Chapter VIII: Part IV: By RICHARD NICCOLS, (6)

Not he alone made forfeit of his head,
Who in this proud rebellion led the ring,
The fatall axe strooke many others dead,
Hewing downe all, that had conspir’d to bring
Their powers for fight against their lawfull king:
Twice eight great barons and as many knights
In death paid paines for wrong t’our kingly rites.

69.

O age infortunate, when subiects pride
Did force their soueraigne to such deeds of woe,
That when all men had laid remorse aside,
The sunne in heau’n his griefe in shame to show
Six houres with blood-red cheeks on th’earth below,
Did blush to see her soile drinke vp their blood,
Who liuing oft in her defence had stood.

70.

Imprudent prince, since rage did lift thy hand
To lop the pillers of thy kingdome downe,
On whose supportfull powers thy state should stand:
Looke for a ruthlesse ruine of thy crowne,
Looke helplesse now in wretchednesse to drowne:
The dance vnto destruction they haue led,
And the same feeting I the king must tread.

71.

When th’hand of Ioue the mightie men shall take
From any state, for their rebellious pride,
By such foresigne this vse we well may make,
Some after-storme of vengeance will betide
That haplesse land, who euer it doth guide:
The sad effusion of the noble blood,
Portends confusion to the common good.

72.

With dolefull pen I could bewaile their woe,
Whose wofull wants did after proue me weake:
But far more horrid things we are to show,
To those blacke deeds, of which we now must speake:
They before spoken did that ice but breake,
At which we falling in did helplesse drowne,
Once fallen, all do helpe to keepe vs downe.

73.

Not _Herkleye’s_ treason plotted in that truce,
Which for aduancement, most ambitious man,
He did intend t’our aduersarie _Brewce_:
Nor the new troubles, which _Valoys_ began
In our dominions Guien and Aquitaine,
Shall be the subiect of our sadder verse:
Matter of more importance we rehearse.

74.

O _Isabel_ my queene, my vnkind queene,
Thy shame must be the subiect of our song,
Had not the weaknesse of thy faith been seene,
When faithlesse thou wast led to do that wrong
To him that liu’d in loue with thee so long:
That royall blood in Berklie castle spilt,
Had now not stain’d our storie with thy guilt.

75.

The scene of lust foreruns the act of blood,
Priapus doth his lustfull breath inspire
Into the queene, the ocean’s wauie flood
Cannot extinguish fancie’s burning fire,
Nor coole the scalding thirst of her desire:
With heate of lust her inward heart doth gloe,
T’imprisoned _Mortimer_ my mortall foe.

76.

Heere let not any take offensiue spleene,
Or taxe these rimes, for that to light they bring
Th’incontinence of our disloyall queene:
Nor thy muse grieue this argument to sing,
Which is confirmed by the wronged king:
Foule is the fault, though nere so quaint the skill,
That conceales truth to lessen any ill.

77.

_Wigmore’s_ false _Mortimer_, (whose fatall name
Vniuocall to him of all his line:
Whether from feare of death we fetch the same,
Or of the dead seas sinke we it define,
The deeds of death t’ensue doth well diuine)
Reserued was by fate within the tower,
With time to turne the glasse of my last houre.

78.

On him the queene by loose affection led
Did cast her fancie, burning in the flame
Of priuie lust, which strong desier fed:
And wanting her delight in wanton game,
To coole her lust-burnt blood with dregs of shame,
Did cast about how she might him release,
That he might giue her loue-sicke passions ease.

79.

It is not bands, nor walles, nor thousands spies
That can the woman’s wicked will preuent:
Let loue intreate, set shame before her eies,
Let plighted faith, first virgin vow’d consent,
And the wombe’s fruit that giues loue most content,
Perswade with her: yet can they neuer stay
Her wanton will, if she will go astray.

80.

By sleepie potion of effectuall power
To charme the sense, whether by her conuey’d,
Or by himselfe deuised in the tower,
_Segraue_ the constable was captiue made,
With many more to senselesse sleepe betray’d:
While _Mortimer_, vnthought vpon, escapes
And vnto France his prosperous iourney shapes.

81.

Thus far did fortune with my queene conspire,
And after this good hap to giue full ease
Vnto the longing thirst of her desire,
Tels her how France inuades beyond the seas,
Which vp in armes she needs must go t’appease:
When resolution hath prepar’d the will,
It wants no helpes to further any ill.

82.

Through our neglect of homage to be made,
Constrain’d thereto by our home-bred debate,
_Valoys_ her brother did our lands inuade,
And through late wounds made in our mangled state,
In armes vnable to withstand his hate:
To treate with him of peace our queene we sent,
In her vow’d faith being too too confident.

83.

O powre diuine, what mortall wight hath wings
To soare the height of thy vnknowne decree?
Reason, that hath such power in search of things,
Proues then most blind, when most it seemes to see,
In vainly arguing of what must bee:
When reason bids no danger to suspect,
Time hastens swift confusion in effect.

84.

The queene effecting that, for which she went,
With these conditions reunites the peace,
That to such couenants I should consent,
Aniou and Aquitaine I should release
Vnto my sonne, my title should surcease:
And he to France as in times past 't had bin,
Should do his homage for his right therein.

85.

Pleas’d in this peace, my selfe, or my yong sonne
Inioyn’d in person to confirme these things,
The _Spencers_ both being into hatred run,
Not daring be from vnder my safe wings,
So absolute we thinke the power of kings,
Perswade me heere to stay and send my sonne,
In hope thereby, what they did feare, to shun.

86.

Thus all hands helping, _Isabel_ againe
To forward that which she on foot had set,
I hauing past my title t’Aquitaine
Vnto the prince my sonne, she sees no let,
But that more easly she the rest may get:
So large a share cut from vs by her skill,
She hopes to haue the whole or want her will.

87.

Hauing obtain’d in France what we require,
She call’d vpon to make returne with speed,
Protracts the time, and feasting her desire
So long with _Mortimer_, that she doth need
Excuse to warrant her presumptuous deed:
Giues flat deniall to her lord’s command,
Not to returne except with force of hand.

88.

