntill I should obtaine my iust desire:
Three daies with fierce assault I did assaile,
But all in vaine, my power could not preuaile.

84.

The towne so strongly situated was,
And the stout foes imboldned by the same,
That of our powers they did little passe:
Whose stubborne pride of strength that I might tame,
I chose a captaine, _Marchades_ by name,
To walke with me, and view that fatall towne,
Where t’vndermine her walles and cast them downe.

85.

Each step I treade doth hasten on my end,
And leads to death vnthought vpon, vnseene:
For as with eyes infixt I did attend
The towne’s foundation, loe, an arrow keene
Sent from the towne wall, wounded me betweene
The necke and shoulder with his venom’d poynt,
Iust in the natiue closure of the ioynt.

86.

Deepe was the wound and full of deadly paine,
Yet did it not my mightie minde appall,
Before the towne in siege I did remaine,
Vntill her people did for mercie call,
And prostrate at my feet did humblie fall:
Whom when the raging souldiers in their ire
Would haue deuour’d, I spar’d from spoile and fire.

87.

But death doth hasten my vntimely end,
The wound lookes blacke, the poison doth appeare
In his effects, and bids me to commend
My soule to God: my friends who held me deare,
All round about me stand with heauie cheare:
And when I knew that breath began to vade,
I call’d for him that had my life betray’d.

88.

Vnto the man before me brought, whose name
_Bertram de Gord’an_ was, these words I spake,
“What iust offence,” quoth I, “did cause thee aime
At my deare life? or wherefore didst thou take
Me for thy marke, and in thy aime forsake
Hight _Marchades_, my friend, that by me stood,
When thou didst shoot thy shaft to shed my blood?”

89.

The man with courage turn’d this stout replie:
“Because,” said he, “thou in thy warres didst kill
My father and my brethren, therefore I
Did vow in my reuenge thy blood to spill:
Which since I haue attain’d and haue my will,
What do I care though all thy friends do weepe,
Seeing that mine shall not vnreuenged sleepe?”

90.

I did admire that his sterne words were such,
And yet forgaue his fact, and gaue command
That none amongst my friends with violent touch
On him should after lay offensiue hand:
And that he might not in their danger stand,
I gaue him twentie crownes to beare him thence,
From those that seem’d to threaten his offence.

91.

Thus with my chiefest foe my peace I made,
And when I sensiblie felt nature’s waste,
To friends about me such like words I said:
Quoth I: “Come neere, and since all hope is past
Of longer life, whose line long cannot last,
Attend my words, and witnesse after death,
What in my will I to the world bequeath.

92.

To _Iohn_ my brother I resigne my crowne:
_Arthur_ is French and rebell to the state:
Seeke not with wilfull hands to hasten downe
What I haue built by future time’s debate:
Factions will grow, and I foresee the fate,
The wofull fate that England will betide
When I am gone, that did enrich her pride.

93.

Not long thy king, deare England, can I be,
Death’s cold begins into my heart to creepe,
No more thy fame can be aduanc’d by me:
To _Iohn_ the prince I tender thee to keepe,
When I with death haue laid me downe to sleepe:”
Thus death when I ten yeares had been a king,
T’vntimely end my life and reigne did bring.

94.

My deeds I did atchieue with much vnrest,
Death with blacke period did my deare life close,
In prime of age approuing heau’ns behest,
Which seldome doth allot long life to those
That to their parents proue rebellious foes:
Of which that I may testimony giue,
Let _Cœur de Lion_ in remembrance liue.

THE VNFORTVNATE

_Life and Death of King Iohn_.

THE ARGUMENT.

“This prince to future time,” quoth Memorie,
“Remaines a Mirrour of true charitie,
Who at his death that traytour did forgiue,
Whose bloodie hand did him of life depriue:
But _Marchades_ for vengeance did suruiue,
The traytour taken he did fley aliue:
Now to the next, whom vp from graue we bring,
Prince _Iohn_ the brother of the late dead king:
He takes the crowne as due to him of gift,
At whose good fortunes many hands do lift:
_Philip_ beyond the seas inuades his lands:
_Arthur_ in Aniou with his British bands,
Pursues the aged mother of the king,
Who to the rescue all his powers doth bring:
Takes _Arthur_ captiue, and for his disdaine
Sends him to Rouen castle, whence againe
He nere returnes: wonders in heau’n are seene,
Treason amongst the peeres, the wrathfull spleene
Twixt Rome’s proud _Innocent_ and stout king _Iohn_:
The French afresh inuade, the king finds none
To take his part: the Irish do rebell:
The Welch breake forth, both whom he doth compell
To stoope their pride: the curse of _Innocent_,
Against whose pride the king stands stiffely bent:
_Philip’s_ huge nauie doth on England frowne,
The king vnto the legate yeelds his crowne:
The lords rebell, the king is left forlorne,
Abus’d, reuil’d, and made his people’s scorne:
Seekes th’aid of strangers, and in his fierce ire,
Flies ore the kingdome like a flaming fire;
The barons flie from him, and seeke to bring
The French prince _Lewis_ in, to make him king:
He lands in Kent, London receiues his traine,
From th’haplesse king all fals away againe:
The French men’s pride the English sore opprest,
King _Iohn’s_ reuenge, poore England’s woes encreast:
In midst of hope t’expell his enemies,
The wretched king at Swynsted poysoned dies:
All which, since many writers in his daies,
Of very malice writ in his dispraise,
That we may heare, let fame with summons call
His princely ghost, to tell his tragicke fall.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Fame cals king _Iohn_: his grieued ghost doth wake,
Comes vp from graue, and heere his turne doth take.

