Chapter VII: Part IV: By RICHARD NICCOLS, (5)

13.

Incens’d to heare my nephewe’s vnkind deed
Gainst her now in her age, that gaue him breath:
As dutie bound me, on the wings of speed
I hastned to the rescue, to vnsheath
My angrie sword, whose edge did threaten death:
A filiall loue to rescue her from harmes,
Both day and night did make me march in armes.

14.

Before the foes of my approch did heare,
Such expedition thither I did make,
That at their backes my ensignes did appeare:
At which dismai’d, their siege they did forsake,
And most did vnto flight themselues betake:
Of whom were many slaine that stood in fight,
_Arthur_ vnhurt was taken in his flight.

15.

T’whom brought captiu’d before me, thus I spake:
“Cosin,” quoth I, “what madnesse was that same,
That moued you these warres to vndertake?
Why do you thus your royall friends defame,
In bearing armes in false king _Philip’s_ name?
Preferre you him in your esteeme more deare,
Then me, that am to you in blood so neare?

16.

For shame that French man’s company forsake,
Let not his counsell tempt you any more:
Turne vnto me, so shall I euer take
Your cause as mine, and you againe restore
Vnto my wonted fauour as before:”
With gentle speech thus did I him entreat:
But thus he made replie with many a threat.

17.

“Tyrant,” said he, “thou dost detaine my right,
I am, thou knowest, true heire to England’s crowne:
Though vniust fortune in this lucklesse fight
Looke blithe on thee, and on my state do frowne,
Heau’n may again aduance what now is downe:
My friends be free, though I in bands be bound,
That will not rest vntill thou be vncrown’d.”

18.

The arrogant deliuerie of this speech,
Vnto th’impeachment of our royall right,
Did in our former loue make such a breach,
That with contracted brow for such despight,
We did in rage command him from our sight,
And did this cruell paine on him impose,
That he for such offence his eyes should lose.

19.

But when such readie instruments of ill,
Who for reward act any villanie,
To Rouen castle came t’effect my will:
_Hubert de Bourgh_ a man of valiancie,
That then had _Arthur_ in his custodie,
Withstood their purpose, and his part did take,
Saying, that I those words in furie spake.

20.

The heate of anger cool’d, conscience began
In th’eare to whisper how I had offended,
And when I heard how _Hubert_ valiant man,
Prevented had what I in rage intended,
As reason would, his courage I commended:
Yet after this by _Arthur’s_ haplesse woes,
I did incurre the scandall of my foes.

21.

Close kept in Rouen castle by that knight,
Whose wals his steps from starting thence did bound,
Casting in mind how to escape by flight,
At last vnfortunate a way he found
To climbe the wall, that did begirt him round:
A forward mind impatient to sustaine,
The losse of freedome did procure his baine.

22.

Haste prickt him forward to redeeme the time,
Greedie desire his freedome to regaine,
Aboue the castle walles did cause him clime:
From whence as enuious fate did first ordaine,
He downe did fall into the riuer Seyne:
Whose waues against that castle wals did swell,
Where to the world he breath’d his last farewell.

23.

He dead, vnto my charge false _Philip_ laid
That in his blood I had imbru’d my hands,
And in reuenge thereof did craue the aid
Of many princes, who with warlike bands
Did in their rage depopulate my lands:
T’whose distresse with aid I could not come,
Worse fortunes did befall me heere at home.

24.

Mischiefe on mischiefe fals t’encrease my woes,
At home my faithlesse barons do rebell,
The Irish rise, the Welch turn’d treacherous foes,
And enuie, lest this monster I should quell
Of many heads, her selfe comes vp from hell,
And stirres vp Rome to ioyne her hands with hate;
No king did fall beneath so hard a fate.

25.

The heau’ns foretold such things before their time,
Before my haplesse hand that cup did take,
In whose blacke deadly wine my death did swim,
Th’whole aggregate of heau’n did seeme to shake,
Sad signes on earth my tragicke fall forespake:
Seldome such fatall deeds of death are done,
But prodigies do their euents forerun.

26.

Before the founder of that famous tower,
Which ouer lookes our Thames’ siluer cleare,
Did in the senate meet his liue’s late hower,
Horrid ostents and accents full of feare,
To many Roman eyes did oft appeare,
The graues did open, and the dead did rise,
Filling the streets with lamentable cries.

27.

Before stout _Brutus_ that proud Roman lord,
Whose bloodie hand strooke mightie _Cæsar_ dead,
With fatall blade his owne deare bodie gor’d,
Strange apparitions, full of feare and dread
Foretold his heart blood should ere long be shead:
Dead _Cæsar’s_ ghost spake to him in his tent,
The night before his tragicke death’s euent.

28.

Before proud _Commodus_ that Roman king,
With violent poyson did the combate trie,
Heau’n many wonders vnto light did bring,
And many dreadfull meteors blaz’d in skie,
Flames of bright fire out of the earth did flie,
Before he tooke that fatall cup of wine
Of faithlesse _Martia_, his false concubine.

29.

Before those mischiefes then were set abroch,
Which did infect the peace of my estate,
Before that lucklesse houre did then approch,
In which that desperate villan did await
With deadly wassaile to abridge my fate:
Heau’n did behold the earth with heauie cheare,
And plaguefull meteors did in both appeare.

30.

Fiue moones were in heau’n’s concaue nightly seene,
As if that heau’n vpon our state below,
Foreseeing our harmes compassionate had been,
And had foresent them with their shine to show
To purblind England her approching woe:
Who not being warn’d by them of future harmes,
Was after wakened by tempestuous stormes.

31.

The earthquake-making God, to warne vs all,
With violent hand shooke earth’s foundation,
And from his thickned clouds in stormes let fall
Such showers of ycie bals, that vnto none
In former times the like had ere been knowne:
For euery hailestone of such thicknesse was,
That it in compasse did foure inches passe.

32.

Fire making rupture through the earth did breake,
And burned many a towne and steeple high,
Ghosts in high-waies were often heard to speake,
And spirits in shapes of birds in darksome skie,
With fire in their beakes about did flie:
Wherewith they did afflict much scath and woe
Vpon the countrie, flying to and fro.