Many, that wau’ring wish’d a change in state,
And more, that on reuenge so long had fed
For losse of friends, that fell in that debate
Betwixt vs and our barons, daily fled
Vnto the queene, whose heart being stricken dead,
As wanting strength to manage her affaire,
They do reuiue with powre by their repaire.

89.

While in the French court, yet vnfrown’d vpon
By _Charles_ her brother king, she did abide,
Our Exceter’s true bishop _Stapleton_,
Ioyn’d in commission with her to decide
The iar ’twixt vs and France, now seeing her pride
Burst out in plaine reuolt, returning ouer
The seas from her, did all her drifts discouer.

90.

Thus their close treason bare and naked made,
As blushing at their open shame descride,
To cloake the cause of their intent t’inuade,
They vow no more to brooke the _Spencers_ pride,
Nor shall the queene vniustly be denide
The presence of the king, they all will die,
Or order things that stand in state awrie.

91.

King _Charles_ her brother, while they thus deuise,
Whether with our rich gifts or promise won,
Or with respect to his owne royalties,
Or that he would not be a looker on,
While vnto maiestie such wrong was done:
First wooes our queene for peace, whom wilfull bent,
He exiles France to frustrate her intent.

92.

Who now would thinke that she should euer find
A hopefull helpe her weaknesse to repaire?
Bewitching beautie, O how dost thou blind
The eyes of man! thy soule is deemed faire,
Thy euill good, thy vice a vertue rare:
In thy distresse although thy cause be wrong,
Thou mou’st remorse and mak’st thy partie strong.

93.

Those yonger bloods, _Arthois_ and _Beaumont_,
Without respect vnto her cause’s right,
Those certaine helpes to her do oft recount
In Heinault to be found, if she excite
The earle thereof to pitie her sad plight:
Which by a match pretended might be done,
Betwixt his daughter and the prince our sonne.

94.

As they gaue counsell, so it came to passe,
She t’Heinault goes with _Beaumont_ for her guide,
And with kind welcome entertained was:
Where while _Heinault_ and she with ioy prouide
To make his daughter our yong _Edward’s_ bride,
To England lets turne backe, and see at home
How we prepare against the storme to come.

95.

To stand vpon our guard against such harme,
And backe our cause against inuading ill,
All castles and strong holds with men we arme,
The coasts are kept, beacons on euery hill
Are set for spies: O had the ioynt good will
Of subiects loue with me their soueraigne bin,
Th’inuading foes had found hard entrance in.

96.

In vaine, O wretched king, thy hopes haue trust
On broken faithes of subiects daily fleeting:
Thy lot is cast, from throne thou shalt be thrust,
Thy foes shall of thy subiects at their meeting,
In stead of blowes, be welcom’d with kind greeting:
Thou only seek’st to keepe out th’vnkind queene,
While heere at home worse dangers are vnseene.

97.

Whilst now my state begins for to decline,
In whom, alas, should I my trust repose?
My brother _Kent_ then resident in Guine
For some displeasure done to him by those
'Bout vs at home, reuolts vnto our foes:
O faithlesse _Kent_, thou art the first shalt rue,
That euer thou to _Edward_ wast vntrue.

98.

Treason transports, what traytors looke for heere,
The queen’s stout champion _Iohn_ of _Beaumont_ comes
With his proud troopes, three thousand men well neere,
Promis’d rich pay in ransacke of our summes,
Who now aboord with trumpets and with drummes,
Vrg’d by the hastie queene to launch the deepe
With winde-wing’d sailes the seas soft bosome sweepe.

99.

O let the windes their forward course restraine,
Wing not such mischiefe to our natiue shore,
Let the proud billowes beate them backe againe:
Or if they needs must come, let the seas rore,
Hurle them on rockes that they may neuer more
Be seene in England in pretence of good,
To bathe their hands in _Edward’s_ royall blood.

100.

Orwell thy hauen first did let them in,
Harwich with bels did welcome in their fleet:
No sooner did our _Isabel_ begin
To presse the sandie shore with wanton feet,
But our earle marshall with his powres did greet
Her safe arriue, whose part, false peere, had bin
To haue oppos’d her at her entrance in.

101.

The brother to that lord that lost his head,
_Leister’s_ great earle did now lift vp his hand,
As in reuenge of _Lancaster_ late dead,
T’whom many a peere linckt in rebellious band
Of grudges past, in the queene’s cause doth stand:
And lest they grieue in conscience to betray
Their lawfull king, the church leads them the way.

102.

Herford’s proud prelate, _Torleton_, who before
Conuicted was for treason gainst his king,
When armes gainst vs our stubborne barons bore,
Shrowded till now beneath the churche’s wing,
Fled to the foes, and in his heart did bring
That horrid treason hatcht before in hell,
Cause of all after mischiefe that befell.

103.

The newes of this new innouation made,
And of the aliens lately set on land,
With terrour doth my fainting heart inuade:
All holds about vs readie open stand,
To yeeld possession ere the foes demand:
Whose first smal troope now made a mightie force,
Into the land they take their forward course.

104.

London denies to lend her sou’raigne aid,
To whom inforc’d at length to bid adew,
As doubting there to foes to be betrai’d,
With both the _Spencers_ vnto Wales I flew,
There by some powre my hopes yet to renue,
Hoping amongst the Welch more faith to find,
T’whom from my youth I had been euer kind.

105.

But thus forsaken, whither shal I run?
Where shall I shadow me with safetie’s wing?
Since that a wife, a brother, and a sonne,
Pursues a husband, father and a king:
Pitie, adew, my wrong shall neuer wring
Remorse from others: Wales conspires my woe,
And with false England turnes vnto my foe.

106.

Pursu’d on euery hand, and forc’d to flie
My natiue soile to shun death’s dangerous dart,
My fortunes on the surging seas to trie
In a poore barke, from England we depart
To th’ile of Lunday with an heauie heart,
Whom from the maine land Seuerne doth diuide,
In which we hope in safetie to abide.

107.

But eu’n that little good doth seas denie,
With angrie looke the heau’ns behold the maine,
Gust after gust the winged winds do flie
Vpon the waues, who puft with proud disdaine,
Will vs deuoure or driue vs backe againe:
As if too much they thought that little land
For him that late had kingdomes at command.