1.

Discord the daughter of dissension,
Home-hel-hatcht furie with bewitching charmes,
Doth sooner ruine _Cæsar’s_ royall throne,
Then all the imminent inuading harmes,
That can inferred be by forren armes:
Where people hate, and where the prince doth frowne,
What might builds vp, dissension soone puls downe.

2.

Of which I once that sway’d this scepter state,
Vniustly wrong’d by peeres, vnkindly sold
To wretched fortune by my subiects hate,
A Mirror might haue been in lines of gold,
If to this age my storie truth had told:
But th’vnkind age presents to iudgement’s eye
My shame at large, but lets my praise go by.

3.

To whom shall I my many wrongs complaine?
Since false traditions of those enuious times,
Inuented by my foes, do yet remaine,
Liuing to euery eye in forged rimes,
As matter for the sceane obiecting crimes
Vnto my charge, which firme in censure stands,
Though nere enacted by my guiltlesse hands.

4.

The long concealed griefe of discontent,
Which for such vniust scandall I sustaine,
Vp from the graue my grieued ghost hath sent,
On such sterne people iustly to complaine,
That vilifie my praise with lips prophane,
Speaking what then the superstitious wits
Vnto this age recorded haue in writs.

5.

Could not the enuie of that age be quell’d
With my last houre’s vntimely tragedie?
Could not these burning veines with poison swell’d,
Their deadly hate against me satisfie?
O no, in death their malice will not die:
For which now summon’d by the trumpe of fame,
I gladly come to put away such shame.

6.

My royall birth _Plantagenet_ can show,
Stout _Cœur de Lion’s_ life declares the same,
Who was the second sonne as thou dost know,
Vnto king _Henrie_ second of that name,
Who grew so great in wealth, in strength and fame,
His yongest sonne I was, by name hight _Iohn_,
Next after _Richard_ seated on the throne.

7.

Thy lines with spot of that disloyaltie
Against my sire, Ile not defile againe,
Nor will I tell that false conspiracie
Against my brother _Richard_, to obtaine
From him his life, his kingdome, and his raigne:
For he at large doth in his tragedie,
Declare the manner of my treacherie.

8.

Ambitious ayme at greatnesse in the state,
Most incident to men of mightie mind,
At first did bring me in my brother’s hate:
Yet in the end such fauour I did find,
That he to me, though I so most vnkind
Did oft times seeke the fall of his renowne,
Forgaue my fact, and gaue to me his crowne.

9.

With free consent of all this kingdome’s peeres,
Aduanc’d I was to all the royalties
Of my late brother dead, and thrice three yeeres
Inthron’d I was, before my haplesse eies
Were made beholders of those miseries,
Which in deep wanes of woe did England drowne,
And brought confusion to my state and crowne.

10.

In my first rise vnto the kingdome’s state,
False France did frowne, and stirred vp the fire
Conceal’d in ashes of our ancient hate,
The yong duke _Arthur_, as he did require,
Gainst vs rebell’d, and did with him conspire:
Both stretching forth their enuious hands, to crop
My new growen greene vpon our cedar’s top.

11.

On the swift whirlewinde of tempestuous warre,
Into Touraine and Aniou th’vtmost bound
Of this our empire, then inlarg’d so farre,
They furiously did breake, where what they found
In my defence, they laid it waste on ground:
Of which the duke proclaim’d himselfe the lord,
And sought t’obtaine it by the threatfull sword.

12.

Warre’s fearefull earthquake shaking more and more,
The state of Aniou, I did vnderstand,
How th’aged queene my mother _Elinor_,
Besieged was by _Arthur_ with strong hand,
Within a tower, which on that coast did stand:
Who sore opprest, and in her mind dismai’d,
In such distresse did call me to her aid.