33.

O stubborne England, that with such foresigne
From future euill couldst not warned bee:
When heau’n and earth destruction did diuine,
For thy rebellious sinne to fall on thee,
Why didst thou close thy eyes and would’st not see?
When God did thunder iudgement in thine eare,
Why wert thou deafe, as if thou would’st not heare?

34.

For pitie reade thy ruine, drawing nigh,
Vpon the crystall battlements of heauen,
Where grau’d in golden letters to each eie,
Thou maiest behold thy wretched kingdome giuen
Into a stranger’s hand: thy sad king driuen
To flie from thee forlorne and leaue his state,
Sold to misfortune by his subiects hate.

35.

Let time’s blacke hand blot out the memorie
Of that vile age, and let it not be said
That _Iohn_ did euer guide this emperie,
That future time with shame may not vpbraid
This nation’s name, by whom I was betraid,
And say that subiects yet did neuer bring
Such grieuous wrongs vpon a wretched king.

36.

To guide thy muse, that she the cause may know
Whence first these euils in the state did spring,
To blood-built Rome, our Albion’s ancient foe,
Nurse of all factions, let her take swift wing,
That when this wofull storie she shall sing,
She truly may define the Roman hate,
Which first did broch these mischiefes in our state.

37.

When as our England’s metropolitan
Leauing his life, had left at emptie chaire,
I did elect a right religious man,
Who with the best might in those daies compare,
For habitude to manage that affaire:
In whose behalf at Rome I did entreate,
That he might be installed in that seate.

38.

Great Rome then in the ruffe of all her pride,
Deiects my suite with proud contempt, and chose
_Langton_, a man vnfit that place to guide,
On which such trust in state we did repose,
Since he was nurst in France amongst our foes:
And might in time, bearing such rule in state,
Vnto my fortunes worke vnluckie fate.

39.

For this with Rome’s proud priest thus I contend,
“Thinke not,” said I, “that I that right will yeeld,
On which my royaltie doth sole depend,
The same in spight of hate I trust to shield,
While I shall liue this scepter’s state to wield:
No power on earth in my despight shall place
A stranger in my realme to my disgrace.

40.

If my decreed election may not stand,
I vow by heau’n, henceforth I will restraine
Those passages to Rome out of this land,
Which you hereafter will repent in vaine,
Since by the same you haue no little gaine:
For what need we to Rome a gadding go,
Since many learned men this land can show?”

41.

Hence grew the hate that after did ensue,
Heaping on wrongs vpon my grieued head:
Rome’s _Innocent_ when he these lines did view,
Kindled with wrath, on raging furie fed,
Which through his brest a deadly venom spred:
Whose breath did soone infect our subiects blood,
And bred a plague vnto the generall good.

42.

Thinking it shame to his pompaticke state,
To winke at my contempt of his command,
With lips prophane, big swolne with eager hate,
He breaths his curse gainst me, and gainst my land,
To last so long as I his will withstand:
And lockes vp all church gates by his great word,
Forbidding vs accesse vnto the Lord.

43.

Thou proud vsurper of our _Peter’s_ key,
Behold thy sinne, and blush at thy foule shame,
Why didst thou locke the gate that leads the way
Vnto the holy place? why didst thou name
Thy selfe the rocke on whom that power that came
To saue the world, his sacred church should found,
And yet didst cast it then vnto the ground?

44.

My people frightned with the roaring threat
Of wrathfull bulles to England daily sent,
Their due alleageance to their lord forget:
Th’inglorious peeres, as if the gouernment
Had been transferr’d from _Iohn_ to _Innocent_,
Did shrinke from me, and would not by me stand,
For th’impeacht priuiledge of our free land.

45.

Yet could all this not stoope my noble hart,
The rebell priests, that did at his command
Pronounce his curse prophane, did feele the smart
Of their offence, and from my furious hand
T’escape my vow’d reuenge, did flie the land,
Leauing their sweet possessions for a pray,
Which to my friends I freely gaue away.

46.

After this curse it seem’d my blisse begun:
For when the stubborne Irish did rebell,
Meth witnesse be of my atchieuements done:
And let cold Snowden’s barren mountaines tell,
How the rebellious Welch my hand did quell:
No wofull fate befell me at this season,
Till my false peeres began to practise treason.

47.

Infected with this curse, and hauing lost
My wonted loue, they did with Rome consent:
For as to Wales I marched with my host,
The Scottish king their malice to preuent,
Did send me letters of their whole intent,
How they were bent, if I did forward goe,
To kill me, or betray me to my foe.

48.

Perplext in mind, thenceforth I stood in feare
Of ruine threatned to my life and state:
France did oppresse me, and the Welch did beare
Rebellious armes: but such was my hard fate,
None could oppose them through my barons hate:
Yet I, on whom mine owne no mercie haue,
In their distresse to strangers comfort gaue.

49.

To me with care opprest, the Scotish king
Letters did send full fraught with lines of woe,
Which vnto me his sonne the prince did bring,
By which he moued me, though once my foe,
On his oppressed age remorse to show:
For his base subiects gainst him did arise,
And for his age his person did despise.

50.

A mightie host with speed I did prepare,
With which enrag’d, I into Scotland went,
Where, in that warre my sword but few did spare,
That gainst their aged king their powers had bent,
To take from his crowne and gouernment:
_Guthred mac William_ cause of all this strife,
Did with a traytor’s death shut vp his life.

51.

But let vs turne vs backe from Scotland’s bounds,
At home to view th’effects of Roman hate:
There see how _Innocent_ inflicts fresh wounds
Vpon the mangled bodie of our state,
Who since that no old mischiefe could abate
The spirit inuincible of my great mind,
To make me stoope, new mischiefes now did find.

52.

By power of his vsurpt authoritie,
He did absolue all subiects in my land,
That by alleageance were oblig’d to me:
Then would he put into king _Philip’s_ hand,
The crowne and royall scepter of this land:
If he from hence could me expell by might,
Or take my life away by treacherous slight.

53.