108.

Remorselesse waues haue we a kingdome lost,
And yet our barke do ye denie to bring
To this small plot of ground two miles at most:
O woe to tell that once so great a king
Should stoope his minde vnto so small a thing,
Content to share the meanest part of many,
And yet deni’d to be possest of any.

109.

Long did we wrestle with the waues and winde,
But all in vaine we striue, for neuer more
Shall friendlesse _Edward_ any comfort find:
Our barke distrest, her tackle rent and tore,
At length arriues vpon Glamorgan shore,
Where _Spencer_, _Baldocke_, _Reding_, markt for death,
Go all with me t’a castle called Neath.

110.

With vaine suppose of safetie in that hold,
While there in secret we our selues repose
To the lords _Zouch_ and _Leister_ we are sold,
Who by rich gifts often corrupting those
That our vnknowne abode could best disclose,
With violent hands do sease their wished pray,
And beare vs thence each one a seuerall way.

111.

_Leister_, thy king is now thy captiue made,
Reuenge is in thy hand, where is thy spleene?
Though vnto thee thy soueraigne was betrai’d:
This be thy praise, thou wouldst not with our queene
In _Edward’s_ wrongs be any deeper seene:
While in thy Killingworth thy king remaines,
Nought doth he want that to a king pertaines.

112.

With a strong guard from starting there kept sure,
Our friends meane time being seas’d on by the foe,
Both _Spencers_, _Reading_, _Daniel_, _Milcheldeure_,
In death do happily shut vp their woe,
As pointing out the way that we must go:
_Baldocke_ in prison by a milder fate,
Struck dead with grief preuents their deadly hate.

113.

They, that vnto the king induc’d by reason
Did loyall proue, were traytors to the state:
O impious age, when truth was counted treason,
Heere noble _Arundell_ I waile thy fate,
Whose blood drunke vp by _Mortimer’s_ sterne hate,
Did manifest the spleene, on which he fed
Against his king, for whom thy blood was shed.

114.

Since they by death t’offence haue paid their due,
Who late alone in your displeasure stood,
Whom should your deadly hatred now pursue?
If they were only foes to common good,
That made you satisfaction with their blood:
Why is your liege lord as a common foe
Reseru’d a captiue prince for worser woe?

115.

Bloodie reuenge your hatred cannot bound,
So wilfully to greater mischiefe bent,
The poore imprison’d king must be vncrown’d,
At London by the states in parlament,
It is decreed by mutuall consent:
_Edward_ must be depos’d from royall throne,
Where he had sate now twice ten yeares and one.

116.

O righteous heau’ns, if ye haue powre t’oppose
Fraile man’s vnrighteous thoughts in euery thing:
Then suffer not, ah suffer not my foes
Thus to go on, that are about to bring
Such wofull tidings to a wretched king:
In thrall though I abide, this grace yet giue,
That I at least a captiue king may liue.

117.

Strengthned by will, though not by force of lawes,
To Killingworth th’appointed states are come,
Where, as in censure of some weightie cause,
Twentie and foure agreed vpon their doome,
In order sit within a goodly roome,
And thither do their king to iudgement call,
Who should haue sate chiefe iudge aboue them all.

118.

From secret closet, though, alas, full loath,
Forth am I brought in mourning weeds, that show
His griefe of mind, whose bodie they do cloath:
And when I would conceale my inward woe,
With head declining downe as I do go,
The griefe I would not see, I see in teares,
Which fallen from mine eies the pauement beares.

119.

In presence being come and silence made,
_Torleton_, whose lookes did wound me with despaire,
A man in tongue most powerfull to perswade,
Stands vp, and as design’d for this affaire,
Doth in few words effectually declare
The common people’s will, the peeres consent
That I thenceforth resigne my gouernment.

120.

O heere, what tongue can vnto vtterance bring
The inward griefe, which my poore heart did wound?
So far it past all sense in sorrowing,
Passion so powrefully doth sense confound,
That in a swoune I falling on the ground,
Faine would haue di’d, but _Leister_ standing by
Steps in, and doth that happinesse deny.

121.

Recall’d from death by those that stood about,
When breath through grieued brest found passage free,
In these sad words my woes I breathed out:
“O powrefull God, since ’tis thy will that wee
Do leaue our crowne, I grudge not thy decree:
Thou art most iust in all, thou gau’st a crowne,
But ah, mine owne misdeeds haue cast me downe.

122.

To you I yeeld what wrong doth wrest from me,
Since with one voice ye say it must be so,
And beg this mercie in my miserie:
That since your hate hath brought me to this woe,
It heere may end, no further let it goe:
He whom once king your hate could not forgiue,
Will be no king so he haue leaue to liue.”

123.

Heere teares did choake the end of my sad words,
And while my state in silence I deplore,
_Trussell_ in name of all the English lords
Renouncing th’homage due to me before,
Depriues me of the same for euermore:
Leauing his liege that was of most command,
The most deiected subiect of this land.

124.

_Blunt_, steward of our house in th’open hall,
Protracts no time by any long delay,
But breaking of his rod before them all,
Resignes his office, all depart away,
Many that would in loue, yet dare not stay:
This was my fate, thus did false fortune frowne,
Ah God, that euer king was so cast downe!

125.

Yet fortune hath not spent her vtmost hate,
With patience we must arme our selues more strong,
Scarce will fraile eares belieue what we relate,
When now thy muse shall tune her mournefull song,
To sadder times that she may waile that wrong,
To which with griefe for guide we now proceed,
Whose woes wil make the hardiest heart to bleed.

126.

Our iealous queen, whom conscience doth torment,
Fearing lest _Leicester_ so neare alli’d,
In pitie of our state should now relent,
Tels _Torleton_ of her doubts what might betide,
If in his keeping we do still abide,
Who fearing vengeance for his owne offence,
Giues her his counsell to remoue me thence.

127.

_Leister_ constrained by expresse command,
To the lord _Berkley_ doth his charge restore,
Whence he conueies me with an armed band
Vnto his castle seated neare the shore,
Gainst which great Seuerne’s raging waues do rore:
But _Berkley_, thou with _Leister_ art too kind,
_Edward_ with thee doth too much fauour find.

128.

Oh gentle _Berkly_, whither wilt thou go?
Why dost not stand by thy sad sou’raigne’s side?
For pitie leaue him not vnto such woe,
Which _Gourney_ and _Matreuers_ do prouide,
Such woe did neuer any king betide:
But with command they come, thou must depart,
And leaue thy king, although with heauie heart.

129.

To _Gourney_ and _Matreuers_ by decree
In his owne castle he resignes his right:
Who lest that any friend should priuie bee
To my abode, do beare me thence by night
Vnto Corfe castle, whence with more despight
Through darknesse and blind waies in poore array,
To Bristow castle they do me conuey.

130.

By night conuey’d thus rudely to and fro,
Lest by my friends from them I rescu’d bee,
At last since none, whom they do feare, do know
Where I am now become, they do agree
To Berkley backe againe to go with mee,
Staying a time, till night with dewie dampe
Should choake daie’s light and put out Phœbus lampe.

131.

Then do they set me on a beast foreworne
In stead of stately steed, whereon to ride,
And for no crowne I had my head t’adorne,
Bare I do sit, except the heau’n to hide
My woefull head all couering they denide,
While sharp winds in my face the weather blowes,
And with their nipping cold augments my woes.

132.

When out of east the day began to peepe,
Who, as if she my ruefull case did mone,
Vpon my head her dewie droppes did weepe,
The right hand way they left, and iourn’ing on,
Where Seuerne’s siluer waues doth play vpon
The marish greene, they forced me to light,
There to haue slaine my heart with sad despight

133.

In stead of royall chaire, they set me downe
On a mole-hill (was neuer king so vsde)
And _Gourney_, wretched man, in stead of crowne
With wreath of grasse my royall browes abusde,
Patience perforce it might not be refusde:
Then while in wretched case my hands I wring,
In scorne the villaines bid auaunt sir king.

134.

While thus I sit all carefull comfortlesse,
With pitious lookes cast vp in wofull wise,
Calling the heau’ns to witnesse my distresse,
In stead of teares, the starres like weeping eies
Drop downe their exhalations from the skies:
And Tithon’s bride new rising from her bed,
Beholds their leaudnesse with a blushing red.

135.

Yet to my plaints no pitie they do yeeld:
But bent to adde more griefe to my disgrace,
In rustie murren with foule water fill’d,
A villaine comes with hands vncleane and base,
To shaue the heare both from my head and face:
Who, when warme water I desire to haue,
Replies, that cold will serue his turne to shaue.

136.

With eyes full burthned with a showre of teares,
“Do ye,” quoth I, “now helpe me with your might
To waile the sorrowes, which my sad soule beares,
Open your floud-gates wide, and in their sight
Let vs haue water warme in their despight:”
This said, the teares did downe my cheekes distill,
As if they stroue t’effect my wofull will.

137.

Hence in this plight to Berkley am I brought,
Where bidding comfort euermore farewell:
And feeding long on care and pensiue thought,
At length I am shut vp in darksome cell,
There to the senselesse walles my griefe to tell,
Deni’d the comfort of heau’n’s common light,
Bound while I liue to liue in endlesse night.

138.

My sterne tormentors moued with remorse,
Wish death to end my miserable care:
Yet nature will not violently force
Way to a lingring death, they do prepare
By cold, long watching, fast and euill fare:
But, I euen made insensible in woes,
Suffer with patience all they can impose.

139.

In hollow vault, through which the channell past
From forth the towne beneath my chamber flore,
Dead carcasses and loathed things they cast,
Whose grieuous stinch did grieue my senses more
Then all the griefe that I endur’d before:
And forc’d me search the walles for open place,
To some without to waile my woefull case.

140.

Vpon a time I through a crannie spi’d
Men hewing timber on the greene fast by,
To whom with drearie deadly voice I cri’d,
“O who will helpe me wretch, that heere do lie
In torment worse then death, yet cannot die?
If any there do mourne man’s wretched case,
Helpe me, ah help me from this loathed place.”

141.

The poore men’s hearts are pierc’d with point of woe,
And trembling horror doth their hearts appall
For ruth of wronged king cast downe so low,
Vnable t’helpe me, vnto God they call,
That he may yeeld reliefe to wofull thrall:
Who giuing eare to mine and their request,
At length in death doth giue my sorrowes rest.

142.

Mischiefe from those that guiltie of offence
Did wish my death in letters sent doth bring
A darke enigma bearing double sense,
Which is vnpointed left a doubtfull thing,
Either to kill or not to kill the king,
As in such tearmes “king _Edward’s_ blood to spill
Refuse ye not to feare I count it ill.”

143.

The bloodie villaines construing the same
Vnto that sense, for which it then was sent,
Watch for the night, whose cloudie cloake of shame
With darknesse should conceale their damn’d intent,
Day did abhor the thing 'bout which they went,
And fled away, grim night on th’earth did frowne,
And I in carefull bed had laid me downe.

144.

Where for musitian that with sweetest breath,
Had wont to lull my watchfull sense asleepe:
The ghastly owle, the fatall bird of death,
That on my chamber walles her inne did keepe
In my poore trembling heart impressed deepe
The feare of death with her too deadly note,
Which oft she shriked through her balefull throte.

145.

The murmuring noise of the rude waters rore
Which not far thence into the seas do fall,
Where Seuerne’s billowes do beat vpon the shore,
And bellowing winds which iustling gainst the wall
Like death’s shrill whistlers at the cranies call,
Through darknesse and deepe silence of the night,
Our troubled heart with horror doth affright.

146.

On fearefull things long musing I do lie,
At last with sleepe opprest, in slumber cast,
Vpflew the doores and in the murderers flie,
At which awakt, and suddenly agast,
As from my naked bed I thought t’haue past,
They with rude hands do hold me downe by force,
While with vaine words I seeke to moue remorse.

147.

“Ye deadly instruments of other’s ill,
Grant one request, which dying I do craue:
Since ye be bent this royall blood to spill,
Send me not hence with torture to the graue:
’Tis life ye seeke, the only thing I haue:
Which yet shall vade on wings of willing breath,
Since better tis to die then liue in death.”