Thou that dost ride vpon the backes of kings,
Yet feines to walke the steps of our deare Lord,
Thou that dost make a cloake of holy things
To hide thy shame, and leau’st the sacred word,
T’oppose the Lord’s anointed with the sword:
Is this the path that th’Holy One did passe?
When he to _Cæsar_ gaue, what _Cæsar’s_ was.

54.

How canst thou wash thy hands of these foule crimes,
When thou didst make this kingdome’s crowne my shame:
Let not posteritie in future times,
Impute this fact to England’s _Iohn_ for blame,
That Rome did force him stoope to such defame:
Since mine owne friends with all the world did frowne,
Before proud Rome could cause me yeeld my crowne.

55.

See on the seas where France her way doth take,
To plucke me from my throne by force of hand:
See how my faithlesse barons me forsake,
And rather readie be themselues to band
Against their prince, then in his quarrell stand:
Yea see my houshold folke do me forgoe,
And lift vp rebell hands to helpe my foe.

56.

The stiffe-neckt priests the subiect to excite
Against his king, a prophet did procure,
Who by the skill of his propheticke sight,
Of peace to come the people should assure,
And that as king I should not long endure:
To which th’vnconstant people credit gaue,
Whose minds in state do alterations craue.

57.

In this distresse, in vaine I striue to stand
Against th’approching shame which I lament,
Besieged round with feare on euery hand,
Not knowing how such mischiefe to preuent,
_Pandulph_ the legate comes from _Innocent_,
To know if yet th’effects of his proud frowne,
Had in such dangers brought my stomack downe.

58.

O vnkind England now behold and see
Thy wronged king forlorne, and forc’d by feare
To yeeld his crowne vpon his bended knee:
O deepe disgrace, that any prince can beare,
O that such pride in prelates euer were:
_Pandulph_ in signe that I my sinnes repent,
Receiues my crowne giu’n vp to _Innocent_.

59.

Remitting former faults with gratious doome,
And hauing kept my crowne for fiue daies space,
As made contributorie vnto Rome,
The same againe he on my head did place,
And with my former title did me grace:
To the French king likewise with speed he went,
Charging him leaue his course for England bent.

60.

But he in hope the diademe to gaine,
Would not desist: but with a nauie came
Of twice foure hundred ships vpon the maine:
Whose powers t’oppose, proud _Pandulph_ did proclame
That all men should in _Innocentius_ name
Lift vp their hands t’auert those threatned harmes,
Whereby the shores were stuft with men of armes.

61.

Fiue hundred saile well mann’d against the foes,
I launcht into the seas with them to fight:
And for the generall of the fight I chose
My bastard brother, _William Longspath_ hight,
Of those our troublous times the brauest knight,
Who at this time his valiancie did show,
In this sea-fight against th’inuading foe.

62.

Gainst whom they fought with such successefull hands,
That on our side the conquest did remaine:
_Philip_ disgrac’d with his dismembred bands,
Vnto his home returned backe againe,
There to recure the losse he did sustaine:
While I in vaine do seeke to heale my state,
All rent and torne by mutinous debate.

63.

Out of the ruines of my countrie’s woe,
What I to raise did carefull hands applie,
My rebell barons downe againe did throw:
To take aduantage, while my miserie
Is yet but fresh, they me in field defie,
For that to their demands I gaue no eare,
Which to mine honor preiudiciall were.

64.

By friends forlorne, they forced me by might
To yeeld to them, to my disgrace and shame:
The thought of which, and of that great despight
Done by Rome’s _Innocent_, did so inflame
My heart with furie, that I did exclame
Vpon my fates that did my daies prolong,
In which I was ordain’d t’indure such wrong.

65.

Of mine owne seruants left all desolate,
But seuen in number did with me remaine,
Pursu’d by most disloyall people’s hate:
Oft with meane food my life I did sustaine,
Lest they by poyson should procure my bane:
And for my safetie with those few approued,
In strange disguise I to and fro remoued.

66.

In this distresse into the Ile of Wight
My selfe in secret wise I did conuey,
Where while I did remaine, in my despight
Each slaue, whose heart my name could once affray,
With barbarous taunts vpon the same did play:
Some call’d me fisherman, some rouing thiefe,
That fled the land, at seas to find reliefe.

67.

Such wrongs with patience I did seeme to beare,
Dissembling wrath in my reuengefull mind,
To such reports I seem’d to giue no eare:
But still did lie, as vnto peace inclin’d,
Till I fit opportunitie did find:
For in the end when I return’d againe,
For such contempt they paid me double paine.

68.

Receiuing aid from friends beyond the seas,
Like to a tempest stooping downe from heau’n,
With spoilefull hands my kingdome I did sease,
All in my furie were to slaughter giuen,
My barons into flight with terror driuen:
Fled from my face, and sought their heads to hide
For their misdeeds, in field none durst abide.

69.

They all vnable to withstand my might,
Not with submission milde did mercie craue:
To do to me and mine the more despight,
To France they sent, desiring for to haue
Prince _Lewis_ to their king, to whom they gaue
Their promise to aduance him to the crowne,
And as a tyrant king to cast me downe.

70.

King _Philip_ fostring malice in his mind,
And gainst me such aduantage hauing found,
Though no pretence of title he could find,
Whereon his purpos’d enterprise to ground:
Yet stretcht he out his arme our state to wound,
And take from me and my posteritie,
Our diademe and kingly royaltie.

71.

For his proud sonne prince _Lewis_ he did send,
With many a troope and many a warlike band,
Whose wisht accesse my barons did attend,
With all their troopes vpon the Kentish strand,
Where with his host French _Lewis_ first tooke land:
Whence with those traytors he to London went,
Which in this treason did with them consent.

72.

Then did begin my former miserie,
For those, in whom chiefe trust I did repose,
Those stranger souldiers all from me did flie,
Except some few, that did lament my woes,
And Douer castle kept against my foes,
Vnto whose trust I did the same betake,
All other seeming friends did me forsake.

73.