148.

By this they with maine strength do me compell,
Strengthlesse for breath to yeeld to their intent:
And then, O horrid, shamefull thing to tell,
By force they thrust an hollow instrument
Much like a trumpe into my fundament,
By which they do preuent the mone I make
By sudden death, as thus to them I spake.

149.

“Ah why, why thus torment ye me with smart?
Leaue off to grieue:” not one word more I said,
They had by this time thrust me to the hart
With steele red hot: to sleepe me downe I laid,
And with the pray’rs which godly folke had made,
When from the castle they did heare my cries,
My soule on mercie’s wings did clime the skies.

150.

Thus hauing heard my lamentable fall
Procur’d by stubborne peeres disloyaltie,
And people’s wilfull hate, the spring of all
First flowing from deceitfull flatterie,
That deadly bane t’all princely royaltie:
Amongst the rest in place with painfull pen
Insert it for a Mirrour vnto men.

THE LAMENTABLE

_Lives and Deaths of the two yong_

Princes, Edward, the Fifth, and

_his Brother Richard Duke of_

Yorke.

THE ARGUMENT.

“Th’afflictions, which this wronged king did beare,
He dead,” said Memorie, “reuenged were:
Like Vulcan’s bride, at Nottingham, his queene
In th’armes of Mars-like _Mortimer_ was seene:
He for such deeds, as all true honor staines,
By ignominious death did pay iust paines:
By righteous doome till death she liu’d in thrall,
Within the circuit of a castle’s wall:
Her first-borne sonne, the second _Edward’s_ heire,
(She being to French king _Philip_ call’d the faire,
Left liuing of his line) by her made claime
Vnto his right in France, and gain’d the same:
He dead, the second _Richard_, second sonne
To his first-borne, his fatall raigne begonne:
_Richard_ depos’d, _Henrie_ ascends the throne,
Heire to duke _Iohn_, king _Edward’s_ fourth borne sonne,
He disposest lord _Roger Mortimer_,
In _Richard_ daies proclaim’d apparant heire,
Who had duke _Lionel’s_ daughter for his mother,
_Edward’s_ third sonne, to _Iohn_ the elder brother:
Yet did this _Henrie_ after much vnrest
Die in the throne of England’s crowne possest:
And to his _Henrie_ did bequeath the same,
The fifth and most illustrate of that name:
Who in those few yeares of his happie raigne
Did the French crowne to England’s right regaine:
Di’d in his manly prime, left his yong sonne
_Henrie_ the sixth to sit vpon the throne:
Gainst whom _Plantagenet_, Yorke’s noble duke
Stood for his right, who his iust title tooke
From _Lionel_, fourth by descent from him:
Yet in his quarrell lost both life and lim:
His sonnes reueng’d his death, put _Henrie_ downe,
_Edward_ his eldest did obtaine the crowne:
In peace retain’d it, left it to his heires,
Who are the next, that in their turne appeares:
For they except, heere none exempted be,
Since the sad second _Edward’s_ tragedie:
Two noble youths are left in yongest yeares
Vnto the guidance of the iarring peeres,
_Edward_ the eldest comes from Ludlowe’s towne
To London, with intent to take the crowne,
His vncle _Riuers_, _Vaughan_ and lord _Grey_
By _Gloster’s_ plots, who sought their liues decay,
From him remoued are, yong Yorke his brother
Doth flie to sanctuarie with his mother:
Whom _Richard_ his false vncle thence doth bring
Into the tower vnto the vncrown’d king:
Vsurps the crowne, puts both the youths to death,
Who twixt the sheets betrai’d, expire their breath:
The truth of which that we may heere partake,
Their princely ghosts let fame from sleepe awake.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

At fame’s first call the princes both ascend,
And both by turne do tell their tragicke end.

_Richard._

What wit so sharpe is found in age or youth,
That can distinguish trust from treacherie?
Falsehood puts on the face of simple truth,
And maskes in th’habit of plaine honestie,
When she in heart intends most villanie:
The panther with sweet sauour of her breath
First charmes their sense, whom she hath markt for death.

2.

Of which that future time may mirrours haue
By the fourth _Edward’s_ murdered progenie,
Vp (brother) vp and let vs leaue our graue
In this night’s vision call’d by Memorie,
To tell the truth of our sad tragedie,
That princes happily by vs may learne
Trust from false treason truly to discerne.

3.

And thou, O mournefull muse, that didst of yore
Th’iniurious wrongs of many a prince complaine,
Helpe two deposed princes to deplore
The wretched fortunes which they did sustaine:
Matter thou hast that fits a ruthfull straine,
How _Richard’s_ treason twixt the sheets did smother
The infant orphants of his kingly brother.

4.

That we may keepe decorum in discourse,
And into order may digest it well,
Let vs alternally succeed in course:
And that we turne by turne may truly tell
Of euery circumstance, as it befell,
(Brother) do you begin to mind to call
Our vncle’s treason and our tragicke fall.

_Edward._

Must I begin those bloodie pathes to goe,
In which the prints of _Gloster’s_ steps remaine?
Draw neere then all, that list to heare of woe,
And while our restlesse wrongs I do complaine,
If you lament our losse of life and raigne,
Your sighes soft breathed in still plaints of pitie,
Be the sad musike to our dolefull dittie.

6.

The sonnes we are of that renowned lord
_Edward_ the fourth, who did the right restore
To _Yorke_ againe with his victorious sword:
Which _Lancaster_ in three descents that wore,
The royall crowne had kept from vs before,
Ending those iarres, which _Gaunt’s_ ambitious son
With royall _Richard’s_ blood had first begun.

7.

Three brothers had he, whom by fate’s sterne will,
Remorselesse death vntimely did deuoure,
_Rutland’s_ yong earle, whom _Clifford’s_ sword did kill,
_Clarence_, that duke, who in the fatall tower
In Malmsey But did meet his liue’s last houre:
_Richard_ the yongest, who was stain’d with guilt
Of _Clarence_ blood and ours, both which he spilt.

8.

O that desire of rule so much should blind
The eyes of men, or that to gaine a crowne,
The godlike part of man, th’immortall mind
Of wrathfull heau’n should dare t’incurre the frowne,
And cast it selfe from glorie headlong downe!
O foule ambition, had thy guilt not stain’d
This tyrant’s deeds, what glorie had he gain’d?

9.

For though he from his mother’s painfull throwes,
Mark’t for a plague into the world was brought;
Yet with his sword gainst our Lancastrian foes
In many bloodie broiles he manly fought:
And by his courage high achieuements wrought,
Great _Warwicke_, _Oxford_, _Clifford_, and the rest,
Did finde a valiant heart in _Richard’s_ brest.

10.

But where are now those deedes, or who can say
That they with praise doe glorifie his name?
How can he euer hope to wipe away
Those spots of blood vpon the face of fame,
Making his deeds to blush at his owne shame?
What deedes of fame he did are not his owne,
His euill deeds remaine to him alone.

11.

With their shed blood thy lines I will not staine,
Whom wrackt by troops to graue his hand did send,
To him in his succeeding tragicke straine,
The sad report thereof I doe commend:
Enough it is to tell of our owne end,
To which I will proceede, first setting downe
The plots our vncle vs’d t’obtaine the crowne.

12.

When on the throne my kingly father sat,
All noise of warre new husht, euen in the greene
Of peace late growne discord did set debate
Betweene the kindred of our mother queene,
And twixt the peeres, who with malignant spleene,
Did swell to see them fauor’d of the king,
From whence our future ruine first did spring.

13.

On this, as on a platforme firme and sure,
_Gloster_ did build his hopes for future daies:
Yet England’s _Edward_ hoping to procure
Peace twixt both parts, did seeke by oft assaies
T’appease the strife, which priuie hate did raise:
And at his death did cause them each to other
To giue their faith, as brother vnto brother.

14.

The king scarse dead, from London swift report
With mischiefe at her heeles, or’e hedge and heath
To Ludlowe came, where then we kept our court,
And there with pallid lookes, halfe out of breath,
She tels the tidings of our father’s death,
Bidding me now beware vnhappie fate,
And looke about in this new change of state.

15.

Though time with so few yeeres my youth had crown’d,
That yet scarse fourteene times the heauenly Ram
Had push’t his hornes against the new yeare’s bound,
Since first into the world to light I came:
Yet of my father’s death, when lucklesse fame
Had rung the dolefull knell: then did I know
The danger which I was to vndergoe.

16.

Nurst from my cradle in true discipline,
In my weake childhood I had scand this theame,
That if th’ambitious with cleere sighted eyne
Could but discerne what fortune gaue to them,
When they had gain’d a kingdome’s diadem,
They would account that day their blisse to ende,
In which their steps the throne did first ascend.

17.

Our vncle _Riuers_, who my gardian was,
With vs at Ludlowe, then being resident,
Did muster vp his powers with vs to passe
To London by short iournies, with intent
All danger in our passage to preuent:
But _Gloster_ did intrappe both him and me,
And by his plots did frustrate his decree.

18.

By wicked wits, the queene he doth perswade,
To thinke that since by her deceased king,
Betwixt the peeres a vnion had beene made,
With such a power, it were a dangerous thing,
The prince her sonne, to London vp to bring:
Distrust might soone disturbe the quiet state,
And giue new life to the old dead debate.

19.

Blinded with this deceit, our carefull mother
Directs her letters, bearing such effect
Vnto our vncle _Riuers_, her deare brother,
Who doubting lest his foes might ought obiect
T’haue gone amisse, while he did vs protect,
Dismist his powers, and only did retaine
Those, that before were of our daily traine.

20.

All readie now to hoise vp happie saile,
For London we our fatall course do stere,
Our hopes do promise vs a prosperous gale:
But once set forth, clouds thicken in the cleare,
A storme before vs plainly doth appeare,
And with a gust in gulfe of woe cast downe,
Vnhappie I made shipwracke of my crowne.

21.

At Stonie-Stratford, being vpon my way,
The bloodie bore, my vncle, that did aime
At England’s diadem by our decay,
With that false duke, disloyall _Buckingham_,
With show of humble loue in presence came:
But after tender of their duties done,
To put their plot in practise they begun.

22.

They falsely did accuse of treacherie
My two halfe brothers by our mother’s side,
Lord _Marquesse_ and lord _Grey_, then standing by,
Objecting gainst them both, that prickt with pride
They sought the realme and me, yet yong, to guide;
And with our vncle _Riuers_, thought to bring
The noble peeres in hatred with the king.

23.

Without respect vnto our princely state,
With violent hands they beare them both away,
Too weake were we of power t’auert that fate,
Which in our sight did threaten their decay,
Our words were weaker, _Gloster_ bore the sway:
_Riuers_ my vncle, _Vaughan_, _Grey_, all three,
After that time I neuer more did see.

24.

Rob’d of my friends, to London we are led,
Vpon the way mourning with sighes and teares,
The wretched fate to fall vpon my head,
Griefe with a multitude of pensiue feares
Sits heauie on my heart: yet in my eares
_Gloster_ to please me, sings this syren’s song,
“All should be well:” when nought was ment but wrong.

25.

Conuey’d to London, where while I abide
Within the bishop’s place, I little knew
Of any tidings, that did then betide,
The tyrant, (brother _Yorke_) then aim’d at you
To hasten that, which after did ensue:
Then take your turne againe, and briefely tell,
What in my absence vnto you befell.

_Richard._

I shall obey, and truly bring to light
The darke dissembling, and the much vntroth
Of periur’d peeres, to rob vs of our right,
How our queene mother carefull of us both,
With me to holy sanctuarie goth,
And of our vncle’s plots to bring me thence,
Which was the only bar to his pretence.

27.

When fame with terrour vnto our queene mother,
Then dewing our dead father’s cheekes with teares,
Brought the surprise of her two sonnes and brother,
O how those tidings tingled in her eares!
Suspitious thoughts begat a thousand feares,
Forecasting by that vnexpected harme,
The greater mischiefe of a following storme.

28.

In this distraction of a doubtfull mind
In change of state, seeing such crosse fortune’s frowne,
And doubting in distressefull times to find,
Her friends turn’d foes to helpe to plucke vs downe,
And to bereaue vs of our father’s crowne:
With me to sanctuarie she did goe,
There to remaine in safetie from our foe.