But see the iudgement of almightie Ioue,
On the disloyall people of this land:
The conquering French, whose nature is to proue,
Insulting ouer whom they beare command,
Now being lords of all, with heauie hand
The English people did begin t’oppresse,
Who could not helpe themselues in this distresse.

74.

Thus did the King of heau’n iust vengeance take
On them, for their vniust disloyaltie:
My part he did not vtterly forsake,
But in the end did force my foes to flie,
And leaue the crowne to my posteritie:
For he did chuse out one amongst the foe,
To be our enemie’s chiefe ouerthrow.

75.

There was a noble minded man of France,
Vicount of Melum, and a Frenchman borne,
Who falling sicke did waile the sad mischance
Of th’English, iustly made false fortune’s scorne,
That thus had left their king to liue forlorne:
Yea with remorse his conscience it did sting,
To see the subiect so oppresse the king.

76.

When death in him began his due to take,
He for my nobles secretly did send,
To whom with fainting voice these words he spake:
“My friends,” quoth he, “vnto my words attend,
Which shall ere long for euermore haue end:
Attend, I say, conscience bids me impart
The things that now lie heauie on my hart.

77.

Woe to the wretched people of this land,
Which do their soueraigne lord and king forsake:
Woe to your selues, that for your king should stand,
Of whom a scorne vnto the world ye make:
And woe vnto your children for your sake:
Yea, woe to England euermore shall be,
Vnlesse with speed ye seeke some remedie.

78.

_Lewis_ our prince of late hath deepely sworne,
And with him sixteene earles and barons more,
That ye, that now haue left your king forlorne,
Shall die the death, or else exil’d deplore
Your case in forren parts for euermore:
Then let each peere with speed draw forth his sword,
To helpe himselfe and his distressed lord.

79.

If conscience cause me to bemone the chance
Of this so braue a king, which ye possesse,
To whom I am a stranger borne in France:
Yea once his foe, though now as ye may gesse,
I as a friend bewaile his sad distresse:
How then should ye that are his liegemen borne,
For this his sad mishap with sorow mourne?

80.

Assist him then as dutie doth you bind,
Pitie your selues and your posteritie:
And keepe what I haue spoken in your mind,
Of which no more to you I can descrie:
For now my heart doth faile and I must die:
_Adieu pourtant, Adieu à chasqu’amy.
Adieu ie dis ma vie ce fini_.”

81.

My peeres forewarned of such treacherie,
And with remorse viewing their natiue lands
Betrai’d to spoile by their disloyaltie,
Did cast in mind how they with helping hands
Might best restore themselues from captiue bands:
And hoping now my grace againe to win,
From _Lewis_ to decline they did begin.

82.

Vpon th’insulting French to powre my spleene,
Throughout my kingdome’s bounds I did proclaime,
That all my subiects that had wronged been
By forren foes, if vnto me they came
With minds for fight, I would reuenge the same:
Whereby with speed came many a worthie wight
Vnder my standard gainst the French to fight.

83.

Like raging storme blowne out of _Boreas_ mouth,
With violent furie I did force my way,
From east to west, from north vnto the south
Destroying all things, that before vs lay:
Which did our aduersaries so dismay,
That none durst stand t’oppose vs in the field,
But readie way vnto our will did yeeld.

84.

Had proud prince _Lewis_ met with me in fight,
Our quarrell by the dint of sword to trie,
Soone should I haue obtain’d my kingdome’s right,
And made th’vsurping prince from hence to flie,
Who did support my peere’s disloyaltie:
But treason stretched out her deadly hand,
Who twixt the French and my reuenge did stand.

85.

In Swinsted abbie witnesse of my wrong,
A monke there was, the worker of my bane,
Who heard me vow that if I liued long,
Through England I would raise the price of graine,
To plague my subiects for their proud disdaine:
Which was the cause, as fates did first decree,
For which this villan monke did poyson mee.

86.

To vent the poisned thoughts of his false brest,
Loe all alone in dead time of the night,
When euery one had laid him downe to rest,
When aire was husht, when from the welkin bright
The golden stars did cast a glimmering light,
He forth did walke into a garden by,
For to effect his wicked treacherie.

87.

There as this villan wandred to and fro,
To find some weed that had the power t’expell
The vitall spirit, or any aduerse foe
To humane life, some kind of serpent fell,
Or any thing that did with poyson swell:
At last an vglie toad he haplesse found,
Big swolne with poyson crawling on the ground:

88.

With which full glad he did returne againe,
And to his chamber secretly did goe,
Where with his pen-knife he did pricke and paine
The lothsome toade, from whom the blood did floe,
By which the wicked monke did worke my woe:
For poison which the toade did vomit vp,
With wine he mixed in a fatall cup.

89.

With which to me he came, and thus he spake,
“My liege,” said he, “a cup of wine I bring,
Of which if that your grace a taste will take,
It will abate the edge of sorowe’s sting,
Which deepely seemes to wound my grieued king:
With it to England’s health I will begin,
Whose woes for euermore be drown’d herein.”

90.

Thus did this villan drinke, and dranke his last,
And after vnto me the cup he gaue,
Of which misdeeming nought, I straight did taste,
Which done, not all the world my life could saue,
So deadly was it tempered by the slaue:
Th’effects whereof before my death were knowne,
Which came to passe immediatly thereon.

91.

For when the raging venome had dispread
It selfe throughout my bodie by the veines,
My blood did boile, my heart began to dread,
My bodie swell’d, and when no hope remaines
Of any helpe to remedie such paines:
I for the monke did call to haue his head,
But one did answere make, that he was dead.

92.

“Then God,” quoth I, “haue mercie on my soule,
For of this wretched world no man am I,
Seeing nothing may this venom’s force controule:
For sensiblie I feele how it doth lie
Vpon my woefull heart, and I must die:
Wherefore my sonne fetch hither vnto mee,
That I before I die his face may see.”

93.

The child being brought, for then he was a child,
To him I thus did speake with weeping eie:
“My sonne,” quoth I, “on whom my hopes I build:
Come neere to me, where heere in paine I lie,
Come neere and haue my blessing ere I die,
Nought else to thee is left for me to leaue,
Since of my crowne my foes do me bereaue.