29.

Of which, when tidings to the tyrant came,
As one depriued of his wished pray,
His wits best engines he begins to frame,
And if they faile, he doth resolue t’assay
With hands prophane to fetch me thence away:
While from his reach I there did safely won,
He could not finish what he had begun.

30.

Which our queene mother did presage before,
And thought by force of sanctuarie’s right,
Safely to shield vs from the cruell bore,
Who with his tuskes the elder durst not smite,
While I the yonger liu’d in such safe plight:
By death of th’one, the crowne how could he gaine,
If th’other after liuing did remaine?

31.

The subtill tyrant to effect his will,
This faire pretence vnto the peeres doth frame,
That for th’auoiding of a generall ill,
Since to the prince and them it was a shame,
That causelesse I should sanctuarie claime,
Vnto the place he thought it no offence,
If not by peace, by force to fetch me thence.

32.

Yet to obtaine our mother queene’s consent,
Vnto the place before he offer wrong,
The cardinall of Yorke for that intent,
A man graue, sober, subtill, wise, and strong,
To charme an eare with his inchanting tongue,
He doth select to further this affaire,
And to his vnknowne plots way to prepare.

33.

When he with many more in presence came,
He with faire speech begins to greet our mother:
Then tels, how to the prince it was a shame,
That she should keepe me there, as if one brother
Did liue in dread of danger by the other,
What griefe my absence was vnto the king,
What comfort by my presence I should bring.

34.

Proceeding on vnto the future ill,
Which might ensue by ouer much distrust,
The strengthning of her inconsiderate will,
With sanctuarie’s gift by claime vniust,
The priuiledge of the place by them discust,
Found not of force to her to yeeld the same,
Who did not truly want, what she did clame.

35.

The queene effectually doth answere all,
He turnes replie, she doth reioyne againe,
And puts such questions to the cardinall,
That at a _non plus_ set, he doth remaine
In silent pause, till chaft in tearmes more plaine,
He threatfully declares the peeres pretence,
Who had decreed by force to fetch me thence.

36.

With this hard speech, our mother in affright,
Round set with doubts, not knowing when or where,
She safely might conuey me from their sight:
In silence stands, her lookes bewrayes pale feare,
Which she would vtter, yet doth oft forbeare,
Till taking me by th’hand, sighes forcing teares,
And teares sad words, no longer she forbeares.

37.

“Behold,” said she, “I to your trust commit
This noble impe, whom with the prince his brother,
When in the generall iudgement God shall sit,
I at your hands will aske: feare with the mother,
What may betide him taken to another:
I make no doubt, but ye will faithfull be,
Yet others may deceiue both you and me.

38.

Heere I resigne:” and at that word she paus’d,
As loth so soone to part with such a thing:
Then with a sigh, to shew that griefe had caus’d
That silent pause, “to you,” quoth she, “I bring
This royall issue of a late dead king:
Yours be the charge, vnto the child proue true:”
Which said, she thus gaue me my last adew.

39.

“Farewell my little sonne, God be thy aid:”
With that she turn’d about, and wept for woe:
Then being about to part, she turn’d and said,
“Kisse me my sonne, kisse me before thou go,
When we shall kisse againe, our God doth know:”
We kist, she sigh’d, I wept and did refuse
So to depart from her; but could not chuse.

40.

Leauing the queene, I absent, to deplore me,
For that I was an infant then in yeares,
To the Star-chamber in their armes they bore me,
Where our false vncle to delude the peeres,
My pensiuenesse with words of comfort cheeres:
“Now welcome from my heart, my lord,” quoth he,
Then tooke me in his armes and kissed me.

41.

Thence brother vnto you I was conuey’d
Then in that place, where London’s prelats dwell,
Whence like two lambes vnto a wolfe betrai’d,
We to the Tower were led: where what befell,
Since it concernes you most, you best can tell:
Be it your turne, our sorrowes to deplore,
For I, alas, for sighes can say no more.

_Edward._

If I must tell the horror of that night,
In which by death our soules were set on wing,
Let sorrow lend vs her sad pen t’indite
In lines of woe, what I to light shall bring,
And teach our muse so ruthfully to sing,
That the sad reader’s ruthfull eyes may drop,
Teares at each point, to teach him where to stop.

43.

Within the Tower, of which my brother spake,
Lockt vp from sight of all our friends we were,
Where while we do expect, when I shall take
The crowne on me, t’whom whilome euery peere,
As to their soueraigne fealtie did sweare:
At last report these fearefull newes doth bring,
We were depos’d, _Gloster_ was England’s king.

44.

Which, when I first did heare, a thrilling feare
Ran through my heart, and sighing thus I spake:
“Alas, that I was borne king _Edward’s_ heire,
Would God my vncle, though from me he take
My crowne, which willingly I could forsake,
Would leaue vs that, which none but God can giue,
And for my kingdome giue vs leaue to liue.”

45.

Thenceforth the tower, which late was deem’d my court,
Is made our prison by a tyrant’s might:
Farewell the world, our day now waxeth short,
Our gladsome sunne of comfort and delight,
Is ouercast with clouds of enuious night,
Winter is come euen in our spring of youth,
Our late sweet smiles are drown’d in teares of ruth.

46.

O noble _Edward_, from whose royall blood
Life to these infant bodies nature drew,
Thy roses both are cropt euen in the bud:
Why didst thou leaue that bore in time t’ensue,
To spoile those plants that in thy garden grew?
Of all that haruest which thy hand did sow,
Nought haue we reaped but a crop of woe.

47.

Who now amongst thy peeres of note or name,
The sad mishap of thy deare sonnes doth mone?
Where’s _Howard_, _Louell_, _Barkley_, _Buckingham_,
That bound themselues by oath to thee, that none
But thy faire sonnes should sit vpon the throne?
Woe worth them all, they all do now crie, “downe
With _Edward’s_ heires, let _Gloster_ haue the crowne.”

48.

Ah pitie, in what region didst thou dwell,
Had’st thou been present in those hatefull times,
Then should not I thy shame, O England, tell,
Nor should I seeke to proue thy wicked crimes
Vnto thy face in these impartiall rimes:
Thy princes, on whose state misfortune frown’d,
In thy false people pitie seidome found.

49.

Search time’s records, there see how poysoned _Iohn_
Stands vp to witnesse thy sterne people’s hate,
See how the second _Edward_ thrust from throne,
Cries for reuenge on people of that state,
Behold thy shame in _Richard’s_ wofull fate:
Gainst whom thy nation vnremorsefull stood,
Till Pomfret’s wals were sprinkled with his blood.

50.

But why seeke I, O England, to reclaime thee,
By sounding former euils in thine eare?
That’s yet vntold, the which alone shall shame thee,
As oft of it as any age shall heare,
Tyrants, in whom no pitie doth appeare,
Shall thee vpbraid, and blushing at thy shame,
For past compare shall register the same.

51.

When as our vncle had obtain’d his will,
The crowne scarce warme on his vsurping head,
Opprest with care to keepe that gotten ill,
He takes no rest of mind in bowre nor bed,
Suspition with the guilt of conscience fed
Breeds doubts, distractions, horrors in his brest,
Which like to hags do haunt him with vnrest.

52.

Each step he treads, by which he climbes his throne,
Is grounded on the death of some great peere:
As he ascends, he sees their blood thereon:
Set in his chaire, shame whispers in his eare
That’s not his place, his nephew should be there:
Doubt askes him, how he hopes t’enioy that long,
When they do liue, whose right he keepes by wrong.

53.

He that had drunke so oft of murder’s cup,
To reach that height to which he did aspire,
Now fils the measure of his mischiefe vp,
And in vaine hope to raise his heart yet higher,
Spares not the blood deduc’d from his owne sire:
Poore orphanes blood, pris’d at a crowne’s rich wealth,
To his sicke state can only promise health.

54.

Whilst euery where his wandring eye doth range
To find some wretch to put this taske vpon,
All things about vs haue a sudden change,
Vngrac’d, not car’d for, comforted of none,
By our owne seruants we are left alone:
Those that bemone our fortunes dare not stay,
By feare constrain’d, with griefe they go their way.

55.

Inconsolatly left in wofull plight,
Each helping other for to waile and weepe,
In dole we spend the day, and in the night
Horror and dread of death doth waking keepe
Our watchfull eyes, and bars them of their sleepe,
Each little noise, each windie puffe of breath
Affrights vs infants with th’approch of death.

56.

Thou fatall building stain’d with noble blood,
Thou den where horror and darke treason lies,
Say if thou wast, since thy foundation stood,
More mou’d to pitie humaine miseries,
Hearing the echo of sad sorrowe’s cries:
Then when yong _Yorke_ with pitious plaints and mones
Powr’d forth his sorrowes to thy senselesse stones.

57.

Euen as sometimes we see a silly lambe,
Which for the slaughter in some fold is pent,
There kept from sight of his deare loued damme,
Her absence with faint bleating doth lament,
Whose only sight can giue it safe content:
So little _Yorke_ in vaine lamenting wept,
That from our mother’s presence he was kept.

58.

Oft, wofull child, thus hast thou question’d mee,
“Where is my mother?” and when I for woe,
Haue turn’d my backe and could not answere thee:
With teares againe, thou wouldest aske to know,
Saying, “I would vnto my mother go:”
But woe, alas, what comfort could I giue thee,
When of all meanes our vncle did depriue mee?

59.

While thus we waste in woe, the tyrant king
With death to right those, whom he did abuse
With wrong in life, finding a way to wing
Mischiefe deuis’d, a wretched man did chuse
For this affaire, which others did refuse:
_Tirrill_ by name, a knight decay’d in state,
Prone t’act this deed in hope of happie fate.

60.

Two desperate villaines, hatefull to those times,
_Forrest_ and _Dighton_, men obscure and base:
Yet to the world notorious for leaud crimes,
For _Tirril’s_ gold this damned deed embrace,
Who being brought into conuenient place,
Wait for aduantage of the gloomie night
To couer that, which did abhorre the light.

61.

The night comes on, and murder doth begin
To act her part within the fatall Tower,
In that dead time of night, the cloake of sinne,
In which the clock chimes twelue, the chiefest houre
When sleepe on man and beast doth vse his powre,
Both the rude slaues on vs poore infants flie,
As we together in our bed did lie.

62.

Betwixt the sheets they keepe vs downe by force,
We struggle against death with gasping grones,
They in their hard hearts feeling no remorce,
To heare poore soules powre forth such pitious mones,
As might with pitie moue the ruthlesse stones,
Holding the pillowes downe do stop our breath,
Vntill we both giue vp the ghost in death.

63.

Thus hast thou heard, how after all his cares
King _Edward’s_ fruit did perish in the bud,
By which since we may see how pride prepares
Her passage through the spoile of common good,
Without respect t’affinitie of blood:
That thou may make a Mirrour of the same,
A place amongst thy Mirrours we do claime.

THE TRAGICALL LIFE

_and Death of King Richard the Third_.

THE ARGUMENT.

“The lamentable fall,” quoth Memorie,
“Of two such noble youths may Mirrours be,
That man high mounted on ambitious wing,
T’obtaine a crowne attempteth any thing:
They dead, their vncle’s tragedie succeeds:
His monstrous birth, his shape, his bloodie deeds:
Horror of conscience haunts him with vnrest,
The mightie _Buckingham’s_ attempt vnblest:
The tyrant enuying noble _Richmond’s_ good,
By treason seekes to spill his royall blood,
His strange escape from France to Britanie,
Pursu’d by _Landois_ his false enemie,
His safe arriue vpon the English coast,
The skilfull marshalling of either hoast
On Bosworth plaine, the order of the fight:
Stout Norfolke’s fall, the king’s part put to flight
His desperat valour shew’d on th’aduerse force,
The shamefull vsage of his conquered corse,
Which that we heare, let fame his ghost compel
To leaue his graue, that he the same may tell.”

ANOTHER ARGUMENT.

Through night’s darke shadowes from the house of bale,
The tyrant’s ghost comes vp to tell his tale.

1.