94.

Wherefore ye heau’ns who do behold my woes,
Now at my death giue eare vnto my prayer,
Protect this child of mine from all his foes:
And for your mercie’s sake this infant spare,
Whose tender age doth want your tender care:
Else will that roring lion _Lewis_ kill
This litle lambe, though he hath done none ill.

95.

And thou, my litle sonne, take heed by me,
That thou thy peeres and people’s loue procure,
Contend not thou with thy nobilitie:
So shall thy state and kingdome long endure,
And thou from forren foes liue safe and sure:
For my false subiects vndeserued hate
Did worke my woe, which I repent too late.

96.

Renowned _Pembroke_, thou hast left my foe,
Be thou protector to this pretie boy,
And for the father’s sake thy fauour show:
When I am gone do thou thy strength employ
Against all those that seeke this child’s annoy:
And ye, my other peeres, who once haue ben
My foes, proue now true hearted noble men.

97.

Redeeme your countrey from that captiue woe,
Which from the roote of ciuill discord grew:
Ioyne hearts and hands against the common foe:
Forget old wrongs, vnto the prince proue true:
Farewell, my daies be done, I die, adew.”
Thus after twice nine yeares of rule in state,
I lost both life and rule by timelesse fate.

98.

Behold the last effects of _Henrie’s_ curse
On his last sonne, for his rebellious pride:
Let princes learne, that where debate, the nurce
Of discord, doth the prince and peeres diuide,
Nought but destruction can that state betide:
Of which let that sad time of my short reigne,
A Mirrour vnto future time remaine.

THE WOFVLL LIFE AND

_Death of King Edward the second_.

THE ARGUMENT.

“Writers,” quoth Memorie, “were much to blame
Of _Iohn_, that noble prince, to speake such shame:
But little credit vnto them we giue,
Since they were foes to him, when he did liue:
His first sonne _Henrie_, third of that same name,
Did him succeed, and with his sword did tame
That French prince _Lewis_, whom he forc’d by might
To leaue this kingdome, due to him of right:
_Edward_ his sonne, the first that bore that name
Since _William’s_ conquest made, whose noble fame
Shall neuer die, did in the throne succeed,
And in his daies wrought many a worthie deed:
Yet neither of these princes both did feele
Th’inconstant course of fortune’s froward wheele:
That _Edward_ of Carnaruan, third from _Iohn_,
Is next in course, whom we must stay vpon:
He in the first spring of his fatall raigne
Recals the banisht _Gaueston_ againe,
Exil’d before by his renowned sire,
At whose proud taunts the peeres being set on fire,
Do quench it with his blood: the angrie king
Vowes his reuenge, the valiant _Breuce_ doth bring
His powers into the field, and in the fight
At Banokesborne turnes th’English into flight:
Heau’n, dearth, and death foretels the sad euent,
Which did ensue vpon the riuer Trent:
The queene is sent to France the peace t’haue mou’d,
Proues false, returnes againe with her belou’d:
Arriues in armes, gainst whom the king craues aid,
Who left forlorne, and at the last betrai’d,
Imprison’d, and enforc’d by parlament,
Vnto his sonne resignes the gouernment:
On him depos’d, more mischiefe to inferre,
His queene, the bishop, and her _Mortimer_,
In darke enigma do conclude his death:
And, lest that he should seeme t’expire his breath
By violent hand, a torment they deuise
By which the king in Bercklie castle dies:
Of which that we th’vndoubted truth may haue,
Let fame call vp his wronged ghost from graue.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Fame summons vp the king: in briefe he showes
How queene, peeres, people, all did him depose.

1.

That subtill serpent, seruile flatterie,
Seldome infects the meaner man, that feares
No change of state through fortune’s treacherie:
She spits her poison at the mightiest peeres,
And with her charmes inchants the prince’s eares:
In sweetest wood the worme doth soonest breed,
The caterpiller on best buds doth feed.

2.

If slie dissimulation credit winne
With any prince, that sits on highest throne,
With honied poyson of soure sugred sinne,
It causeth him turne tyrant to his owne,
And to his state workes swift confusion,
Aboue his cedar’s top it high doth shoot,
And canker-like deuoures it to the root.

3.

Of which that thou a perfect Mirrour haue,
The wronged ghost of that deposed king,
Carnaruan’s _Edward_, hath forgone his graue,
Who does with him such dolefull tidings bring,
That yet thy muse the like did neuer sing:
Those sad mishaps which she before did show,
Compar’d to mine are counterfeits of woe.

4.

To strengthen her complaint before she sing,
And drowne her grieued thoughts in depth of woe:
(Yee murdred ghosts, that vnder night’s black wing,
In vncouth paths doe wander to and fro,
And oft in sighfull groanes your griefe do show)
Haste vnto vs, and hauing heard our wrong,
Help with your shrieks to make a mourneful song.

5.

The quill of some sad turtle’s wing applie
That mourn’d so long, till griefe did strike her dead:
Blood be thy incke, which when it waxeth drie,
Moisten with teares: and when all thine are shed,
From euery eye, that haps these lines to reade,
Let euery verse compos’d, such sad sound beare,
That for each word it may enforce a teare.

6.

(Sorrow, distresse, and all that can be found
Which once did helpe me waile my woefull smart,
When fatall _Berckly’s_ buildings did resound
The echoing complaints of my poore hart)
Grant your accesse, and helpe to beare a part,
That our sad muse more ruthfully may sing,
The storie of a dead deposed king.

7.

I tell of honie-soothing parasites,
Of stubborne peeres, who louing sterne debate,
Did boldly braue me in two bloodie fights,
Of a proud prelate’s plots, of people’s hate,
Of the sad ruine of a royall state:
And of a queene betrai’d to fond desire
Who too too cruell did my death conspire.

8.

To the first _Edward_, since the Norman’s name
Grew famous for their crown’d grac’d victorie,
The fourth of six of his faire sonnes I am,
Mongst whom I was ordain’d by destinie,
To sway the scepter of this emperie:
Before my kingly father left to liue,
The first three borne to death his due did giue.

9.

I did suruiue, the yongest of the foure,
And did succeed my sire in royall chaire:
But did not treade the path which he before
Had with his vertuous foot-steps beaten faire:
Birth binds not vertue to succeed in th’heire,
Else why did I of such illustrate race,
Obscure his vertuous deeds with my disgrace?

10.

Had I but tract the steps of such a sire
To perfect that great worke, which he begun,
Had princely thoughts but mounted my desire
T’assay like glorious deeds, which he had done,
O what a prize of honor had I wonne!
But discord sent from hell did ruine bring,
Euen at that time, that I was crown’d a king.

11.

As th’holy priest with sanctified hand
The precious vnguent on my head should powre,
And as before the altar I did stand,
Discord the furie sent from that blacke shore
By damned _Dis_ where _Phlegeton_ doth rore,
Shapt like th’appointed priest whose hallowed hand
Should me annoint, by me vnknowne did stand.

12.

Approching nigh, the venome she did shed
Of sad _Cocytus_ poole, which she did bring
In her blacke viall, on my haplesse head,
Whose banefull sauour borne on furie’s wing,
Did not alone infect th’anointed king:
But round diffus’d, as sent from peere to peere,
Did poyson those high bloods that present were.

13.

The ranke contagion of this foule disease
With rauing looke the mightiest in the state,
Whose desperate rage with remedie t’appease,
Warre rouz’d himselfe at home, who had of late
Slept in the bosome of pernicious hate:
And did incite them in pretence of good,
With their owne swords to let their bodies blood.

14.

O most remorselesse of that impious age,
That did not only then deny your aide
To your deare countrie, when with barbarous rage
The bordering foes her bosome did inuade,
And in her wombe such ghastly wounds had made,
But as a nation borne of viper’s brood,
O shame to tell, did daily sucke her blood.

15.

Great queene of sea-siedg’d iles, what canst thou show
Of that good hap, when _Edward_ thy late king
Did safely bulwarke thee against thy foe?
Thy _Edward_ now doth with his minions sing,
While thou thy hands in wretchednesse dost wring:
And _Brewse_ doth mangle thee with many a scarre,
While thy proud peeres prepare for ciuill warre.

16.

In our discourse, that we a method haue
Of euery action, let vs briefely tell
In his due place, which time and order gaue:
And that we may first know those causes well,
From whence these sad effects produc’d befell,
In the respectiue scope of this our storie,
Let vs looke backe to _Edward’s_ daies of glorie.

17.

In the fresh blossome of my youthfull spring,
Sucking the sugered poison of delight,
Euen then when with strict hand the carefull king
Kept backe my youth, I on the baites did bite
Of _Gaueston_ that soothing parasite:
A yong esquire of Gascoyne in faire feature,
Shapt like an angell: but of euill nature.

18.

My royall father, who with iudgement’s eie
Could sound the depth of things, perceiuing well
How follie did by him her charmes applie,
T’inchant my youth: such mischiefe to repell,
Did him exile, lest by the powerfull spell
Of his allurements drawne from all renowne,
I should be made vnworthie of a crowne.

19.

O prudent prince! the depth of that decree
Which heau’n did purpose by my _Gaueston_,
Too secret was for humane sense to see,
Who did ordaine, that exil’d minion
To ruine _Edward_ and thy royall throne:
For though an exile he did then depart,
Yet with him went thy wanton _Edward’s_ heart.

20.

Too late it was that obiect to remoue,
To whom in fancie’s cup I long before
Had quaff’d so deepe, that surfetting with loue,
Heart-sicke I was till time did him restore,
And set him once againe on England’s shore:
Forgetfull of my faith to _Edward_ dead,
Not to reuoke, whom he had banished.

21.

His bones were yet scarce cold, his royall throne
Scarce warme beneath me was, when in the same
I did embrace my deare, lou’d _Gaueston_,
Who as infected with contagious shame
Of some corrupted place, from whence he came,
Throughout the land in little space did spread,
That foule disease which our destruction bread.

22.

In court the leprous spots of his delights
Vnto the palace wals so fast do cleaue,
That from my presence all the noblest wights
Withdraw themselues, and in their roomes do leaue
Those vp-starts base, who them of grace bereaue:
No man is held to be the king’s true friend,
But he that doth his _Gaueston_ commend.

23.

His lips were made the oracles, from whence
I tooke aduice, he in the counsell sits,
Graue states as enemies are banisht thence,
The shallow-brain’d yong giddie-headed wits,
Our wanton humour with best counsell fits,
The sage instructions of the wise man’s mouth,
Do sound harsh musike in the eares of youth.

24.

This was the spring, from whence at first did floe
Those streames of strife, which rising like a flood
Do ouerwhelme my state in waues of woe,
Which threat confusion to the common good,
Which first in death do coole my barons blood:
And which yet swelling higher, lastly bring
A violent downefall to a royall king.

25.

My _Gaueston_, in maiestie’s great armes
Being safely hug’d, no change of fortune feares:
He wantons with the king, soothes his owne harmes,
He playes the buffon’s part, he flouts and ieers
The courtly actions of the honor’d peeres:
The great in counsell and the noble borne,
Are made the subiect of his hatefull scorne.

26.

Sterne wrath to let loose rage, steps vp from hell,
Conducts my peeres from court vnto the campe,
She claps her hands and with a countnance fell,
Gnashing her teeth doth fiercely raue and rampe,
And with her feet vpon the ground doth stampe:
Then whets them to reuenge in their rash mood,
Whose furious thirst must be allaid with blood.

27.

Twice was my minion as an exile sent
To forren shores, their furie to restraine,
And twice againe reuokte with their assent,
Who now no longer able to refraine,
Prouokte with daily wrongs of his disdaine,
He being betrai’d, for vengeance all do call,
On Gauer’s heath, where _Gaueston_ did fall.

28.

They wreake their vengeance in his reeking blood,
My sighes they laugh to scorne, while I lament,
With faire pretence to further common good
They vnderpop their cause, and to preuent
The mischiefe, that may grow from discontent,
To tracke me step by step in euery thing,
Whom they do please, they place about their king.

29.

Feeding on griefe for _Gaueston_ deceast,
And blushing at such wrong done to my state,
Reuenge doth burne in my distempred brest,
Anger takes hands with griefe, all ioyne with hate,
And to the peeres threaten pernicious fate,
Who, lest time weaken rage then too too strong,
Do giue it strength by adding daily wrong.

30.

In this dissension, while on euery hand,
We for our owne destruction do prepare,
Newes from the north giues vs to vnderstand,
How valiant _Brewse_ in his successefull warre
Against our powers doth prosperously fare,
Recouering that from vs againe, with more,
Which our dread sire had kept from him before.

31.

Beyond the bounds of his owne natiue soile,
He proudly breakes vpon our bordering coast,
None seekes t’oppose, he makes no faint recoile:
The spoile and riches of whole countries lost
Can hardly bound the furie of his host,
Neuer did bordering foe inuade so far,
Or wound our kingdome with a greater scar.

32.

Tempestuous tidings borne on Boreas breath
Cooles the hot vengeance of a wrathfull king,
And for a while delaies prepared death
For his proud peeres, feare from the north on wing
Comes flying fast, and 'bout our eares doth ring,
Bidding vs haste, and powre our vengeance forth
Vpon our foes, that brau’d vs in the north.

33.

Mustering vp troopes of foot-men for the field,
To passe in person for this great affaire,
My hopes on number I do vainly build:
Our thoughts made aduerse by the former iar,
Prepare vs mischiefe in the following war:
Disioyn’d in heart, yet ioyn’d in ranke we goe,
To giue a famous conquest to the foe.

34.

Stout _Brewse_ renownes his sword with _Edward’s_ flight,
Striuiling, whose siege our rescue crau’d, can tell
England’s misfortune in that haplesse fight:
And Banokesborne, who 'boue her bounds did swell
With bodies dead, that in that battell fell,
Aboue the bordering brookes hath won a name
Fam’d for this field thus fought vpon the same.

35.

O noble nation, t’whom true fame hath giuen
A glorious name for deeds accomplished,
Equall with any people’s vnder heau’n,
Be not dismai’d, ’twas I, ’twas I, that led
To such mishap, on whose vnhappie head
Heau’n neuer smil’d, but with sterne lookes still frown’d
Till wearied with mishaps, I was vncrown’d.

36.

O had I perisht by the sword of _Brewse_,
And had not been reseru’d to future daies,
To see my peeres with treason take a truce,
And with their swords by all uniust assaies,
Attempt to hew downe him, whom heau’n did raise:
I had been blest, and had not liu’d to rue
The woes yet worse, which after did ensue.

37.

Th’inueterate wounds of wrong infixt so deepe,
Against my barons in my swolne heart,
With drops of blood now made afresh to weepe,
That I from _Brewse_ should thus with shame depart,
Did so augment my mind’s impatient smart,
That by my peeres mine ire now new stirr’d vp,
I with their blood quencht in _Bellonae’s_ cup.

38.

What they do plot is by my powre controul’d,
What I intend, vnreuerently they crosse:
What they do wish, I will not: what I would,
They do gain-say, though to a publike losse:
Thus vpon mischiefe’s racket do we tosse
The common good, till bandied by vs all
Into confusion’s hazard it do fall.

39.

Both heau’n and earth, as if in mourning clad,
They did bewaile, what they could not preuent,
When on our selues, our selues no pittie had,
Denide those comforts in due season sent,
Which to this nation they before had lent:
As with their anger they would vs recall
From running headlong, where we needs must fall.

40.

Towards th’Articke side of heau’n ore Albion’s rocks,
A blazing meteor stood in th’vpper aire,
Which with grim looke shaking his dreadfull locks,
Bids earth be barren, and the world despaire:
Then cals the furies with the snakie haire,
To execute that vengeance to succeed,
Which fates for wretched England had decreed.

41.

Famine, forerunner to deuouring death,
Haunts euery coast, where food is to be found,
The fruits are blasted by her banefull breath,
She makes the clouds to drop, till that be drown’d,
Which plentie’s hand had hidden in the ground:
Then doth she ransacke both the rich and poore,
Deuouring all, till she can find no more.

42.

If euer pitie moue a stonie eie,
Let her present our age for map of woe,
There see for food, how little infants crie,
Whom, parents wanting, what they would bestow,
With griefe are either forced to forgo,
Or else with weeping woe to sit them by,
Till faint for food before their face they die.

43.

The spouse, that wants to feed her fruitfull wombe,
Burying the babe, that neuer came from graue,
Cries, in her deare’s deare armes, for death to come,
Who mad with sorrow and in hope to haue
That left of death, which loue desires to saue:
A horrid thing to tell, to saue his owne,
Steales other’s children for to feed vpon.

44.

When leane-fac’d famine, who with furious thirst
Coasting the countrie, through the land had run,
Began to breath as hauing done their worst,
That other furie pastilence begun
To finish that, which they had left vndone,
Who 'boue our heads in the infected aire,
Her poysned shafts for battaile did prepare.

45.

Her angrie arrowes euery way do flie,
Thousands on either hand in death do fall:
But happie they in blessed peace to die,
Not left with vs to liue, when death did call,
To see blood-thirstie warre the worst of all:
That vniuersall flood of woes powre downe
In seas of blood, this wretched land to drowne.

46.

In midst of these extreames with griefe cast downe,
The measure of our miserie to fill,
My stubborne peers take armes, and proudly frowne,
Threatning in rage that little left to spill,
If basely I submit not to their will:
And exile those, whom they themselues did place
In stead of _Gaueston_ t’attend our grace.

47.

He that in bosome of a prince doth dwell,
And by endeuour seekes to gaine his grace,
Though for his seruice he deserue it well:
Yet as the deere pursu’d from place to place,
The enuious dog will haue him still in chase:
Danger in chiefest safetie it doth bring,
To seeme to be familiar with a king.

48.

_Spenser_, the man, on whom at first I frown’d,
Whom they preferr’d, my _Gaueston_ being dead,
Was he, whom they pretend to be the ground
Of all their griefe, gainst him they now made head,
He was of vs too highly fauoured:
Him must we banish, so they thinke it fit,
If on our throne in safetie we will sit.

49.

_William de Brewse_ in selling _Gower’s_ land
To yonger _Spenser_ from the other peeres,
Who would haue brought the same at _Brewse’s_ hand,
First blew the coles, whence now that flame appeares,
Which had been hid in anger many yeares:
This is the cause of their conceiued ire,
For this in armes gainst me they do conspire.

50.

Disloyall _Lancaster_, that did conduct
The rebels to the field, by letters sent
With termes vnfit his soueraigne will instruct,
Assigning daies, within whose termament,
I should reforme such things in gouernment,
Which he mislikes, thus adding to that fire,
Which did at length consume him in our ire.

51.

This fire yet burning in our royall brest,
The queene doth with complaint her wrongs prefer,
That in her progresse after long vnrest,
Our late false steward lord _Badelismere_,
Confederate with rebellious _Lancaster_,
Vnkindly had deni’d in my despight,
Her lodging in Leeds castle for a night.

52.

To make our furie in reuenge more strong,
Letters from Scotland intercepted were,
Which touch vs neerer then all former wrong,
In number six: the one of which did beare
The armes of _Dowglas_, sent to _Lancaster_,
In which the _Dowglas_ to conceale his name,
Vnto king _Arthur_ doth direct the same.

53.

Prouokt to vengeance for such treacherous spight,
From London with our royall powres we past,
Whose stomackes fill’d with furie for the fight,
I vrged forward with the vtmost hast,
To lay the manours and the lordships wast
Of our proud barons, promising for pray
All that was theirs, that came within their way.

54.

Newes of th’vnnaturall deeds which they enact
Vpon the loyall people of our land,
Hasten vs forward with such speed exact,
That ere the _Mortimers_, who both did band
Themselues with _Lancaster_, did vnderstand
Of our approch our royall armed traine,
At Shrewsburie did front them on the plaine.

55.

Far from confederates amaz’d with wonder,
At our approch, both daunted to behold
Our frownes of lightning, and our threats of thunder,
Hang downe their heads, scarce daring be so bold
As looke on vs, their fainting hearts wax cold,
And on their knees they fall, in hope to stay
Our angrie doome, that threatned their decay.

56.

Yeelding to fate by force of destinie,
Whose foreappointing prouidence hath power
In euery thing t’enforce necessitie,
We grant them life, reseruing in the tower
That _Mortimer_ at London for that hower,
In which by destiny it was set downe,
That that false lord should ruine my renowne.

57.

Marching more northward from the Cambrian coast,
While vengefull breath the fire of furie fans,
After such good successe to bring our host
To Pomfret, which gainst vs our barons mans:
At last we lite like flockes of snow-white swans
Fast by the weeping Eye, which runneth downe
Into the Trent by little Caldwel’s towne.

58.

There first did Needwood’s echoing forrest tell
The stubborne barons of our whole intent,
There first they seeke our forces to repell,
When with their powers our passage to preuent,
Intended ore the bosome of the Trent,
They interrupt our purpose with proud braues,
On Burton bridge ore fishie Trent’s blacke waues.

59.

The riuer’s watrie wombe did proudly swell,
As if it had turn’d rebell with the foes,
Or as if louing either armie well,
It would preuent poore England of the woes
Which must ensue, if both parts came to bloes:
Her waters rose beyond their wonted bounds,
And for three daies deferr’d vnnaturall wounds.

60.

Aquarius with the foot-bands manly fought
Gainst those, that on the bridge at Burton stood,
While with our troopes vnseene we cast about
Vnder the couert of a leauie wood,
Distant three miles from thence, where ore the flood
Th’whole host did passe by shallowes lately found,
To meete the barons vpon equall ground.

61.

The deadly drum doth tell the foes from far
The fatall march of their approching king:
Who seeing their weaknesse to sustaine the war
Gainst such a powre, which with vs we do bring,
They turne their backes, swift feare their feet doth wing:
Yet stubborne men still to prouoke our ire,
Before they flie, they set the towne on fire.

62.

Horrour pursues them euery way they flie,
Repentance comes too late to calme our frowne,
All former wrongs afresh for vengeance crie,
They, that did whilome wish them all renowne,
By aduerse fortune being thus cast downe,
Lift vp their hands, yet lower to suppresse them,
All friends turne foes in pursuite to distresse them.

63.

At Burrough bridge, in their vnluckie flight,
Where for th’encounter death did readie stand,
They were enforc’d in most vnequall fight,
For loued life to vse defensiue hand
Against the stubborne bands of Cumberland:
Led by stout _Herckley_, who with bold assay
Of his drawne sword began a bloodie day.

64.

In mutuall slaughter, both the hosts do stand,
Earth trembling shakes beneath their trampling feet,
The singing shafts thicke loos’d on euery hand,
Flie to and fro, then hand to hand they meet,
And wound for wound each doth the other greet,
While ouer head the heau’n’s remorsefull stood
Dropping downe teares to see their sides drop blood.

65.

Valiant _Bohume_, Herford’s vndanted lord,
That stood in fight by foes besieged round,
His heart not female made to flie as skar’d,
Neuer gaue backe, but brauely kept his ground,
Till life gaue backe from that same deadly wound,
Giu’n by a stout Welch Britaine, that did stand
Beneath the bridge with fatall speare in hand.

66.

This lucklesse chance so terrifi’d the foe,
And gaue such strength vnto the northerne bands,
That th’aduerse part their backes began to show,
_Clifford_, though wounded with a shaft, yet stands
With _Lancaster_ in fight, till on all hands,
Opprest with multitude, themselues they yeeld,
To conquering _Herckley_ victour of the field.

67.

Thus hautie _Lancaster_, that did not feare
To tempt his soueraigne’s peace with periur’d hate,
Who in the morning was the mightiest peere
That ’gainst his prince did euer moue debate,
By night was made the meanest in the state:
In right or wrong, who euer lifts his hand
Against his prince, his cause doth seldome stand.

68.